A System Under Strain: LGBTQI+ Asylum in the Netherlands

“LGBTQI+ flag ”© Philippe Gomes/Secom GEA, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons 

“We must regain control of our own asylum policy!” These are the words that the Netherlands’ Minister of Asylum and Migration Marjolein Faber wrote on X last September.

If approved, her plans, known as the “Asylum Emergency Measures Act”, will be the country's most stringent asylum policies to date. They include abolishing permanent residence permits and tightening family reunification rules. In February of this year, the Dutch Council of State released advice that the proposed bill could lead to an additional burden on an already strained Immigration and Naturalization Service (IND). 

These measures would impact all asylum seekers, especially those who are already falling through the cracks in an overburdened system. The Glass Room took a closer look at the struggles facing LGBTQI+ asylum seekers in the Netherlands and what the proposed laws could mean for them. 

Statistically invisible

In 2024, the UNHCR counted over 37.9 million refugees and 8 million asylum seekers worldwide. However, the number of those with LGBTQI+ identity is unknown. This lack of information stems from gaps in the collection of these figures on a national level. Of the 37 countries which formally grant asylum to LGBTQI+ people, only few regularly and systematically collect demographic data that are inclusive of Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity (SOGI) measures. The Netherlands is not among these. 

Statistics Netherlands (CBS) collects data annually on the number of refugees and asylum seekers. In 2024, they recorded 44,055 asylum seekers and following relatives entering the country. These statistics are based on their nationality, sex and age. Gender identity, sexuality and the reasons for seeking asylum are not recorded. 

The lack of these figures is not a problem in itself, but undermines the very recognition of the LGBTQI+ asylum-seeking phenomenon, and of the need to address it at policy level. In 2017, the EU Agency for Fundamental Rights (FRA) estimated that up to 1000 applications were submitted by LGBTQI+ asylum seekers in the Netherlands. Because these statistics are so imprecise, the question arises: why does the Dutch government not collect this data? Or, if this data is collected, why is it not published?

“Of course, they have a database because everyone goes through it. But officially they don't publish it,” says Harlem van Hayzer, founder of LGBT World Beside, a non-profit organization that supports LGBTQI+ people from Eastern Europe, the Caucasus and Central Asia. “We wanted to find out a few years ago, but they said that they didn't share this information,” he tells The Glass Room. “I don’t think they have a reason why they don't do it.”

However, some experts think that the reason could be politically motivated. “From the point of view of the government it makes sense, because they don't want to recognize how relevant the issue is,” says Claudia Langianese, former junior consultant at ILGA World, the international LGBTQI+ association. “Because otherwise they would need to grant even more applications.”

Guilherme Dos Santos Marques Pedro, a researcher in International Relations at the University of Groningen, puts it more bluntly, “it would be a bit cynical to say that populism is rising all over Europe, right?” 

“I clearly see the Portuguese populist leaders saying, oh, see, all these asylum seekers, half of them are homosexuals,” he continues. Perhaps, Pedro says, some EU countries could be afraid that releasing the number of LGBTQI+ asylum seekers could “ignite populist agendas.”

There is a lack of data not only on how many LGBTQI+ people arrive, but also on what happens to them once in the Netherlands. Among its various initiatives, Sandro Kortekaas’ NGO LGBT+ Asylum Support is committed to reporting cases of violence against LGBTQI+ people in refugee camps to the Central Agency for the Reception of Asylum Seekers (COA). Kortekaas says that he has reported 640 incidents in 2024 alone. And the number seems to be going up. “But it's not only the amount,” he says. “It’s also the kind of incidents that are just horrible.”

“I shouted that I was gay. They beat me even more.”

When asylum seekers arrive in the Netherlands, they first have to go to the reception center in Ter Apel. Kortekaas explains that normally an asylum seeker would spend one or two nights there before being interviewed and transferred to another refugee center. But in recent years the increasing number of applications has led to such a slowdown that people have to wait for months before being interviewed, leading to overcrowding and violence. “It's an unsafe situation,” says Kortekaas. “Too many fences, too many gates you need to pass through. It's not open, it's a sort of half prison.”

Alek Sheremetyev, a Russian man who arrived in the Netherlands as a refugee in 2014, confirms Kortekaas’ words. “I didn't expect much, but... I was there with my boyfriend and I really didn't feel safe,” says Sheremetyev. “The atmosphere there is terrible, to be honest. And as far as I know, it got much worse in the last few years.” Sheremetyev says that since he only spent two days there, it was tolerable. However, he believes that it could be difficult for LGBTQI+ asylum seekers who stay longer, as the camp hosts people from many different countries, including those where being LGBTQI+ is a crime. 

One such example is Harlem van Hayzer, who tells The Glass Room about an incident he had in the refugee camp in 2017. Late one night, he went to the communal showers. Thinking that none would see him at that hour, he wore only a towel. On the way back to his room, he accidentally opened the wrong door and behind it was an Arab family. “The woman was without a hijab and her husband got really angry. He jumped on me, and started to beat me up,” he says. 

Then, the man shouted something in Arabic, and other people joined in beating van Hayzer. “They came out of all the doors. About six people attacked me. They strangled me,” says van Hayzer. “I shouted, but my neighbors were afraid to leave their rooms.”

To show that he had no bad intentions, van Hayzer started screaming that he was gay. But it only made the situation worse. “I shouted that I was gay. They beat me even more.” 

Luckily, the security personnel at the camp intervened and moved him far from his aggressors. But van Hayzer’s case is not the only one, nor is it the most serious. Kortekaas speaks about what he calls one of the most horrible incidents he has ever seen. 

One night at the end of last July, Iurii Belous, a Russian refugee who was staying in Ter Apel, got attacked from behind with a knife. The next moment, he woke up in his bed. “He could just manage to walk to the reception,” says Kortekaas. “He was sitting there on the ground, and instead of calling an ambulance or the police, they called a taxi to get him to the hospital. It’s absurd. They sent him alone to the hospital.”

Kortekaas says that Belous’ hand and face were completely smashed. “Only his nose was correct,” he says, “even the staff from the hospital were shocked.” Kortekaas says that he himself was in disbelief when he saw Belous’ condition. “They were stitching his eyelids. He was lying down, and he tried to cry. But I could wipe away only one tear. It was horrible,” he says.

The severity of Belous’ case lies not only in the violence of his assault, but in the apparent negligence of the organizations put in place to protect asylum seekers. Kortekaas says that in the 100 days Belous had to spend in Ter Apel he had already suffered 15 incidents. A few days before this incident Belous had already warned the staff in Ter Apel that he was under threat.

Not gay enough

Sadick Abubakar Ayivor was a successful DJ and media personality in Ghana. In 2023, he was “caught in the act” by his partner’s family. They were looking to catch him with another man, and find who was “introducing him into being gay,” Ayivor told the Dutch radio station NPO. 

“There are people who get lynched when they get caught in the act, like what happened to me,” he says. “If I wasn’t lucky…to be able to flee from the scene at that point, I don’t know what would have happened.” 

Ayivor then fled to the Netherlands, claiming asylum at Schipol airport. His initial claim for asylum was rejected, as he failed to mention the persecution he faced in Ghana because of his sexuality. Following this he was placed into detention and allowed limited access to the outside world. 

Eventually, he was able to get into contact with Kortekaas’ charity and apply on the grounds of persecution for his sexuality. According to Kortekaas, being open about one’s sexuality can be extremely challenging when coming from a hostile country. 

“He came to the Netherlands, but in his first procedure, he didn't know the whole situation here… Like, am I safe? Can I tell my story?” he says. “It's very difficult. You have 20 years of your life where you can't speak about who you really are, and then you are being sort of forced to say your story more than you can talk about it.” 

Ayvior’s home country of Ghana has some of the strictest punishments for LGBTQI+ people in the world. Gay sex can be punishable for up to three years in prison. In 2024, the parliament passed a bill which would criminalize identifying as LGBTQI+, as well as campaigning for LGBTQI+ rights. 

Ayvior’s story is one that is echoed by other LGBTQI+ asylum seekers, and determining the veracity of their claims can prove difficult. Langianese tells The Glass Room that these processes of questioning can be confusing for many. “What really shocked me was the first step,” she says, referring to the initial questioning of asylum seekers upon arrival.  “This is a really difficult procedure for asylum seekers, to open up about their story.” 

Langianese explains that, for most LGBTQI+ asylum seekers, their sexuality is something that they were never able to be proud of. “I don't see that many people that would come to Europe and use homosexuality as a reason, if it's not true,” she says. “It's really risky, because they could be excluded from their community, not just at home, but also when they reach Europe.”

Reunification issues for LGBTQI+ couples

For Kortekaas and his fellow volunteers, one of the main issues in Faber’s proposed laws is their attention to ‘nuclear families’ and marriage certificates in order to obtain family reunification. For LGBTQI+ couples fleeing hostile countries, official certification is out of the question. It remains to be seen what the new rulings could mean for these cases. 

Pedro also sees the difficulty in such cases on a human rights level. “You flee your country in order to enjoy the human rights you don’t have at home. But at the same time, you are claiming those human rights were violated, and then you have to show evidence. But how can I show evidence if I can't exercise them?” he says. 

Kortekaas remarks on a letter he wrote to Faber after she travelled to Denmark to learn from the country’s strict asylum policies. “She was there to get some ideas for her own program. But the funny thing is that the minister in Denmark made a mistake by dividing couples. And finally she was sentenced to 60 days.”

He draws parallels between the case of the Danish immigration minister Inger Støjberg’s sentencing for splitting Syrian couples whose marriages were not legally recognised in Denmark, and the actuality of couples being split in the Netherlands, something his charity actively fights against. 

“This is about a couple from Iraq who have been in the Netherlands for two years. For the last eight months they have been split from each other, so they can't sleep together. They don't have a room together. And that's not allowed by Dutch law. It's not allowed by European law.”

In his opinion, shifting the focus onto nuclear families and marriage certificates could mean that more couples are split up during the asylum seeking process, which could go against European and international conventions of human rights.    

The proposed asylum laws in the Netherlands would mark a significant shift in the country’s approach to migration. However, for LGBTQI+ asylum seekers, challenges already exist within the current system, from a lack of official data to concerns about safety in refugee camps. Additionally, legal requirements for proving asylum claims can be difficult to meet, particularly for those fleeing countries where their identity had to remain hidden.

As discussions on asylum policy continue, the implications for vulnerable groups remain uncertain. When it comes to the future of rights for LGBTQI+ asylum seekers, Kortekaas is cautiously optimistic, “We report a lot. The situation is becoming more horrible, especially in the last few years. But on the other hand, we also see that there is much more awareness of the whole problem.”

The Glass Room reached out to both the IND and the CAO for comment; the IND declined to respond, and the CAO did not reply.