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EGYPT

Male to Male relationships: Not Legal
Punishments for male to male relationships: Imprisonment of less than 10 years
Female to Female Relationships: Unclear
Marriage and Substitutes for Marriage: No law

Your Views

Are you LGBTI? We want to hear from you! Help us inform other users of the site with your views on this country. Below is a random question about this country. If it is relevant to you please answer it.

Has being trans affected your job in YEMEN? Do you feel limited in your career for being trans?
In too many ways to count (0 %) I changed careers because I am trans (0 %) I feel that I wasn’t promoted because I am trans (0 %) My co-workers harass me because I am trans (0 %) I have not been limited for being trans, though I am out at work (0 %)

The Your Stories section is all about you! Please take a minute to tell visitors of the ILGA website about what LGBTI life is like in reality. Please submit your personal story and share your experience!

YOUR STORIES
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Readers Experiences

This is what people are saying about life for LGBTI people in EGYPT...
(user currently living in UNITED STATES) posted for gay lesbian transgender bisexual readers on 23/05/2011 tagged with human rights, sexual orientation, religion, illegality of male to male relationships +5
link
Confessions of a man who happens to be gay and Egyptian and a lot of other things.....

"Not belonging, not fitting in, constantly feeling like an outcast is absolutely a horrific thing. It’s bad enough being a “typical” adolescent – add to it being gay and being confused about where you come from, who you are and what & where is “home”.
I look back on those days as an adolescent, in my room, in my parent’s home in Zamalek, Cairo. I see a very sad, confused, insecure and lonely boy. A boy that goes through life thinking and believing that he is not normal, that there is something wrong with him, that he is bad – very, very bad.
I went through many stages as an adolescent – the scared, and confused boy; the melancholic, lonely fragile boy; the fearful of rejection, people pleasing boy; the angry, “full of rage” boy; and the boy that was disgusted by his whole being, thinking that he is ugly, unattractive, plain, fat, too pale, “pizza” face (because of all the pimples & zits), and of course not “man enough” or thinking that I am less of a man compared to “real” men. The thought that just popped into my head: “This is truly a recipe for disaster!”
I am amazed that I did not attempt to kill myself. I am amazed that I did not turn to drugs or some other self-destructive activity. But I did turn to two things: depression and food. I was so lonely, so confused, I used to talk to my stuffed animals, to my pet, to the walls of my room, to the light in the ceiling, to myself. I would eat 24 pieces of the chocolate Bounty in one sitting. I would eat not because I was hungry. But to bury my feelings, my doubts, my insecurities – all of the things I didn’t know how to deal with. Would I feel ‘good’ afterwards? No. But at least I was able to bury my pain. At least temporarily.
And the incredible thing is, nobody knew what I was going through. Nobody. Even my mother, whom I considered to be the closest person to me. It was just me, myself and I. My mother attributed my “moodiness” and bursts of anger as a normal part of adolescence. And perhaps they were. But in my case there was a lot more to it.
When I went back to Egypt in 2010 after being in exile for 9 years, the memories, the feelings I used to feel, the thoughts I used to think..all came back. Gradually. But they came back. I was quite guarded though. It was like I had an invisible shield around me. Ok, y’all could come back but you ain’t passing this line. You are not going to hijack my mind, soul or body. I also knew I was not staying forever and that I was going to leave soon. That was my light.
It’s incredible how resilient human beings are. How resilient I was and still am. I’m not into psychoanalysis by any means and I certainly have my reservations about Freud and some of his theories. But he did shed light on our ability to cope with pain. The genius of coping and/or defense mechanisms. Of course I know that’s like putting a band aid or a numbing agent on an open wound – a temporary fix, if you will. It is not the same as healing a wound or being mindful and aware of your pain so that you can let go. Move on. It’s like dealing with the demons of yesterday so that you can live openly and honestly to yourself today and be ready for the challenges of tomorrow.
It took me years and years to heal. Years. Years of intense pain, denial, self-hate, depression, anxiety. But then again I suffered years and years of damage. Of abuse. It kind of makes sense that it would take years to “fix” that. To unlearn learned thoughts and behaviors."
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(user currently living in UNITED STATES) posted for gay lesbian transgender bisexual readers on 23/05/2011 tagged with human rights, sexual orientation, religion, illegality of male to male relationships +5
link
Confessions of a man who happens to be gay and Egyptian and a lot of other things.....

"Not belonging, not fitting in, constantly feeling like an outcast is absolutely a horrific thing. It’s bad enough being a “typical” adolescent – add to it being gay and being confused about where you come from, who you are and what & where is “home”.
I look back on those days as an adolescent, in my room, in my parent’s home in Zamalek, Cairo. I see a very sad, confused, insecure and lonely boy. A boy that goes through life thinking and believing that he is not normal, that there is something wrong with him, that he is bad – very, very bad.
I went through many stages as an adolescent – the scared, and confused boy; the melancholic, lonely fragile boy; the fearful of rejection, people pleasing boy; the angry, “full of rage” boy; and the boy that was disgusted by his whole being, thinking that he is ugly, unattractive, plain, fat, too pale, “pizza” face (because of all the pimples & zits), and of course not “man enough” or thinking that I am less of a man compared to “real” men. The thought that just popped into my head: “This is truly a recipe for disaster!”
I am amazed that I did not attempt to kill myself. I am amazed that I did not turn to drugs or some other self-destructive activity. But I did turn to two things: depression and food. I was so lonely, so confused, I used to talk to my stuffed animals, to my pet, to the walls of my room, to the light in the ceiling, to myself. I would eat 24 pieces of the chocolate Bounty in one sitting. I would eat not because I was hungry. But to bury my feelings, my doubts, my insecurities – all of the things I didn’t know how to deal with. Would I feel ‘good’ afterwards? No. But at least I was able to bury my pain. At least temporarily.
And the incredible thing is, nobody knew what I was going through. Nobody. Even my mother, whom I considered to be the closest person to me. It was just me, myself and I. My mother attributed my “moodiness” and bursts of anger as a normal part of adolescence. And perhaps they were. But in my case there was a lot more to it.
When I went back to Egypt in 2010 after being in exile for 9 years, the memories, the feelings I used to feel, the thoughts I used to think..all came back. Gradually. But they came back. I was quite guarded though. It was like I had an invisible shield around me. Ok, y’all could come back but you ain’t passing this line. You are not going to hijack my mind, soul or body. I also knew I was not staying forever and that I was going to leave soon. That was my light.
It’s incredible how resilient human beings are. How resilient I was and still am. I’m not into psychoanalysis by any means and I certainly have my reservations about Freud and some of his theories. But he did shed light on our ability to cope with pain. The genius of coping and/or defense mechanisms. Of course I know that’s like putting a band aid or a numbing agent on an open wound – a temporary fix, if you will. It is not the same as healing a wound or being mindful and aware of your pain so that you can let go. Move on. It’s like dealing with the demons of yesterday so that you can live openly and honestly to yourself today and be ready for the challenges of tomorrow.
It took me years and years to heal. Years. Years of intense pain, denial, self-hate, depression, anxiety. But then again I suffered years and years of damage. Of abuse. It kind of makes sense that it would take years to “fix” that. To unlearn learned thoughts and behaviors."
add response to story
add response to story
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