Since the fall of Assad’s regime on December 8, many Syrians’ hopes and dreams have risen toward reaching a state of freedoms and equality, given that the Syrian regime had been the primary obstacle to that dream. Yet this collides with a much darker reality, not only because of the nature of the jihadist factions that toppled the regime, factions that were in fact one of the reasons the peaceful civil revolution of 2011 was aborted, but also because of the conservative nature of Syrian society itself, which rejects many of the basic principles of human rights or views them through a discriminatory lens.
A Law that Criminalizes and a Society that Refutes: Article 520 and the Power of Custom
This is most evident when looking at the rights of LGBTQ+ people in Syria and the prospects for improving their lives in the foreseeable future. Under Assad, persecution was enforced through Article 520 of the Penal Code, which criminalizes “unnatural intercourse” with imprisonment for one to three years. Society itself also rejects LGBTQ+ people, drawing on religious texts, inherited customs and traditions, and the prevalence of toxic masculinity that dictates people’s behavior, gender roles, and sexuality. The Syrian revolution, politically, failed to produce a positive discourse on LGBTQ+ issues—not only from Islamist factions but even within more moderate political bodies such as the “Opposition Coalition.”
Return Is Not Safe
In recent weeks, the issue of “return” resurfaced with the limited return of some Syrians from Europe, coinciding with the escalation of violence in Suwayda and grave violations against civilians. Around the same time, videos circulated showing assaults against transgender people in Damascus, along with the killing of refugees who had come back from Europe. The most notable case was the killing of Youssef Al-Labbad after returning from Germany to Syria, with conflicting accounts that he was killed by security forces. There were also killings in Suwayda, including a video documenting security forces forcing three men to jump from a balcony while chanting “Allahu Akbar.”
These incidents reopened questions of safety and individual rights in “post-Assad Syria,” especially for the LGBTQ+ community in exile in Europe. For them, the danger no longer comes only from the authorities and their apparatus, but also from a conservative social and religious structure that codifies and justifies discrimination.
Fear of Both Society and Authority
Omar, a Syrian-German political activist who is gay and lives in Berlin, working with a German organization supporting refugees and new migrants, expressed deep fears about the narratives of return that are being circulated in political and media discourse without consideration for individual circumstances. His concerns go beyond the current authorities to the very structure of Syrian society.
“What is frightening in Syria is not only the tools of the state, but society itself,” he said. “Extremists feel they have social and religious authority to enforce what they call forbidding vice. Today, they also have the law-enforcement tools backing them.”
For years, Islamist factions in Syria committed atrocities against LGBTQ+ people, including horrific executions by “throwing from high places,” often filmed and broadcast publicly. This makes it impossible to feel hopeful today with those same factions now in power, despite their promises of respecting individual freedoms in their public rhetoric.
“When we rose against the regime in 2011,” Omar added, “conservatives and the alliance of clerics were partners in power. Today they don’t seem to have changed—on the contrary, their voice has only grown stronger.”
After the Fall: Documented Attacks
Omar’s statements are consistent with incidents reported this month in Damascus and other areas, where killings and kidnappings of civilians occur daily. Among them was the documented assault on a transgender woman in central Damascus. The video showed her being insulted with degrading language, chased by dozens of people who sought only to humiliate her, with explicit calls for her murder. Such scenes make returning to Syria, even for a visit, a dangerous gamble for LGBTQ+ refugees.
Change Must Start from Within
Democratic systems in Western countries protect LGBTQ+ individuals not out of sympathy but on the principle of equality, which places all citizens on equal footing in terms of rights and duties, regardless of religion, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or gender identity. This principle remains absent in Syria and most Arab states, where laws, constitutions, and social customs institutionalize discrimination, not only against LGBTQ+ people but against minorities more broadly.
For this reason, many Syrian LGBTQ+ activists believe that real change in Syria must begin from within: through gradual recognition of their rights, removing the stigma of them being “unnatural” or “sinful,” and eventually passing laws to protect them from violence and discrimination.
Under Assad, homosexuality was criminalized. Though prosecutions were not always systematic, arrests and blackmail were common, especially through the “morality police.” At the same time, there were no recognized organizations defending LGBTQ+ rights, and any social or recreational activities took place in secrecy, in so-called “safe” spaces run by LGBTQ+ individuals or their allies.
Despite Assad’s fall, little has changed. Rights groups and media outlets have documented repeated assaults on transgender people in recent months, some filmed by the perpetrators themselves. Videos, the latest from last month, show patterns of gender-based violence amid the absence of protective laws and the persistence of old legal frameworks, enforced even more brutally by jihadist groups active since the civil war began in 2011. These groups sought to impose strict sharia law, as exemplified by Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham’s rule in Idlib, which remained outside Assad’s control for most of the war.
The “Individual Mistakes” Problem
Many LGBTQ+ Syrians fear that the new government, despite its declared civilian nature, will be constrained by conservative or religious hardline alliances. Reports suggest that Ahmed Al-Sharaa, head of the transitional authority, relies on religious figures with hardline backgrounds. Added to this is the lawlessness and violations justified as “individual mistakes” that supposedly do not represent the authorities—yet without any legal framework to stop such acts or deliver justice. This deepens skepticism about guarantees for personal freedoms.
Since the fall of Assad’s regime in December 2024, new expectations have emerged among Syrians inside and abroad about the country’s future and the possibility of returning after years in exile. While some refugees, especially in neighboring countries, have returned for exploratory visits or permanently, the situation remains complex for the Syrian queer community in Europe, particularly in Germany, where Berlin has become a vital hub for them.
In recent months, LGBTQ+ Syrians themselves have publicly voiced fears on social media about return narratives and the pressures generated by repeated calls, especially in Syrian and Arab media, for the return of all refugees, without considering the individuality of asylum cases.
The Darvish: “I Don’t Think I’m Invited to Celebrate”
Conversations with LGBTQ+ individuals in Berlin reflect these fears and the complex relationship they maintain with their identities, as they struggle to reconcile pride in their roots with the oppression they faced in Syria. On the other side, they feel that their existence and achievements as Syrians are not even acknowledged, sometimes outright denied.
One such figure is a Syrian belly dancer in Berlin who calls himself “The Darvish.” He sees dance as a way to understand himself as a Syrian belonging to the queer community in exile. For a long time, he had no connection to Syria, but dancing helped him better grasp his identity and self. He did not start dancing as a profession, but as a hobby. “Dance wasn’t a serious way to earn money,” he said, “but rather a form of fun and self-expression among friends and relatives. My professional journey only began after I arrived in Germany.”
The Darvish wears costumes during his performances and events that express his identity, personality, and the inner joy he carries, while also fitting into Berlin’s fashion scene. These outfits—together with his profession as a belly dancer—may seem unusual to people in Syria, other Arab countries, or even in some foreign contexts. They make him an easy target for extremists because his appearance immediately signals his sexual identity, unlike others who may “pass” more easily within the socially dominant expectations of masculinity and femininity. Such expectations strip people like The Darvish of their humanity simply for existing, not only at the hands of authorities but also of individuals who grant themselves the right to judge based on their religious and social backgrounds.
Like all Syrians, The Darvish celebrated the fall of Assad’s dictatorship with dreams and hopes. “I thought about returning to share in the joy of victory,” he explained, “but I don’t know if I could travel. I was very happy at the regime’s fall, but I don’t think most Syrians inside would invite me to share that joy, because they look down on me for my profession and clothes.”
Like many Syrians who sought refuge in Europe after the revolution, The Darvish still believes Syria is unsafe—not only for him as a gay man, but for most Syrians. This view hasn’t changed even within European asylum classifications that designate “safe countries,” which were recently renewed despite ongoing debates.
Now settled in Germany, The Darvish has built a new life, with friends, a community, and a career where he feels safe. For this reason, he does not currently think of returning to Syria to resettle and doesn’t believe his profession could exist there. “There is no real space for freedom in Syria right now, especially for trans people,” he said. “We’ve seen campaigns of arrests and torture against them. We have hope, but it keeps fading. The Shar’a government relies more on religious authorities. Even after his meeting with U.S. President Donald Trump, and though lifting sanctions might be linked to freedoms, Trump himself is hostile to LGBTQ+ rights.”
“I’ve received many threats because of my dancing, both from inside and outside Syria,” The Darvish added. “Syria and the Arab world are places incapable of understanding art—especially when it’s a man performing belly dance, which is usually associated with women and the female body. A patriarchal society rejects me and looks down on me.”
This point is tied to toxic masculinity and rigid stereotypes of what men and women “should” be. That is why trans people may be the most vulnerable—or among the first to be targeted—in Syria, a pattern mirrored globally in recent years under the pressure of far-right, ultra-conservative currents. Such attitudes appear in the rhetoric of figures like Donald Trump and businessman Elon Musk.Alaa: “They Don’t Want Us There”
Alaa, a 30-year-old Syrian lesbian who fled to Germany in 2015 and now works at a women’s car rental company, shares similar views. “I sought asylum in Germany for many reasons, war being one of them, but not the only one. Life in Syria was unbearable. We were a small community living in hiding. Here, I can be myself without fear or shame,” she said.
Alaa described the new political phase as worrying: “We celebrated the fall of the regime, but the reports of massacres and attacks are alarming. I don’t believe the new authorities will be tolerant of LGBTQ+ people, even though we stood with the revolution.”
Now a German citizen, Alaa does not plan to return to Syria permanently—not even in the future—because safety is essential for her, and it is currently lacking for many groups, including LGBTQ+ people. She might consider visiting Syria only if security conditions improve, because her family, home, and childhood are there. Commenting on the recent assaults on trans people in Damascus, she said: “These attacks, and the way they were documented, reflect the culture of those who came to power. It’s a clear message that they don’t want us there.” As for her hopes, she added: “I just wish that one day we will have our rights protected in Syria—that’s all I want.”
The Darvish summed up his hopes in moving words: “We’re not demanding full rights like in advanced societies. We only ask not to be harmed, not to be seen as a threat to society’s values. We just want to be treated as human beings—nothing more.”
He sent a message to Syrians inside the country: “We’ve proven ourselves abroad, and it’s time to be valued inside Syria as well. Reconstruction is not just about stone and concrete, but about being together in our differences. Many Syrians from the LGBTQ+ community want to be part of building a new Syria.” He also urged the current government in Damascus to “respect and protect minorities, because Syria is more beautiful in its diversity.”
