As Government Hostility Intensifies, Three Turkish Citizens Share Their Hidden Lives
In a country where political rhetoric increasingly targets people of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, the daily reality for LGBTQI+ citizens in Turkey has become increasingly precarious. As President Recep Tayyip Erdogan intensifies his attacks against the community and declares 2025 the official "Year of Family," many Turkish citizens find themselves living double lives—hiding their true identities while navigating a society growing more hostile to their existence. The Levent Files connected with three Turkish citizens through social media who agreed to share their experiences on condition of anonymity. Their stories reveal the personal toll of living authentically in an environment with growing risks.
"This Turkey Is Not the Country I Was Born In" - Citizen X, Businessman
"I'm a businessman with children from my marriage to a woman I wed out of genuine love," begins Citizen X. "As years passed, I began exploring my sexuality. A few years ago, while visiting another city, we received an invitation to a party with couples like us. Initially, we declined, but eventually decided to give it a chance."
He recalls the anxiety that dominated his first experience: "I was extremely nervous at the beginning of the night. Even though the residence was isolated, I feared the neighbors. A government supporter could report us, leading to serious trouble." However, with his wife's support, he overcame his initial anxiety and experienced his first homosexual encounter that night.
"The continuation came abroad when Turkish citizens could relatively easily obtain visas from European countries," he explains. "In Europe, we tried new experiences, mainly threesomes. With the support of my wife and psychiatrist, I finally understood that I am bisexual. From that moment, my life changed. I began to see things differently."
Today, Citizen X continues living in the city he loves, enjoying new sexual experiences on his own since he and his wife decided to have an open relationship. "However, we're both afraid. You go to a bar and fear running into someone you know. You open a dating app and feel the same. A bit of gossip, a rumor, could blacken your life. I could easily lose my job and my family. Or, theoretically, I might get off lightly with just facing societal malice afterward."
He concludes with a somber observation: "This Turkey is not the country I was born in. It's not the country of Zeki Müren, a gay singer whom the country adored. It has changed for the worse."
"This is Turkey, a Country of Great Contradictions" - Citizen Y, Technology Professional
"I always knew I was attracted to men," Citizen Y shares. "Older men with life experience have always fascinated me. Perhaps it's a substitute for my father, with whom I never had a good relationship."
Being aware of his situation early on, he chose to establish himself through a successful career in technology. "Today, I am a [details withheld to protect identity], a rare profession in Turkey. I have job offers from the US and EU, which I declined. I love my country despite its negative elements. For this reason, I bought the property and invested here."
His family, who knows about his sexual orientation, prefers to keep him at a distance. "I've gotten used to it. I prefer this distance to having them fight me because of who I am."
Two weeks ago, he ended a two-year relationship with a man he loved. "Recent events in the country made me understand his true identity. A 62-year-old experienced gay man defended the government's attack against the Mayor of Istanbul. What can we do? This is Turkey, a country of great contradictions!"
"I Tremble at the Thought of My Daughter Dating in This Hostile Environment" - Citizen Z, Journalist
"I grew up in one of the country's most conservative cities and neighborhoods," begins Citizen Z. "With my first period came my first significant gift, a silk headscarf. At that time, the religious sheik followed by my family was a major influence on us. We followed his directives to the letter."
After she completed high school, the sheikh wanted to marry her to a rising star in their religious order. "My family initially accepted, except for my father, who wanted to ask for my opinion. I told him I wanted to go to the city to study journalism, which I passionately love."
After many family discussions, her father's decision prevailed, and she was sent to study. "I remember that, in my early college years, I fervently supported our President, Erdogan. Then, the military fought against him, and he was excluded from parliament. Thanks to my professors ' understanding, I had to remove my headscarf to enter the university temporarily, then put it back on afterward."
In her third year of studies, she met a fellow student who now holds a high position. "I fell in love with him, and we soon engaged in a religious ceremony." Months after their engagement, he began pressuring her for sexual intimacy, which she refused since they weren't married yet. Meanwhile, he started losing interest in her.
"At the beginning of my master's program, he convinced my family to let me live in a rented apartment with two other girls from my province. One night that would change my life forever, I discovered I had deep feelings for one of my roommates. That night, I had my first complete lesbian relationship."
After graduating and starting work, she met her first husband despite continuing lesbian relationships. Her first marriage lasted only one year. "During this period, conditions in the country began deteriorating. The economy and democracy went from bad to worse. I lost an important position in my career because of my ideas during the Gezi Park incident."
Loneliness and fear for the country's future pushed her into a second marriage with a much older person. From this marriage, she had a daughter, whom she describes as "the most precious thing I have in my life today." The marriage lasted two years.
"Today, I live with my daughter thanks to family support and freelance work, which I send mainly abroad. I'm thinking of leaving for another country with my daughter. I've been in a relationship with a foreign woman from [country name withheld for security reasons] for a year now. In her country, same-sex marriages are legal. I can secure a residence permit.
She concludes with concern: "Fortunately, my ex-husband isn't interested in his daughter, who meanwhile is in her teenage years and has already told me she would like to decide on her sexuality after a series of encounters with men and women. I tremble at the thought of the day she will open an app and arrange a date with a girl in a country where the government has turned hostile against her and those like her!"
Government Attacks and the "Year of Family"
President Erdogan continues his attacks against the LGBTQI+ community, recently declaring 2025 the official "Year of Family" in Turkey. This announcement came with renewed criticism of the LGBTQI+ community, further marginalizing sexual minorities in a country already seeing democratic backsliding and increased conservative rhetoric. These government-sponsored attacks have created an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty for LGBTQI+ citizens, who increasingly find themselves portrayed as threats to traditional values and family structures.
The Invisible Lives Behind the Headlines
Behind the political rhetoric and governmental declarations are real people – entrepreneurs, technology specialists, journalists, parents – trying to reconcile their identities with a society increasingly unwilling to accept them. Their stories reveal personal struggles and the broader fragmentation of a culture where some citizens must hide essential parts of themselves to survive.
As Turkey moves toward its declared "Year of Family" in 2025, these three voices remind us that families come in many forms and that love, belonging, and authenticity remain fundamental human needs regardless of political climate. For now, these citizens continue living in the shadows, hoping for a time when they can step into the light without fear of rejection, persecution, or worse. Their resilience in mounting hostility speaks to the enduring human capacity for hope even in the darkest circumstances.