Contemporary political rhetoric targeting trans people is often described with terms such as "anti-trans" and "trans exclusionary," which encompass a wide range of beliefs and political motivations. These labels encompass diverse political positions and may obscure important differences in the severity and mechanisms of harm.

(This takes 7¼ minutes to read.)

Every June, Pride Month arrives carrying the weight of Stonewall — a rebellion begun by Black and brown trans women who understood that survival and resistance were inseparable. It arrives as a declaration that queer lives are worth celebrating, that our loves are worth protecting, that we are owed the full dignity of existence. For many around the world, Pride Month is still precisely that: an act of defiance dressed as joy, a reminder that the right to be visible was never given, only taken.

For Palestinian queers, Pride Month arrives with a question the rest of the world is never asked: whose freedom are we celebrating, and at whose expense? We watch the rainbow flags rise over a city built on the ruins of our people, and we are told this is progress. We are offered liberation — but it comes with a condition. Forget who you are, or be unwelcome. We are handed a pride that was never meant to carry us.

This is pinkwashing: the art of waving a rainbow flag to hide a fist — using queer visibility as a shield against accountability, dressing conquest in the colors of liberation. I learned what looks like from the inside — the warm offer, the hidden condition, the erasure dressed as rescue. What I could not have imagined is that it would be performed at the scale and audacity it is today, in the middle of a genocide. I am speaking about Pride Land, planned for this June 2026 at the Dead Sea — billed by its organizers as the largest LGBTQ+ festival ever held in the Middle East: four days, fifteen hotels, a temporary “Pride City” of performance stages, beach venues and round-the-clock entertainment, promoted directly by the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The private production group behind it describes it as something “crafted from within the community.” The Ministry of Foreign Affairs promoting it makes the architecture of Brand Israel visible once again: a cultural spectacle that launders an international image while the bombs continue to fall.

They are counting on your presence to make this look like freedom. Do not give it to them.

Pinkwashing 

I have been queer all my life. I have also been Palestinian all my life. The world has made sure that I find both difficult. Western powers have, in certain contexts, celebrated my queerness yet continually fund my people’s genocide, and see no contradiction in either. That same Western gaze presents corners of Tel Aviv as proof of Middle Eastern progress — ‘look, a gay bar, therefore civilization’ — while maintaining a studied silence about the military checkpoints, the movement permits, and the apartheid wall that decides who gets to freely exit, or even exist, and who does not. I was told by the gays I met in Tel Aviv, reporting the wisdom of the West, that the price of queer belonging was political silence — that liberation was available to me, but only if I checked my Palestinianism at the door. That I could be queer or I could be Palestinian — but wanting to be both, fully and without apology, was asking for too much.

I have never been able to afford forgetting I am both.

Tel Aviv has a reputation as the gay haven of the Middle East. Rainbow flags snapping in the sea breeze, drag queens glittering under string lights, the whole warm grammar of queer belonging performed with such conviction you almost believe it. A city that loves you for who you are — as long as you come from the right country, carry the right nationality, and have no memory of what stood here before. What I know now is that this reputation was not accidental. It was engineered. In 2005, the Israeli Foreign Ministry, Prime Minister’s Office and Finance Ministry — in consultation with American marketing executives — launched Brand Israel: a government-backed campaign designed to rebrand Israel from a militaristic, ethno-religious state into something modern, cosmopolitan, progressive. By 2010, marketing Tel Aviv as a global gay tourism destination had become a central pillar of that strategy, backed by a dedicated investment of approximately $88 million. The rainbow flag was not flying on its own. It was planted.

As a teenager with no access to the rich Arabic literature that speaks to my desire, the only lifeline available was a telephone support line run by an Israeli organization. When I called, the voice on the other end had one answer: move to Tel Aviv — offered as a gift. I know now it was the first act of erasure. What I found there were Israeli queer friends who would accept my queerness only if I left my Palestinianism at the door. When I insisted my name alone made clear who I was, they offered to rename me. Tel Aviv was never a haven for me. It was a colonial project with a dance floor — a funhouse mirror held up to show Palestinians what they could become, if only they were willing to stop being Palestinian.

There is no pink door in the apartheid wall — no gate that swings open for queerness, for solidarity, for the shared knowledge of belonging to the outcast tribe of queers. The pink stops at the checkpoint. Beyond it you are not a queer deserving of liberation. You are simply Palestinian — and in their calculus, that is enough to erase everything else.

Queerness, at its most honest, is about refusing the terms the world sets for your existence. That refusal is the beating heart of every pride march, every act of love in defiance of a world that said no to our existence, our lives, our loves. I have lived that refusal twice over — once for loving the way I love, and once for being Palestinian.

I have spent my life making clear that I am not here to be fixed.

The Pride Land Festival

The tagline for the Pride Land Festival is “Pride rises at the lowest place on earth.” It is, admittedly, a good line. But there is a teaching that runs through many wisdom traditions, Buddhist among them: do not confuse the beauty of the vessel with the truth of what it carries. The vessel here is gleaming. What it carries is a genocide.

Read the Pride Land website, and the language is almost unbearable in its audacity. The organizers describe it as a venture built on “the values of freedom, acceptance, and the fundamental right of every person to self-realization.” They promise to “redefine the discourse of pride in Israel and around the world.” They call it the first Pride City in the Middle East. And then — with a candor that should strip away any remaining doubt about what this is — they name their project an “active Zionism” that seeks to “strengthen Israel’s status as a vibrant liberal centre through the tourism industry and positive outreach.” Active Zionism. They say the quiet part in the language of a press release. Freedom, self-realization, the fundamental right to exist as you are — these are the precise rights being annihilated in Gaza, denied at every checkpoint, stripped from every Palestinian who has ever been told that their identity is a problem to be managed. To use those words, in that place, at this moment, is not irony. It is the logic of erasure stated plainly: our freedom requires your disappearance.

The Dead Sea sits in the West Bank — occupied Palestinian territory recognized as such under international law. The resort infrastructure being offered as festival grounds has been built through decades of Israeli encroachment, erasure, and settlement on land that was taken, which is not theirs to offer. To throw a rainbow over that geography is not liberation. It is a flag of conquest, wearing the colors of freedom. As of the time of this writing, the war in Gaza continues, with casualties and displacement on a massive and still-unfolding scale.

The Dead Sea loses more than a meter of shoreline every year, hollowed out by the same diversions that feed the settlements. Palestinian lives are disappearing — violently, deliberately, on livestream, in real time. To plant a festival on that shore is an act of erasure dressed as celebration.

There is an image that circulated during the genocide: a soldier in the rubble of Gaza, holding a rainbow flag. On the flag, the words: In the name of love. We bomb with one hand and wave a flag of love with the other. Pinkwashing is maya — the veil of illusion — asking you to look at the flag and not the fist beneath it, to see the festival and not the mass graves it floats above.

This is a moment of truth. The bodies are visible. The rubble is visible. The genocide is visible — documented, livestreamed, undeniable. We cannot allow it to be pinkwashed. And the world is beginning to refuse. The International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association removed the bid by The Aguda — the umbrella organization for Israel’s LGBTQ community — to host its next World Congress in Tel Aviv, and suspended the organization from its membership. Thousands of queer artists have pledged not to perform in Israel. Pride organizations across Europe and North America are excluding sponsors complicit in the actions in Gaza. The coordinator of the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel has declared that “No Pride in Genocide” has become the global queer slogan. These are not fringe positions. They are the sound of a global queer movement recognizing, with clarity, what pinkwashing has always been: not a celebration of freedom, but a cover for its destruction.

This June — while Pride Land rises at the Dead Sea, Queer Cinema for Palestine: No Pride in Genocide will be taking place across the world. 110 screenings, 34 countries last year, and this year, in its fourth edition, with 300 in 60 countries across five continents.” Queers who refused to separate pride from justice showed up. Filmmakers and cultural workers withdrew their work from TLVFest, choosing solidarity over comfort. They said: not in our name. And the world answered. That is a global queer solidarity movement — ungovernable, decentralized.

Queer Cinema for Palestine is an act of collective witness — a world of queers saying: we see you, Palestine. We will not look away. That is what I ask of you now: see me.

See me not as a symbol, not as a casualty, not as a complication. See me as I am — queer, Palestinian, whole, here, refusing erasure. And then do something with what you see. Join in refusing to party on occupied land. A rainbow draped over ruins cannot be allowed to hide the genocide. Queer pride is for an outcast people — conscious, tender, furious, whole — still choosing each other. That is the act of faith. That is what pride looks like when it carries everyone.

Not entirely surprised that a social fascist would end up doing Trump's bidding... But it's still a bad sign when even those who pass for "far-left" in the US don't have the spine to stand up for their constituents when it matters.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.ml/post/46430614

Duration - 3:00

[a video about Cuba from the news collective Belly Of The Beast]

Being a trans athlete means carrying more than gloves. It means carrying expectations, fear and responsibility. Malik speaks openly about facing transphobia and machismo in Sanda’s sport, being pushed past ethical boundaries and the pressure of being the first, knowing that others will come after him. Malik reminds us that trans people don’t need to prove anything. Their existence is already enough.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.ml/post/45996681

Duration - 2:49  [a video about Cuba from the news collective Belly Of The Beast]

Ely Malik is a trans Sanda kickboxer in Cuba who speaks about progress, shortages in health care, community survival, race and what it means to transition in front of the people who raised you. This isn’t just a story about fighting in the ring. It’s about fighting to exist, to be respected and to live truthfully — even when the world makes that dangerous.

Very interesting video that goes into far more depth about the situation of queer people in China than a lot of English-language media does. It's actually nuanced and researched; not just "China Bad" nonsense (it does mention the state surveillance meme and there's a brief jab at "Tankies" in the beginning - somewhat deserved IMO - but other than that it's mostly nuanced).

The big takeaway I got from it is that nationalism, patriarchy, Confucianism, and the birth rate are the biggest factors for why queer rights aren't expanding. Basically there are systemic issues but it's largely cultural & social taboos that are the deciding factor. In general I'd say it looks like China is behind the West on queer rights but only by maybe two or three decades and not anymore near the level of somewhere like Uganda or Saudi Arabia as anti-China libs keep trying to claim.

Not great, but room for improvement. I have faith that conditions will improve.

Since the beginning of the invasion, the participation of LGBTI soldiers to the conflict has highlighted significant inequalities. Partners of deceased LGBTI soldiers find themselves still lacking the right to make decisions about their loved ones’ remains and are ineligible for state support.

The Ukrainian Orthodox Church of Kyiv revoked an award given to a prominent LGBTI activist and leader of the LGBTI military association, citing their disapproval of his “sinful preferences and LGBTI agitation.”

In January, the Nash Svit Centre released a report on the social, legal, and political challenges faced by Ukraine’s LGBTI community, noting an increase in openly LGBTI military personnel despite restrictive laws. While most experience tolerance from peers and commanders, cases of homo/transphobic discrimination and violence still occur.

In February, Kharkiv Pride revealed that the advertising firm Megapolis abruptly ceased communication about an LGBTI military support campaign. The campaign intended to feature portraits and stories of LGBTI military personnel on advertising billboards in Kyiv and Kharkiv.

In March a 23-year-old man in occupied Yalta was fined 100,000 rubles (1,000 Euro) under Russia’s “LGBTI propaganda” laws for appearing in women’s clothing at a nightclub, reported Nash Svit Centre.

In March, the Ombudsman’s Office released a guide for public officials and service providers on preventing discrimination, highlighting the inclusion of sexual orientation and gender identity under Ukraine’s anti-discrimination laws. It outlines obligations to address discrimination against LGBTI people and provides recommendations for fostering equality and inclusive policies.

On May 17, the National Council of Ukraine on Television and Radio Broadcasting issued a statement for the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia, emphasising the importance of upholding principles of equality and non-discrimination in the media.

In December, the Verkhovna Rada adopted Bill 11456, amending Ukraine’s law “On Free Legal Aid” to include victims of hate crimes based on factors like race, religion, and disability but notably excluding sexual orientation and gender identity. Despite appeals from Gender Stream and other human rights organisations to address this omission, the bill, criticised for neglecting LGBTI rights and violating European Commission recommendations, was adopted in just 13 minutes.

I recently read, from Édouard Louis, Who Killed my Father, and Collapse - which I reeeally recommend. I also bought James Baldwin's Giovanni's Room and Another Country and I'm looking forward to reading them. And in the meanwhile I wanted to get some more suggestions, so thanks in advance :) ✊🏳️‍🌈

Lisandra Fariñas - Semlac Network / Photo: Hivos/Latin America.- For a trans person, whether living in Honduras, Vietnam, the Netherlands, or anywhere else in the world, the daily challenges are different, but their realities are marked by struggles that know no borders: the recognition of their identity and their human dignity.

This is evidenced by the documentary M/F/X , screened on September 29 at the headquarters of the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands in Havana, as part of Modo Naranja, an initiative that connects the Netherlands and Cuba through bilateral collaboration projects that include activities, workshops and exchanges dedicated to promoting, among other topics, respect for human rights and diversity.

The film, directed by Koen Suidgeest, follows Shantal, a trans woman in Honduras; Minh, a trans man in Vietnam; and Roos, a non-binary person in the Netherlands, to show that discrimination, exclusion, and violence permeate very different social and economic contexts.

Shantal recalls the attacks she suffered on the street, the mockery, and the murder of a friend in broad daylight: "Someone who is only a joke... you can't get a decent job or an education," reflects this woman who, despite everything, managed to become a journalist and carve out a space for herself in her country's media.

Minh describes the fear she has felt for 25 years, the need to purchase hormones on the black market, and the lack of medical and psychological services to support trans people in their transition process.

Roos, who dreams of seeing an “X” in her passport instead of the M or F that do not represent her identity, warns that even in a society considered advanced, the rate of violence among trans people is two to seven times higher than the average and even speaks of those “privileges” that can determine how much more violence you can suffer: “being a white trans person is not the same as being a black trans person,” she maintains.

Despite the rawness of the testimonies, M/F/X also leaves room for hope. Shantal's strength; Minh's determination, as she found a supportive community to continue her transition; and Roos's dreams are reminders that resilience and the pursuit of happiness can open doors even in adverse environments.

Before the screening, the Dutch ambassador to Cuba, Matthijs Wolters, recalled that his country was the first to legalize same-sex marriage and emphasized that human rights, including gender diversity, "require ongoing dialogue, because we are still far from a world free of discrimination."

The documentary, he said, "showcases three distinct societies and invites us to discuss legal frameworks, family and community acceptance, and the paths that remain."

Identities and rights: a necessary dialogue

Following the documentary, the audience participated in a broad and diverse discussion moderated by Ana Mirabal Patterson of the Félix Varela Center. The activist opened the discussion by reminding everyone that "human rights are inalienable, but behind every violation are power relations that determine who has or does not have the right to health, education, and expression."

Doctor and activist Alberto Roque celebrated Cuba's legislative progress—the Constitution, the Family Code, and the National Program for the Advancement of Women—but warned about the gap between the law and its application and implementation: "In health and education, binary views and institutional resistance still persist; we have a very advanced script, but the staging doesn't always match it."

He warned that "nothing that has been achieved in Cuba, or in any other country, is guaranteed, since no right in the world is guaranteed for life" and gave as an example that, even in a country with notable advances in human rights like the Netherlands, there are no absolute certainties in the face of global setbacks in LGBTIQ + rights , he emphasized.

"We need to listen to the true experiences of trans people in order to propose policies and be truly useful allies," Roque said.

For Larian Arias, a queer rights activist, policies must be accompanied by a cultural shift that allows people to fully experience their identity. “In any country, there's always something that limits your happiness if you're a queer person,” she stated. She lamented that, although Cuba has several laws that protect rights for trans people, many are “dead letters.”

"Even today, in 2025, three years after the approval of the directive allowing name changes, you go to the civil registry and they tell you they don't do that procedure there," the activist explained.

Arias urged us to think about the struggle from a collective perspective. "There can't be niches of freedom; freedom must be for all people," she said, urging us not to focus solely on the pain.

"Let's also talk about the joy of being who we are, because our existence is not only suffering," he noted.

Miguel Abreu, director of Ludi Teatro and the Ateneo de La Habana, affirmed that cultural spaces still need to work on respecting diversity and accepting all people on an equal footing.

Trans activist Merle Ramírez emphasized that legal advances are not always reflected in the reality of communities, especially outside of Havana. He emphasized the situation of trans people in rural areas and marginalized neighborhoods, where the lack of privileges exacerbates their vulnerability.

She emphasized that Black transgender people are the most exposed to violence and neglect, and affirmed that true change must come from the community, with programs and workshops that directly reach those most in need.

Writer Julio Cesar Gonzalez Pagés shared the findings of the research that led to his book, " Pingüeros en La Habana," and noted that in Cuba, trans people live in an "environment of violence, micro-violence... perpetrated by men, clients, and even the police, even in central public spaces; although their reality remains largely invisible to society."

She called for a greater presence of trans people in the media and criticized the fact that they are often represented by specialists or executives, which silences their own voices. "What can we do to reverse this?" she questioned, calling for the visibility of a community that continues to be treated as a "disposable minority" in many spaces.

For filmmaker Yasmani Castro Caballero, it is crucial to look toward rural realities, a call echoed by Mirabal, who emphasized the urgency of supporting children with diverse identities. This protection, they agreed, must extend specifically to non-urban environments, where the vulnerability and invisibility of trans people are often greater.

The exchange concluded with a consensus: M/F/X not only narrates the struggles of Shantal, Minh, and Roos, but also questions each context so that trans rights become a tangible reality.

"The challenge," Mirabal summarized, "is for laws, policies, and discourse to become practices of everyday respect. Otherwise, we will continue to talk about rights in the abstract, while people's lives remain at risk."

Some photos of event(can't post all of em due to being rate limited at this moment for image uploads):

• Following the documentary, the audience participated in a broad and diverse discussion moderated by Ana Mirabal Patterson of the Félix Varela Center. Photo: SEMlac Cuba

• For Larian Arias, a queer rights activist, policies must be accompanied by a cultural shift that allows for identity to be fully lived. Photo: SEMlac Cuba

• Trans activist Merle Ramírez drew attention to the situation of trans people in rural areas and marginalized neighborhoods, where the lack of privilege exacerbates their vulnerability. Photo: SEMlac Cuba

• Writer Julio César Gonzalez Pagés called for a greater presence of transgender people in the media. Photo: SEMlac Cuba

Very informative video I found. It's nice to hear what actual Chinese queers have to say about being queer in China to counteract Western propaganda.

It's one I've heard more than a few times before from liberal "allies" who love to talk down to any queer people that don't debase themselves to whatever local liberal party that pretends to care about us and our rights while doing nothing to actually help us or even fight those trying to actively destroy us.

Like, I don't know what gay or trans people had to go through under Stalin and it probably wasn't good given this was the early 20th century and communist movements weren't very good on queer rights back then but even if Stalin was personally ordering the execution of gay & trans people what does that even matter? How is that some kind of stunning rebuke of communism? One communist does some bad stuff and somehow all of communism is responsible as if Karl Marx himself wrote "kill them removed lmao" in the Manifesto or something?

Why is Stalin and Stalin alone the arbitrator of what is and isn't communism? Do these people think he's the only communist to have ever existed? What about all the gay & trans communists that were contemporaries of him? Do they just not matter? I don't know, maybe this belongs more in the "Shit Reactionaries Say" community.

Stalin could've been the most queerphobic person in history for all I care. That doesn't have any impact on whether or not queer people belong in the communist movement. It's just an intellectually lazy argument. Like, I don't care? Why would I care what Stalin would've done to me? I don't live under Stalin. Stalin is dead. Stalin isn't the only communist to exist, much less to lead a country. I don't worship Stalin the way liberals worship Obama.

Castro had gay people tortured, later realized & admitted he was wrong to do so, and worked to expand queer rights in Cuba. Perfect? Not at all, but at least he was willing to grow and change things for the better even in old age.

Obama ran on a campaign of anti-gay marriage until Biden told him it was popular and he changed his stance so he could win, let the Supreme Court do all the work for him, then promptly did fuck all to improve the conditions of gays in the US. His party has since abandoned trans people and is now trying to abandon gays too.

It's almost like communists have actual moral compasses and can change their views when presented with new information while liberals are self-serving ghouls that only care about what's popular or financially beneficial to them.

Yet you point out that queer rights are only being taken seriously by Left-wing movements these days and libs cry about how it's just commies trying to manipulate or deceive people. Pure fucking projection.

Sorry for the rant this ended up being longer than I intended.

The 2023 increase in anti-LGBTIQ+ bills preceding the 2024 U.S. presidential election manifested the most aggressive punitive freedom restrictions and the greatest expansion across all (even Democrat-run) states and criminalisation of a variety of TGD people, family supporters and professionals. The expanded freedom reduction within anti-LGBTIQ+ bills by 2023 indicated (neo)fascist efforts beyond the politically symbolic, towards pragmatically effective freedom reductions especially targeting TGD ‘cultural Marxist enemies’, to reduce freedom generally (Mason, 2022).

The study showed the 2023 bills upped targeted freedom restriction age-groups from childhood to adolescence/adulthood, extended targeted education contexts from elementary to higher education, expanded targeted locations from school bath/changerooms to spaces beyond education (e.g. ‘in public’) and extended targeted groups from TGD to broader groups (LGBTIQA+ people, professionals, women, parents, religious people, patients, citizens).

BIG SIGH

publicação cruzada de: https://fosstodon.org/users/dellagustin/statuses/114516891591313964

Signature collection to BAN CONVERSION PRACTICES in European Union ends tomorrow (May 17)❗

This is in support of the LGBTQ+ community.
The signature collection is still ~113000 votes short, and many countries did not pass the threshold yet!
Please consider signing 🖊️ and sharing 🔁 .

Any EU national, including living abroad, can vote, if above minimum age (18 or 16, depends on the country)

https://eci.ec.europa.eu/043/public/#/screen/home
@lgbtq_plus

As the title says, I wanna get bottom surgery, but the thing is, I live in a country which has little rights to death penalty for lgbt folks, and I live in a restrictive family that are bigoted and filed with hate. Every time when I get hyped about bottom surgery, I remember I live with worst family in a worst country

And that makes me feel down bad, I just get sad every time when I think about it.

And I was wondering what will be my friends (Online and irl) and my family reaction like if I ever said I wanna get bottom surgery? This scenario makes me heated up and afraid if I ever said it to them I’m now just sitting in my room, so pissed off I live in this country

I wanna get at least help or advice regarding my situation

Thanks to anyone who replied to this post

Bye comrades <3

АЛҒА ҚАЗАҚСТАН!

(To any boys, my body is stupid cause it’s mine not cause it’s a boy, love you all)

Today I was in my library’s chinese literature section, and books like Peacock cries and Eileen Chang’s works were catching my eye (Side note:is there such a little amount of queer work from the mainland? I know lgbtq stuff isn’t exactly utopian there, but there’s so little stuff I can find on the western internet. If anyone has any sources and English translations [or just sources for chinese books, since im learning chinese rn] please send them my way)… While I was browsing I was just wishing I had a girl-friend or girlfriend with me to talk to about this stuff. Then I though maybe there was some lesbian reading group I could join somewhere in my city. Who knows, might as well check. And then I remembered that I haven’t even started to transition yet. I’m still a boy, and it just sucks so much. How could I ever date someone before I start transitioning? Can I even interact with girls in the way I want to in this dumb body? Why is there so much hair everywhere?

I know being a girl isn’t effortless or perfect, and I know that being a pretty girl is even harder. But why did my life have to be extra hard like this?

@lgbt hello everyone one hope you are fine just allow me wish you all a happy new year and all your wishes do come true