Queer Palestinian surviving HIV and police violence

TW: abuse, police violence, homophobia, suicide, HIV, chronic illness.

My name is Umam. I am a 22 year old queer palestinian living with HIV. Since my last gofundme post. I was beaten by the police, locked in a deportation camp, denied food, medicine and money. I am still here in Turkey, and university time is approaching. My summer, just like my youth, has been taken from me once again.

I want to begin by saying thank you to everyone who has supported me before, your kindness truly kept me alive and helped me take some of the steps I needed.

Because of your donations (2,104 Euro in total) I was able to do my medical tests, see my doctor, get some of my medication, and even receive some for free. I also managed to pay a few of my bills and cover some of my basic needs. Unfortunately, soon after, I was sent to a deportation camp simply because my residence permit (Turkish: kimlik) had expired for one day while I was waiting for my passport renewal.

Those days turned into one of the most frightening, traumatizing and humiliating experiences of my life.

I spent two nights in a police station where I was physically abused, denied food for a full day, and had to sneak in my life saving HIV medication just to make sure I could take it.

I was refused water when I begged for it and I had to sit in a filthy cell with spiders crawling around and only a tiny window that opened onto loud generators releasing gas inside.

I felt terrified, hopeless, and at times thought about ending it all right there. Officers mocked me, profiled me, and called me names and transphobic slurs. When I tried to ask for basic needs they shouted at me.

From there I was sent to a deportation camp where things only got worse. The moment I entered I was assaulted by a group of men. I felt so helpless and unsafe, trapped with no way to protect myself. I watched officers beat people around me and move us like animals.

We were given a cheese sandwich with hot watery juice as “meals” and the toilets were unusable, filthy, and crawling with insects. They had no doors, so I could not use them, which was extremely dangerous for my health, especially with my HIV and autoimmune condition. Those four days without proper access to medication and safety left me broken both mentally and physically.

The aftermath has been heavy. I am now in therapy through an organization here in Turkey, trying to process what happened and hold on to some sense of stability. My immune system has been struggling and my mental health and energy are completely depleted.

The trauma made me so afraid to leave the house in the initial weeks, and even now my mind often feels like it is still in that cell. I am surrounded by kind, considerate and wonderful people who have supported me emotionally and mentally, but the weight of survival still feels like it falls squarely on my shoulders.

As if that was not enough, when I finally tried to get back to some form of routine, my landlord started making excuses to push me out. He insulted me, accused me of bringing “too many transvestites” to my home. It got clear he just wanted to get rid of me, I had to urgently look for housing with a friend while still recovering. Around the same time, I developed a painful skin infection related to my autoimmune treatment. I was taking Renvoq, a very expensive medication that costs around 8,000-9,000 TL (160-190 Euro), and had to stop it during my detention. This break in treatment is most likely what triggered the infection.

I had to beg doctors in a public hospital to treat me. The only reason they treated me was because I refused to leave until they did. I knew my body could not handle more delay.

I feel drained emotionally, mentally and financially as things got somehow worse with the events I lastly mentioned, but I am here, improving, my loved ones are giving life its taste back slowly but surely.

What I need most at this moment is support to cover my housing, medical costs, and critical medication that keeps me alive. My HIV treatment, my autoimmune medication, and my therapy are not optional, they truly are my lifeline.

The medication I need for HIV costs 16,000 TL (500 Euro) per month. Every month I need one box to survive. Without it, my body won’t last long.

Every single contribution will help me survive this period and hold on until I can rebuild my life and eventually move to a safer, more stable place where I can truly heal and grow.

I know I have strength within me, and I know I will flourish one day and use my voice to fight for others who are in the same place as me now. My dependence on my community can sometimes seem like a burden but it also reminds me that community only exists when we allow ourselves to need each other.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, for caring, and for helping me survive so that I can keep moving toward the future I know I deserve.