When Aleksei Suetin and his partner were attacked at an open-air gathering in Georgia last summer, the metal skewers striking his back felt like more than just physical violence. They felt like a warning of what was to come.
For Suetin and thousands of other LGBTQ+ Russians who fled President Vladimir Putin's crackdown, Georgia had represented hope: a nearby refuge where they could rebuild their lives. Now, many say they're witnessing a terrifying replay of the same trajectory that forced them underground in Russia.
"The homophobic rhetoric from Georgian Dream had been ramping up for a while," Suetin recalled. "My partner got stripped and beaten by the police when they found LGBT content on his phone. And of course there is the LGBT propaganda law. The moment it got adopted, we knew we definitely weren't welcome in Georgia anymore.
"Georgia is rapidly becoming the same as Russia in terms of LGBT rights," Suetin continued from Valencia, Spain, where he and his partner arrived in early November to seek asylum. "The only thing left for them to copy is labelling us 'extremists'. If we had stayed, we'd have to hide who we are or risk ending up in jail."
A familiar pattern
Anton*, another Russian exile in Tbilisi, describes the progression with chilling familiarity, having already lived through Russia's gradual criminalisation of LGBTQ+ rights.
"After Georgian Dream pushed through a law called 'On the Protection of Family Values’, I started feeling increasingly unsafe as a queer person," Anton said.
"Last summer, I was helping organise an open-air event. It was one of our regular outdoor gatherings, and everything seemed fine until a group of local homophobic men showed up and attacked us. I was physically assaulted. I got hit on my back with metal skewers. We called the police, but the attack was never treated as a hate crime. No one was held accountable."
The aftermath transformed his daily life. "My partner and I couldn't even hold hands in public without fear. I experienced anxiety and I stopped wearing clothes with rainbow symbols. We were always on edge, trying to avoid attention."
But what frightens Anton most isn't what has already happened; it's knowing what comes next.
"I can clearly see where this is all heading. I saw the same trajectory in Russia," he explained. "First it was about 'protecting minors’, then they banned all so-called 'LGBT propaganda’, and eventually they labelled the entire LGBT movement as extremist. In Georgia, the government has started taking similar steps: passing restrictive laws, encouraging hate and criminalising our visibility. I felt like I was watching history repeat itself."
Now in Spain with his partner applying for refugee status, Anton struggles with the loss. "Honestly, I didn't want to leave. I was forced to. I had no real choice if I wanted to stay safe," he said. "I'm leaving behind friends, a chosen community, and a life I had built over the past few years: events I helped organise, people I trust, and a sense of belonging. Now I have to start all over again from scratch, in a new country, in a new language. That's not easy."
Going underground
Dmitri*, who began organising LGBTQ+ events in early 2023, watched his community space transform from a safe haven into something that feels increasingly precarious. The monthly gatherings grew from simple meetups to elaborate events with performances, becoming a vital hub. By December 2024, they had held 36 full-format parties.
"In 2023, we could generally feel more at ease on the streets, even walk hand in hand, and not worry too much," Dmitri recalled. "We could openly make social media posts in support of the LGBT community. We created information leaflets and brochures for our party guests about what to do if they encountered homophobia. We held parties openly themed around events like Pride Month."
Everything changed last September when Georgia adopted the "Law on Protection of Family Values and Minors": legislation that critics say could have been copy-pasted from the Kremlin's playbook.
The law is sweeping in scope: same-sex marriage is banned, LGBTQ+ people cannot adopt or foster children, gender recognition is criminalised, and trans-specific healthcare is outlawed. Any media content, school curriculum or public gathering deemed to "popularise" LGBTQ+ issues can now be shut down. Breaking these rules is punishable by fines of up to GEL5,000 (about €1,660, or nearly four months' wages for the average Georgian).
"After the introduction of the new laws, following advice from lawyers, we had to hide all the posts that were already online and stop using any LGBT symbols or direct references altogether," Dmitri said. "We had to increase security at the entrance, conceal parts of performances on social media: essentially, go underground."
Despite the risks, the events continue. "We continue our work because it's important, necessary, and has become a life mission at this point. However, of course, there's a constant background anxiety and fear, even though we're not doing anything illegal."
The parallels to Russia are unmistakable. "As of today, the situation here feels similar to life in Russia around 2020 to 2022," Dmitri observed. "In some ways, we feel like we're outside the law. For now, we're not criminals, and they can't imprison us just for being part of the LGBT community. However, we're no longer just ordinary people who can live their daily lives freely. We have to stay alert and constantly wonder whether we're standing out too much or drawing unwanted attention."
A tenfold surge
The impact on LGBTQ+ migration has been dramatic. According to Equality Movement, a Georgian LGBTQ+ rights organisation, the number of LGBTQ+ individuals seeking to migrate to safer countries increased approximately tenfold in 2024: what the organisation calls "an initial result of anti-LGBT law."
In 2024, Equality Movement provided legal assistance to 52 victims of hate crimes, documenting a disturbing pattern of attacks through dating apps and group violence often committed on transphobic grounds. Social workers report that approximately 60% of the 240 beneficiaries receiving services required mental health support, with depression, anxiety and panic attacks being most prevalent: a crisis they directly link to the radicalisation of homophobia in the country.
"Georgian LGBTI people continued to flee the country in large numbers. Although there are no official statistics, community organisations report that these numbers have significantly increased," the organisation noted.
Spain has emerged as a primary destination, with both Suetin and Anton seeking refuge there. Other LGBTQ+ Georgians and Russian émigrés have fled to various EU countries, as well as to neighbouring Armenia as a transit point.
"We left for Armenia at the end of August, and from there we flew to Spain on November 3," Suetin said. "We've only been here a couple of days and it's been very hectic. It's certainly a relief knowing that homophobia is punishable here instead of encouraged."
The "safe country" question
The mass exodus comes amid growing controversy over several European countries' designation of Georgia as a "safe country of origin": a classification that makes asylum claims automatically inadmissible except in exceptional circumstances.
In April 2024, the United Kingdom added Georgia to its safe states list under the Illegal Migration Act. Czechia, Germany and Italy have also added Georgia to their respective safe country lists in recent years.
The approach among EU countries is not uniform, however. While some added Georgia to safe country lists in 2023, Belgium removed Georgia from its list the same year. The Netherlands has designated Georgia as safe but explicitly exempts LGBTQ+ asylum applicants from this designation.
The Equality Movement report notes that the situation represents a reversal of years of progress by queer-feminist initiatives in Georgia, with the space for establishing a supportive environment for LGBTQ+ community members now "critically restricted”.
Human rights organisations warn that without international pressure, Georgia's trajectory will continue to mirror Russia's, culminating, as Russian exiles fear, in the eventual designation of the LGBTQ+ movement itself as extremist.
"The only thing left for them to copy is labelling us 'extremists,'" Suetin said. It's a warning from someone who has seen this story before and knows exactly how it ends.
* Names have been changed to protect individuals' safety