As a gay man, life was unbearable: why I left Russia

Physical abuse was expected - and that was before the new laws came in, which seem to equate homosexuality with paedophilia

Russian riot policemen detain a gay and LGBT rights activist during an unauthorized gay rights activists rally in central Moscow on May 25, 2013. (Getty Images)

Russians are good at exile. They specialise in it: politicians, poets, musicians and playwrights in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries learnt the pleasures and pains of new lands, learning to cope with separation from their families and homeland, a reluctant diaspora both internal and external.

In the 21st century, thousands of gay men and women are the new exiled, seeking places of safety legally and illegally in the West and especially in the US, where I now live. As an openly gay man, life became unbearable for me growing up as a student in Moscow. This bullying set-back my studies and created an atmosphere of fear.

And then there was the physical abuse. I was attacked many times in the street, sometimes in planned ambushes on the way to gay meetings, at other times by chance and gratuitously; bloody noses and bleeding heads. But often the police just stood by, after all, coming to the rescue of a 'faggot' being given a hard time was not important enough to ruffle your uniform. And all of this was before the new laws, which frankly equate homosexuality with paedophilia and ban the propagation of “non-traditional sexual practices”.

The legislation created under glossy Mr Putin’s regime has only served to tighten the pressure and intensify the innate anti-gay prejudice in the Russian Federation. Perhaps fewer people wish the execution of gays in the country than before, but sometimes it does not seem like that, when gay couples are afraid to go out fearing the random kick in the balls from lurking skinheads.

At the end of last year my friend Oleg announced his homosexuality on his TV show, an act at once brave and foolish as it resulted in his dismissal from his job the following day, and serious violence inflicted on him and his boyfriend Mitya. Oleg’s mother, who did not condone his relationship, paid for him to flee the country with his friend and they ended up with me in New York. Mitya was a psychologist; Oleg a talented musician, who spoke only about three words of English. How can they get by in New York City? Just like the fleeing Jews in the 1930s, they will have to survive perhaps doing menial jobs for which they are little qualified.

How does an artist react to all this? The internet creates opportunities to get one’s ideas straight back to Russia. But the West needs to be alerted too, which is why I wrote a new theatre piece, Crematorium, which deals with the fears and realities of life for gay people in Mr Putin’s Russia. In the play, four gay couples are picked to test a new machine to turn them straight. Torture, interrogation, death and cleansing in the fiery furnace await them. Not yet quite the reality of present-day Russia, but from my experience, it could be on the way there.

As the Winter Olympics approach, Sochi Mayor Pakhomov said there are no gay people in his town. Wishful thinking in his eyes, or perhaps the authorities are becoming closer to driving homosexuality into the shadows as people live in fear, or leave in search of a place they can be free.

The premiere of Crematorium will take place at Dixon Place, New York, on March 22