Study of gay Palestinians who fled West Bank finds persecution by both PA and Israel

Mahmoud, a Palestinian man from the West Bank, has been living in Israel for the past seven years, since fleeing there after his father caught him being intimate with another man in the family’s home.

In an interview with The Times of Israel, Mahmoud, a pseudonym, recalled how his father beat him and his partner after finding the two together. Sending the partner to his own family, the father then summoned other relatives to beat up Mahmoud as well.

Afterward, Mahmoud said, his family locked him inside the house, starving and beating him while telling him they would eventually kill him.

After a week of captivity, he managed to escape through a hole in the roof while his relatives were asleep. Eventually, he contacted an Israeli woman he knew, who helped him reach Israel.

Like other gay Palestinians, Israel had allowed Mahmoud refuge with a temporary residency permit. However, his permit has not been renewed since September and he faces deportation to the West Bank, an outcome he is now fighting a legal battle to avoid.

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“I’m in Israel because I have nowhere else to escape my family,” Mahmoud said. “I hope I never have to return to the West Bank, because if my family finds me, I’ll die.”

For Mahmoud, however, the danger extends beyond encountering his family should he be forced back to the West Bank, where discrimination against gays is both institutionalized and deeply ingrained in society, according to a rare new study on Palestinian members of the LGBTQ community who fled to Israel.

The study, which focuses on individuals born in the West Bank, describes persecution faced under the Palestinian Authority and the hardships they continue to experience after arriving in Israel.

According to researchers who produced the report, conditions for gay Palestinians in Israel have worsened since the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack, with tighter restrictions on residency permits and growing hostility from segments of Israeli society and state authorities.

The report was commissioned by HIAS, formerly known as the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, which assists Palestinian LGBTQ asylum seekers, among other types of refugees.

It is the first such study from the group in seven years. Unlike reports from the other non-governmental organizations or the United Nations, the HIAS study relies on first-hand testimonies from those fleeing to Israel and those aiding them.

Researchers conducted in-depth interviews with eight LGBTQ Palestinians who fled the West Bank for Israel, and included accounts from four Israeli activists who have collectively assisted hundreds of gay Palestinians seeking asylum.

Daniella Danial, who authored the study, told The Times of Israel that many in Israel do not recognize the systemic nature of homophobia in the West Bank, viewing those who flee to Israel as doing so for increased comfort rather than threats to their life.

“Israel strongly resists acknowledging that there is persecution in the Palestinian territories,” she said. “Israel says, ‘They come here to live a liberal lifestyle,’ as if it’s like someone moving from Bnei Brak to Tel Aviv. It acknowledges that there are individual cases [of danger], but there needs to be recognition that there is a broader problem.”

Danial, an Israeli citizen who identifies as Palestinian, argued that Israel cannot avoid addressing that reality.

“I’ve worked with many vulnerable populations,” she said. “In my view, this is the most marginalized group within Israel’s borders.”

From family abuse to institutional persecution

Although Palestinian Authority law does not criminalize same-sex relations, a rare statement issued in 2019 highlighted the systematic persecution of LGBTQ people.

The statement, issued by the Palestinian police, announced a ban on all organized activities and gatherings organized by Al Qaws (“The Rainbow” in Arabic), a Palestinian LGBTQ advocacy group founded roughly a decade earlier that focused on promoting tolerance through online outreach. Those who took part in the groups’ events would be arrested, police said.

The police later deleted the statement from its official platforms, a move the study says reflected an attempt by the PA to avoid projecting an image of intolerance to Western audiences.

Al Qaws has significantly curtailed public activities since then, though it continues to publish educational content on social media.

In 2022, the plight of gay Palestinians briefly drew international attention after the brutal beheading of a West Bank man who had been living under asylum in Israel but returned to the territory under unclear circumstances.

Palestinian police opened an investigation at the time but did not determine that the killing was motivated by homophobia, and the perpetrator has never been arrested.

The new study argues that although the PA has largely remained silent on the issue since 2019, severe persecution of LGBTQ Palestinians — both within their families and by public institutions — has continued, in some cases escalating to attempted murder.

Manar, a 25-year-old lesbian from a West Bank village, recalled that “when my father discovered I was attracted to women after searching my phone and finding intimate messages, he started beating me all the time.”

As with all interviewees cited in the report, her identifying details have been altered for her protection.

Manar said her family forced her into marriage with a man following her father’s discovery.

Ahead of the wedding, Manar filed a complaint with PA officials over her father’s violence, she said. Police arrested her father, but he was released without charges or even a warning after investigators learned that his actions stemmed from his daughter’s sexual orientation, she claimed.

The PA did not respond to a request for comment on Manar’s claims or regarding the wider allegation of systematic persecution of gays.

Yaman, a 23-year-old gay man from Nablus, described how his family failed to protect him after he was abducted and beaten because of his sexual orientation.

“One day I was just walking down the street when about 20 men attacked me. They strung me up inside an abandoned building and started beating me. Then they called my family and told them, ‘Your son is [gay],'” he said.

Instead of defending him, Yaman said, his family blamed him. According to Yaman, police initially opened an investigation into his kidnapping, but quickly closed the case because “no one cared about the gay guy who had been kidnapped.”

“I realized no one was willing to protect me, and that I had to flee Nablus if I wanted to stay alive.”

While conducting research for the report, Danial said she obtained flyers bearing official stamps of Palestinian municipalities that allegedly identified LGBTQ individuals by name and encouraged local residents to locate, report and attack them. The report cites the flyers as evidence that persecution extends beyond families to public institutions.

Because the flyers include the victims’ full identifying details, they were not reproduced in the report. The Times of Israel could not corroborate claims about the flyers.

Danial, who has spent years providing legal and psychological assistance to Palestinian LGBTQ individuals and other asylum seekers in Israel, said seeing the documents firsthand had a profound impact.

“Seeing the official municipal stamps and instructions telling people what to do to them was terrifying and shocking,” she said.

The flyers, which are shared between authorities in different parts of the West Bank, are one of several factors making it nearly impossible for LGBTQ Palestinians to relocate within the West Bank.

As a result, many feel they have no choice but to flee to Israel.

Mahmoud told The Times of Israel that his family spread information about him among his extended family across the West Bank, making it impossible for him to hide anywhere in Palestinian-controlled areas.

According to Danial, the interviews also revealed what she described as a pattern of systematic persecution by Palestinian Authority institutions, including arbitrary detention and fabricated criminal charges.

Because there is no law criminalizing same-sex relations in the West Bank, LGBTQ Palestinians are sometimes accused of unrelated offenses, including collaborating with Israel, she said, citing the interviews.

Amjad, a gay man who fled to Israel and has since been resettled in a third country, described how police officers searched him on the street and found intimate messages exchanged with his partner. He was immediately arrested and held for three weeks, during which he was threatened, starved and physically assaulted. He was released without being charged and fled directly to Israel.

Not refugees

Israel is a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention that prohibits states from returning people to countries where they face persecution on the basis of religion, nationality, or membership in a particular social group.

Although Israel never incorporated the convention into domestic legislation, asylum seekers from countries such as Eritrea and Sudan have been able to apply for refuge through the Population and Immigration Authority at the Interior Ministry. Though asylum is rarely granted, and the process can take years, those with open applications are permitted to remain in Israel while awaiting a decision and are afforded various rights.

However, Israel does not allow Palestinians to submit asylum applications through the Interior Ministry, in line with its longstanding claim that the Refugee Convention does not apply to Palestinians.

In 2014, an interministerial team created a pathway for Palestinians fleeing to Israel to apply for “welfare residency permits” through the Civil Administration, the Defense Ministry body responsible for civilian affairs in the West Bank. The process is open to gay Palestinians as well as those seeking protection for other reasons, such as domestic violence or collaboration accusations.

The permits are valid for periods ranging from one month to one year, but can be renewed.

However, they come with significantly fewer rights. Until 2022, welfare residency permit holders were not even allowed to work legally, a policy that changed only after human rights organizations successfully petitioned the High Court of Justice.

Permit holders are ineligible for unemployment benefits or disability payments, which are open to other asylum seekers, according to attorney Adi Lustigman, who represents Palestinian LGBTQ asylum seekers.

They also have no access to health insurance, which can create significant bureaucratic obstacles when attempting to secure employment.

Amir, a 28-year-old gay man from a major West Bank city, recalled in the study that he arrived in Israel with NIS 3,000 ($1,000) he had saved for an emergency.

“Once the money ran out, it became very difficult to find work. Everything had to be documented, and no one wanted to hire me… You need a bank account, an ID card,” documents he had difficulty obtaining because of his temporary permit.

Danial said many Palestinians who flee to Israel — including from middle-class backgrounds — end up on the street, turning to prostitution or criminal activity to get by. Some are exposed to drugs for the first time.

One interviewee had been pursuing a physics degree when they fled, turning their ambitions upside down, Danial said.

“Why would he [otherwise] be hanging around transgender women looking for Johns?” she asked. “They’re exposed to these worlds, and that’s how they deteriorate here. It’s a sensitive point — because if life is so difficult here, why would they come? Because it’s still better than being killed. But they arrive here and suddenly they’re using drugs.”

Tighter restrictions since October 7

According to the report, Israel has sharply reduced the entry of Palestinians from the West Bank since the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack, including those fleeing persecution because of their sexual orientation.

Before the war, roughly 90 percent of applicants seeking welfare residency permits due to persecution received temporary permits. Since the war began, that figure has dropped to around 60 percent, according to the study, which cited interviews with permit-seekers.

According to Lustigman, before the war, those seeking protection could obtain a short-term entry permit, allowing them to remain in Israel legally while they waited for an interview with a Civil Administration representative to make their case for a welfare residency permit.

Following October 7, she said, that practice ended without any formal announcement, forcing Palestinians fleeing the West Bank to risk living in Israel illegally for months until an aid organization can arrange an interview on their behalf.

The attorney cited anecdotal evidence from her own clients indicating that the Civil Administration was now more likely to issue permits valid only for a month or two. She also said officials have increasingly required applicants to repeatedly produce fresh evidence that they remain under threat in the West Bank.

“They constantly demand that people prove they’re still being threatened,” she said. “Someone may have had their application approved two years ago, but now every time they renew their permit, they’re asked to show new threats. There aren’t always new threats. So they end up calling a relative, hearing them scream, ‘Don’t come back,’ ‘They’ll kill you,’ recording the call or taking screenshots of threatening messages, and submitting them. Otherwise, the permit won’t be renewed. They’re constantly being forced to relive the trauma.”

Mahmoud said that the Civil Administration had demanded new evidence of recent threats when he applied for his permit to be renewed in September, something which had not occurred in previous years.

After his request was denied, Mahmoud appealed the decision to Israel’s Administrative Affairs Court.

In March, the court ordered that he not be deported but also declined to grant him legal status, meaning he can stay in Israel but not work. The court did not provide an explanation for the decision, which it has since appealed.

The Civil Administration did not respond to The Times of Israel’s request for comment.

Growing hostility toward Palestinians

Beyond the bureaucratic hurdles, interviewees described what they said was growing hostility from Israeli police toward Palestinians since the October 7 attack.

According to the study, several Palestinian asylum seekers holding valid residency permits were nevertheless deported from Israel after police officers or soldiers allegedly told them that “it doesn’t matter — there are no permits for Palestinians anymore.”

Issam, a gay man from the West Bank, said he was detained by police while taking out the trash outside his home because he was not carrying identification or his wallet.

Although he tried to explain that he held a valid residency permit, he was deported to the West Bank. Only after his attorney intervened was he allowed to return to Israel.

Upon his return, while on his way to catch a bus home, Issam said he was stopped again by a police officer and beaten by several officers. He was once again taken to a checkpoint, and only a second legal intervention prevented him from being deported again.

The Israel Police did not respond to The Times of Israel’s request for comment.

Danial said the problem extends beyond interactions with law enforcement to broader public attitudes that, she argued, have hardened during the war.

“Suddenly, employers don’t want to pay their Palestinian workers,” she said. “We heard many cases of economic exploitation. People work 10-hour shifts washing dishes, and at the end of the month, they simply aren’t paid.”

For many LGBTQ Palestinians fleeing the West Bank, Israel is just a stopping point on the way to refuge in a third country. Until recently, an average of 15 LGBTQ asylum seekers a year were resettled from Israel to third countries through a program administered by the UN High Commissioner for Refugees.

However, officials say that the effort has been curtailed since 2025 due to funding cuts by US President Donald Trump’s administration, part of Washington’s broader pullback from foreign assistance.

According to Danial, the number of Palestinian LGBTQ asylum seekers who can now be resettled has fallen to just two people a year.

“If there are 300 Palestinian LGBTQ people here, even by the most conservative estimate, it’ll take another 150 years for everyone to leave,” Danial said sarcastically. “In the past, Israel could say: ‘You can stay here temporarily until you’re resettled in a third country.’ When 15 people were leaving every year, that was a bit more realistic. Today, it’s a dead end.”