Amidst the blows and homophobic insults, the woman attacked Alexander Savic on the bus and stabbed him with a sharp object. Later, in the emergency room, doctors treated Savic for a shin injury and an eye injury.
Incidents like the July 11 attack on Savić – also known as drag queen Alexis Plastik – do not happen often in Belgrade. But in the EU candidate country, violence against people who do not look or act like the mainstream is becoming common.
Just hours earlier, Vladimir Arsenijević, writer and program director of the annual Krokodil literary festival, was attacked by right-wing thugs in the middle of the day in central Belgrade as he was preparing for a memorial event commemorating the 1995 Srebrenica massacre.
Speaking to broadcaster N1, Plastik called for an “epidemic of violence” in Serbia. Increasing violence by President Aleksandar Vucic and groups associated with his Serbian Progressive Party, SNS, has reinforced the sense among many that anyone who is different can be a target, and no one is safe.
Matija Stefanovic, program coordinator of the LGBTQ+ group Da se Zna, said, “Violence is becoming increasingly normalized, while there are no guarantees of protection against it – especially for those who speak out against social or political problems, or who are unpopular among the general public!” (“For Your Information!”), which documents violence against gay people in Serbia.
“The fact that most of these attacks are not investigated and the perpetrators are rarely held accountable means that they cannot be dismissed as isolated incidents,” Stefanovic said. “They represent a systemic problem that further perpetuates violence and encourages criminals to continue attacking marginalized people, without fear of significant consequences.”
The social climate for Serbia’s LGBTQ+ community has become increasingly harsh over the past few years, with the community also becoming a target of the right-wing nationalist government.
More recorded attacks than ever before
There is Zna! Located in an ordinary office on a side street in the center of the Serbian capital. Apart from a lone rainbow-coloured nutcracker standing on a shelf, hardly anything indicates the group’s purpose: it is the only organization in Serbia that documents attacks on queer people – threats, vandalism, physical assault.
“Last year, we counted 110 cases – more than ever before,” Stefanovic said. This is partly due to the fact that NGOs are becoming more well-known, and queer people are increasingly willing to report incidents. But dramatic, high-profile cases like the aggression against Alexis Plastics are also happening more and more.
In mid-May, unknown assailants attacked Mornar, a gay bar in Belgrade, with tear gas. In late May, a trans woman and her partner were again beaten unconscious one night by unknown assailants.
Many gay people in Serbia are afraid to openly show their identity. one in recent survey According to the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, almost 80% of respondents said they avoid holding their partner’s hand in public.
latest version of rainbow mapData compiled by the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association shows Serbia has slipped to 29th in Europe, six places below the European average. Five years ago it was at 22nd position.
Support amidst threats of violence
The only solution to this stigma and violence is education, Stefanovic said. Ahead of the annual Pride Parade co-organized by Da Se Zana, activists also travel to small towns across the country with a Pride Caravan to send a message: We are here, and we are not going anywhere.
In some towns, they are being greeted by a handful of supporters holding rainbow flags – and dozens of protesters chanting anti-gay slogans.
After the group published the list of planned sites for this year’s caravan, they received several death threats. The event in Pirot, in Serbia’s southeast, was canceled at short notice in mid-July because police could not guarantee the group’s safety. Three journalists covering the event were attacked by the mob.
“These protests reflect the sad reality for gay people living in a small Serbian town,” Stefanovic said. “We try to show the people who live in these towns that we know how difficult it is – and we haven’t forgotten about them.”
The struggle to live openly in a small town
Stefanovic knows exactly what it feels like to grow up gay in a small town far from the metropolitan city of Belgrade.
“For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a boy. Every night I prayed to God to make me a boy,” he told DW.
Only as a teenager did Stefanovic become aware of other people who felt like she did – and identified as trans. But this knowledge did nothing to ease his worries.
“Once I realized [who I was,] “I thought I was going to have to go through everything as a result,” he said.
It was only when Stefanovic moved to Belgrade to pursue his studies that he felt free enough to live openly as Matija. He came out as trans, first to several university professors, then to friends. Finally, one day, he wrote an eight-page letter to his parents, explaining everything that had been troubling him for years.
Stefanovic then made two life-changing decisions: She began hormone treatment to align her biological sex with her gender identity – and she did so openly. At the time, there were very few people living openly as trans in Serbia, and there was not much information available about undergoing gender-affirming treatment.
“It sounds totally cliché, but when I first discovered my gender identity I wanted to be the person I needed in my life,” Stefanovic said. He filmed his transformation, posting his videos first on YouTube and then on TikTok.
TV interviews followed soon after – and attention from right-wing groups on Facebook. At first, the hatred directed towards Stefanovic seemed unbearable. But they decided to keep going, to stay visible, so that someday trans people can connect.
Stefanovic knows that acceptance is a process, and people can change their minds. His family is a prime example – his conservative father was the first to consistently use the correct pronouns and the new name. And last year, both of his parents took part in Belgrade’s pride parade for the first time.
“I’m very proud of him,” Stefanovic said. “My parents have become my greatest supporters.”
This article was originally written in German.