In Belarus, freedom of expression has become a criminal offence. The country's authorities are conducting an unprecedented crackdown on the LGBTQI+ community: repressive laws have legalised violence and justified the complete permissiveness of the security forces and courts. Arbitrariness has become the norm.

We have collected stories from queer people who have been detained on false charges, beaten in police stations, and forced to go underground or emigrate, to show how a community that has become the target of state persecution survives.

‘I try not to stand out and am waiting for a visa to leave.’

— When I realised that I would have to leave Belarus, I felt not just despair, but a feeling that everything was completely fu..d up. And that's even too mild a description of my state of mind.

This is how our conversation with Nikita (name changed) begins. Nikita is a non-binary person who uses female pronouns, wears makeup and feminine clothing. She was one of the first people in Belarus to publicly express her identity. As a creative person, Nikita was actively involved in public life and openly fought for the right to be herself.

Nikita noticed an increase in interest in her work from law enforcement agencies about three years ago.

— I organised LGBT-friendly parties where the focus was on music and self-expression, says Nikita. — But then I started getting pressured. At first, they demanded that I approve the playlists, and then they started sending inspectors to my events. The inspectors made sure that, in their words, “there were no men in tights”.

Several venues where Nikita organised parties were closed after such inspections. They later reopened, but in a new format and with a different audience — without queer people.

In July 2023, Nikita was tricked into coming to the police station: she was told she had to pick up a friend who was there. When she arrived at the police department, two men in plain clothes came out to her, did not introduce themselves and simply said: “Come here”. They took her to the fifth floor, took away her phone and started beating her.

— They insulted me, calling me a “f…t”, Nikita recalls. The security forces claimed that since she belonged to the LGBTQI+ community, she must have participated in protests and supported the opposition. It is unclear on what basis they made such assumptions.

After that, an investigator came out and told her that she was being released, adding: “You’re still lucky”. Before letting her go, he ordered her to forget everything that had happened at the police station. Nikita tells this story in a relatively calm voice, but that impression is deceptive: in reality, she had to undergo a long recovery and see a psychotherapist. — I shut down, hid, tried not to appear in public space — I was too scared.

Recently, Nikita began receiving anonymous phone calls with threats and urgent recommendations to “get out of the country”. The situation became so dangerous that Nikita decided to leave Belarus immediately.

Wave of urgent evacuations

TG House has been supporting queer people since 2019, with the organisation's main assets located in Poland: in its native Belarus, the organisation is recognised as extremist.

According to TG House activists, 2024 saw an unprecedented wave of requests for help — never before in the organisation's history had there been so many desperate pleas for support and evacuation.

In 2024, TG House urgently evacuated 22 queer people from Belarus, and in the first nine months of this year, 15 people reported persecution by security forces and asked for help in moving to safe countries.

Activists note that people are sometimes detained for no apparent reason, simply for belonging to the LGBTQI+ community, and are charged with unfounded accusations of drug trafficking or distribution of pornography.

‘They accused me of drug dealing just to get me kicked out of university.’

Lena, a transgender woman, was forced to flee Belarus after the university administration contacted the police in order to work together to expel her from the university.

Lena studied at two universities in Belarus, but she was unable to graduate from either due to pressure and discrimination from the university administrations: the fact that a student was a trans person seemed to irritate them deeply.

She faced systemic problems: dormitory neighbours complained to the dean's office that they “did not want to live with a trans person”, the administration was outraged that Lena used the women's toilet and constantly criticised her appearance. A dean at one of the universities bluntly stated that “people like that should not study at university”. Lena left the first university on her own, but the second one forced her out… with the help of the security forces.

— In September last year, right in the middle of class, I was called to the dean's office. Two men in police uniforms were waiting for me there. They immediately took my phone and began to ask me rudely and insistently whether I was a girl or a boy. When I asked why I had been summoned, they snapped back: “Don’t you know?” Lena says.

Although none of the security officers introduced themselves to Lena or explained why they had summoned her to the dean's office, she understood from their conversation that they were from the drug control agency. Lena even calmed down a little: she had never had anything to do with drugs and was sure that they would find nothing on her.

Lena was then taken to the police station and threatened into revealing her phone password. The officers rummaged through her personal messages, showed each other her photos and commented that Lena was “like that” because she was from Gomel, which is “close to Chernobyl”. They repeatedly questioned her about her transgender identity, asking whether she was a man or a woman.

— I answered seriously that being transgender is not a crime, and that I would not want to live if I could not transition. The officers immediately interpreted this as suicidal thoughts and started calling a psychiatric hospital, asking if they could have me admitted there.

The most shocking thing was that the security forces had come after receiving a tip-off from the dean's office. The university administration was actively looking for a reason to have Lena detained and expelled.

At the police station, Lena was placed in a men's cell. While searching her phone, the police found an old account and a subscription to a Telegram channel that is considered extremist in Belarus. She was given a large fine but released. Instead of saying goodbye, one of the security officers warned her that this detention would not be the last, that they “would not leave her alone” and that there would be other reasons to detain her. He advised her to leave the country.

At the end of 2024, Lena and her boyfriend left Belarus for France.

The problems did not end with their departure

In June 2024, Ivan was brutally detained at his home and taken to the police station for a “talk”. No official charges were brought against him; the police simply said that he had been “put on record”, but no one explained what that meant. Ivan was forced to sign the interrogation report, but he was not allowed to read what was written in it.

— When the security forces found out that I was working as a teacher at a school, they said that it was “bad” and that people like me shouldn't be allowed to work with children, says Ivan. — As if I might say something to them. And in general, according to the police, people like me could turn out to be paedophiles.

In September last year, the security forces came to the school and forced the headmaster to dismiss Ivan. In December 2024, Ivan left first for Georgia, then for Poland. However, the problems did not end there.

— After I left, security forces came to my mother's flat to search it, and now the police regularly call her with questions about my whereabouts. They ask what I am doing, why I am not coming home, and promise that my punishment (though it is unclear what for) will be lenient – they will assign me to “home detention” and that will be it.

And although Ivan has never had any problems with the law – except those created by the security forces themselves – he recently found out that he is on a criminal wanted list. But not in Belarus — in Russia.

— It’s strange to me: I was detained once, no charges were formally brought, and suddenly it turns out that a criminal case for cooperating with extremist organisations has been opened against me at home. The case is in Belarus, but I am wanted in Russia. Belarusian emigrants I know told me that this is a fairly common practice among the security forces: they issue warrants in Russia, counting on the fact that the person they are pursuing will try to hide there.

Ivan now constantly worries about his relatives who remain in Belarus. He understands that if the security forces cannot get to him, they may begin to create problems for his family — exerting pressure, conducting searches or threatening criminal prosecution simply because they are his relatives.

Arbitrariness in the name of the law: the legalisation of violence

Recently adopted repressive legislation has significantly worsened the situation for queer people in Belarus.

A serious blow to freedom of speech and the visibility of the LGBTQI+ community was Decree No. 24 of the Ministry of Culture, adopted in March 2024, which equated the display of “non-traditional relationships” with pornography.

In practice, this amounts to criminalising the very existence and any visible manifestations of LGBTQI+ life, creating a powerful tool for censorship and persecution. Human rights defenders see these steps as the direct introduction of administrative repression, similar to Russia's “LGBT propaganda law”, aimed at completely pushing the queer community out of the public space.

In July 2025, amendments were introduced to the Law on the Rights of the Child, recognising “propaganda of homosexual relations, gender reassignment, paedophilia and childlessness” as harmful to children's health.

— A dictatorship has taken hold in Belarus, which consistently seeks total unification of society, imposing a rigid “norm” and mercilessly suppressing any deviation from it, notes Viktoria Rudenkova, a lawyer with the Viasna Human Rights Centre, which is banned in Belarus. — This is reflected in the systematic restriction of fundamental freedoms: from freedom of speech and peaceful assembly to, now, freedom of self-expression in matters of gender identity and sexual orientation.

Rudenkova stresses that this transformation of state policy should not be underestimated:

— It means that the situation has become much worse: the arbitrariness of the authorities is now elevated to the rank of law. Such a systematic and legally enshrined policy of state violence and humiliation is absolutely unacceptable. It runs counter to the very foundations of the rule of law and an open society.

In October 2025, the House of Representatives approved at first reading a bill introducing a new article into the Code of Administrative Offences. It provides for administrative liability (heavy fines and, in cases involving minors, arrest) for “propaganda of homosexual relations, gender reassignment, childlessness and paedophilia”.

Although this is only the first reading, the nature of the system built in Belarus — where the legislative branch is completely subordinated to the executive — leaves little doubt that the law will soon be finally adopted.

Human rights activists are outraged by the fact that homosexuality, gender reassignment (issues of identity) and childlessness (reproductive choice) are being lumped together with paedophilia, which is a serious criminal offence.

In September 2025, the Ministry of Health amended the rules governing the gender reassignment procedure. A sexologist was removed from the commission and replaced by a psychiatrist-narcologist. In this way, the Ministry effectively reinforces an approach that treats transgender identity as a “mental disorder”.

Human rights defenders from TG House warn: this decision pathologises transgenderness, shifting issues of gender identity from the field of sexology into the realm of severe mental disorders and addictions. The focus on psychiatry and narcology will significantly complicate or completely block access to legal and medical transition, thereby restricting the rights of transgender people.

Activism is impossible even ‘underground’

In Belarus, no organisation with “LGBTQI+” in its charter has ever been officially registered. The Ministry of Justice has systematically denied activists registration, using all kinds of fabricated pretexts. The few LGBTQI+ organisations that operated unofficially or under neutral names were forced to cease their activities amid the authorities’ large-scale crackdown on civil society in recent years.

Polina, a queer activist, was the administrator of the LGBTQI+ space “Drugi Paverh” in Minsk for four years.

— For four years, I ran the “Drugi Paverh” space in Minsk. We held lectures, trainings and support groups for LGBTQI+ people. We worked unofficially, of course: after 2020, no one in Belarus would have allowed us to do this openly. We met in conditions of total secrecy. No photos, no tags on social media. The venue was sent to registered and verified participants literally at the last moment. Only thanks to such security measures did we manage to keep going for so long — until my arrest.

A year ago, in September, there was a wave of detentions targeting LGBTQI+ activists. Polina was detained right at her workplace, at her main job.

— It’s hard to say exactly how they found me: most likely because I took part in an off-site training in Georgia. It was a training to support feminist projects, and I participated as a feminist and as a representative of the LGBTQI+ community. They detained not only me but also other participants in the training — we ended up in the same cell.

After her release, Polina contacted an organisation that helps LGBTQI+ people and was evacuated from the country.

— Now that I am safe, I advise people in Belarus not to engage in activism. Control has tightened to such an extent that it is impossible to do anything safely. All of my acquaintances with whom I keep in touch have stopped being active, and that is normal. In such conditions, you literally have to focus on survival; activism is unsafe now and is unlikely to change anything. Although, of course, there are people who are deeply committed and will continue their activities anyway.

International LGBTQI+ organisations: help and support

Since national legal options have been exhausted or are non-existent, human rights defenders point to international organisations as the main tool for influencing the situation with LGBTQI+ rights in Belarus.

Rudenkova notes that international bodies — such as the UN Human Rights Council, the European Parliament and Human Rights Watch — can issue recommendations, public statements and appeals. Their attention also helps persecuted LGBTQI+ people to obtain international protection (for example, in European countries), especially when persecution is directly linked to their belonging to the community.

One of the most effective mechanisms, according to her, is the work of UN Special Rapporteurs (especially on Belarus), who can and do address the Belarusian government directly in specific cases, requesting information about individuals: where they are, what is happening to them. Even though the authorities predictably deny any violations, the very fact that they are forced to respond is already significant.

International LGBTQI+ organisations also play a key role: they document human rights violations, support local initiatives and help create safer spaces for the community.

Ruslana Panukhnik, Senior Programme Coordinator at ILGA-Europe (an international organisation working on the human rights of LGBTI people), believes that the persecution of LGBTI people in Belarus has long been systemic and is now being entrenched at the legislative level. While hostility is growing in other countries in the region, the situation in Belarus stands out for the scale and speed with which the state is institutionalising discrimination.

— Over the past year, the Belarusian authorities have adopted a number of repressive laws that turn prejudice into state policy and make everyday life increasingly unsafe. Since 2024, arbitrary detentions, interrogations and prosecutions have become routine tools of pressure aimed at intimidating activists and dismantling communities. Many queer people are forced to leave, and those who remain live in fear, isolation and without the right to public space, says Ruslana.

Daniyar Orsekov, Senior Programme Coordinator for the EECA region (Eastern Europe and Central Asia) at TGEU — an organisation working to promote the rights and well-being of transgender people in Europe and Central Asia — believes that respect for every person in Belarus, especially the most vulnerable, is not only the foundation of social cohesion but would also be a key step towards restoring the country's international standing and economic development.

— TGEU condemns the escalation of state repression and the dehumanisation of LGBTI people in Belarus, including the proposed ban on “propaganda of gender reassignment” and restrictions on access to healthcare for trans people. Caring for and respecting all people in Belarus, especially the most vulnerable, would not only strengthen social cohesion but also enhance Belarus' international reputation, authority and economic opportunities, Orsekov says.

— Nevertheless, Ruslana emphasises, — the Belarusian LGBTI movement remains one of the most resilient in the region — people continue to support each other, create safe spaces and maintain dignity even when the very word “dignity” is effectively banned. The courage and mutual care within the Belarusian LGBTI movement remain truly inspiring. Despite isolation and fear, people continue to support their communities — quietly, persistently and with profound humanity. At a time when a wave of backlash and shrinking civic space is spreading across Europe and Central Asia, we all have much to learn from their resilience and inner clarity.

TGEU and ILGA-Europe call on the Belarusian authorities to immediately withdraw the proposed amendments to the Code of Administrative Offences and to end all forms of persecution of LGBTI people and human rights defenders.

‘I cannot return to Belarus as it is now…’

Transgender woman T. has been detained twice, tortured with an electric shock device, beaten and forced to flee to Georgia. Her life has essentially turned into a “criminal” one because of her identity and anti-war stance.

— The choice of whether I would leave or stay was made for me by the Belarusian regime. After GUBOP officers came to my home, I realised that I would never be allowed to live in peace. I no longer want to endure beatings and fines, T. says.

The problems began in the summer of 2023, when, in the middle of the day on a street in central Minsk, T. was attacked by an unknown man — simply because he did not like the fact that her backpack had both an LGBT+ flag and a Ukrainian flag on it.

Ironically, when she reported this to the police, the punitive machine turned against her. At the station, her phone was checked and, as T. recalls, — they said they had found photos from protests and threatened to open a criminal case, even though I wasn't at the protests, it was a provocation.

The result was 13 days of arrest for non-existent “extremist” materials. After this, T., who was a musician and used to perform at concerts, found herself on “blacklists” and could no longer pursue her creative work in Belarus.

On 31 January 2024, officers from GUBOP (the Main Directorate for Combating Organised Crime and Corruption) came to her home with a search warrant — most likely because of anti-war posts on social media or statements in private correspondence. What followed, T. describes as “the worst kind of hell” that she wants to forget but cannot.

— They came to my house and started breaking down the door. Two minutes after they broke in, the beating began. One of them was completely out of control — he was hitting me with his fists and feet, recalls T.

Then they took her to GUBOP headquarters, where the torture and beatings continued. She was also forced to record a “confession video” in which she was coerced into slandering herself and calling for a ban on transgenderism. The video, which in essence became evidence of the inhumane treatment of queer people by law enforcement, was broadcast across state propaganda channels.

This time, T. served her sentence in the detention centre on Okrestina. The humiliation continued there: staff would address her with phrases like, “Hey, you creature, come here.” Although her documents were in a female name, the administration spent a long time deciding which cell to place her in, arguing that in a women's cell she would “sleep with everyone”.

She was not given medical assistance: even the medication brought for her never reached her. Her injuries from the beatings were never treated, although they were serious:

— It's not very comfortable to sleep on the floor at Okrestina with broken ribs, T. jokes bitterly. — My ribs healed over time, the huge bruises covering half my body went away, the burns from the stun gun healed, but my knocked-out teeth didn't grow back.

After everything she had been through, T., with the support of an LGBT+ organisation, left for Georgia. But a new country did not heal her psychological trauma:

— My mother came to visit me in Georgia, and one day when she was returning from the shop, she opened the door with a key. The sound of the lock turning sent me into a panic attack: I was shaking badly for an hour and it took me several more hours to calm down, she says.

In Georgia, T. is at least allowed to perform as a musician. But even there she does not feel completely safe:

— Georgian men are, to put it mildly, very intrusive with their attention. Once I was attacked by a man whose behaviour was clearly inadequate — he was triggered by my appearance. I went to the local police, but even there I encountered inappropriate questions and jokes from the male officers questioning me.

At the same time, she notes, the police in Georgia, unlike in Belarus, do not act as a purely punitive force. For now, T. rules out returning to Belarus:

— I cannot go back under this regime — with the new repressive laws, I will be immediately imprisoned for “pornography” or something like that. And I do not want to go back to prison.