Po svetu vsak dan narašča število migrantk in begunk. Ljudi, ki so zaradi težkih in ogrožujočih okoliščin — naj bodo to vojne, podnebne spremembe in ostale naravne katastrofe, revščina ali diskriminacija — prisiljene zapustiti vse, kar poznajo in se podati na nevarno pot, na kateri so nemalokrat soočene z nadaljnim nasiljem in diskriminacijo ter prisiljene v nenehno dokazovanje svoje človečnosti in enakovrednosti.
Posebej težko je LGBTIQA+ begunkam, ki so podvržene dvojni stigmatizaciji in nasilju tako s strani lokalnega prebivalstva, kot tudi s strani drugih begunk.
Ne pozabimo, da bomo jutri morda begunke tudi me. Kako si želimo, da bi se druge vedle do nas? Spodaj v vami delimo misli nekaterih begunk, ki sestavljajo našo skupnost.
“Včasih si želim, da bi ljudje lahko občutili, kako je biti prisiljen za seboj pustiti vse. Pri tem ne izgubiš le svoje hiše in materialne lastnine — izgubiš občutek, da nekam spadaš.“
“Tvoji sosedje; ulice, kjer si hodil kot otrok; tvoje najljubše vonjave, tvoj materni jezik — vse to postanejo oddaljeni spomini. Celo preproste stvari, kakor tvoja najljubša jed ali znana pesem ti naenkrat povzročajo bolečino.”
“Želim si, da bi se ljudje zavedali, da biti begunka ne pomeni, da sem želela priti sem. Začeti popolnoma na novo nekje, kjer ne poznam jezika, kjer moram znova in znova razlagati svojo zgodbo, kjer me ljudje včasih vidijo zgolj kot breme niso bile moje sanje. Želela sem normalno življenje, tako kot vsi ostali.”
“Biti begunec ni izbira, ni zabavna dogodivščina ali stvar, ki bi jo načrtoval. Biti begunec pomeni bežanje pred nevarnostjo, vojno, preganjanjem — pred situacijami, ki si jih večina ljudi ne more niti predstavljati. Pomeni pustiti za seboj vse, kar je poznano — svoj dom, prijatelje, družino, kulturo, jezik — pogosto z ničemer drugim, kakor z majhno torbo in velikim strahom.”
“Ob čem se počutim bolj dobrodošel v novi skupnosti? Pomagajo že najmanjša dejanja – topel nasmeh, pozdrav ali trenutek potrpljenja, medtem, ko v glavi brskam za pravo besedo v drugem jeziku. Te preproste geste me spomnijo, da nisem samo neznanec, ampak človeško bitje med drugimi človeškimi bitji. V takšnih trenutkih spet začutim delček doma.”
“Želim si, da bi ljudje razumeli, da biti begunec pomeni živeti v nenehni negotovosti. Prihodnost ni nikoli zagotovljena — čakati moramo na odobritev azila, soočamo se z jezikovnimi ovirami, s težavo dobimo delo in skrbi nas za bližnje, ki smo jih pustili za seboj.”
“V Sloveniji zdaj živim že tri leta, a se nikoli nisem počutila dobrodošlo. Slovenke ponavadi govorijo z menoj samo, če osebno poznam katero od njihovih prijateljic — drugače me popolnoma ignorirajo. Vedno sprašujejo ista neprijetna vprašanja in se potem ne želijo več družiti ali poglobiti stika, tudi na samo prijateljski način.”
”Zmenkanje je še slabše. Takoj, ko omeniš, da si begunka, se pogovor zaključi. To boli, še posebej s strani kvir oseb, od katerih pričakuješ več razumevanja in občutljivosti. Lažje je najti notranji mir tako, da si ne ustvarjaš nobenih pričakovanj.”
“Želim si, da bi ljudje razumeli žalovanje, ki sledi takšnemu “izruvanju” iz lastnega okolja. Občutek izgube ne zbledi kmalu. Vsak spomin na dom lahko zbudi tako tolažbo, kot bolečino. Begunke živimo z nevidnimi ranami — s travmo, z občutkom krivde in z bremenom zavedanja, da smo preživele, medtem, ko tolikim drugim ni uspelo.”
“A želim si tudi, da bi ljudje videli mojo moč. S seboj nosim svojo preteklost, a nisem zgolj ta preteklost. Sleherni dan se trudim, da bi se naučila, delala, zagotovila boljšo prihodnost za svoje otroke, prispevala, pripadala. Več sem, kot samo moja oznaka begunke. Oseba sem, prav tako, kot vi.”
“Želim si, da bi se ljudje zavedali, da smo begunke trdožive. Nismo zgolj žrtve. Smo zdravnice, učiteljice, inženirke, umetnice, starši, otroci — ljudje, ki si želimo ponovno graditi, prispevati in pripadati nečemu. Čeprav nam sistemi to otežujejo, s seboj nosimo znanja, sanje in odločnost.”
”Želim si, da bi ljudje pred našim statusom videli našo človečnost, in se spomnili, da je za vsako oznako, na primer “begunec” , oseba z zgodbo — takšna, kot so sami.”
“Ne iščemo zgolj varnega zatočišča – iščemo tudi dostojanstvo.”
English:
The numbers of migrants and refugees across the globe are growing every day — be it wars, climate crisis, poverty or discrimination, people are forced by difficult and threatening circumstances to leave everything behind and embark on a treacherous journey, regularly facing additional violence and discrimination, forced over and over to prove and defend their humanity and entitlement to equal rights.
LGBTIQA+ refugees are especially at risk, as they face multiple layers of stigmatization – from the local population, as well as their original community and other refugees.
Let’s not forget that we can easily end up in the same position soon. How would we wish to be treated by strangers? Below we’re sharing with you the thoughts of some refugees in our community
“Sometimes I wish people could feel what it’s like to leave everything behind — not because you want to, but because you don’t just lose your house or your belongings — you lose your sense of belonging.”
“Your neighbors, your childhood streets, your favorite smells, your language — they all become distant memories. Even simple things, like a familiar meal or a familiar song, suddenly make you ache.” // “I wish people knew that being a refugee doesn’t mean I wanted to come here. I didn’t dream of starting over in a place where I don’t speak the language, where I have to explain my story again and again, where people sometimes see me only as a burden. I wanted a normal life, like everyone else.”
“Being a refugee is not a choice. It’s not an adventure or a plan. It’s an escape from danger, from war, from persecution, from situations most people can’t even imagine. It means leaving behind everything familiar — home, friends, family, culture, language — often with nothing but a small bag and a lot of fear.”
“What makes me feel welcome in a new community? The smallest gestures — a warm smile, a greeting, a moment of patience when I search for the right word in another language. These simple acts remind me that I am not just a stranger, but also a human being among others. And in those moments, I feel a piece of “home” return to me.”
”I wish people understood that being a refugee means living with constant uncertainty. The future is never guaranteed — whether it’s waiting for asylum decisions, facing language barriers, struggling to find work, or worrying about family left behind.”
“I’ve been living in Slovenia for three years now. I have never felt welcomed here. Slovene people will generally only talk to you if you personally know one of their friends — otherwise they usually completely ignore you. They always ask the same uncomfortable questions and don’t want to meet again to hang out and connect further, even in just a friendly way.“
”Dating is even worse. As soon as you mention the word “refugee”, the conversation ends. It is very disappointing and hurtful to experience this, especially in the queer community, where you would expect more open-mindedness and sensibility. It is easier to find peace by trying to have no expectations.”
“I wish people understood the grief that comes with being uprooted. The sense of loss doesn’t fade quickly. Every memory of home can bring both comfort and pain. Refugees carry invisible wounds — trauma, guilt, and often the burden of surviving when so many others didn’t.”
“But I also wish people saw my strength. I carry my past with me, but I am not only my past. I’m trying — every day — to learn, to work, to give my children a better future, to contribute, to belong. I am more than my refugee label. I am a person, just like you.”
“I wish people knew that refugees are resilient. We are not just victims. We are doctors, teachers, engineers, artists, parents, children — people who want to rebuild, contribute, and belong. We carry skills, dreams, and determination, even when systems make it hard for us.”
“I wish people saw our humanity before our status. That behind every label — “refugee” — there is a person with a story, just like them.”
“We are not only looking for shelter, but for dignity.”