‘I put myself in this trap’ In his own words, one gay Russian official describes working for a government that doesn’t believe he should exist
It’s no secret that homophobia has become official state policy in Russia. Last November, the country’s Supreme Court banned the nonexistent “international LGBT movement” as an “extremist organization.” Police conduct raids on LGBTQ+ clubs and same-sex couples face jail time for kissing or holding hands in public. Of course, countless queer people have no choice but to live in this new reality, and some of them even hold official positions. The independent media outlet Holod spoke with a gay man who has worked in government for over six years to understand why he continues to collaborate with a state that believes he shouldn’t exist. Meduza shares a translation of his story.
Not long ago, I was blackmailed.
I’d posted a profile on a private gay dating board on Telegram — without a picture of my face, of course. Some guy messaged me. I sent him a disappearing photo of my face in a secret chat. He sent one back. I sent him a picture of my penis. He sent one back.
You can’t take a screenshot in a secret chat, but you can always photograph the screen with another phone. That’s what they did. Then they found my page on VKontakte, where my work is listed in my profile, and messaged me directly: “Send 5,000 rubles [$58], or we’ll send pictures of the chat to your workplace.”
I deleted the chat and blocked the sender. Nothing came of it. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, so I was relatively calm. But the first time I was blackmailed — when they threatened to tell my mother that I “take it up the ass” — it really shook me up. I couldn't bring myself to go outside for a long time.
I’ve been working in public service for over six years, and before that, my job was also connected to government organizations. In my youth, when I decided to dedicate my life to the state, I already knew I was gay. All this time, I’ve been hiding my relationships with men from my employers. If I go on vacation, I tell my colleagues I'm going with a girlfriend to avoid unnecessary questions.
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‘You can’t escape politics’
I went into public service for idealistic reasons: I hoped that in this job, I could do something good. I wanted to fulfill my potential and have an influence on the decisions that were being made. Of course, none of that happened. But at least I, someone without any connections and from a completely ordinary family, achieved what many is the ultimate dream: I built a successful career as a public servant and earn a decent salary. I worked, and still work, in mid-level positions in departments that deal with urban management.
I thought that in the executive branch, I could escape from politics. If, for example, you’re involved in city road repairs, your work doesn’t depend much on whether Putin or Yeltsin is president.
But it turned out, of course, that you can’t escape politics. We’re not forced to engage in pro-war propaganda on social media or put the letter Z on our profile pictures. Our higher-ups are reasonable. But it’s everywhere around us. Recently, I went out to lunch at a cafe, and there was an official who I know is gay, sitting with a young guy. The guy was wearing Balenciaga sneakers, and the official had a jacket with a huge Z pin on the lapel.
‘They never had freedom to begin with’
I have many gay acquaintances who work in government agencies. Sometimes you go to a gay club and see a colleague there. Then you meet them in a work setting, and they act like nothing happened. I’ve noticed that among government officials, it’s often the gay ones who bust their asses to support the war. I see it, and it disgusts me.
There are even federal politicians among my gay acquaintances. Over the past few years, I’ve often asked them how they put up with state-level homophobia and why they stay in their positions. I asked one of my friends, and he replied: “What do you mean? Nothing’s changed.” And I think: “Well of course, you and your boyfriend still go on vacation just like you used to. The fact that gay clubs are closed [doesn’t matter] because you never went there in the first place. You don’t feel all these restrictions because first of all, you’re private people and second, you’re privileged.”
Many gay Russian officials and politicians are married with kids, but they fuck young guys. But they don’t consider themselves gay — just men who occasionally have sex with other men. And since they don’t see themselves as gay, they feel that homophobic laws don’t apply to them. So maybe this extreme zeal and obsession among government employees with promoting homophobic values is actually the behavior of people who haven’t fully come to terms with their own orientation.
Officials are people who already live with a huge number of restrictions. They live by these restrictions. For example, I, like everyone else, regularly submit not only income declarations but also reports on all my social media. And I haven’t posted anything for a long time; I can only share the view from the window or a beautiful sunset because God forbid something happens.
And it seems to me that this is why gays in government don’t see all these homophobic bans as a problem. Nothing has been taken from them because they never had any freedom to begin with. An official is a public figure, and homosexuality has always been stigmatized in our homophobic country. You couldn’t be an openly gay person in government in the 2000s or 2010s. Politicians were never really on dating sites or regulars in gay clubs. They’ve already gotten used to it.
‘This hopelessness is what got to me’
I myself have gotten used to it to some extent. The bans haven’t really affected me much. Well, other than them blocking the website of a sex shop for gays that I used.
I generally consider myself a statist. I didn’t use to worry much about what was happening in the country, even though I saw the growing clusterfuck. But even for me, things have become very uncomfortable over the past two years, and in recent months, I've been thinking about either changing jobs or emigrating. Although not much has changed in terms of everyday comfort, psychologically, it's become harder.
I don’t like it when they intrude into personal matters. I’m not really into gay clubs or loud gatherings, but I want to have the option to go. When I’m stripped of that choice, it bothers me. It’s one thing for me, living in a city with over a million people: there are always places to socialize, drink, or fuck. But I come from a small town. I can’t imagine what kids in rural areas, who are just starting to question their own sexuality, are supposed to do now when all websites with any information about homosexuality are blocked.
But it wasn’t after the homophobic laws were passed that I started thinking about leaving this job, it was after the presidential election. Even though I’ve been immersed in this crap for over 10 years, this was the first election with no oversight whatsoever. Do whatever you want.
It was my first time working on an election commission. I didn’t vote for Putin myself; I took my ballot with me. But I was convinced that the number of people around me who supported Putin was so large that getting his [desired] result in the elections would be easy. But it turned out not to be the case. In my precinct, less than 50 percent voted for him. The rest was fabricated by the commission chair: he rewrote the protocol.
I thought the public was completely gripped by a victory frenzy. It turned out only half were. But the system is willing to do anything to make it appear like there were more. This hopelessness — when a significant portion of the people wants change, but the system crushes this desire — is what got to me.
I wasn’t involved in the falsification; I just didn’t interfere. This is probably where my moral line is. Despite the internal conflict, I think I could have worked my entire life for a homophobic state — provided I didn’t have to participate in anything homophobic myself.
‘I’m stuck in a swamp I can’t get out of’
One of my gay friends started working out six days a week after the war began so he wouldn’t have time to think about anything. It feels like people around me have started drinking and using drugs more. Whenever there’s an external threat, you choose something important and try to ignore everything else. I’m trying to focus my life on personal happiness. When I was in a serious relationship, I was completely absorbed in it and didn't care at all about what was happening around me.
Some of the men I’ve had relationships with were much more involved in government policy than I was. Some even helped enact homophobic laws. But that didn’t bother me because you don’t fall in love with people just for the values they hold. I’ve even dated a man who was married and cheating on his wife — maybe that’s wrong too, but that’s life. There’s an internal conflict, but we live in the here and now.
My friends tell me, “You need to quit your government job, cut ties completely.” But it’s very hard; I’ve spent 10 years of my life building this career. Recently, I tried looking for a job outside the public sector but I couldn’t find anything suitable. I feel like I’m stuck in a swamp that I can’t get out of. I don’t want to become so hypocritical in another 10 years [that I’m] going to cafes with guys and then sitting around talking about Z fascism with a serious face. Either stop fucking [men] or take off the cross.
Yes, I feel uneasy and yes, I have a moral conflict. But it’s not like there’s a warm welcome for me abroad. A Putin official isn’t wanted in Europe. I put myself in this trap and now I’m trying to get out without getting crushed.
Interview by Masha Morozova for Holod
Cover photo: Dmitry Azarov / Kommersant / Sipa USA / Vida Press