This story was produced under the Feminist Journalist Fellowship, it is part of a series highlighting the work of our fellows, developed in collaboration with UntoldMag and Noor.
Years before Jan (preferred pronoun he), a 33 year-old Egyptian non-binary, came out or even knew about the LGBTIQ+ community, he would search online for people like him. He often found himself deceived by strangers on social media – people pretending to be LGBTIQ+, 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-LGBTIQ groups, or far-right actors — shaped every decision he made online. On an earlier account, he happened to encounter 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, , 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 LGBTIQ+ individuals to direct targeting through the state’s repressive laws and practices.
Egypt criminalises same-sex relations, according to the Law on the Combating of Prostitution (No. 10 1961), and in recent years, also on 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 by policing digital morality.
For Jan, digital safety became urgent. Other LGBTIQ+ 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, as they respect him so much and though he’s religious.
“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 a disappointed tone, he recounts a time when he was shamed by his closest friend, who was also part of the LGBTIQ+ 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 LGBTIQ+ Egyptians: vulnerabilities compounded by policing, stigma, and the absence of legal protections.
How to protect LGBTQ+ persons online?
In 2022, an organized anti-LGBTIQ+ 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 preferred to keep his real name hidden, believes that the Fetrah campaign promotes the outdated idea that homosexuality is an illness or a perversion. This is a great injustice to the LGBTIQ+ 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. “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 LGBTIQ+ community which is increasingly under attack online — a choice many queer Egyptians feel increasingly forced to make.
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 like tattoos, scars or any other distinguishing mark.
- 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 LGBTIQ+ 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.
“The LGBTIQ+ 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 LGBTIQ+ 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 vulnerables to digital violence, blackmail, and state surveillance. These threats force many of LGBTIQ+ 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.
