After Berlin Pride: What does it mean to be queer and Arab in Germany?

Issue #396: This week's issue is built around two conversations.

The first is with German-Syrian journalistRaja Khadour. Following the deadly attack at Berlin Pride on Saturday, we talk about what it means to be both queer and Arab in Germany right now, why those voices are often missing from the public debate, and how discussions about Islamism, migration, and LGBTQ+ rights so quickly become polarized.

The second is with South African cultural theoristGrant Farred, who studied under Edward Said. More than twenty years ago, he wrote a remarkable essay on race and Argentine football. As Argentina reached another World Cup final, I wanted to know whether his arguments still hold up today. Our conversation goes far beyond football, touching on race, nationalism, colonialism, and the stories countries tell about themselves.

Also this week: Continued blackouts in Cuba, Nicaragua's president's attempt to squash the opposition, protests in Sri Lanka and Nepal, Indigenous progress in Mexico, strike season in India, Eswatini, South Korea, and the DRC, mining conflicts in Costa Rica, likely overlooked insights out of Greece from journalistDimitra Kanta, and repurposing a major Nazi attraction.

This newsletter features contributions by intern Pia Monroy Rodriguez and has been edited by Jonathan Ramsay.

After the Berlin Pride Attack: What is it like to be both queer and Arab in Germany right now?

Zoom out first: "What Happened Last Week" usually focuses on stories from Asia, Africa, and the Americas. But the fault lines shaping those stories don't stop at Europe's borders. Questions of migration, identity, religion, and belonging "travel" with people, and they shape political debates in countries like Germany, just as much as they do elsewhere.

What happened:
On July 25, a 21-year-old German citizen, born and raised in Berlin with Lebanese roots, with a history of Islamist extremism, drove a van into a crowd of Pride attendees before continuing the attack on foot. One woman was killed, and 29 people were injured. Authorities say the suspect, who was known to security services, was later shot dead by police after a nationwide manhunt.

Why this matters: The deadly attack has reignited one of Germany's most polarizing debates. Following the attack, discussions quickly turned to migration, Islamism, and queer rights. Yet, the voices of people who are both queer and Arab or Muslim have often been reduced to symbols in someone else's political argument.

Tell me more:
To better understand these overlapping experiences, I spoke with journalist Raja Khadour (Instagram, LinkedIn). He reports for the German public broadcaster NDR, including the media programme ZAPP, and has long covered migration, discrimination, LGBTQ+ communities, and social justice. Born to Syrian parents, he brings both professional expertise and personal experience to questions of identity, belonging, and public discourse.

In our conversation, we discuss how queer Arabs and Muslims experienced the attack at Berlin Pride, and why conversations about Islamist violence, migration, and LGBTQ+ rights so often leave little room for nuance.

The following is a written interview. The responses have been lightly edited for clarity.

WHLW: In your video, you describe living with several different kinds of fear at once. Why was it important for you to draw attention to that?

Raja Khadour: The fears I talked about in the video are just a fraction of what many in the queer community deal with on a daily basis. To outsiders, this is usually invisible. Fear is our constant companion: with family, on the street, at work, while shopping, on a date and even at Pride, where one should feel the very opposite of fear. We've seen a rise in anti-queer resentment and, with it, violence against our community. This has coincided with the growing popularity of the far-right AfD. In recent years, we've also seen constant anti-CSD demonstrations in cities across Germany, something we hadn't experienced before and, which is, in my opinion, a direct result of the queerphobic rhetoric from conservative and far-right politicians.

WHLW: Speaking about Islamist violence against LGBTQ+ people proves to be tricky at times. What happens when you do?

Raja Khadour: As someone who belonged to a Muslim minority in Syria, I know what religious extremism and the violence it entails mean. I have seen what it did to my country and its people. It destroyed communities. I therefore think it's crucial that we are the ones who call it out. At the end of the day, we have first-hand experience with it, and we are the people extremists would target first.

At the same time, many people avoid talking about this because they worry it will reflect badly on Muslim communities and migrants as a whole. That fear is real. After an attack like this, you can already predict what it means for those communities. The demand to distance yourself comes almost automatically.

I myself got accused of supporting Islamism in the comments, solely because I am Syrian. Even my criticism of the coverage on Gaza, which I had voiced in a completely different context on my Instagram account, was dragged into this debate to discredit my position.

WHLW: Politicians quickly responded with calls for tougher security and migration policies, even though the alleged perpetrator was a German citizen. What did you make of those reactions?

Raja Khadour: That begs the question of what it means to be German. Who belongs, and who is considered an intruder. Frankly, this is something we've grown accustomed to. We're never German enough, even when born and raised in Germany. It's also easier for politicians to claim no responsibility whatsoever for Islamist extremism. "It's imported," they say. But this is a homegrown issue, and it needs to be treated as such if we truly ever want to find a solution.

We need to ask ourselves: how is it possible for young people to become radicalized so quickly in the first place? Cutting funding for marginalized communities is definitely not helping. Just look at "Demokratie leben!", the federal programme that funds exactly this kind of prevention work. Over 200 projects are losing their funding, including Lambda, a queer youth network.

WHLW: Queer activists from Syria and other parts of the Global South bring lived experience with religious authoritarianism, displacement, state violence, and survival. Do you feel those experiences are genuinely heard in Germany?

Raja Khadour: I often observe and experience that queer voices from the SWANA region are invited only when they fit a certain narrative. For example, to describe how terrible things were in their home countries and express their gratitude towards the German state. As soon as a more nuanced perspective is called for, things go quiet. Especially now, when some people only want to think in "either-or" terms. It is precisely these nuances that are most urgently needed.

WHLW: What do you think German debates on Islamism could learn from people who have experienced religious extremism firsthand?

Raja Khadour: It must finally become clear that religious extremism has to be confronted on the basis of ideology, not on the basis of origin. Those who have experienced this firsthand, and people who grew up both queer and Muslim, can often distinguish much more clearly between religion, culture, and ideology.

Race, football and Argentina: Are we asking the wrong questions? An interview with cultural theorist Grant Farred

What happened:
Since Spain's Men's FIFA World Cup victory over Argentina, one question has dominated many progressive online spaces: Why is Argentina's national team overwhelmingly white?

To add some nuance to that age-old debate, I spoke with cultural theorist Grant Farred, a South African-born scholar whose work focuses on...