The LGBTQ+ community in Kazakhstan remains largely invisible, but that does not mean it does not exist. While homosexuality is not criminalized in the country, public perception remains mixed. In major cities, particularly Almaty, the situation is relatively tolerant, but in the regions, LGBTQ+ people still face significant discrimination and fear.
The Times of Central Asia spoke with Arsen, a resident of Almaty (who requested anonymity due to safety concerns), about the realities of being gay in Kazakhstan, the challenges he faces, and why, despite the difficulties, he chooses to stay there.
Arsen lives and works in Almaty, widely regarded as Kazakhstan’s most open-minded city. Here, he can attend LGBTQ+ gatherings and has a supportive circle of friends. However, even in this relatively accepting environment, complete openness remains a risk.
“In Almaty, you don’t feel completely alone. There are places to relax, like gay clubs, and there’s a sense of community. But holding hands with another man on the street? No, that’s still dangerous. I wouldn’t even risk prolonged eye contact with someone,” he says.
“The risk of aggression is always there, especially in remote parts of the city. I’ve heard of people facing hostility just because they ‘look different.’ And it’s not even about dressing brightly – it’s just the prevailing mentality. I’m always surprised that, despite life being so difficult here, some people still believe being gay is a choice.”
Despite these challenges, Arsen sees progress. He believes younger generations are becoming more accepting, largely thanks to the internet, which provides exposure to alternative viewpoints.
“I notice more open-minded people among my generation. In Almaty, many don’t care about someone’s orientation. People here usually don’t mind what you wear or whether you have piercings, for example. Even those who don’t support LGBTQ+ rights tend to be indifferent rather than aggressive,” he says.
However, outside of Almaty and Astana, the situation is far more difficult. In smaller cities and rural areas, conservative values dominate, and LGBTQ+ individuals often conceal their identities — even from close friends.
“I know guys from small towns who moved to Almaty because they were terrified back home. They hid every hint of their orientation. Coming out could mean harassment or even violence. Many don’t even consider dating or using LGBTQ+ apps because it’s simply too dangerous.”
A particularly painful issue within Kazakhstan’s LGBTQ+ community is internalized homophobia – self-directed negativity toward one’s own identity or others in the community.
“I’ve always been surprised by how some gay people openly dislike other gay people. They want to be seen as ‘normal,’ so they try to blend in with the crowd. But in doing so, they reinforce harmful stereotypes and make things worse for everyone.”
The situation is especially difficult in Kazakhstan’s southern cities, where traditional values often take precedence over personal freedoms.
“Even though Almaty is in the south, I think it’s much harder to be gay in places like Shymkent, Taraz, or Turkistan. In those cities, you could get beaten up for it,” Arsen says.
Despite the hardships, Kazakhstan remains the most LGBTQ+-friendly country in Central Asia. Unlike neighboring Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, where same-sex relationships are criminalized, Kazakhstan has no such legal prohibitions.
“At least we don’t have a law banning LGBTQ+ existence like in Uzbekistan,” Arsen notes. “That’s something.”
However, legal protections are virtually non-existent. Discrimination in the workplace, homophobic attacks, and the inability to legally register same-sex relationships remain daily realities.
For many, emigration seems like the only way to live openly. Arsen is also considering leaving, but for now, he stays.
“I’ve thought about moving, but leaving my homeland is hard. I want to believe that Kazakhstan will change. There are already small steps forward. Maybe in 10 to 15 years, things will be better.”
Life for LGBTQ+ people in Kazakhstan remains difficult, but not hopeless. Younger generations are becoming more open-minded, and small, unofficial communities continue to emerge. While change is slow, there are signs that progress is possible.
