Illustration by UntoldMag, used with permission
By Enas Kamal
This story, originally published on UntoldMag, was produced under the Feminist Journalist Fellowship. It is part of a series highlighting the work of fellows, developed in collaboration with UntoldMag and Noor. An edited version is republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
This post is also part of Global Voices’ June 2026 Spotlight series, “Gender Diversity.” This series offers insight into gender diversity and how it is being threatened, protected, and preserved around the world. You can support this coverage by donating here.
Years before Jan (preferred pronoun “he”), a 33-year-old non-binary Egyptian, came out or even knew about the LGBTQ+ community, he would search online for people like him. He often found himself deceived by strangers on social media — people pretending to be LGBTQ+, or men posing as women.
Like many queer Egyptians, he was searching for connection in a digital landscape designed to expose him.
A few years ago, Jan adopted a new name for safety, deleted all his old social media accounts and rebuilt his online presence from scratch. The fear of being tracked by security forces, anti-LGBTQ+ groups, or far-right actors shaped every decision he made online. On an earlier account, he met members of the community who guided him through basic digital protection practices. For the first time, he felt a degree of safety.
Homosexuality in Egypt: A dangerous secret
According to a report by Transat, a trans rights organization in Egypt, transgender and gender non-binary people in Egypt live under a repressive system that perpetuates violence, discrimination, and stigma in various areas of life. This includes the private sphere, where domestic violence and deprivation of family support are prevalent, as well as the public sphere, where discrimination in education and the labor market persists. It also includes systematic legal and societal harassment that exposes LGBTQ+ individuals to direct targeting through the state’s repressive laws and practices.
Egypt criminalises same-sex relations under the Law on the Combating of Prostitution (No. 10 1961) and, in recent years, under cybercrime laws such as the Law on Anti-Cybercrimes and Information Technology Crimes, in Egypt’s economic courts.
According to the Transat report, there is an increase in cases where online morality laws are applied:
“The Egyptian media is a key partner in adopting and disseminating hate speech and incitement against women, minorities, and the LGBTQ+ community in particular. It consistently participates in stigmatizing LGBTQ+ individuals by perpetuating the stereotypes that have been nurtured about them over decades in artistic productions and media programs.”
The telecommunication law has been under the Economic Courts since they were created in 2008, and the cybercrime law was added to the Economic Courts by decree in 2019. With this addition, the Economic Courts began exercising influence over public life by reinforcing digital surveillance and policing digital morality.
For Jan, digital safety became urgent. Other LGBTQ+ individuals stepped in early on, teaching him how to protect himself online. This was guidance he needed because, by his own admission, he was once too bold and dismissive of the dangers. Today, his greatest concern is keeping his identity from his family.
“I was harassed online by both women and men, within and outside LGBTQ+ circles. This harassment was not always direct or explicit, perhaps, meaning if the conversation escalated, I would stop it, but it still happens,” Jan recalls in an interview with the author.
In a disappointed tone, he recounts a time when he was shamed by his closest friend, who was also part of the LGBTQ+ community. During an argument between them, she threatened to go to his house and out him with his mother.
These threats reflect the broader precarity facing LGBTQ+ Egyptians: vulnerabilities compounded by policing, stigma, and the absence of legal protections.
How to protect LGBTQ+ persons online?
In 2022, an organized anti-LGBTQ+ campaign known as Fetrah emerged across social media, especially on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Telegram. The name, which translates from Arabic as “human instinct,” was adopted by religious and far-right networks. Using the slogan “Fetrah is an idea,” the campaign launched coordinated posts and Twitter threads in Arabic, urging users to promote its core message: that only two genders exist and that homosexuality is deviant and contrary to human nature.
M.A, a researcher and gender activist who prefers to keep his real name hidden, told the author that he believes the Fetrah campaign promotes the outdated idea that homosexuality is an illness or a perversion. This is a great injustice to the LGBTQ+ community, which is fighting for its rights. “The Fetrah campaign uses religion to fuel hatred and discrimination and legitimize violence against the queer community,” the researcher adds.
For Jan, the violence and threats he experienced online led him to isolate himself. “I practically have no friends,” he says. “I stopped trying to make friends or form relationships online.” After closing his social media accounts, he is even isolated from the LGBTQ+ community, which is increasingly under attack online — a choice many queer Egyptians feel increasingly forced to make.
“The LGBTQ+ community isn’t an isolated island from larger society; it’s a reflection of it to varying degrees,” M.A. explains. “I have seen somewhat similar experiences; some people withdrew, not always out of fear, but sometimes to protect their mental well-being. Others persevered and confronted the situation regardless of the consequences,” he adds.
“When people like Jan are threatened, they certainly won’t go to the police for protection,” M.A. explains. This is why the queer community must be a more compassionate place, or at least more aware of the dangers of male-dominated and patriarchal actions like harassment.
“The presence of violations within the community necessitates that all entities, individuals, and activists re-evaluate themselves, not justify their actions,” M.A says. “They must work on building a genuine culture of accountability that protects people instead of silencing them or causing them to withdraw,” he adds.
Though Jan cannot represent the experience of the entire LGBTQ+ community in Egypt, he reflects a vital part of it, as he and many others have faced — and continue to face — digital challenges and risks that limit their access to safe online spaces.
While social media offers visibility and connection, it also exposes the vulnerable to digital violence, blackmail, and state surveillance. These threats force many LGBTQ+ individuals to navigate the internet with fear and caution, restricting free expression and access to support. Understanding these struggles is essential to recognizing both the power and dangers of online spaces on queer groups in Egypt.
M.A offers some practical advice on how queer individuals can protect their digital presence:
- Don’t share your personal information with anyone you don’t know.
- Don’t post photos or information that could easily reveal your location or true identity, such as tattoos, scars or any other distinguishing marks.
- Use secure and encrypted applications like Signal or Wire, which encrypt conversations to protect from any spying or hacking attempts.
- Enable two-step verification on all your accounts to prevent phishing.
- Change your passwords regularly.
- If you sense something strange happening or there’s an attempted hack, don’t hesitate to seek help from digital security organizations or individuals.
- Be cautious before posting anything online because many people exploit any information to pressure LGBTQ+ individuals.
- Don’t accept friend requests or chats from people you’re not sure about, and try not to use your real name on dating sites and apps.
