EuroPride, a European-wide Pride event, has taken place annually across the continent since 1992. This year, Thessaloniki was hoping to become the first Balkan city to host EuroPride in June, until the dream comes to an end with the coronavirus pandemic.
Former Thessaloniki mayor Yiannis Boutaris long fought to bring EuroPride to the northern Greek city, despite resistance from politicians and the Orthodox Church.
In a magazine interview in 2017, he said that the event was an asset for Thessaloniki and that it was the duty of a democratic society to recognize diversity.
“Boutaris may not be gay, but he fought for our rights,” said Evi Minou, a queer filmmaker from the city. “And that’s why he attracted a lot of hatred from the nationalists. Thessaloniki didn’t like him.”
She added that religion remains a major obstacle. “Even though there are politicians who want to make a difference, they are often hampered by the Church, which has great influence in Greece,” she told DW.
Greece has not introduced legislation on same-sex marriage, nor has it allowed legal adoption of children for same-sex couples. Minou still hopes for equal rights for same-sex partners, as well as more tolerance and openness. “Homosexuals should be able to move freely on the streets without fear of hatred and violence.”
Learn more: How Iran’s Anti-LGBT Policies Put Transgender People at Risk
Discrimination and exclusion
While Pride and Christopher Street Day events have taken place in Western Europe for decades and are seen as a celebration of joy and coexistence, in the Balkans these parades look much more like rights protests fundamental humans of LBGTQI (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender). , queer and intersex). It was only last September that Pride parades were able to take place for the first time in Sarajevo in Bosnia and Herzegovina, although they had debuted in Skopje in North Macedonia in June 2019.
Learn more: European survey on LGBT+ equality reveals East-West divide
Although more cosmopolitan Balkan cities like Zagreb and Belgrade are more accustomed to such gatherings, lesbians and gays are among minority groups facing widespread discrimination, exclusion and even attacks. Once again, the Church is partly responsible, notably in Serbia, where the Orthodox clergy joined forces with far-right nationalists to cancel the Belgrade Pride demonstration in 2009. It took place the year following, but was the scene of a infamous anti-gay riot.
Such tension was recognized when Belgrade was announced as host of EuroPride in 2022. “I have seen for myself the violence and protests that Belgrade Pride has experienced in the past, and the votes of our members for Belgrade show that we want EuroPride to have maximum influence. “EuroPride will have a huge impact on LGBTI people in Belgrade, Serbia and the entire region,” she added.
This did not prevent the Belgrade Pride Center from being attacked a few days later.
Challenge conventions
Vasil Boyanov, better known as Azis, is a Bulgarian gay singer and performer of Roma origin. He was born in a women’s prison because his mother sold clothes, which was considered “entrepreneurial activity” and was therefore prohibited when Bulgaria was still under communist rule.
“I still live today with prejudices that will probably stay with me until I die,” Azis told DW. “Even when I was 5 or 6, children refused to play with me because they thought I smelled. It was precisely this fear of exclusion that made my mother bathe and perfume me twice a day, and put on extra-white clothes to please me. I look clean. But that only accentuated my dark skin even more.
Azis was interested in music from a young age and today is a popular artist in Bulgaria and throughout the Balkan region, having amassed a global fan base that extends as far as Asia.
Her queer persona, which involves heavy makeup and high heels, often provokes conservative and patriarchal culture, while her lyrics contain deep social critiques.
Because of his position as a successful artist, “his skin color and my sexuality can be forgiven,” he said. “I represent freedom, but that bothers some people,” he added. “Many want us to all be white and have blue eyes.”
Fighting for diversity in the Balkans
“Being black and gay is difficult, not just in Bulgaria, but everywhere. We are not welcome anywhere… only in Berlin maybe, but the world is not Berlin,” said Azis, who lived in the German capital from 1989 to 1992.
Balkan countries like Bulgaria still struggle to accept diversity. This was also demonstrated by the debate around the signing of the Council of Europe Convention to prevent and combat violence against women and domestic violence, better known as the Istanbul Convention.
Far-right parties that are part of the Bulgarian government coalition, as well as the Church, have spoken out against the convention due to the impression that it can be interpreted to include same-sex marriage, even if this does not is not explicitly stated. The Bulgarian Constitutional Court therefore ruled this decision unconstitutional, finding that the word “sex” in the Convention should be rigidly defined as masculine or feminine, implying fear that trans people would be recognized. The Convention has still not been ratified.
Croatia: glimmer of hope
Compared to other southeastern European countries like Bosnia and Herzegovina or Montenegro, where LGBTQI people still fear constant verbal and physical hostility, Croatia has emerged from the shadow of the Balkans.
“I have also received various threats, gossip, degradation and stigmatization, but compared to what others have to endure, it is not much,” said Croatian queer writer and journalist Srdan Sandic, who lives in Zagreb, the Croatian capital.
“In the early 2000s, more police officers were needed for Pride to take place (during Pride 2002, 32 people were injured — Editor’s note),” he told DW. “But today there are fewer attacks and it’s a great success for the LGBT community. It’s now an event that is no longer dangerous, but fun. I love this day.”
But this tolerance is largely limited in Zagreb. The fight for recognition is far from over in the most remote regions of the country.
“I want normalcy,” said Sandic, whose new book Ljubav je glagol (Love is a verb) is dedicated to the theme of homosexuality and universal love. He calls for acceptance of diversity, but also for equality in the political sense: “We want the same right to life, the right to be ourselves”.
