Why does Oslo University Hospital want to send me to homophobic Turkey? – The daily newspaper

I am one of the lucky ones to be granted a treatment trip abroad. Every year, a small group of Norwegians with various diagnoses get to stay in warmer regions. The stays include, among other things, extensive training programmes, physical treatment and rest for several weeks at a time. Currently, the treatment sites are located in the sunny and warm Canary Islands and Turkey.

Overall, these are recognized and research-based ingredients for improved health for a number of known and rare diseases. Not everyone who needed such a stay will be granted it, and there are no guarantees of getting such a stay. This is the first time I have received such treatment abroad, and although staying in warmer regions sounds tempting to most people, the background of the illness is just as serious. You don’t want my disease. It is not a privilege, but rather a shadow that I have to pay attention to and live with for the rest of my life. Being granted a treatment trip says something about the severity and how advanced the disease is.

In addition to qualifying for medical treatment, I am a happily married queer man living in a country that consistently ranks among the most LGBT+ friendly countries in the world. Despite the terrorist attack that hit us in the summer of 2022, we are mostly safe here, and surrounded by a friendly population. I teach and do research at a workplace that I believe takes active steps to be a good and safe place for our queer employees and students.

Choosing a travel destination can be a complicated process for many of us who are queer

But when my husband and I go on holiday abroad, we are careful in our choice of resort. I am very risk-averse, and since we live in one of the world’s most gay-friendly countries, almost every other country gets “worse”. Choosing a travel destination can therefore be a complicated process for many of us who are queer, because we fear everything from unpleasant situations to outright violence. For example, hiding in a heavily fenced tourist hotel is not a solution, because the country I’m staying in persecutes, harasses, arrests and kills people like me. It gives a strong feeling of insecurity.

With this in mind, I therefore asked in my application for treatment travel to be considered for residence in Spain rather than Turkey, because Spain is also a very gay-friendly country. There is much about Turkey that is appealing as a destination, but that applies to those who have nothing to fear there. Regrettably, Turkey has a long history of increased hostility towards its own queer population. Last year, a tourist was arrested and imprisoned for 20 days because he looked queer. Of the countries in Europe, Turkey is among the worst for queers to live in and visit, this is shown, among other things, by the annual review from the international queer association ILGA. It is understandable that this is not knowledge for non-queers, and even if queers both live, work in and visit Turkey, this does not change the overall picture.

Dagsavisen believes: Only yes means yes

The shock was therefore great when I learned that I was allowed to travel, but to Turkey, a country where the president constantly says new outrageous things about queers, and portrays them as deviant. It feels like having received a treatment stay in a queer country you are warned against traveling to.

Was it not considered at all to take into account orientation?

I contacted those who work with the treatment trips at Oslo University Hospital, and received a friendly but negative response. I offered to switch destinations with another patient who wanted to switch to Turkey, but this was not possible. Afterwards, I was contacted by another queer patient who said he had received the same shock as me, and wanted to refuse the treatment out of sheer fear. Unlike me, she was unlikely to speak up.

I have received a myriad of well-intentioned advice and information which most often amounts to “behave”, “don’t shout loudly about lying down” and gloomily that “the treatment center is guarded around the clock”.

In 2022, I got a rainbow tattoo on my stomach as an eternal symbol of solidarity and identity. After the terrorist attack of the same year, this tattoo took on an even stronger meaning for me. I have been advised to cover it with a bandage and never swim in a public beach or pool in Turkey because that makes me a potential target.

A couple of other pieces of advice have also been to edit my social media usage so as not to reveal anything about my orientation such as old profile pictures, don’t say on social media that I’m in Turkey, and don’t bring any rainbow effects in your luggage at all. The stickers I have on my laptop with my workplace’s logo in rainbow colors must therefore be scraped off before departure. The rainbow flag that signals a “safe haven” for millions of queers in many places around the world must not be seen.

Advice to enter the closet and not appear “visibly queer” becomes a risky sport and a large additional burden during a treatment

Oslo University Hospital forces me into a closet I have worked my way out of since I stood up as a 15-year-old almost 28 years ago. Why, when they have an alternative? It all becomes deeply personal, uncomfortable and insulting.

Kjell Werner: Don’t close the borders during the next pandemic

For many people, this appears harmless and banal. For someone who has met several queer Turks who in various ways live in hiding from threats to life and health from both their own family, authorities and Turkish society since they were young, it becomes a completely different reality.

I hope someone will take such queer dilemmas seriously. It was not long ago that the Foreign Ministry’s travel advice was criticized for not having specific warnings for LGBT+ travellers. The advice that has now come does not reflect the increasing degree of seriousness, and the series of well-intentioned advice about entering the closet and not appearing “visibly queer” becomes a risky sport and a great additional burden during a treatment.

Bureaucracy and a fortunate Norwegian starting point must not stand in the way of taking queer people’s lives, health and sense of security seriously. I experienced being faced with the dilemma: accept what you get or live with the possibility of treatment being taken away from you without any guarantees.

I have to agree to the trip with my heart in my throat and think of him who said he wouldn’t do it. I hope that if I am not taken into account, then maybe the future will be better for other queer Norwegians who get treatment abroad. Do you want to change practice, Oslo University Hospital? Do you agree with today’s practice, incoming health minister?

While you are wondering, I am not safe in Turkey.

Synnove Vereide Trampe: The equality bubble has burst

Keep yourself updated. Get a daily newsletter from Dagsavisen