Beirut’s Invisible Displacement: The LGBTIQ+ Experience Amid Conflict

I fled home the first time when my family found out about me. I moved out on my own, but when things escalated, I had to flee again—this time with nowhere to go. Now, I’m staying with two friends who are generously hosting me temporarily, but I have nothing. I have no way to pay rent.

Transwoman, IDP, Beirut

The escalation of conflict between Israel and Hezbollah since September 2024 has further devastated Lebanon, with Beirut at the epicenter of Israeli bombings. The city, long a symbol of resilience and resistance, has once again become a place of fear, displacement, and uncertainty. 

Over one million civilians have been uprooted from their homes, and while displacement in Lebanon is tragically familiar, for the country’s LGBTIQ+ community, this new wave of internal displacement brings added complexities. In a society that often marginalizes their identities, Lebanon’s queer internally displaced persons (IDPs) are navigating an increasingly hostile environment in both physical and social landscapes.

Surviving Beirut’s Conflict Zone

For many LGBTIQ+ IDPs in Beirut’s southern suburbs, hiding their identity is a necessary survival strategy. The overwhelming theme among those interviewed is fear—fear of being exposed as queer, fear of harassment, and fear of the armed conflict itself.

One gay man, who fled this heavily bombarded part of Beirut, recounted the painful necessity of concealing his queerness to avoid persecution. 

“We’ve always had to hide parts of who we are to stay safe, but now it’s even more crucial. The bombs aren’t our only enemy,” he shared. For Beirut’s LGBTIQ+ displaced, survival now means invisibility—not just from the armed conflict but from societal judgment.

This enforced invisibility takes a toll on mental health. LGBTIQ+ individuals are already navigating the trauma of displacement, and now bear the psychological burden of actively concealing their identities. 

One Lebanese queer woman, displaced from what she describes as a predominantly “conservative” neighborhood in Beirut, described the anxiety of living in hiding. “In places like this, where people are looking for someone to blame for their suffering, people like me become easy targets.” Referencing the LGBTIQ+ crackdowns in 2023, she adds: “[…] you remember what happened last year.”

LGBTIQ+ Safe Spaces

Beirut has historically been known as a rare sanctuary for LGBTIQ+ organizing in the Middle East. The city’s vibrant queer scene and advocacy networks have provided a semblance of safety and community. 

However, the violence of the current conflict has shattered much of this support. Once-beacon organizations for queer individuals, offering everything from mental health services to HIV medication, are now struggling to maintain their operations under constant bombardment.

“We used to have places to go, people to talk to,” said a Lebanese trans woman who had fled from a devastated part of the city. “But now, we’re all just trying to survive on our own.” 

The ongoing conflict has severed many queer IDPs from crucial support networks, leaving them isolated in a city where expressing their identity has become increasingly perilous. 

“As a trans woman, there are always rules and roles forced upon me, even in times of war. I wish I had the luxury of agency over my own life. Keeping my family and myself safe from the missiles while navigating my identity is a double struggle,” reflects another trans woman.

Humanitarian efforts in the region, while massive, have largely failed to address the specific needs of displaced LGBTIQ+ populations. According to testimonies from MOSAIC staff, international organizations often adopt blanket approaches, which inadvertently overlook queer individuals’ unique vulnerabilities. Many LGBTIQ+ IDPs, particularly trans people, are left without proper shelter, food, or medical care.

A trans man displaced in Beirut shared his struggle to find appropriate shelter. “I’m rejected from shelters for women, but don’t feel safe in shelters for men either. I’ve been moving from place to place, but nowhere feels secure.” 

For Beirut’s displaced LGBTIQ+ community, finding safe shelter is only one piece of the complex survival puzzle.

Since the beginning of the conflict escalation, coordination between LGBTIQ+ organizations and allies has intensified. Together, these organizations have developed an emergency response plan, setting up strong referral systems and avoiding duplication of services. 

Helem has taken the lead on shelter provisions, MOSAIC is handling emergency cash support and distributing hygiene and food kits supported by Marsa, while SIDC continues to provide sexual health support and case management.

Nonetheless, many people we spoke to continue to fall through the cracks, with long waiting lists for shelters and services, and many reporting that they were unaware such support even existed.

Lifelines and Informal Networks

Despite these challenges, many in Beirut’s queer community have long-found ways to support each other through informal networks. Digital tools like encrypted messaging apps have become critical lifelines. These platforms allow the community to exchange information on safe locations, resources, and transportation out of dangerous areas.

One lesbian woman, displaced from a heavily bombed part of Beirut, explained how these networks have become essential. 

“We don’t know how long we’ll have to rely on each other, but for now, it’s all we have,” she said, referencing a WhatsApp group that connects dozens of queer IDPs in the city.

However, the reliance on these informal networks highlights a deeper problem—the lack of formal, institutionalized support for queer IDPs. Without dedicated humanitarian responses to address their unique needs, many LGBTIQ+ individuals remain vulnerable to exploitation and violence.

The threat of exploitation hangs over many of Beirut’s queer IDPs, especially those from refugee backgrounds. Syrian and Palestinian queer refugees, already facing systemic discrimination, must now navigate a collapsing city while also contending with the added dangers of being queer in a hostile environment. 

A gay Syrian refugee displaced in Beirut recounted a harrowing experience: “I had to do things I never thought I would do just to get out of the city. I didn’t have a choice.”

A Call for Inclusive Humanitarian Aid

The ongoing conflict in Lebanon—and particularly in Beirut—has created a humanitarian crisis of immense proportions. For the LGBTIQ+ community, this crisis is even more acute and intersectional, and the humanitarian response must adapt to this reality.

Lebanon’s queer IDPs urgently need safe spaces, access to healthcare, and tailored support that acknowledges their specific vulnerabilities. 

These IDPs are living on borrowed time, trapped in a conflict that erases their existence and ignores their struggles. Their survival depends on visibility and action—this can no longer be ignored.

As one Lebanese trans woman put it, “We’ve survived through sheer will, but we can’t keep doing it alone. We need help.”

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