In Donetsk, LGBT Ukrainians Live on a Knife’s Edge
I was born in Donetsk, Ukraine, and left my hometown in 2014 at the dawn of the separatist-proclaimed, Russian-backed “Donetsk People's Republic” in the wake of the Russian annexation of the Crimean Peninsula. In the years since, I got involved in LGBT activism, married a bisexual woman, came out as trans, and became a journalist covering LGBT issues. This would have been unimaginable to my teenage self living in a conservative family in Donetsk.
I’ve always had an extremely complicated relationship with Donetsk. As a child, I hated it. Donetsk wasn’t the best place for an autistic, part-Jewish transgender boy to grow up. The Russian influence was omnipresent, and the intolerance towards anything that didn’t fit neatly into traditional Russian culture was palpable. I never felt at home in Donetsk. I’ve also never forgiven Russia for its decades of imperialism, culminating in the forceful annexation of Crimea and the burning of the Donbas region around Donetsk. The small city of Bakhmut, for example, a place my father often traveled to for work, was completely destroyed and became the site of one of the bloodiest battles since World War II for more than 10 months. For all of this, I was one of the lucky ones. After all, I was able to get out. Those who stayed, especially LGBT people, were not so fortunate. Now three and a half years into the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I reached out to a number of LGBT folks in the Donbas to hear their accounts of what life under Russian occupation is like.
Rachel Bat Sarah is a bi non-binary Jew, though everyone in Rachel’s life, including their mother and synagogue congregation, knows them by their male birth name. Rachel knew that they were different from an early age as an autistic child brutally bullied by boys at school while secretly envying the girls. Rachel had no language to describe the trans experience. The Internet was Rachel’s only outlet. It was while reading “yaoi” fanfiction — a Japanese-style genre of same-sex love stories about young men — that Rachel realised they were bisexual.
Now Rachel is open to their closest friends, but no one else. LGBT issues are so far beyond taboo that they are simply not discussed.
“People in Donetsk are really queerphobic, especially the older generation,” Rachel told me. “For example, they make jokes about the American ‘faggot’ army, showing pictures of trans people serving in the American military just to show how ‘stupid’ Americans are for accepting such people. Locals also seem to be especially outraged about the existence of openly queer people in New York, Amsterdam, Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv. It wasn’t like that in the past: there were some openly queer people on Ukrainian TV, but propaganda from Russian media turned LGBT people’s lives into a kind of joke for the general population.”
This resonated with my own recollections. Even before the war, the generation that was raised during Soviet times preferred to watch Russian Federal television channels and repeat their propaganda. Rachel also discussed the Russian army’s anti-LGBT bigotry and literal rape culture.
“The Russian army, including the Donetsk militia, is just a huge conversion therapy camp,” Rachel said. “They unsuccessfully try to turn gay and bi boys, trans women, and even gender-nonconforming men into their idea of a cis-hetero man. In the Russian army, any conscripts who show signs of gender dysphoria are forced into sexual contact with their comrades or military commanders.”
In Russia, it’s not uncommon for gay and bi men to be coerced or threatened into military service, often because of their sexual orientation, where they’re sent to fight in Ukraine and sometimes killed.
“A couple years ago,” Rachel explained, “I met a gay person who was a few years older than me. We fell out of contact, but I later found out from a Ukrainian Telegram channel that this man — a university employee — was mobilised in the Russian army and killed on the frontlines fighting for the same Russians who make fun of Americans for having queer people in their army! The Russian military is so full of hypocrisy.”
Rachel is deeply worried about being drafted into the Russian army, not just over fears of being killed or sexually abused, but also because the idea of fighting for the enemy is intolerable. Rachel has had opportunities to flee Donetsk, but stays to take care of their sick mother, who has no one else. The economic situation in the city has also deteriorated under the occupation. The only money Rachael's family has comes from the benefit checks they receive to look after a disabled relative and from the little cash they make selling dumpster-dived goods at a nearby flea market.
Despite everything, Rachel’s mum still believes in the many pro-Russian conspiracy theories seeded throughout the region over the decades. As a teenager, Rachel also believed in all sorts of anti-Western conspiracies.
Their Jewish community was (and still is) quite conservative — in the same way local Christians and even atheists are — but the younger generation of people in synagogues are much more liberal and tolerant towards LGBT people than their elders. It was this peer group that rescued Rachel’s mind, and when Rachel came out to some close friends from this community, they weren't particularly surprised. Even in isolated Donetsk, Millennials and Gen Z became much more tolerant towards the LGBT community.
The devastated city of Toretsk, Donetsk region, 2025. Source: Embassy of Ukraine in the Republic of Estonia official Facebook page.
The situation for LGBT Ukrainians wasn’t always this hostile. I reached out to a Ukrainian lawyer and political analyst from Donetsk who is currently based in Vienna to help shed some light on the events of the past decade or so. Due to safety concerns, he requested to be identified only as Igor.
“After the Revolution of Dignity that happened in 2014, LGBT activists became more visible and events such as Kyiv Pride gained wider support,” he told me. “In general, the system became more tolerant of minorities, and there were some proactive actions, events, and explanations from the administration. Students were no longer afraid to express themselves. The Labor Code was amended to prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Sociological surveys have shown that more than 58% of Ukrainians supported this initiative. Students in Ukraine actively promoted changes in attitudes towards LGBT people. Some schools and universities organised training and lectures on the diversity of sexual orientation. Such activities faced some resistance from part of the public, but in general Ukrainian society became substantially more tolerant than other non-Baltic post-Soviet states.
“After 2022, the full-scale war has affected the activity of the LGBT community: some activists went abroad, and public attention shifted to other priorities. With the conservative wave now sweeping the West, attention to LGBT issues will become less of a priority in terms of political initiatives, but EU integration greatly influences the situation. In 2023, Ukraine's Ministry of Justice began drafting a bill on civil partnerships for LGBT people as part of its commitment towards the EU.”
The Sergey Prokofiev International Airport in Donetsk hit by Russian shelling in 2014. Source: The Atlantic.
I spoke with transgender person, known by the initial L to protect their anonymity, to get some deeper insight into Donetsk’s LGBT community prior to the war.
“As a transgender person in Donetsk, I haven’t faced challenges as difficult as many others face in Russia,” L told me. “A sort of silver lining to all the chaos and corruption has been the virtual absence of regulation for hormones. I do not advocate for DIY hormone replacement therapy; however, I recognise it as the only option for many trans people. I obtained testosterone through a friend who had to import it from non-occupied Ukraine. That friend, a trans man, had an unusually positive experience with his employer, who once saw his [female] passport, refused to believe it, and treated him as a cis man in all aspects. He mentioned a line he’d heard from the Ukrainian military that summed up the attitude: ‘everyone crouches down to piss anyway.’
“The education system wasn't really an inclusive and LGBT-friendly atmosphere, but it was bearable. At university, I was simply seen as a lesbian, which itself was considered borderline acceptable and did not raise too many questions, though many people do not trust LGB people around children. My transition was seen as a corresponding evolution in style — it turns out, wearing plaid in the early stages of transition will project butch lesbian vibes — and my voice changes were attributed to smoking. Having a girlfriend at the time and being semi-public about it, we decided not to challenge this assumption. There wasn't an option to change your preferred name on the register, although I know someone who convinced their classmates (but not teachers) to use their preferred name. Still a partial success.”
As for a public community, LGBT people in Donetsk had no large-scale events like Kyiv Pride, nor any mental health or legal support services, as other Ukrainian cities have. But they had each other.
“There was a rainbow community with semi-regular meet-ups that involved dating, consuming gallons of beer, and general tomfoolery,” L explained. “We did not see the need nor the opportunity for any sort of human rights activism, education, or mental health support. We lived as though we were normal and did not feel we had to justify our existence. I believe the attitude is similar to ‘90s Russia: some people are gay, some are trans, and some are left-handed or red-haired; these are categories of the same order. During these meet-ups, I met all kinds of LGBT people.”
Those gatherings ended in 2022 with the Russian invasion. L told me he’d always loved Donetsk and never wanted to leave the city, but he did. Unfortunately, he felt he had no choice.
Since the so-called “Donetsk People’s Republic” was announced in 2014, there has been a strange dichotomy. In the Russian-occupied regions of Ukraine, Rachel explained that LGBT people were often targeted on the streets and taken by pro-Russian militias and puppet separatists, where they were humiliated and threatened with sexual violence. During this same period, non-occupied Ukrainian people became more LGBT-friendly.
In 2024, surveys showed 70% of Ukrainians support equal rights for LGBT people, and Ukrainian President Zelenskyy pledged to sign same-sex partnerships law in the same year. While he has yet to follow through on that promise, in June 2025, the Ukrainian courts issued a landmark ruling recognising a same-sex couple as a legal family. LGBT people are also openly joining the Ukrainian army, which promotes LGBT acceptance among the wider population.
Meanwhile, LGBT folks who live under the Russian occupation are forced to live in fear. Some try to flee — a subject of frequent discussion in occupied-Ukrainian Telegram channels — but it is not always possible.
By Russian law, the LGBT community is considered an “extremist organisation”, which means that gay, bi, and trans people can't speak openly about who they are, report discrimination, fight for their rights, or get help from LGBT-friendly therapists. Transgender people in Russia are also denied access to transition regardless of their age.
Now these same anti-LGBT policies and norms have been applied to the Russian-occupied territories.
“Under international law, occupying powers cannot change the fundamental character of the territory they control,” Igor explained. “By imposing its own legal system, including discriminatory laws against LGBT people, Russia is violating this principle. In occupied areas like Kherson and Crimea, Russian authorities have specifically targeted LGBT individuals. Reported abuses include physical assaults, forced searches for LGBT symbols, and harassment at checkpoints. LGBT people in these regions live in constant fear of violence, stigma, and isolation. Many have to flee or hide their identities, and local LGBT organisations have been shut down.”
Rachel told me that they are aware of some high-ranking bisexual men among the Russian occupation administration and police; officially, those people had wives and children and spread homophobic propaganda, but unofficially, they are dating and sometimes even sexually harassing young men. Few speak openly about these incidents for security reasons and are afraid to accuse the perpetrators publicly.
LGBT folks in Donetsk are even scared to be open online, fearing “fake dates” in which authorities use queer-themed websites to lure and entrap people. This justified suspicion extends to the press, which made securing interviews for this article extremely difficult, even for someone like me, an LGBT writer who was originally from the region. LGBT folks just do not want to put themselves and their loved ones at risk.
The Trump administration has generally pushed Ukraine to compromise territory, and if they succeed, LGBT people in those areas will suffer severe persecution under Russian law, and everyday anti-LGBT bigotry will become normalised for generations. For people like Rachel Bat Sarah, the question of whether the occupied territories will be reclaimed by Ukraine or remain under Russian control may literally be a matter of life or death.
Published Aug 21, 2025
