Gay ruslan
Ruslan Mehtiev
“While I was in lofty school my peers never missed a chance to call me a fagot, and make comments which underline, once again my homosexuality and publicly ridicule me. I could never understand why they did it, because I never stated in the academy that I was gay.
One day when I was walking with a girlfriend from a neighboring school, those who execute not miss a chance to hurt me initiate fallowing us. They were laughing and shouting insults. Suddenly, one of them pushed me under the wheels of a passing car, the driver saw me and braked, but the wheels passed over my leg. I didn’t feel the pain so I let the frightened driver go convinced that all is well. Five minutes later, when the shock was gone I felt wild pain, I could not stand on my leg! The medic said that I had broken a few bones and my massive boots saved my leg from being crushed by the wheel.
I spent a scant months at home. There were the courts, which I refused to depart to. The excuses of the guys were so ridiculous that it became silly. I felt only resentment and anger, and didn’t understand what right they had to uncover my life such danger?!
The second case, when I was attacked, happened when I was first year student of uni
My name is Ruslan. I am 19 years vintage and I am same-sex attracted. It is hard for me to speak out because the circumstances compel me to hide my orientation. I will talk openly when the Kherson region is liberated, but now it is unsafe. I live in the very south of the Kherson region, closer to Skadovsk (the village of the Kherson region, closer to the sea) than to Kherson. This is a small Ukrainian village where everyone knows each other. That’s why I’m hiding. I occasionally approach home to replenish supplies, charge my phone, and wash up. But after that, I disappear. This is a forced necessity that gives me a small space for living.
I’ve been hiding for a long time, since May to be precise. After the occupation, we were constantly visited by the Russian soldiers. At first, they only wrote down the information about the people who lived in the village and how many people were left after the so-called “liberation”. They constantly called some meetings to tell us that now everything would be different. They had been chased away by locals at first, but later the cars with the infamous letter “z” instead of license plates arrived.
Several of the