![A posed portrait of lesbian couple O (27, right) and D (23, left): "After [men attacked us for being lesbians], I felt even more strongly how dear D is to me, and how scary the thought that I could lose her. The worst thing that I felt was an absolute inability to protect the one I loved, or even myself. Yes, now I look back on the street and look at every passing male as a possible source of danger. I realized that there are defective people who can pounce on us just because we are lesbians. But every time, now when I'm in the street, when I take her by the hand, I do it consciously, it is my choice. D, hold my hand, this is my reward for your courage."](https://psmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/har2015002p0130-0036.jpg?w=1160&h=0&crop=1)
It’s nearly the end of Pride Month, the season that commemorates Manhattan’s 1969 Stonewall Riots, inspires marches worldwide, and provides the Internet with spectacular photographs of queer celebration. We’ve seen shots of buildings awash in rainbow-colored lights, from the Empire State Building to the Montrose Bridges in Houston, Texas. Images of Pride marchers dressed in wings, rainbow dresses, and Babadook costumes have made the Twitter rounds. Rainbow armpit hair became a Thing on Instagram.
While such images are common each year in the United States, they’re rare in the 76 countries where homosexuality is still criminalized. In Russia, Nigeria, Jamaica, and elsewhere, LGBT folks risk prison time—and, in 10 countries, a death sentence—for revealing their queer identities. Discriminatory laws and, often, harsh social stigma effectively silence these citizens, sometimes compelling them to change residences frequently, or even to go into hiding. As queer folks seek refuge in the shadows, they become essentially invisible in their own countries—their absence reinforcing the notion that their sexual identities are shameful.
Photojournalist Robin Hammond’s multimedia project “Where Love Is Illegal” aims to restore their visibility. Since mid-2014, Hammond has captured 80 large-format Polaroid images from nine countries where homosexuality is punishable by law. Though Hammond is an award-winning photographer himself, he co-directs the pictures with his queer subjects: Subjects choose their poses, outfits, and expressions, write stories to accompany the images, and can choose to destroy the physical photographs if they think the photos threaten their safety. About one-third of his subjects, Hammond says, ask to change their names.
The project has been featured in the New York Times, Foreign Policy, and the Sunday Times. Exclusive images will also appear in an upcoming issue of Pacific Standard (subscribe here). Since 2014, Hammond has also expanded the project on his website, allowing online visitors to share their own images and stories. “What I hope [these photographs] can do is that they can contribute to allowing this marginalized group to having the ability to counter some of the toxic narratives about who they are, to challenge this idea that who they are is unholy or unnatural or immoral. And I think personal stories have the power to do that,” Hammond says.
A portrait of lesbian couple J and Q, who are too afraid to reveal their identities.
“[We] are a lesbian married couple, though not recognized because in Uganda society lesbianism [is considered] an abnormality, an outcast, a disease that needs to be cured. We have been attacked verbally by people [mostly men] who have noticed we are a couple. We can’t publicly say we are married, especially since the bill [the Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Act of 2014] had been passed and has since caused more awareness, polluting very many Ugandans’ minds against the LGBTQ community, which has also made living in Uganda as a lesbian a dangerous thing.”
(Photo: Robin Hammond/NOOR)
A posed portrait of Boniwe Tyatyeka, mother of a lesbian named Nontsikelelo Tyatyeka (in the framed picture), who disappeared on September 7th, 2010.
“I am Boniwe, mother of Nontsikelelo Tyatyeka. It is difficult to move forward and continue after losing Ntsikie because she was a girl who made my life happy. She loved to say jokes, make people laugh, write, and dance. If she was upset, she would make jokes and make me laugh. Sometimes when I did something bad and [she] saw that I was upset, I would leave. When I returned from my work the next day, I found a message from Ntsikie stuck in the refrigerator or by my bed where she told me how she felt and apologized. For my Nontsikelelo was different from her sisters and so it will always remain in my heart. Still today when I go out, I look out in the hope of finding Ntsikie. Ntsikie was a girl with dreams.”
(Photo: Robin Hammond/NOOR)
A posed portrait of 25-year-old gay man Ruslan Savolaynen, a survivor of multiple homophobic attacks.
“After [the latest] beating I lost my memory, for an hour, for a day or two. I lay at home for months under the supervision of doctors, suffering from seizures (blood would gush from my nose, and I would get a headache so bad that I would lose consciousness). Going to the police is not beneficial. They do nothing. Now as I am writing this, I’m hold back the tears because of the shame, because it seems like it’s forever, so it will be again and again. And the anger is so much. I’m sick of always being the victim.”
(Photo: Robin Hammond/NOOR)
A posed portrait of 25-year-old gay man Tiwonge Chimbalanga from Malawi.
“On December 28th, 2009, [my husband] Steven and I were arrested. It was a painful experience because it was the first time he was going to jail. I was released on May 27th, 2010, after United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon spoke to Malawi President Bingu wa Muthalika. After leaving jail I faced many challenges in my country. People used to call me nicknames, it was a difficult time for me, so I decided to flee to South Africa. When I arrived here I met many people from my country, which was good. I was happy because it was easy for me to communicate with them, but to make things worse, there were people from my country who knew me and who started to insult me and nickname me again. I realized that life was also difficult in South Africa. For example, I’ve been trying to find a job, but it’s hard for me to find a job. This has been a great challenge for me. When I was in jail in 2010 they told me that I would spend at least 14 years there for what I did, but that did not happen because some organizations and people intervened and then I was released…. God bless all who helped me.”
(Photo: Robin Hammond/NOOR)
