Last week, Canada issued a travel advisory urging 2SLGBTQIA+ travellers heading to Turkey to exercise extreme caution.
The advisory followed raids earlier this month in which Turkish authorities targeted LGBTQ+ organizations across major cities, including Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir and Mersin.
The Turkish government branded the operation “My Family is Safe.”
Human Rights Watch condemned the coordinated police raids, calling them “a direct threat to the rule of law and fundamental rights in Turkey.”
“For me, it is very heartbreaking because I have a personal connection to Turkey,” said N.K., a queer woman who came to Calgary from Iran. The Calgary Journal is not identifying N.K. because of her concerns about a backlash in Iran.
Having lived in Turkey between 2012 and 2016, N.K. remembers how liberating it felt.
“Back then, I wasn’t living in a particularly progressive city, but coming from Iran, it was definitely a step up in terms of freedom, being able to hold my girlfriend’s hand in public and not encountering too much discrimination.”
“. . . there is no one you can go to” —N.K.
While being queer is not criminalized in Turkey, there are no legal protections for LGBTQ+ individuals.
“If you’re being wrongfully dismissed or if you’re being attacked on the street, if your space is being raided, there is no one you can go to,” said N.K. “And that’s a very hopeless place to be.”
Western culture as a political weapon
Prior to the systematic bans earlier this month, Turkey — particularly Istanbul — was considered a regional haven for LGBTQ+ people in the Middle East and Balkans.
At the same time, the Turkish government frequently frames LGBTQI+ rights as Western imports, brandishing these issues to mobilize conservative voters and justify its ongoing crackdowns.
Boban Stojanovic, who left Belgrade, Serbia, fearing for his safety as an out gay man, says the pattern isn’t unique to Turkey.
Across similar political landscapes, LGBTQ+ and women’s rights are routinely instrumentalized by governments jockeying for power.
“I moved to Canada from Serbia, which is very close to Turkey,” said Stojanovic. “LGBTQ rights, along with women’s rights, are always a good political weapon for the fight between governments,” he said.
Stojanovic, who will celebrate his tenth year in Canada next month, is vice-president at the Centre for Newcomers and volunteers with the End of the Rainbow Foundation, supporting refugees, women’s rights and 2SLGBTQI+ newcomers.
“I spent most of my life being involved in different forms of activism,” said Stojanovic.
He sees this moment as a lesson for queer people living in the West, pointing to Western governments’ failures to protect marginalized groups, like in the U.S.
“I think Turkey in this context right now can be a good reminder of how we can lose our rights and freedoms literally, overnight,” said Stojanovic.
No place back home, no place here
N.K. says many LGBTQ+ people already arrive in Canada on whatever visa they can get, disclosing their sexual orientation only once they’re here.
She expects the crackdowns in Turkey will increase that number. But a recent federal law could leave them stranded.
Bill C-12, which passed earlier this year, restricts asylum claims for people who entered Canada on student or temporary visas and did not disclose their case within the first 12 months.
“There is no place back home, and there’s no place here for you,” said N.K., especially worried about Turkish students already in Canada who may now fear returning home.
Stojanovic said Canada’s 2SLGBTQI+ community has a role to play moving beyond a Western lens to meet queer newcomers where they are.
“I think there is a huge role of the LGBTQ community itself to move a little bit from a Western perspective of being queer, and to spend some effort to understand those who struggle,” he said.
