'Fighting' For My Rights?
The Constitutional Court in Slovenia ruled that same-sex marriage ban is unconstitutional, which means that Slovenia is now the first Slavic country to recognise same-sex marriage. Despite my previous caveats about gay marriage and queer liberation, this ruling was a pleasant surprise to me. Between climate change, covid recession, and the rise of the far-right in Europe, it’s difficult to remain optimistic about the future. Any progress is good enough at this point, no matter how marginal it may seem.
As I was looking at the map of countries that have legalised gay marriage, now with Slovenia on it, I wondered whether any other Slavic countries could join the club soon. The only ones I could think of were Czechia and Croatia, but with their current governments it seems unlikely at best. I thought about my home country and remembered how people told me not to move out… ‘If you want to change things, you have to stay and fight for it!’ At the time, I just didn’t care and wanted to get out as quickly as possible.
In retrospect, those comments feel almost offensive to me, especially coming from straight people. Why should I have to fight to be respected for who I am? If they wanted me to stay, perhaps they should’ve fought harder for my rights. I don’t think it’s fair how queer people are so often expected to be part-time activists. I was privileged enough to remove myself from a toxic environment, and I did. Does that make me cowardly? To some, certainly.
There is this idea, perhaps rooted in Christian martyrdom, that a queer person should stomach abuse and disrespect - whether it is from their family or society at large. A queer person needs to be patient and understand the other point of view. This often comes from liberal ‘allies’, and I find it incredibly damaging and unhealthy. I don’t see a virtue in tolerating abuse. I always believed that respect has to go both ways, so as soon as I began to understand how hostile my home environment truly was to me, I made the decision to leave.
I remember one day, long after I left my home country, I was talking to someone about my high school experience and how it always bothered me that so many of my teachers were openly homophobic, even going as far as to use slurs and saying they’d kick their child out of their house if they were gay. The person (from my home country) I was telling this to said to me: ‘I always thought you were stronger, that you didn’t let those kinds of comments get to you’. I was speechless, because that was not my point at all. I was not offended by my teachers’ comments (although I had every right to be!), I simply recognised that I was not welcome in their presence, and I was not going to beg them to like me. Not to mention that this problem was not just about me - it’s about the learning environment of all children.
I don’t see myself as a victim. And I don’t see my actions as a sign of weakness either. I’m a survivor. I don’t think it’s weak to say ‘what you are doing to me is not right, you should stop’. Calling out abuse is not a weakness, it’s a sign of healthy self-respect. Frankly, I am not interested in putting myself back in harm’s way just so I could score pity points among the straight allies.
I do appreciate and admire my fellow Slavic queers who stayed and fight for change every day. Some of them did not have a choice. I respect that, and I stand in solidarity with them. But I reject the narrative that the state of my home country is my personal responsibility.