Macedonia’s first anti-discrimination legislation came into force in 2011, but doesn’t cover discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation
By T.J.
BALKAN societies emerging from years of Communism are generally not particularly tolerant or socially liberal. In the past, opprobrium tended to be reserved for those of a different ethnicity or religion, but now being gay has been added to the list. Every year (and often under pressure from the demands of the European integration process) Balkan governments are being put on the spot to protect gay pride marches from religious and nationalist bigots. In this photo story Tomislav Georgiev seeks to shine a light on everyday gay life in Macedonia.
His pictures are part of a series to come out of a 2010 collaboration between Germany’s Robert Bosch Stiftung and World Press Photo who teamed up to help 15 talented young photographers from southern and eastern Europe. All of the essays are here. We are showcasing some of them on Eastern Approaches. The first were pictures by Eugenia Maximova about the life of Taybe Yusein, a young Bulgarian wrestler. The second were about Albania’s cruel past by Jetmir Idrizi. The third set by Vesselina Nikolaeva, was about a controversial mining project in Transylvania. The fourth by Nemanja Pancic was about the Dervish tekke of Tetovo in Macedonia. The fifth by Octav Ganea tells the story of the struggle of Roma in Bulgaria to get an education and break the mould of tradition.
This is Tomislav Georgiev’s introduction:
Macedonia’s first anti-discrimination legislation came into force in 2011, but doesn’t cover discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation. This is hardly surprising in a country whose medical textbooks still describe homosexuality as a mental disorder and where parents regularly take their homosexual children to psychiatrists.
Almost everyone in Macedonia has an opinion on homosexuality but almost nobody has any real information. Because homosexuals must hide behind the mask of “normal”, most Macedonians are not aware of the problems they face. Their closest friends usually can’t understand them and their parents almost never do.
The fear of public exposure made it difficult for me, as a documentary photographer, to find subjects. People in the gay community were frightened of being manipulated or exposed. Eventually, by treading carefully and being honest, I found people who would let me document their day-to-day lives. Anonymously, of course.
This is a bittersweet story. It is a story of couples leading double lives and singles longing to be able to live in a relationship like anybody else. It is the story of a transsexual who has been in a romantic relationship for four months with a man who still doesn’t know she is a boy. It is the story of a Rainbow Festival, at which a venue owner was concerned that a photo exhibition would be seen as a provocation. He needn’t have worried; the organisers were careful to keep the public away.
