How Helping Gaza Helps the Catholic LGBTQ+ Movement

Massimo Battaglio

Massimo Battaglio, an Italian LGBTQ+ activist and writer, recently reflected on the Global Sumud Flotilla, a nonviolent and humanitarian operation that has drawn global attention for its courage and solidarity with Palestinian people. Speaking with Bondings 2.0’s Elisa Belotti, Battaglio explored what this act of solidarity and peaceful resistance can teach Catholic LGBTQ+ activism today about justice, collective strength, and the enduring power of the “small” who dare to face the giants.

In a recent article for the Italian website La Tenda di Gionata (Jonathan’s Tent), you wrote: “There are times when it is right to remember that our rights are everyone’s rights. And there are times when it is good to recognize that the rights of all are our rights, as citizens and as people of faith”. In your view, how does the Global Sumud Flotilla remind us of this deep connection between justice, rights and faith?

“Our rights are everyone’s rights” is a slogan often used in the Italian LGBTQ+ movement to express that our struggles benefit the whole of society. A community that recognizes the rights of minorities grows healthier and stronger as a whole. Even from a practical point of view: a married couple is more productive for the country because they save more money than an unmarried person and so they can use their savings for non-fundamental goods that get more fiscal income.

It’s a way to say that what we ask for are not privileges, but rights that belong to everyone. We can see this also when we talk about homophobia and transphobia: it directly harms queer people, but it also hurts those around them, like their friends, families and communities. In Italy, La tenda di Gionata (Jonathan’s Tent) records criminal homophobic and transphobic events through the Chronicles of Ordinary Homophobia.There are almost 180 per year, including beatings, murders, people driven to suicide, evicted from their homes, and those who report serious incidents of bullying or discrimination at work. However, these only represent a small portion of the actual crimes. Most prefer not to report out of fear, because they have no witnesses or because they are unable to. Around the victims there are their families, friends, and those with whom they have various relationships. And everyone is caught up in the climate of terror and pain that generates. As a result our right to safety becomes everyone’s right to peace.

A boat that is part of the Global Sumud Flotilla.

In the same way, when we look at events like the Global Sumud Flotilla, the humanitarian initiative whose participants were bringing aid to Gazans but were detained by Israeli forces in international waters, inspired spontaneous solidarity from people on land. This initiative reminds us that peace is a universal right. As an LGBTQ+ community, we have long experience in nonviolent struggle and perseverance. We should feel called. That legacy can be a gift to others.

From a Biblical perspective, we can recall how the people of Israel in Scripture always moved together as a community. There are few lone heroes. We, the LGBTQ+ community, too, have learned to act collectively. Our faith can help us put that experience into practice, as a form of collaboration and shared strength for justice.

The nonviolent strength of the Global Sumud Flotilla, and of the many people on land who responded with the same determination, marks a historic moment. What can this stance teach Catholic LGBTQ+ activism?

I would actually speak of LGBTQ+ activism as a whole, not only of the Catholic part of it. The Catholic LGBTQ+ movement is not a religious alternative to the broader queer movement. From a political perspective, the demands we make − and those made of us − are the same as those of every other queer person, regardless of faith or religious background.

To the Catholic world, the humanitarian mission of the Flotilla and the spontaneous solidarity that followed − both during the journey and after the arrests in international waters − show that working for peace is our responsibility. It’s not God’s job to solve conflicts. It’s our task to deepen our faith, not God’s task to hand it to us. To stand beside God means to do our part, and doing our part is what pleases God. Too often we find absurd excuses not to take a stand. Yet as the Magnificat says, God “has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree” (Luke 1:52). We are called to do the same.

For the LGBTQ+ community, the experience of the Flotilla and the public support it inspired renew our faith in nonviolence, because our own movement was born from it. The movement that emerged from Stonewall changed the world not through brutality, but through courage and determination. Pride marches, too, are peaceful demonstrations. There has always been a deep bond between nonviolence and the LGBTQ+ community, and the Flotilla reminds us of that heritage.

Nonviolence is never easy. It comes at a cost. It does not mean simply turning the other cheek or remaining silent in the face of injustice. It means demanding justice rather than seeking revenge. How many times could LGBTQ+ people have taken up arms, formed militias or retaliated violently against those who attack and discriminate against us? We never did. We chose the harder path: the path of justice. It is a risky choice, because it requires trust in the honesty and empathy of others but, in the end, it is the only one that truly transforms.

The Global Sumud Flotilla calls us to move forward with the strength of small, seemingly powerless people who dare to face the powerful giants. Do you see a connection between this courage and the impetuous, dynamic history of the LGBTQ+ movement?

Let me begin with an example. Until 2015, Pride marches in Italy drew about ten to fifty thousand participants. In 2016, while Parliament was debating the Cirinnà Law that proposed civil unions for same-sex couples, more than a hundred thousand people joined the Turin Pride alone, in the north of Italy. That year, we decided to set aside more radical political slogans and focus instead on visibility, awareness, and the simple act of being together. Faced with that overwhelming turnout, even the most hesitant members of Parliament − especially the Catholics representatives within left-wing parties − were shaken. Only a few months later, the Cirinnà Law was passed. Anyone who says that protest changes nothing should remember that.

Even now, governments across Europe are struggling to respond to the spontaneous wave of solidarity with the Flotilla and with the people of Palestine. I believe it will be hard for Italy − and for many other governments − to ignore this pressure for long. What we’re witnessing is the same “strength of the small” that has marked every step of the LGBTQ+ movement: millions of people uniting peacefully, striking, demonstrating, or simply standing in solidarity. When you add together those who take to the streets and those who support from home, they are no longer a minority. We are the majority of the electorate. That’s the kind of strength that changes history.

—Elisa Belotti, New Ways Ministry, October 20, 2025