“When I was a kid I couldn’t understand sadness.  I was happy all the time.  After the war started, then I understood what human suffering means.  When I heard bombing, weapons and the voices of the people dying, shouting.  Mothers and fathers and kids dying.  When their hearts were burning, when they stayed in their houses afraid of everything and waiting for their turn to die.  The people who didn’t die in the war escaped and left the country.  I was dreaming of finishing school like any kid who has the right to life, to finish my school and make my future.  But now everything has disappeared; the studies, the tenderness, the love. 

We escaped from our country to not die in the war and to finish our studies.  We came to Greece and they opened their doors.  I want to thank Europe because they accepted us, they opened their doors.  But why did they cut us in the middle of our way and why do they make us suffer?  We are here many [over a year], why do they refuse us? 

I am talking about all [like me], their pain is the same as my pain.  If it needs to be a special situation, then we are all a special situation.  We all escaped from our country because of war.  The war which is now 7 years*.  We didn’t come to Europe for tourism.  We escaped from war to study, to make our dreams come true.  (*at the time of the interview)

My mother because of all this got sick and was tired.  She is very sad about me and my brothers and sisters because we are too young to live this miserable life.  We slept on the roads and everyone knows that.  My mother is all my life, she is the breath I take everyday.  If anything happened to my mother then you would call us a special situation.  So do I have to lose my mother to be a special situation?  When are they going to give me the ok to go out? 

When I say goodbye to one of my friends, I am happy for him or her, but at the same time I am sad for my friends. I am deeply sad because we came together but they left and we are still here. They refused our asylum in Greece, why? It’s true we are safe now, but we go to sleep with fear. We have many needs and we cannot ask our family or parents because we know how it is for them.  Since the war started we are not getting all our needs met. I wish for all the presidents of Europe to find the solution for us to save us from this situation and help us.  We lost these days from our lives.  We didn’t see anything come from it.”

I'm 23. I am going to tell you a story about sexual violence. My story. I am now ready to tell it. This happened when I was 16. I went to a concert and I was alone there. I saw a girl I liked. A man about 35 years old noticed my interest in that girl. She refused to meet me when I asked, and I decided to leave before the concert was over.

It was dark in the lobby. The man who watched me pushed me into the toilet with the words, “Iʼll teach you the correct (sexual) orientation. A girl should only look at men.”

He raped me. I had no prior sexual experience. I tried to fight back but in shock and pain I couldnʼt do much. He just left after.

Bruised, in tears and ripped clothes, I found strength to get home. I didnʼt tell anyone anything about this. I remembered his face and remember it even now. If I went to the police, most likely they would find him. But I live [here] and they donʼt believe in justice.

Police are not friends of LGBT.

I wish that people who found themselves in such a situation could talk to someone. After telling this story I feel better. I hope this will never happen in your life. This is my story and I am glad I shared it.

Since childhood, it has been difficult for me to join at least one group. I always knew I was a girl. But I was born in the wrong place to simply show it. The children felt that something was wrong with me, so I was abused from the time I was going to kindergarten. At school there was a true hell. Physical and moral violence, bullying, spitting on my side, and also outdoors. And there was no support at home, no one cared. I am a person with faith imposed on me from birth, I mean, I was baptized when I was an infant. During the puberty, I imitated women, followed them, their manners and body language. And during the maturation period, I expected that my breasts would begin to grow, but my hair began to grow, it was unexpected. The continuous violence from the society made me think and I, kind of made a pact with supreme powers that I would not study myself "as a woman" in order to stay a little safe. I lived as a white cisgender man. There were various difficulties. There was also a so called first love and so on. There was a terrible depression and I pulled myself out of it. I overcame the depression, quit drinking alcohol and smoking, took care of my body, made myself presentable. I started learning various ways of eating and discovered nutritionology. Trying to understand it, I realized that I want to learn more about it and become a professional on this topic. But I also realized that I am tired of that the feeling when I don't understand myself. I went to online forums to read all sorts of stories.

At first I thought I was gay. I came across a story similar to mine, and a day after that I saw a picture of a guy and a girl in a missionary position, and then it hit me. And just everything that I was trying so hard to hide for all these years, blocking -  it just came out like a cornucopia. By a flashback I immediately recalled these moments. It was so obvious, but I tried not to notice it. I was so much confused: what do I do with all that? I googled an organization that deals with this type of problems for transgender people. I wrote to them and decided to participate in their project. It was necessary to go to the employment center and take a referral to work, and I also had to come out. Then, I was supposed to describe it and get paid for it.

I went to our employment center. Everything was going well, I was offered various vacancies and courses, and then, when I was about to come out, I was offered a job in the employment center itself. I agreed. The curator of the project and I decided that it was dangerous to come out in this case as I was supposed to work in a team. So I started a blog where I wrote about everything that happened next. I did not give up my idea to study and went to retrain for a psychologist, so as not only to talk about nutrition.

I was saving money little by little, as I know how to live humbly, but then Covid happened. It passed like a severe flu. But the consequences were terrifying. I couldn’t think at all, had no energy, hair loss. I had to take care of my health and spent all the money that I had saved for education. Then I had various annoying inspections at work. Higher authorities came to our office for a revision. I was pressed about the uniform and other things.  The combination of factors turned out so that I decided not to stay there any longer and wrote a resignation letter. Basically, I decided to allocate January to myself and to sort out some things. In September I decided to get back to my hobbies - salsa and writing and also went for the challenge. I decided to celebrate my birthday before looking for a new job. I cooked delicious food, bought some things for myself and made some great plans for the future.

February was amazing. But on February 24 the war began. I learned about it from YouTube blogger. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew he didn't do clickbait. The war in Europe, in the 21st century - I really don't want to believe in this and I started to be active by spreading information via social networks trying to reach out to people, somehow explain them something like that is really a war. I was going out - I can't call it a real protest, because the only protesters on the square were the two people there - me and an another person. I was going out there until March. Then, I had a terrible nervous breakdown  right up to nausea. I felt really bad. On March 5, the police came to me. I was at home playing computer games. The doorbell rang and my mother opened it. She was told that the police had come. I've told her many times not to open the door to anyone. But she opened it and invited them inside. "Why are you standing there? Come on in!" she told them. You can't just, no matter who's there, you can't open it. They came in and came to my room. At first they said that it was allegedly because of a noise complaint from the neighbours that I wrote a year ago. I told them, "No, I didn't write anything." We've been bickering for a while. Then they acknowledged that they came because of my reposts in internet. This is what I understood at the very beginning and I had no illusions. I had to pack up and go to the police department.

In the car, a security guard was talking to me - he was either trying to defuse the situation, or he wanted to gain my trust. I immediately understood that it was not worth communicating with them and my strategy was to behave as a fool to see if it works. So many different people in different positions and ranks were talking to me, when I was delivered to the department. I told them I was hacked. It was true, just a few days ago my mail was hacked. I said that I don't understand all this and I need a lawyer. They sent a public defender who always cooperates with the police. I was just stalling for time. We seemed to have a nice conversation with the police, however, it is important to note that at that moment I was threatened in parallel – I was not allowed to go to the toilet. I was photographed, fingerprinted. They do not have the right to do this, there must be a reason for this. They threatened me, said that what I have told them would be enough for various articles. They asked if I ever went at the protests organized by Navalny. They said they know who I am and what they do with people like me. And they also confiscated my laptop and phone. I signed them a document allowing them to have a look in my computer. Here it is very important to "to have a look", not "to inspect". When the computer was delivered, I was taken to another room. Then they offered to go to a drug treatment center. They said that I looked somehow wrong. I agreed, I just knew that they can find more formal reasons and charge in something else. The state adviser began to advise me to refuse the trip, saying "you never know what will happen later, how it will affect your work," but I did not follow his recommendations and I agreed to go. On the way there, one of the cops asked if he could also write stories? I replied that anyone can write. He said: "Listen," and started to tell me an awesome story about a bull called April, lived in some village – I don't remember exactly the whole story, but the idea was that the bull was dead or he died, something like that. It was a hint. Why the hint? Because I have a girl, a friend. Her name is Marta, she is from Ukraine. We communicated with her from a female account. That made it clear that they did not just have a look, but they had inspected my personal technical equipment, without me.

100 percent there were no witnesses there, there was no one. They just started on the "lawlessness" and continued doing so. I knew very well that these were hints and provocations. I had to play the role of a fool, which I had to stick to until the end. I was talking neutral in principle and everything was fine with everyone.

When we arrived at the drug treatment center, the whole check was passed, everything was fine according to the tests. But that is understandable, what could be wrong there? I was asked "should we take you home?" Can you imagine that service?! I was taken home. When I came in, mom said, "Thank God you're back!" I was outraged, "So all this time you've been praying to God instead of finding me a lawyer?" First she let them in, and then she just prayed to God. I understood that most likely the police would set up surveillance, and called my brother to come. When he arrived, I gave him the contacts of the curator of the project for which I worked, because there was hope that if I was detained, my brother and nephew would be able to help to get me out. Naturally, my brother started by saying "what are you doing and why? Nothing can be changed and so on.”

In principle, nothing can be changed if no action is taken. Therefore, I absolutely disagree with him -  in order to change something you need to do something. Yes, there are consequences for this, but it doesn't work any other way.

I didn't sleep well the following night, I woke up sweating. They came for me at around 10-11 am. They started banging on the door. By this time I already understood what was going to happen and contacted a human rights organization. Behind the doors were two men in black, without identification sign - just completely black hats and jackets. I realized that I should not open the door or  talk to them. I just turned on my phone and started filming. They left quickly, but that was just the beginning. Then came the person who turned off my electricity. There was a box next to the door. Well, the neighbour keeps potatoes there, and he hid behind it. I'm with the camera, I can see everything. I'm filming everything. They expected that I would go out to check the electricity meters. I'm not going out anywhere, guys, under no circumstances. At some point, they decided either to involve a provocateur, or they themselves played a scene that some drunk started yelling and all that stuff.

Then they thought about it for a while. Then another one came, pretending to be talking on the phone and said, "yes, it won't work, well, like I'm leaving and you go.” I know he's at the door. In general, this lasted half an hour. After that, the man left. Then everything happened very quickly, I didn't have time to realize it. A man came up, it was clear he was a bandit and covered my peephole with chewing gum. I realized that now they are going to destroy the door lock. I knew it would be. The top lock was closed and the key was inserted. The central one opens only from my side, and I was holding the lower one. In general, a very very very long lock-breaking began. Later when these guys realized that they couldn't make it with locks and a hell horror began. They started banging on the door. To shake it, to pull the handles, almost the whole wall was shaking there, and it was really shaking. They started threatening me, intimidating me. He was saying there they had called the special forces. I also tried to hold on, because I knew that if they had an official permission, they wouldn't have done what they did.

Mom still could not behave adequately, walking around the apartment like a ghost. I couldn't calm her down. And just imagine, I have to hold the door, try to be in touch with the rights organization and keep my mother calm. Then they sent our relatives to convince us to open the door.

For some time they tried to get into the apartment in various ways. [The rights org] gave me a lawyer's contacts, I called her. She said we will come together to the department. I tell this  to the police - I said I won't open the door, but I will come. They also tried to convince me to open the door, but it didn't work out. They were gone.

When my lawyer and I came to the department, they were talking to me politely and notified me that they would be calling up to come to court through a phone call. They also returned my cell phone but did not return the laptop. But there was a lot of things in my laptop for what I could have got a criminal record, according to the current laws. I started looking for a way out.

I was lucky - firstly, the curator had shared with me the contacts of one of his friends, who advised me very well. He gave me the contact information of an organization that could help me to leave and I have contacted them. I am very grateful to this organization. I had to get a passport and buy tickets which took time, during which I tried to live invisibly as much as possible. I didn't repost, but I tried to talk to friends who didn't understand what was going on. It was hard to spend the night at home. I could wake up at four o'clock in the morning with the feeling that I need to leave the apartment. I know that at 6-7 o'clock in the morning is the time when they come. And there was something to come for.

I went out and walked - it was very cold. I caught myself thinking that somewhere under the bridges in the darkness I feel safer than on some busy street with lights and cameras. It's a terrible feeling. I thought that if I return home and there is a light on in the kitchen – it means that's it I can’t go back anymore.

After some time, I was able to move to another apartment, which was terrible, but at least I knew that they would not come for me there. After I received my passport, I was promptly bought tickets. I packed my things quickly too. I told my mother only on the day of departure. I came, took my things and left. The most difficult moment was the moment of leaving the apartment, and everything else did not matter.

It is the very step of leaving the apartment, it is the most decisive and it is the most difficult one. Why didn't I do it earlier? There was absolutely no problem with that? I wouldn't have collapsed. I feel wonderful right now. For me this is exactly what the freedom is. Now I understand that at that time I lacked a person who would tell me everything - where to go, how the border control works, what will happen next. It was my first time flying and I didn't know anything about it. It was hard — that's for sure. But this was not some kind of an impossible super task. Going back to the journey - it was beautiful. I had a connection flight in a city which absolutely amazed me. It was beautiful and I met great weather and nice people. We went to visit the very organization in which I participated in the project. I ate delicious food, and in the evening I saw a fire show. The three days were amazing. I could talk for a long time but I'll just say, I want to go back there, and I want [my country] to become free.

When I came here, to the country where I am now, the capital city did not seem to me  as exciting as that city. But then I really got into it. Sometime after my arrival, I began to have severe dysphoria. Absolutely the most powerful, I couldn't fight it in any way, day by day. I realized that everything I have don’t before – quitting consuming alcohol, smoking, getting myself out of depression, making my body, changing my lifestyle, diets, and so on, with dysphoria - it just doesn't work at all, nothing at all. I only felt better when I went shopping with the volunteers of the local organization to change my wardrobe. At first it was awkward and difficult. Sellers reacted to me and I was embarrassed. But after several trips, I already got used to it and calmly went to the fitting rooms, despite their comments: "Are you going to measure it?" I was saying "Yes, I am!"

I really like living. Life inspires me. I haven't seen enough to stop. I still find amazing music that inspires me as well as wonderful people and any small things. I remember in my city, I remember when I was passing the crosswalk, there was a traffic light and a sunflower has grown under it. It was just incredible, but these little things they make you, it is a randomness. I don't even know how to explain it. Life itself. Everything that happens, in one way or another, can inspire. Architecture, nature, birds’ sounds, the breath of wind. 

If considering the place where I lived - it is most likely a kind of black hole, swamps or something, which gradually draws you in. I wanted to get out of there. Oh, you're thinking of getting several educations there, learning a few more languages. Travel abroad, find out what is better and so on -those are excuses. To get out of there  means to become free.