The Harrowing Reality of Anti-Gay Laws: One Refugee’s Story
As longtime readers of Bondings 2.0 may be aware, we often cover laws around the globe which criminalize LGBTQ+ people and often punish them harshly and severely. We cover this issue for three reasons: 1) because Catholic Social Teaching requires that human dignity must be respected, and such laws are severe violations of that tenet; 2) because, shamefully, in a number of nations, Catholic leaders are often strong supporters of such harsh laws; 3) because, on the other hand, there are many faithful Catholic leaders who speak out strongly against such laws and harsh treatment, including Pope Francis who in 2023 said that “being homosexual is not a crime” and that laws criminalizing such people are unjust.

Homosexuality is also considered a mental disorder in Turkmenistan, so punishment for perceived homosexual behaviour can include forced placement into psychiatric institutions. Recently, the country has launched a campaign to identify LGBTQ+ teenagers for punishment.
Arslan is being helped by the Catholic LGBTQ+ association La Tenda di Gionata (Jonathan’s Tent) in Italy while he searches for a hospitable country where he can apply for asylum.
Bondings 2.0’s Elisa Belotti recently spoke with Arslan to learn more about his story. Trigger warning: this story relates experiences of violent treatment, rape, torture, and contains a version of an anti-gay slur.
Can you describe your childhood for me?
I was born in Turkmenistan in 1995 into a very poor family.I had to drop out of school to get a job. All my life, I was bullied by classmates and people around me, because I was different. They said I looked like a girl. I was skinny, always hungry, dirty, too white. There were many different kinds of humiliation.
I really felt different. I thought differently from everyone else I knew. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, until at the age of 16 I bought my first mobile phone. I went online, a boy texted me and at that moment I realized I wasn’t alone, that other gay people exist. I felt very relieved.
How did your life change after that awareness?
When I was 18, I moved to the capital, Aşgabat. I found a job as a waiter and I met a boy. For the first time in my life, I fell in love. I started a relationship. With him, I had my first kiss, my first intimate experience. We lived together for four years.
One day the police arrested him and promised to let him go if he reported another gay person. He reported me. The police tortured me for an entire day. They beat me with plastic weapons on my head, heels and palms, demanding that I report someone else. I screamed and said they had no right to beat me, so they hit me even harder. Finally, I was forced to admit that I am gay. Only then, did they stop.
That day, they arrested nine people and sent all of us to solitary confinement. We stayed there for five days, laying on the concrete floor. They didn’t feed us, it was very cold, dirty and damp. Sometimes they took us to different hospitals, where doctors yelled at us: “You’re disgusting fagg*ts! You’re getting on our nerves, there are more and more of you, we should kill you.”
In 2018, a closed-door trial took place and we were sentenced to two years in a penal colony. There were 72 inmates, 40 like me, convicted of homosexuality. We were kept separated from the others in a section called “harem” which was a group of some shacks for those who were not considered real men, the humiliated ones,.
In prison one of the inmates, a murderer, raped me. I was so afraid, I thought he would kill me. It happened five times. I felt dirty and empty. I wanted to kill myself, so I ate a bunch of pills, but I survived. The next day, they took me to the prison director’s office. He asked me why I had attempted suicide and I told him everyting. He replied: “You’re a whore. You’re here because you have sex with men. What’s the big deal? Do it again.” And then he laughed. It was very humiliating.
I was also scared because in prison many people die because of AIDS. They don’t receive treatment and many don’t even know they live with HIV. Despite knowing this, the Turkmenistan government does nothing; it pretends HIV and AIDS don’t exist.
When did you get out of prison?
I was lucky because I was granted an amnesty. After 11 months in prison, I was released. I really thought it was all over and I was finally free. Unfortunately, the other prisoners and I were placed under police supervision. We had to check in every week at a place where the police shamed us, shouting in front of everyone: “Here come the girls.”
I moved back to Aşgabat and found a new job as a waiter, but people recognized me. They told my colleagues and supervisors about my sexual orientation. This happened for several years in a row. Each time it happened, I was forced to run away from work and hide.
Did the government eventually leave you alone?
In 2021, I got Turkmenistan citizenship and was immediately admitted to a psychiatric hospital. When I told them they had no right to treat me like that, they restrained me to the bed and told me that if I kept on speaking, they would give me an injection and I would never be able to talk again. I was very scared. I stayed there for seven days and I was in shock at the way the doctors treated people with mental health issues.
They eventually acknowledged that I was a healthy person, and I was released–but only to be sent to the army. When I told them I couldn’t join the army because I had been in prison, they replied that I was lying.
What happened when you arrived at the military unit?
They asked the future soldiers all kinds of questions. They wanted to know who had a family, who had been in the psychiatric ward or in prison. I answered honestly: I had been in both a psychiatric ward and in prison. They were shocked and transferred me to a military psychiatric hospital. I was held there for 50 days, isolated from everyone, behind a fence. They gave me medication: six pills a day, but I don’t know which kind of drugs.
After I was finally released, I returned to Aşgabat to work as a cook. I was working there for a year, when a man who was in prison with me told my boss that I am gay. My employer was very religious and his brother was a policeman. I denied everything when he asked about my sexuality and prison, but he was already suspicious, because I had never had a girlfriend nor did I ever talk about girls.
The same day, I ran away from work. My employer knew where I lived and started coming to my apartment, calling me, texting threats, saying they would find me and kill me. At that time, I was in a very bad place. I had lost all sense of purpose in life. I had no family or money. I didn’t understand why I kept on living.
What changed?
I saw a video online about an organization called EQUAL PostOst that helps people like me in post-Soviet countries:. They advocate for our interests and evacuate LGBTQ+ people under persecution. Thanks to them, I found help and the money to get an international passport.
I’m now in a safe country. I applied for a humanitarian visa to France, but unfortunately it was rejected, despite having significant evidence proving I was convicted because of my homosexuality. So I currently have no protection. I could be caught at any time and deported to Turkmenistan, where I face death or at least 20 years in prison.
I’m looking for a safe place in a hospitable country. I hope to find a place where I could live without risking my life. My dream is that people talk more and more about homosexual people persecuted in Turkmenistan, because it is very hard to get out of the country and there is little evidence of what is going on.
—Elisa Belotti, New Ways Ministry, January 14, 2026

Based on a statement endorsed by 750 theologians, church leaders, and key Catholic figures, the brief 60-page book is suitable for pastoral ministers, educators, and Catholics in the pews. It explains why the Catholic faith promotes equality for LGBTQ+ people, despite some church leaders’ opposition. It also includes testimonials, discussion questions, and a list of resources.
New Ways Ministry offers in-person and Zoom presentations on the ideas presented in A Home for All. For more information or to request a workshop, send email to [email protected], or call 301-277-5674.
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Oh my. This is so heartbreaking. What do these people gain in being so cruel? It’s one thing to not like us, but it’s another to go out of one’s way to persecute others. I pray that this young man finds a safe, welcoming place where can stay for the long term.