He is a gay man, a human like any one of us, indistinguishable in any way. Normal. How does a man like that end up claiming asylum here in the UK, fearing for his life, chastised and now abandoned by everyone who ever knew him, ever loved him?
“Oh I have got an answer for that”, said Mr Syed Istiake Hossain our subject today, when we asked him that same question. Mr Hossain, a Bangladeshi male who has currently sought asylum here in the UK stated, “Its religion and fear of the unknown in general, sometimes an amalgamation of both”. The words rolled off his tongue, giving me the impression he has answered this question too many times than he should have to.
Mr Hossain’s story is part of a growing humanitarian crisis involving members of the LGBT community across the world, who have been cornered to the point where they regard secrecy as a means of survival, not as a tool to blend into society like the used to. When asked if that is what he did Mr Hossain replied,
“Of course and it was 10 times as worse than what it is today. Today a modern individual is very much aware of his fundamental rights, and at least has an idea of where to go if he is being deprived of them. Today there are more support groups available than it was before. I remember Google-ing “Gay people in Bangladesh” when I was in Higher secondary school, at the back of my computer lab class. Instead of being greeted with a list of organizations offering support, I was horrifying links depicting violence and hatred against the LGBT community, even random (open/public) Facebook posts trolling people like me. I am not joking!” finished Mr Hossain with a smile.
Indeed there is little he has to smile about these days, with having to seek asylum in the UK as the last resort to preserve his life, rather than anything else, when seemingly even God has abandoned him. Mr Hossain’s brief reference to religion was, of course, an indirect jibe at Islam rather than anything else, which is understandable given the society he grew up in, designed to be hostile against the LGBT community. Islam, however, is one of just several deep-seated problems that have unsettled the nation of Bangladesh. Much of it has actually had to do with how things like homosexuality, are perceived to be.
Take the Penal code 377 for example, borne out of any direct influence of religion, created before the independence of Bangladesh, fortified by its founding fathers later on in post-1971. It is after all our laws first which lay the foundations of civilizations. Customs and culture come second (but in special cases, of course, are precursors for laws, but that is another debate.
“Of course”, agreed Mr Hossain, when we asked him if it is the mentality of the people of Bangladesh more than anything else. “And you need only cast your eyes over to our next-door neighbours, India. A predominantly Hindu nation, where the highest court of authority recently decriminalised homosexuality and bisexuality. They did not have to do that, did they? Hinduism, like Islam, abhors homosexuality and bisexuality. So why did judges of the highest court of law in a country recognize people like us, instead of wrinkling their nose like they are expected to? Mentality, it is all about perception and the kind of mindset you have against members of the LGBT community. We are not disciples of Satan, we are not hell-bent on polluting the planet with our lewdness as they refer to it. Our thoughts our feelings, desires are about as normal as the next 1000 average individuals.”
Indeed it was just a brief inkling of the stifled life Mr Hossain has had to endure, which essentially started as and continues to be a struggle against the social norms and culture. It wasn’t any easier for him as a child.
“No it wasn’t,” said Mr Istiake, reminiscing about his childhood. “I had just hit or was about to hit puberty and like anyone else I was unaware of these foreign feelings. I had fleeting crushes, nothing substantial until very later on in my life. But the realisation of being gay was not difficult to deal with. On the contrary, it was the aftermath that was. My first worry was what my parents with think and what they would think, and I used to imagine all these horrible scenarios. One of them has sadly now materialised for real.”
Mr Istiake sadly refers to his parents who have all but officially disowned him, referring him to as a remnant of “a curse” for some sin they may have committed earlier in their lives. That is what Mr Istiake tells us.
You would think friends and family most of all would offer some sort of reprieve from the cruelties of the world, after all that is what a “normal” person expects. No matter how low you go, your family will always be there to pick you up. But as you can see there are some in our society who cannot even expect that, made to feel naked, orphaned, without actually being one, as is the case of Mr Hossain here.
But of course, this is a brief summary of life (if you can call it one) of a gay man in Bangladesh. In truth, based on this brief glimpse at the troubled life of a bright, well-spoken individual such as Mr Hossain, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to state that members of the LGBT community today are underserved, unfairly and inhumanely regarded as the dregs of humanity.
