Whispers in the Oasis City: Love and Identity in Uzbekistan

By Kevin Pawlak

In March 2024, I set out with my boyfriend to Uzbekistan, my mother’s homeland. On this journey to discover a part of my identity connected with Uzbekistan, I had to hide another part of myself, as homosexuality is illegal.

The beauty and history of Uzbekistan were present everywhere, from the lively markets in Tashkent to the historic cities, but the joy of visiting my mother’s home country was accompanied by a constant fear of being outed as a couple. We often wondered if we were perceived as gay or if we were playing the “best friends” act well. It was shocking, though, by how quickly we got used to the situation out of necessity. By day, we pretended to be only best friends and by night we were secretly a couple.

One evening in Bukhara, after meeting a local, we decided to go out for dinner together. We indulged in a long and diverse culinary experience. Families were everywhere, breaking their fast. The air was filled with laughter from people having fun, and the aroma of delicious food wafted around us. The music was loud, and we sat under a canopy of stars in the oasis city of Bukhara. The sensation of sitting there felt magical; I could feel the pulse of the country’s culture with an overwhelming sense of euphoria. Yet, at that very moment, when I felt most at ease, it was even harder to restrain myself. The feeling that I couldn’t kiss my boyfriend or openly show him as my partner weighed heavily on us.

With our bellies full, we wandered together through the 2,500 years old town. I felt that we were becoming more familiar with each other, so I quickly and briefly dared to ask about the political situation. The response came swiftly and concisely: the political situation in the country was not good, the government did not act in the interest of the society, there were no demonstrations, and political discourse only happened behind closed doors. Before I could really process this, she volunteered more information, mentioning an attempt to hold a demonstration for queer rights that was disbanded after just ten minutes. After she said this, I didn’t know how to react. A multitude of questions swirled in my mind; I wanted to ask more about the political situation, and I was curious why she specifically mentioned the queer rights demonstration. Had she seen through our act? But I had no time to ask more questions, as the topic quickly shifted back to a discussion about ice cream.

The legal situation for queer people in Uzbekistan is shocking. Under Article 120 of the Uzbek Criminal Code, consensual sexual intercourse between men can be punished with up to three years in prison. Knowing the legal situation, we constantly made sure not to act “too conspicuously”; Thus, we could never really let go. From one day to the next, we had to call ourselves friends and everyday symbols like kissing on the cheek, or simply calling each other “Babe” were no longer possible. For fear of being perceived as a couple, we almost overcompensated by refrained from anything that hinted at intimacy, even friendly acts like hugging, which were commonplace among our male Uzbek friends. Only after double checking if our hotel room door was closed and the curtains were fully drawn could we let ourselves go a little.

Even though I promised myself to never lie about my sexuality again after coming out as gay, I was prepared to tell my Uzbek family about my non-existent girlfriend, if they asked, in order to protect the image of “straight best friends” my partner and I had created for them. This, however, never became necessary – they already assumed I had a girlfriend without asking.

At the end of our trip, when we were being driven back to the train station by a distant relative of mine, we talked about how I liked the home of my mother and that I should bring my wife next time as she would probably love it here too. They were way more interested in my imaginary wife than in my actual boyfriend sitting in the backseat.

In May 2018, 11 human rights recommendations were developed to improve the rights of LGBT people in Uzbekistan, but the Uzbek government officially rejected them. Same-sex sexual activity between men is not only formally criminalised in the Uzbek criminal code by Article 120, but to this day, people are convicted and punished with prison sentences of up to three years. The police use the law to spread fear, and men can be taken into detention where “medical examinations”, intimidation and violence are reported. Beyond the legal situation, queer people are not accepted by society and have to live in constant fear; there is no retreat.

In a country where our love is legally forbidden, I learned how important it is to fight for visibility and acceptance. This trip was a lesson; one must never forget what a privilege one has. Despite all the uncertainties that accompanied us, I am glad to have made this trip with my boyfriend. It was a journey full of beautiful cultural discoveries that we will not forget. This trip will shape our relationship, it will always remind us of how privileged we can live and that it is important to fight for one’s rights.

As we strive to remember our privilege, I reflect on our two-week journey to my mother’s homeland. It was a profoundly conflicting experience, as I tried to connect with a part of my identity that felt distant. Even my mother’s friends and our relatives could never truly know me, as I had to conceal a significant part of who I am. We must cherish and safeguard our privilege, for the struggle is far from over.

Throughout the trip, I witnessed breath-taking beauty, met the kindest souls, and embraced my mother’s heritage and family. Yet, the constant need to hide a part of myself lingered in my mind. This journey underscored the ongoing fight for equality and acceptance. The road ahead is long, but the experiences and connections we forge along the way give us the strength to persevere.

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