Arti, a young man in his twenties, moves easily through the crowds on the streets of Prishtina. With short, medium-length hair, jeans and a black T-shirt, he passes as, in his own words, “a typical Albanian guy.” This, he believes, has protected him from the staring looks and insulting comments often directed at those more visibly queer — or even at people who aren’t queer at all, but simply don’t conform to binary expectations of appearance and behavior.

“It’s not that it is easy. But it becomes easier when people don’t realize you’re gay and that you have a same-sex partner,” he said.

For Ben, it was different. With a presence that defies narrow gender boundaries, he has faced insulting comments, scorn and violence since childhood — whether for his soft voice or for behavior perceived as “unmanly.” He experienced violence from his father and brother, even though he had never spoken openly about his sexual orientation.

“My father and brother wanted to control how I looked, how I walked. I don’t know what would happen if they found out I was gay. Maybe I’ll never tell them,” he said.

For the couple, the process of coming out — which, for them, meant becoming comfortable with being gay — began when they started connecting with the queer community in Kosovo. This happened through meetings with activists and individuals during events such as International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia (IDAHOT) marches and Pride Parades. For Artin, one of the first IDAHOT marches, 10 years ago, was particularly impactful — an experience that left an indelible mark on him.

“It was the first time I saw LGBTQ+ people from Kosovo — queer people, activists, their friends, even politicians — walking through the city,” he said. “It made me think that maybe it was possible for me too. It’s not like I immediately accepted that I’m gay, but it helped later.”

Both work from home for international companies — an opportunity that has been a lifesaver for Art in particular. In his previous jobs, he was constantly subjected to disparaging comments. Now, by working remotely, he avoids direct contact with homophobic colleagues and hurtful remarks.

They plan to save money and, one day, move out of Kosovo. They see this as their only chance at a more free life. Although they come from families that, as they put it, “seem more progressive from the outside — especially by Kosovo standards,” Ben’s experience has led them both to question what that word truly means.

“If my father and brother raised their hands against me just because I didn’t look ‘manly’ enough — without even knowing I was gay — and they call themselves educated, well-educated people, then I can’t imagine what it’s like for someone in a rural area or in a more conservative family,” Beni said.

Queer people like Art and Ben, as well as activists who lead LGBTQ+ organizations in Kosovo, agree that while the visibility of the queer community has increased in recent years, it has not been accompanied by tangible improvements in rights or living conditions.

“The same situation, unfortunately, continues,” said Blert Morina, director of the Center for Equality and Liberty (CEL), an LGBTQ+ rights organization. “What has changed is the visibility of LGBTQ+ people in public spaces — and that certainly hasn’t changed perception or acceptance. The biggest challenges are related to personal safety, because there is still no shelter that could serve as a safe haven for those experiencing domestic violence, and this contributes to the fact that such violence often goes unreported.”

Morina refers to one of the unfulfilled promises of the Municipality of Prishtina. The construction of a shelter supported by public institutions has been a long-standing demand of LGBTQ+ organizations, which receive dozens of cases each year involving violence or exclusion from the family.

In 2020, during the mandate of former mayor Shpend Ahmeti, a location was selected and funds were allocated for its construction, but the project was left suspended. A year later, it was transferred to the current administration of Përparim Rama, without any concrete progress. Municipal officials have stated that the project was halted due to the search for a safer location. But according to activists, this explanation is simply a form of procrastination and a sign of lacking political will.

Activists point out that threats to personal safety are only one part of the broader reality of discrimination faced by queer people in Kosovo. Despite progressive legal frameworks — including the Constitution and the Criminal Code, which recognize gender identity and sexual orientation as protected categories — in practice, discrimination remains widespread in families, schools, workplaces and the healthcare system.

“An often neglected aspect of the discussion on LGBTQ+ rights in Kosovo is economic marginalization and exclusion from the labor market,” said Arbër Nuhiu, director of the Center for the Development of Social Groups (CSGD), an LGBTQ+ rights organization. “Many LGBTQ+ people — especially youth and transgender individuals — face serious challenges in finding stable and secure employment. Workplace discrimination is real, whether at the hiring stage, where gender expression may lead to silent rejection by employers, or on the job itself, where individuals often face harassment or exclusion.”

According to Morina and Nuhiu, trans people face the most obstacles and uncertainties. The lack of regulated hormone therapy treatments in Kosovo forces many to seek care in other countries, such as North Macedonia. But even these alternatives remain unsafe, often expensive and lack proper medical supervision.

In addition to inadequate healthcare, the legal recognition of gender identity remains one of the biggest institutional barriers for trans people. The process of changing one’s name and sex marker on identification documents is unclear, slow and unreliable.

Morina won his legal battle in 2020, when the Basic Court of Prishtina recognized his right to change his name and sex marker on official documents. His case marked only the second time a court in Kosovo had issued such a decision — the first, filed by an anonymous applicant, dates back to 2018.

However, these cases have not established a legal precedent. While Morina’s victory remains a significant achievement for the trans community and the broader LGBTQ+ movement in Kosovo, it does not compensate for the existing legal vacuum and procedural uncertainty. Clear legal guidelines are still lacking on how to proceed in cases involving requests to change one’s name and sex marker.

The process begins at the Civil Registry Office in the respective municipality, where individuals submit a request to change their sex marker and name. The request is then reviewed by a commission within the Civil Registry Agency, which often continues to reject such applications.

Both Morina and Nuhiu are aware of at least two cases in which requests have been denied by the commission, leaving individuals to pursue a lengthy legal process — as in Morina’s case — marked by years of waiting, uncertainty and significant emotional stress.

“Transgender people are at particular risk of falling into extreme marginalization, as the lack of documents that align with their gender identity prevents them from accessing formal employment, public services, bank loans and more,” said Nuhiu.

The rejection of the new draft civil code: A clear message against queer people

From a legal perspective, one of the ongoing challenges for the LGBTQ+ community in Kosovo is the lack of legal recognition for same-sex couples. Although the Constitution of Kosovo guarantees equality for all citizens before the law, this principle is not reflected in civil legislation. Currently, marriage is regulated by the Law on Family, which defines it exclusively as a union between a man and a woman — thereby excluding any form of legal recognition for same-sex couples.

The draft Civil Code, which aims to regulate various aspects of private and public life in the country, has been in development for years but has yet to be approved. The draft includes a provision that allows for “civil unions” between persons of the same sex. However, this remains a vague formulation, as the provision states that “the conditions and procedures shall be regulated by a special law.” This lack of concrete detail has been repeatedly criticized by human rights activists as an exclusionary approach that contradicts the spirit of the Constitution.

“The absence of this recognition leaves LGBTQ+ couples without rights to inheritance, pensions, division of joint property, child custody or the ability to make medical decisions for their partner,” Nuhiu said.

Although the new Civil Code draft envisions that civil unions between persons of the same sex will be regulated through a separate law, this partial and vague approach has been used to fuel conservative narratives and homophobic rhetoric — some of the most vocal the Kosovo Assembly has heard in recent years. In 2022, the draft was blocked in the Assembly based on allegations and misinterpretations by certain deputies, who claimed that the code would lead to the legalization of same-sex marriage.

For Arti and Ben, the entire debate and handling of the Civil Code draft has sent a clear message: the state has no intention of recognizing their existence as a couple. For activists as well, the public uproar surrounding the approval process of the draft code has had profound consequences for LGBTQ+ people in Kosovo. They describe this period as a time when public intimidation of voices advocating for human rights intensified, and the sense of exclusion among queer people deepened.

Morina says it was the first time LGBTQ+ individuals had “faced such open and direct backlash from the institutions themselves.”

For Nuhiu, the entire process surrounding the new drafting of the Civil Code had a significant impact — both emotionally and politically, on the LGBTQ+ community.

“The Assembly’s refusal to approve an amendment that would recognize civil partnerships for same-sex couples was experienced as a betrayal by the very institutions in which the community had placed its hope. This decision was not simply a legal failure, but a public wound to the dignity and identity of many people,” said Nuhiu.

An increasingly hostile rhetoric

Homophobic and transphobic discourse in the Kosovo Assembly has become particularly present in recent years, especially during debates over the new Civil Code and the Draft Law on Reproductive Health. This rhetoric resurfaced earlier this year as the election campaign approached, when the programs and dominant narratives of most political parties leaned heavily on patriarchal frameworks and pro-natalist policies — openly rejecting gender justice and the fundamental rights of non-binary individuals. Furthermore, Lista për Familjen entered the electoral race as the first party in Kosovo with a platform that explicitly opposes gender equality and queer rights.

Although it failed to secure representation in the Kosovo Assembly, Lista për Familjen succeeded in shifting public discourse toward a more hostile climate for LGBTQ+ people, promoting polarizing and deeply conservative language.

“Unfortunately, this rhetoric has resonated with certain segments of society, moving issues of equality out of the human rights arena and into an instrumentalized political battle,” said Nuhiu. “What’s even more concerning is the impact of this discourse on the positions of other parties. Instead of being voices of reason and equality, many political leaders have chosen silence or conformity, retreating from their support for these fundamental rights.”

Nuhiu and Morina express concern that anti-gender and anti-LGBTQ+ movements — such as Lista për Familje — are no longer peripheral phenomena, but are spreading rapidly.

“The cases of Hungary, Poland and even Western countries like Italy and the United States are clear indicators that no country is immune to setbacks in human rights,” said Nuhiu. “This global trend fuels fear-mongering and conspiracy-driven rhetoric that directly targets the rights of women and LGBTQ+ people.”

As Nuhiu points out, some of the most troubling developments for LGBTQ+ rights have taken place in developed countries themselves — a clear indication of a global regressive trend. In this climate, queer people are facing a new wave of oppression that is increasingly organized and widespread.

According to Human Rights Watch, the return of the Trump administration has emboldened a global far-right movement, supported by authoritarian leaders, conservative religious groups and large networks that spread disinformation targeting the LGBTQ+ community.

Since taking office in January 2025, Trump has taken a series of actions that directly violate the rights of LGBTQ+ people. These include narrowing the definition of gender to biological sex assigned at birth, banning the use of state funds for medical treatment for transgender youth and excluding trans people from serving in the U.S. military.

In the U.K., the situation has also deteriorated. In April, the Supreme Court ruled that the terms “woman” and “sex,” under the Equality Act 2010, refer exclusively to biological sex. This decision effectively excludes trans women from spaces and services designated for women — such as shelters, restrooms and healthcare services — and has been widely criticized as a significant setback for transgender rights.

Meanwhile, in Hungary, Parliament approved a constitutional amendment that bans public LGBTQ+ events, including Pride parades. A law has also been passed allowing the use of facial recognition technology to identify participants in such events, a move that raises serious concerns about privacy and freedom of expression.

“These discriminatory policies not only cause direct suffering for the communities affected, but also send a very dangerous message to countries like ours that are in the process of European integration and embracing European values, on the very continent where Kosovo is located,” Nuhiu said.

According to him, LGBTQ+ people in Kosovo must be prepared and organized to face these challenges by strengthening solidarity and cooperation between civil society organizations and other allies. In the meantime, he emphasizes the need to establish rapid-response mechanisms to counter misinformation and public or media attacks, in order to prevent the spread of hate speech often used by anti-gender movements, conservative forces and religious groups.

“The most important thing is that LGBTQ+ people must remain united, keeping their focus on the main goal: equality, safety and dignity for all LGBTQ+ individuals,” said Nuhiu.

Editor’s note: Art and Ben’s names are pseudonyms to protect the characters’ privacy.

Feature image: K2.0

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