“I was hoping for him to kill me”

Russian LGBT teens share stories of misunderstanding, abuse and rape

Letters quoted here were sent by LGBT teens to a social group called “404 kids”. The group became controversial for aiming to provide a safe space for LGBT teens at times of ever-expanding marginalization on government level.

This compilation (assembled by Elena Racheva) was published on Colta.ru in honor of recent premiere of Askold Kurov and Pavel Loparev’s documentary of the same name.

Misha, 17 years old

I was born in a small village near Novosibirsk to a 16 year old schoolgirl and some unknown “sailor” or “pilot”. <…> Perhaps if I knew the word “gay” when I was five, I would have identified myself so then.

<…> My stepfather, as he himself said, was a “real man”. He disliked me from the get-go <…>. He began calling me a “girl” and a “faggy” [One of the derivatives from “faggot”], could slap me in the back of the head or push me. Several months after we moved [In with stepfather and mother. -editor’s note] I did the stupidest thing in my life: I came out. That was the first time he severely beat me up. Multiple bruises, a concussion, an elbow dislocation — the formal explanation was that I fell.

Months after that I seldom left my room. I went to school, studied there, came back and studied more. I had no friends and mom wasn’t an ally — she herself got hit whenever she said anything “wrong” and could or did not want to protect me. No matter how hard I hid, my stepfather punched me, always remembering to verbally abuse.

I was thirteen when he raped me. He got fired for alcoholism, got dead drunk, my mom was working night shifts and he fell upon me. He beat me up and then showed what should be done to “dirty faggots”. He was choking me then and I was hoping most for him to kill me. But I lived.

I almost don’t remember any of the following days. I seems I spent them in bed. A week later they finally called for a doctor, since I kept coughing blood all this time. Turned out two of my ribs got broken, there were complications and I had to be admitted to hospital. Maybe I should’ve told the truth there, but I didn’t. I was afraid. I was feeling dirty and that was scarier then the physical pain itself. Sometimes it seems the doctors knew what happened to me, or at least suspected it. But they all turned away and never asked, never wondered.

I became handicapped. Not physically. But morally. I was afraid of almost everything: people, voices, loud noises, sudden movements. In school I became distaned, getting a “weird” reputation. Mom was being cautious with me. Maybe she was afraid of my incautious confession breaking up her ‘woman’s happiness’ [This is a Russian idiom]. Stepfather was relaxed though, saying I “should be grateful to him, since I wouldn’t want to lay with a man ever again”.

He repeated that lesson a year and a half later. Dead drunk again, mad at the world again, he let his anger out on me. I remember vomiting on the floor and laying several hours in blood and puke until mom came back from work. She cried and sweared we would leave. And two weeks later told me he just shouldn’t drink and I should understand and forgive.

That night I attempted cutting my veins. Nothing came out of it, I was bawling so hard that my stepfather heard and I didn’t have time to bleed out. He probably got afraid if I were to kill myself he face problems. I don’t know. But ever since he never beat me properly, so there was some sense in that failed suicide of mine.

<…> I think I could kill him [Stepfather . -editor’s note]. No irresistible impulse required, just because I hate him.

Sasha, 16 years old

I began realizing I was special when I was a child. At an early age I was constantly dressing like a princess and playing with dolls. In kindergarden I had my first ‘homosexual’ experience with my then best friend, I didn’t think much of it.

Later in elementary school when gender roles became more separated I began thinking it was abnormal, pushed that deep inside and started living a ‘normal’ life, letting myself be a girl only in my dreams.

<…> In middle school, between eighth and ninth grade I came out publicly, but no one gave a damn. In that regard I got lucky.

Nevermind that, for all of my life I was living in discomfort with my gender role. <…> My first step was taking hormones (quite costly by the way, it‘s a big nuisance for me); two or so month later when my appearence turned androgynous, I started going in public places, for example museum, in another gender role, and those were the happiest moments of my life, especially how people percieve you the way you want.

But with that several issues emerged. Now I can’t keep myself inside my male form, it kills me, I began drinking, smoking more, stopped caring about stydying, started getting depressed. There’s a wild urge to go to school a girl not just inside, but on the outside too. I want to confess to mom and gain her support, I feel I’m just about to do it and turn my life for the best, but I can’t muster up the courage.

I’m so tired of all this and just wanna be myself, please help….

Unsigned, 18 years old

Caption reads: “It’s gonna be ok, isn’t it?”

I won’t write about being tormented by my “abnormality”. I just knew I will love whom I‘d love — that’s all. <…>

I was harassed in school—got myself a tough class. Add to that a rumor about my homosexuality (how did they know?!). Nonethelesss, I didn’t deny anything, cause my buisness is mine and “it’s not you, bastards, should teach me how to live”. And that came around heavily.

Add to all that geating beat up. They burned my hair. Blocked the way in corridors. “Lesba” [A shortened and more slurrish version of “lesbian”] became my name, they wouldn’t adress me otherwise.

All the teachers were unanimously telling me I was provoking everyone and “if you’re a pervert — don’t adertise it”. It was a rare day without a scuffle and none without taunts. When I came home in tears, mom kept telling me it was my fault and no reason to cry, since “Normal girls don’t get bullied!”

I still don’t understand why. What’s wrong with that? <…>

Time passed and now I have a girlfriend mending my old (and not so) emotional wounds. Now there’s only laughs behind the back and evil tongues — that’s a festivity compared to surval previously.

They burned my hair. Blocked the way in corridors. “Lesba” became my name, they wouldn’t adress me otherwise.

Mom reconciled with a heavy heart and apologized for blaming me. Last year I graduated from school and got into a university. Life starts to settle down slowly, but I keep fighting reality out of habit… I can’t treat people without hostility from the beginning. The city is small and not just school students but some strangers feel free to kick me and shout obscenities at my back. A quiet “lesbian” behind my back sends me shaking, tears streaming free, feeling stifle and ill.

<…> I approach meeting anyone new with hostility. It unpleasant to touch other people. My world is sealed tight around my girlfriend and several others who did not turn their backs at me in that hell. <…> I’m incredibly afraid still, six years after.

I’m 18 and I need to learn to live anew. Learn to respond, learn to get used to not being threatened all the time.

Sofia, 19 years old

My name is Sofia, I’m 19 years old. I’ve had four suicide attempts, sadly unsuccessful.

I suppose I should start by saying I’ve always felt like an outcast. As if I wasn’t a part of society but watched life from the outside. At an early age I was diagnosed with autism. So from the early age I was regarded as abnormal.

I was raised in a large and highly religious family. My father died when I was seven. Me and my six brothers and sisters were raised by my mom by herself. My mother is a real fanatic. She’s practically obsessed with God and religion. We didn’t have a TV for a long time, says nothing of internet. Girls in our family (I’ve got three sisters) weren’t allowed make up, wearing short skirts or letting our hair down. Our future was meant to get married and have children. Not a peep about getting an education. Obeying our husbands in every way is our sacred duty. Any disobedience paved way for punishment, usually getting beaten. We were directly told that we’re not people— we’re child incubators. <…>

I was never attracted to boys, physically. I never thought of love until Olya joined our class. We were both 12. <…> Oh god, how strongly did I love her. I still do love her. I was experiencing it all as natural. I still do, no matter how they tried to change it.

We’ve been communicating for a year before I resolved to confess to her. She clearly was frightened. Next day in school she moved over from me. <…> I became an outcast. Not just in class, gradually the whole school. Everyone was bullying me.

It’s hard to keep loving the world when your hair gets burned at the lessons and everyone’s laughing while you’re crying from pain. Slowly they got their way: I became ashamed of myself. <…>

After that was my first suicide attempt. Mom stopped me. I tried to open up to her, since I genuinely believed I have not sinned.

Mom was terrified and immediately dragged me to church, where I was given a talk with one simple idea: I’m a disgusting nobody and should burn in hell. But there’s a way to reform if I will feel the same towards a man.

I was not just being constantly humiliated at school, I got straight up terrorized at home. For my 14-th birthday I got raped by my uncle, my mother’s brother. He told me I was fooling around, but that can be cured with a “good cock”. So my first sexual experience was not with a “God loathsome” lesbian but with a smelly, drunk, obese 40 year old, though a respectable orthodox christian heterosexual. Mom did not believe my story and simply grabbed me by the hair and started smasing my head against the cupboard.

A second suicide attempt. Violent intoxication. I’m in hospital. Constant IV’s, injections, psychiatrists.

After recovery period I changed schools. Attempted to be normal. That was very hard. <…>

After that I’ve had sex, only against my will, and only heterosexual. The first case of rape was not the last.

I’m 19 now, I can’t talk to people. Can’t study in colledge, can’t be a part of group. I’m much more withdrawn than when I was a kid. I’m afraid to even speak with strangers on the phone. Writing here is a huge step for me.

I’ve now moved into a different city district, live with my grandmother, rarely leave the house and live only on the internet.

Vitalya, 18 years old

I realized I was unlike others when I was 16. Nearing 17 I realized I’m a freak, scum of the earth, and a mentally sick pervert. That I found out from my parents.

<…> I’m accustomed to not being heard. Accustomed to misunderstanding. I kept it all inside, was a reticent teenager, always thought how it’s going to change really soon. At every turn I was hearing only negative views on LGBT people. I never had friends whom I could trust.

I realized there would be no future, God doesn’t love all his creatures.

And in autumn I broke down, I didn’t want for it to end this way, I wanted to live, but I was tired of all this, and I had my first suicide attempt and a ticket to mental hospital from my parents. They thought I’ve gotten overfatigued in school. Funny, ain’t it?

<…> After getting discharged I stopped loving this world, this people. I realized there would be no future, God doesn’t love all his creatures. I gave up on studying, I gave up on everything. There’s nothing left except for acerbated gaze and grave pessimism.

Unsigned, 19 years old

<...> I finished 9th grade [Middle school] and left [Parents, who were against homosexual relationships. -editor’s note].

I found a girl. We moved in together at 17. When parents called I lied about living in college dorm. One day I got called into headmaster’s office. They told me my mother withdrew documents. Later mother called and told me to pack my bags. I was panicking and did not understand anything. Then residence director let slip that it was him who told about me living with a girlfriend. My mother was livid, screaming how I’m a freak and I won’t get away with my “gay affairs”.

I was being locked in my room, they took all they could from me. Even sent to live in a cold garage. I was threatening them with police but they ignored it. I already was 18 then.

One morning father grabbed me and carried me to the guest room. He and mom tied me up. I don’t know how much time passed until a strange boy came in. He apologized and just laughed at my cries for help.

Then… he raped me.

Parents were happy, but that was my first time. I’m… terribly afraid of men now.

Policemen said they did not believe be and it was definitely me who pounced on that guy. They did not believe the part about parents at all. No one did.

In november I started having health issues. Mother got me a test. It turned out positive. Their happiness knew no limits. “You will birth and be normal”, they kept harping. I was thinking back to that rape and wanted to die.

<…> I just don’t know what to do. I need at least some support. Constant breakdowns, crying… I feel I am going to kill myself soon. But I keep on, the situation could’ve been worse after all.

Don’t condemn me, please.

Unsigned, 19 years old

I am 18, I’m an open lesbian. Liked girls since childhood, realized it around twelve.

In sixth grade when I shaved my hair off, mom got called into school and told her daughter might grow into a sick lesbian.

Then reproaches of “manliness” were coming from everywhere and mom forcefully tried to cut my hair “like a girl” and put me in a skirt. In school I was being bullied, especially by older boys, they thought up hurtful nicknames. I genuinely did not understand what the problem was and cried at home.

But after graduating from school and moving it all changed. I’ve found others like me. I realized people may like me. <…> I realized I should not conceal . At 16 told my mom everything, she did not accept it. But I did not give a damn, you know. I am myself. I have my courage, I have my pride and dignity.

And next time someone dares call you a faggot, fat, ugly, etc. — don’t be afraid to answer. Even if that’s your parents. Nobody, remember, no one has a right to insult you.

Every single one of you is beautiful. Be happy.