Mahmoud Hassino on the realities of refugee life in Berlin

Oct. 31, 2016 – Willkommen in Berlin is the title of the handbook I received at the Ausländerbehörde after my asylum procedure was concluded in September 2014. That moment was the end of what I considered to be my “three-month holiday” in Berlin, which had already welcomed me at the airport as a visitor offering me access to hot summer encounters. Gay men love new faces. I had months of wild parties with Berliners who – because of common perceptions of refugees as poor, weak and, sometimes, uneducated – didn’t grasp the fact that I was an asylum seeker.

We live in a world of privileges. I had mine as I had worked in media and on LGBTI issues for years. I had my bank account in Turkey – where I had lived before – which helped me preserve the vacationer image, not dependent on benefits. I also had friends here who introduced me to the city. Berlin was hard to adapt to, considering the most prevalent problems it has: housing and employment. It took me longer to establish myself here compared to other places I had moved to before. Moreover, all my privileges seemed to evaporate and all my struggles seemed to magnify with the arrival of my refugee status.

But then having dealt with all those stereotypes surrounding this, I was a perfect fit at the Schwulenberatung’s Queer Refugees Project, which launched in July 2015. There, young LGBTI newcomers arrive with hopes and expectations that are not realistic. They have an idealistic vision of Germany and think that being in Berlin will solve all their problems, whereas the city can only provide some laws to protect their rights to be who they are, but it doesn’t guarantee a life free from discrimination or other problems. Still, they get overwhelmed, just as I did, by the amazing willingness of Berliners to help and welcome them.

Before long, though, things started to change drastically. Refugees were no longer welcome – they became a crisis and a threat. The media played a role in feeding into people’s normal concerns about change and turning them into fears of the unknown. Faces on the train became grimmer, and conversations revolved around how refugees come here to take Germans’ money. A gay bartender at a gay bar tells some of our clients that they are not welcome because they are “Arabs, Muslims and terrorists”. I hear those things more often nowadays, whether at the office or in the streets.

Falling in love with a city can take a long time with such struggles. Many refugees are faced with the fact that they cannot freely choose where to resettle. I didn’t chose Berlin, but Berlin chose me. It offered me protection from persecution for being an outspoken gay writer, which is the one thing I have always needed. Our clients will need a long time to realize what Berlin can offer, and when they do, they will call it home. Just like I do.

Mahmoud Hassino started Syria’s first LGBT magazine and now works for gay counseling network Schwulenberatung Berlin