Many LGBTQ Ukrainians face hurdles entering US under humanitarian programs

When Sergiy Astahof, 31, a Ukrainian migrant, fled for the United States with his partner after Russia invaded his home country, they were excited to finally live openly as a gay couple.

Instead, Astahof, who traveled through the U.S.-Mexico border on April 11, was taken in by kind community members of a conservative Texan church that opposes gay relationships. The church put him and his partner up in a spare room, providing food and shelter in exchange for volunteer work. The couple pretended to be merely friends – as they had in Ukraine and with their families – so as not to insult their hosts.

"We had uncomfortable feelings about this, but at the same time, it's better than feeling unsafe in Ukraine or Eastern Europe," Astahof said, speaking through an interpreter. "I know it's a temporary solution. And right now, the first priority is to survive."

Astahof and his partner are among the many LGBTQ Ukrainian migrants struggling to find their footing under U.S. humanitarian programs. The Biden administration has pledged to allow 100,000 Ukrainians fleeing war with Russia into the United States, but many LGBTQ migrants are finding it difficult to get into the country because they lack social support and the necessary connections, according to immigration experts.

Many LGBTQ Ukrainians are closeted in their home country or may be estranged from their families, and therefore lack support to get the type of sponsorship necessary to enter the United States under the recently unveiled Uniting for Ukraine immigration program, said Bogdan Globa, co-founder of QUA - LGBTQ Ukrainians in America, a New York-based NGO supporting queer Ukrainians.

"Can you imagine how many people will sign a paper like this for a stranger?" Globa said. "It's why now the LGBTQ community is struggling."

Members of the queer community may have special medical needs that make Americans wary of supporting them, such as the need for HIV medications or hormone treatment.

"Members of the LGBTQ community have it very, very hard, as do other marginalized groups within a specific society, so when it comes to Ukraine those in the LGBTQ community were suffering before and they’re continuing to suffer during the war – it’s exasperated now," said Essey Workie, director of the human services initiative for the Migration Policy Institute, a Washington, D.C.-based think tank.

LGBTQ migrants, who are waiting for approval from the United States, are also often in far less stable positions than others who have fled from their homes, for example, because they must hide their identities, or have traveled to countries that are hostile to LGBTQ individuals, said Devon Matthews, director of programs at Rainbow Railroad, a Toronto-based charity that helps LGBTQ people escape state-sponsored violence and has been working to help Ukrainians.

"Amongst the most marginalized within a community or society, when crisis hits you are absolutely disproportionately affected by this crisis," Matthews said.

The newer Uniting for Ukraine program was created in mid-April to provide a streamlined migration process for the many Ukrainians facing crisis.

Workie said she saw signs that it may indeed enable people to move through the process in several months or up to a year, compared to the asylum or refugee resettlement program.

But many Ukrainians have complained that the process needs to be faster to accommodate those fleeing a growing war.

If approved for the Uniting for Ukraine program, Ukrainians are allowed to stay for a period of up to two years and, if accepted, will be eligible for work authorization.

A U.S.-based sponsor must submit an application and be willing to declare their financial support for a Ukrainian citizen, including any medical costs that may be incurred. Frequently those sponsors end up having close personal ties to applicants, Globa said, but individuals can be sponsored by any entity or complete strangers.

The U.S.-based Ukrainian NGO, QUA - LGBTQ Ukrainians in America, helped Astahof and his partner apply for Temporary Protected Status and also helped find them other housing. On Tuesday, the couple traveled to San Francisco to stay with another gay couple in San Francisco.

As of June 14, the Uniting for Ukraine program has paroled 11,000 Ukrainians into the United States, USCIS spokesperson Matthew Bourke said in an emailed response.

Those numbers are in addition to the 22,000 Ukrainians, like Astahof, who were paroled into the United States by U.S. Customs and Border Protection prior to the Uniting for Ukraine program, Bourke said.

But for the majority of LGBTQ Ukrainians, unless they have relatives or close personal ties with individuals already in the United States, they have found it "impossible" to move through the new migration program, said Globa, whose organization is in touch with about 110 LGBTQ Ukrainians seeking refuge in the United States.

LGBTQ individuals often "have severed or disrupted family and friend relationships because they've come out and shared who they are, and the people around them weren’t able to accept who they are," Workie said. "So that chips away at their social capital. So I'm very sympathetic to individuals saying, 'Uniting for Ukraine isn’t really working for us, because our social contacts in the diaspora and the U.S., perhaps because of our sexual identity, aren’t willing (to help).'"

While LGBTQ Ukrainians can also choose to apply for asylum, they must physically be at a port of entry on in the United States to do so, and those applications can take years or even generations, in certain cases, Workie said.

And for LGBTQ individuals who do get accepted for refugee resettlement, they have unique circumstances that require policy attention, Workie said. That's because the United States tends to keep refugees from different countries together to ensure they have cultural and language support. But for groups marginalized by their societies, they often do not want to be resettled with people from their own countries "because the persecution continues," Workie said.

Mykola Bohoslavets, 38, lived with his partner in a Kyiv apartment before the war broke out, and then temporarily relocated to the Netherlands. The couple is looking for a sponsor in the United States, a country they chose because "LGBT people have more freedom there," said Bohoslavets. They both already speak English, and he and his partner dream of marrying in Miami.

"The U.S. government claims that it does everything for Ukrainians, but this is a partial deception," said Bohoslavets, who has been frustrated by the months-long application process that first requires finding a sponsor. "In reality, it is almost impossible to obtain a visa to the United States under the sponsorship program...The United States is like a liberal country, but it is closed and a bit wild."

Bohoslavets said he knew of many Ukrainians who want to go to the United States but cannot get in, including some still in Mexico. Others are traveling to Canada to move to the United States from there.

Even when a sponsor is found, the process to get interviewed and obtain a visa takes a long time, he said.

Bohoslavets said there should be a separate program for Ukrainian LGBTQ people who have "always been bullied and ridiculed." While it is not illegal to be queer in Ukraine, gay people have suffered from societal marginalization and are frequently victims of violence. They are also not legally allowed to marry or partake in many rights given to relationships legally recognized by the state.

"I want to start a family with my partner in the USA," said Bohoslavets, who is an attorney, and his partner, a chef. "We thought about it for a long time, and together we decided to move to the United States by any possible legal means. Because only in the United States can we walk freely in the city, kiss each other, walk the street holding hands, feeling safe at this time."

For Astahof, who comes from a Ukrainian village in Mykolaiv province that's now occupied by Russian troops, he kept himself closeted from his family, as did his partner. So he was especially excited to start working in the United States without having to hide a part of his identity.

"I didn't know it would be so hard and so unwelcoming," said Astahof, who has lived in limbo as the weeks turned into months. "We want our work authorizations and we will make money. We want a job. But we're stuck in the system, and it's a very difficult situation."

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: US immigration programs not easy for LGBTQ Ukrainians, activists say