World refugee day 2014

Refugees and displaced people now number more than 50 million worldwide according to the UNHCR's latest figures.

Whatever the reason, being forcibly moved from all you know is never easy, and making the most out of things once you're on the other end is often more troublesome.

Language difficulties, cultural misunderstanding, security concerns, legal issues and loneliness.

Share a thought for those like Bissam (pictured) who spent six years being displaced from his family, his home and all he knew. First to Syria then to Turkey, and finally to San Francisco after long years in rural Turkey.

Abdul receives asylum in the Netherlands

Abdul, an Iraqi asylum seeker I photographed in 2010, finally received refugee status in the Netherlands this week after years of waiting in Damascus, Syria. Without the finances to leave Syria as war enveloped the country, he continued to wait in Damascus. 

Not knowing what the future held whilst waiting patiently in a city gently disintegrating into chaos, it must have felt reminiscent of the Baghdad he left years before. 

Smuggling himself to a neighbouring country he was then able to take his flight to Amsterdam, where he says he's happy.

Despite this being only a small piece of positive news coming from Syria, it reminds me that there is some good news to receive from this catastrophe. 

As news filters through from Syria of further homophobic executions committed by extremist groups, I'm happy to see a friend far away, safe, and in a country that has led the world in LGBT rights for decades. 

His What'sapp message was definitely the best of 2014 so far. Happy New Year Abdul!

Memories in suitcases

Ali's bags were packed for his imminent departure to Canada, after more than two years of waiting in a small city in western Turkey. One of the tens of young Iranian men identifying as homosexual, that chose, or were forced to leave their country and claim for asylum and resettlement from Turkey.

After briefly explaining the gay life in Shiraz, Ali's hometown in southern Iran, he took out a carefully wrapped and labelled package from one of his suitcases containing home made films of private gay parties hosted at friend's homes, as part of what formed the underground 'scene'.

As the first seconds on the film flashed on the laptop screen, he said something that for me encapsulated the situation for LGBT Iranians, and those displaced due to their sexuality and gender identity around the world.

"Honestly, I don't know what happened to all these people. Some are refugees, some are living in Canada, some still in Iran, some imprisoned, and others are dead."

The films showed groups of men in their 20's and 30's dancing, eating, laughing, smoking and enjoying this safe space together. In at least three of the videos, the parents of the host were not only present, but fully embracing the situation, joining the dancing, clapping, and joking whilst bringing dishes of food to their guests.

Turkey, December 20th 2013.
Image caption: Sourena, left and Ali, right looking at photos and videos in Sourena's kitchen, Turkey. (C) Bradley Secker

Twice a Refugee and still waiting...

Bissam is now a refugee for the second time, this time in Turkey, after leaving Syria last April, at the start of Syria's 'Arab spring'.
Whilst he awaits news from the UNHCR regarding his refugee status his mind is becoming his enemy.

After escaping Iraq and living for four years in Damascus, Bissam felt that his future would be compromised by the revolution in Syria, and that both the refugee and LGBT community would become a target for those looking to scapegoat minority groups. Nine months ago he arrived in Turkey and applied for refugee status, from when there has been no update on his case.

Being exposed as a homosexual in Iraq meant almost certain death, whilst in Syria it became a dancing game to avoid detection by the authorities, subsequent imprisonment and possible deportation back to Iraq, and in Turkey it's a waiting game. The fear of the unknown has control over Bissam's mind, the future suddenly seems bleaker than before, and the end goal of living an open and free live almost unimaginable.

Living in a small Anatolian City in the depths of a cold winter are taking their toll, on a man that was full of life, charisma and smiles when I last documented his situation from Damascus in late 2010. The smiles are now seldom seen, and the nights are long as he considers his options carefully but erratically instead of sleeping.

The regional instability has killed thousands, and many continue to struggle for freedom, a better life and an end to restrictions on identity.

Iraq's unwanted people

August 2010, Damascus, Syria.
The unwanted of Iraq are many, the diaspora often resettle in Damascus, although some still live unknown lives, and have been doing so for a while.

The man in this photo was a high ranking officer in the Iraqi and International Police forces in the region, and now he lives alone in a single room in one of Damascus's poorer suburbs.

A life of danger and risk paid off with a hefty financial reward, and he enjoyed his time and money in Baghdad. During his time in the force he covertly working as a gay rights activist; freeing more than a hundred men arrested for homosexuality related charges.
Things were about to change, luck was about to end.

He was found out and 'outed'.

Life changed.

Danger was not just a risk but almost a guarantee if he stayed.

Threats came.

Family were injured, killed.

He is gay and Iraqi, something not looked at as possible by some.
Those with the guns.