identity, faith, and moral injury
Living at the Crossroads: The Complex Realities of Queer Palestinians
by Mohammed Jibriel
I recently learned about the concept of moral injury, which describes the profound psychological, behavioral, social, and spiritual distress that arises when events violate a person’s deeply held moral or ethical beliefs. It should not be difficult for anyone to condemn the killing of children and innocent civilians, regardless of nationality, ethnicity, or religion. Yet, in the wake of the devastating events of October 7th, I have watched in dismay as my social media platforms – composed primarily of Muslim, Arab, and American friends – have become battlegrounds for divisive rhetoric.
On one side, Israelis are depicted as monstrous beings, stripped of humanity and driven by bloodlust. On the other, many of my Western friends either dismiss Palestinians as terrorists or remain disturbingly indifferent to the deaths of Palestinian children, as if their lives hold no value. The more I witness this polarization and remain silent, the more morally injured I become. It should not be considered radical to assert that every person deserves dignity and that every innocent civilian has the right to live in peace.
In the midst of this deeply entrenched conflict, there is a group whose suffering often goes unnoticed – queer Palestinians. Caught in the crossfire of violence, prejudice, and political agendas, they navigate a complex intersection of identities that places them at the margins of both Palestinian and Israeli societies. Their unique struggles, shaped by the dual forces of homophobia/transphobia and occupation, are seldom acknowledged in the broader discourse. As we reflect on the moral imperatives of our time, it is crucial to bring attention to the lived realities of queer Palestinians, who endure the compounded effects of systemic oppression while remaining largely invisible to the global community.
In this short reflection, I would like to explore the nuanced experiences of queer Palestinians within the frameworks of homonationalism, pinkwashing, and the closet/checkpoint paradoxical dynamics at the intersection of religion, identity, and politics in the modern world. In her work, women’s and gender studies scholar Dr. Jasbir Puar discusses how homosexuality has become a symbol of civilizational aptitude, a concept that ties into what has been theorized as homonationalism – the alignment between nationalist ideologies and the rights of sexual and gender minoritized (SGM) individuals. This alignment, however, is fraught with contradictions, particularly when viewed through the lens of religious and cultural diversity.
Troubling Binaries
For instance, these particular nationalist ideologies are often built upon the systemic oppression of marginalized communities, both within the nation-state and those perceived as external threats. This manifests in two ways: 1) SGM individuals within the nation-state are tokenized and used to further the political and national agendas, and 2) SGM individuals from outside or othered groups are targeted, exploited, racialized, and sexualized. Both approaches are consistent with the neoliberal and colonial structures that are designed to marginalize and minoritize individuals who do not fit the criteria of being White, wealthy, able, cis-heterosexual, documented, or fully assimilated within the patriarchal-heteronormative landscape.
Photo: Rabble.ca
Within the context of Israel and Palestine, homonationalism manifests in Israel’s claim to “gay friendliness” and “tolerance,” juxtaposed against the systemic oppression of Palestinians. The Israeli LGBTQ+ community enjoys certain protections and rights (e.g., protection against workplace discrimination, a growing institutionalization of same-sex partner benefits, and increased inclusion within the Israeli Defense Forces), which are starkly contrasted with the lived realities of Palestinians, including queer Palestinians, who continue to endure dehumanization, segregation under occupation, and systematic denial of freedom, often for the most basic human needs and the exercise of fundamental human rights. Particularly in Gaza, Palestinians find themselves effectively trapped in an open-air prison, with over 2 million people confined to 141 square miles. Their daily struggles include severely restricted access to employment, medical services, sufficient food, freedom of movement, and other essential resources.
Powerful forces in the Western world often justify the oppression and dehumanization of Palestinians by framing the conflict within a binary of “Israeli gay tolerance" versus "Palestinian and Islamic homophobia/transphobia.” This narrative not only influences perceptions in the Israel/Palestine context, but also contributes to a broader portrayal of Muslim societies as inherently backward and repressive, reinforcing some existing harmful stereotypes that associate Muslims with terrorism and extremism. Such narratives ignore the rich, diverse traditions within Islam that advocate for justice, compassion, and human dignity.
The Complexity in Seeking to Belong
A few months ago, I attended a discussion on dismantling pinkwashing – wherein the flourishing of gay rights in Israel is used to divert attention from human rights violations in the Occupied Territories. The discussion included a panel with two prominent queer and trans Palestinian speakers. The event began with a moment of silence to honor those killed in Palestine since October 7th. After the silence, as the moderator prepared to transition to the discussion, one of the speakers interjected and urged the audience to scream – literally scream. The room erupted in a deafening roar, intended to be as loud as possible in support of human rights and justice. This was not only for Palestine but for the oppressed everywhere.
Photo: Unsplash
I was deeply moved by the speaker’s narrative as a displaced, indigenous Palestinian. Having lived in over seventy-five homes across nine countries, they explained their lack of connection to any specific place, and their absence of childhood memories tied to a particular neighborhood, school, or group of friends. Their family's ongoing displacement and marginalization highlighted the challenge of finding belonging, even in safety. It was fitting that they defined community as a space of mutual support and survival. The speaker remarked, “I don't need to love you to be in community with you. If our survival depends on each other, then we are in community together.”
What’s truly striking is that both speakers discussed the difficulties they faced because of their families' acceptance of their sexualities and gender identities. As a public health researcher, this initially puzzled me. Data show that SGM individuals raised in supportive and affirming households typically report lower rates of depression, whereas those in less accepting environments often face the opposite. This suggests that queer individuals with supportive families, like the two speakers on this panel, generally experience better health outcomes and fewer challenges than those without such support. However, the speakers argued that the image of an openly out and supported queer Palestinian was deliberately made nonexistent.
When Palestinian parents are seen supporting their queer children, it creates confusion. As Jason Ritchie says in his book How Do You Say 'Come Out of the Closet' in Arabic? “the only acceptable out or visible queer Palestinian is the victim.”
Queer Palestinians are often faced with a difficult choice: either accept the “closet paradigm” or the “checkpoint paradigm.” Ritchie further explains that “the metaphor of the checkpoint more effectively captures the experiences of queer Palestinians than the more familiar metaphor of the closet.” The closet metaphor, which advocates for queer individuals to come out into visibility and full citizenship, does not fully capture the experiences of queer Palestinians, both within the Occupied Territories and the State of Israel. Palestinians (queer or not) are frequently confronted with the violence that takes place at checkpoints, which constantly reminds them of the impossibility of belonging. Therefore, if they choose the closet, they must embody a form of victim visibility that advances the state’s political agenda. If they do not embrace this form of victim visibility, they will be confronted by the checkpoint paradigm, which only perpetuates the dehumanization of their existence.
An Interfaith Response
From an interfaith perspective, the contrast of queer Palestinians navigating between political agendas and religious identities compels us to reflect on how their unique experiences intersect with religious and nonreligious worldviews and spiritual pathways. Such reflection is crucial for better understanding the intersection of faith, politics, and personal identity, and how these factors influence the lived realities of those caught in between. What role can interfaith communities play in centering the experiences of queer Palestinians amidst complex political and religious dynamics? How can diverse worldviews and faith traditions contribute to a more nuanced and compassionate understanding of their struggles? What are the deep ethical and spiritual responsibilities of faith communities in addressing systemic injustices and advocating for the marginalized?
Photo: Unsplash
In Islam, the principle of tawhid – the oneness and unity of God – emphasizes the inherent unity of humanity and the divine command to uphold justice and protect the vulnerable. It implies that every person is part of a greater whole deserving of respect and empathy. This perspective compels us to critically examine the contradictions in how queer Palestinians are represented and treated.
Many queer Palestinians, and queer Muslims more broadly, grapple with faith-based trauma due to their sexual and gender identities, resulting in significant mental health challenges. They often encounter a lack of cultural sensitivity, exclusion, and experiences of racism within LGBTQ+ spaces, while simultaneously struggling with homophobia and rigid gender role expectations within traditional Islamic settings. The Islamic value of adalah (justice) demands a comprehensive understanding of their suffering, rejecting simplistic binaries and embracing a more nuanced view of their experiences. This approach calls for addressing the complex realities of their lived experiences and advocating for justice and inclusion that respects both their religious and queer identities.
Similarly, Christianity’s call to “love thy neighbor” and its prophetic tradition of standing with the oppressed compel us to extend compassion to those marginalized by both political systems and societal prejudices. This includes recognizing the compounded suffering of queer Palestinians, who face discrimination from both their political context and within religious and societal structures. Judaism’s commitment to tikkun olam (repairing the world) calls us to actively pursue justice and inclusivity, challenging narratives that render queer Palestinians invisible and dehumanized.
Photo: Unsplash
Across all faith traditions and nonreligious worldviews, there is a shared imperative to uphold the dignity and rights of every individual. This collective commitment to justice and empathy can guide us in addressing the complexities of marginalized identities and fostering a more inclusive and equitable world. I deeply believe that interfaith engagement transcends religious or faith traditions. It is fundamentally about people first. Interfaith is about people coming together to build mutual understanding across lines of difference.
Interfaith work succeeds precisely because it acknowledges and respects our differences and diverse beliefs and practices, while uniting in a shared commitment to work towards common goals. That is why the interfaith community must engage with the complex realities faced by those situated at the crossroads of sociopolitical and socioreligious power structures. It must advocate for the rights of queer Palestinians not as a means to bolster nationalistic narratives, but as a fundamental expression of faith in the dignity and worth of all people.
Header Photo: Carsten Tolkmit, CC 2.0 BY SA