by Mads Nissen
NOW AND then something happens that changes everything.
A single incident that unfolds in front of me and I know I’m no longer just a silent eyewitness with a camera. From now it’s no longer just a story. From now it’s personal.
On a bright summer day, June 2013, in Saint Petersburg, something like this happened. “Are you a faggot? Are you a fucking faggot?”, a young man with a military style haircut and a sporty outfit screams at Pavel.
Pavel Lebedev is 23 years old. He is wearing an orange shirt and an insecure smile. I met Pavel the previous day when he told me how he made the tough decision to come out of the closet. And he told me about the price he had to pay for following his heart. Now, he was being yelled at once again.
Pavel calmly answers the question: “Yes, I am gay…”.
He barely gets to finish the word “gay” before the first punch hits him. The young man in the sporty outfit has obviously waited for this situation. Filled with hate, he cannot hold himself back any longer, and tries to give Pavel another punch in his face.
I’m outraged. How can this be happening? Today? Punching, kicking and spitting at a gentle and shy young man like Pavel, simply because he is more attracted to men than women.
It’s unbelievable. It’s not fair. And something needs to be done! But instead of getting involved in the fistfight, I keep my camera in my hands—and I’m not letting it go before this story has been told to the rest of the world.
Since that summer day I’ve been dedicating myself to tell the story of modern homophobia in Russia. Not only the violent attacks, but also the new, so-called anti-gay law and the everyday stigma LGBT-persons in Russia are facing.
Being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT) is becoming more and more difficult in Russia, where sexual minorities are facing legal and social discrimination, harassment, and even violent hate crime attacks from religious and neo-nazi groups. In June 2013, Russia’s homophobia moved from the streets into the country’s legislation as the State Duma unanimously adopted an anti-gay law banning "propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations".
Because of this severe stigma, and continuing violent assaults on individuals and organizations, the LGBT community in Russia is often very suspicious and cautious about letting strangers in. Because of this, my collaboration with the leading LGBT NGO, Coming Out, has been essential. Not only did they help me to understand the many aspects of Russian homophobia, but every time something new happened they would let me know, and I could easily fly to Saint Petersburg and photograph the latest development—like the portrait of Dmitry Chizhevskiy, who’s left eye was destroyed after he was the victim of a hate-crime.
As the story was published around the world, the activists from Coming Out would share it on social media. They told me how much it means when someone takes them seriously. When someone is witnessing all they have to go through and tries to involve the rest of the world in their struggle for freedom.