Being Afghan, American, Muslim and gay poses many challenges, says activist and writer Nemat Sadat

Like the US-based activist and writer

Nemat Sadat

, the protagonist of his debut novel ‘The Carpet Weaver’ too identifies as gay, refugee, Afghan and “ex-Muslim”. Reconciling these conflicting identities has been the central theme of 40-year-old Sadat’s life. He talks to Sharmila Ganesan Ram about his crusade for gay rights

We hear Obama was the trigger for your book?
On June 3, 2008, news broke out that Obama had secured the primary Democratic nomination. I figured if a biracial black man can come this close to becoming the leader of the free world, then I too could write a novel. The next morning, I walked to a Starbucks, and began writing.

What have the reactions to the book so far been like?
During my short stay in Delhi recently, I met members of the LGBTQIA community who told me how much they loved and felt inspired by The Carpet Weaver. One individual found my novel as gripping as the Indian Supreme Court’s ruling last year on Section 377. Hearing stuff like this gives me all the more reason to never give up on my writing. There is no greater joy… except for really good sex.

You were five when your family fled

Afghanistan

and sought refuge in the US. Did you feel integrated in America?
Being Afghan, American, Muslim, and a repressed homosexual posed many challenges in a post 9/11 world. I had to jump over hoops to prove I was loyal, normal, and worthy despite all the suspicions about my ethnic origin, religion, and sexuality. I thought I would be welcomed in the LGBTQIA community but even in the gay scene I’ve felt like a fish out of the water. That’s why I’ve made it my life’s crusade to break down all the barriers and crush all the labels that divide us.

What was it like growing up as a gay Afghan refugee in southern California?
In my teens, while living in Irvine, California I was cursed by my father, who repeatedly called me a kuni, a derogatory word equivalent to “fag” because I loved to dance and acted effeminate. My father, a well-known Afghan intellectual of his generation and a former ambassador of Afghanistan to West Germany, believed that homosexuality was a western invention, used by the United States, to subvert Islam. After I came out to my immediate family in December 2009, my parents colluded with relatives to force me to marry a woman. I spent years dodging the issue.

You moved back to teach at the American University of Afghanistan in 2012. What kind of challenges did you face even before you came out as a gay man?
I had students coming to my office to tell me about unsavoury rumours swirling on campus about me — that I was suspected to be gay since I was over 30 and still single, which is very uncommon in Afghan society; that my soft features and facial expressions were a dead give-away. This is how militantly patriarchal contemporary Afghan society is.

What triggered your decision to come out in 2013?
By then, I had started promoting LGBTQIA rights on social media and tried to find a way to awaken a gay movement in

Kabul

. When the semester ended, I travelled to England and acted as a transgender in the Gilgamesh Rising play held at the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford. I posted photos of myself with make-up to shatter the cross-dressing taboo in Afghanistan. Then during the month of Ramadan, I decided to write and publish homoerotic poetry on social media. Very soon after, I received a phone call from one of the university administrators demanding that I resign. Eventually, the Afghan government deemed me a national security threat, and threatened to put me on trial and give me a life sentence in prison or the death penalty if I returned. When I refused to resign from my post, AUAF sent me a termination letter. I realised I had nothing to lose so I decided to take the leap of faith and come out to the entire world.

What was the price you paid for coming out?
I am despised by the Afghan community and Muslims. My father and brother distanced themselves. Some friends cut ties with me. I’ve endured poverty and lived in homeless shelters. After receiving numerous death threats and a formal fatwa, I continue to live in hiding. But I didn’t want to repress my sexuality and live a double life, like so many of Afghanistan’s closeted homosexuals. The only way we can live in a world where LGBTQIA persons are free from persecution is if we dismantle the institutions that incite hatred. I do believe in fairy tales and happy endings for gay people and I’m determined to search for a man I can call my soulmate.

What’s your sense of the LGBTQIA community in India?
LGBTQIA Indians are fortunate to live in the world’s largest democracy and as imperfect as it is, never lose sight in how far you’ve come. Remember, you are the light for your LGBTQIA counterparts in neighbouring

Bangladesh

and Pakistan, and in the 69 countries where homosexuality is still considered a crime punishable by death or imprisonment.