Introduction
After the 1992–1995 war in Bosnia and Herzegovina (hereafter Bosnia), the Dayton Peace Accord (DPA) was signed in 1995 to end one of Europe’s most violent conflicts (Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025a). While the DPA provided a critical opportunity for communities to construct a new state based on the rule of law, freedom, democracy and human rights, it failed to establish a unified civic identity or a functional democratic state capable of protecting human rights (Swimelar, Reference Swimelar2013). Within this unpredictable and strenuous context, Queer people experience heightened marginalisation as they face discrimination, violent attacks and exclusion among many other challenges (Kajevska, Reference Kajevska and Bilić2016).
Activists’ experiences and challenges centre on how they make sense of everyday homophobia or support for Bosnia’s LGBTQIA+ community. This article presents respondents’ experiences of activism, Pride Parades and Queer violence, highlighting the complex nature of activism and everyday expressions of Queer peacebuilding, as well as the environments in which Queer people attempt to exist. That said, the article understands environment not in a strictly ecological sense, but as the social, spatial and material conditions within which Queer lives are made possible or constrained. Within dimensions of identity, such as sexuality, historical contexts often employ spatial, physical and linguistic markers that emphasise differences between groups rather than their shared realities (Sedgwick, Reference Sedgwick1990). Building on these dimensions, this article examines the systematic barriers, such as the scarcity of safe and recognised socio-environmental spaces, that limit political action, police support and media representation. It also examines how Queer communities have often been forced to gather in marginal, hidden or nocturnal settings such as parks, forests or other secluded socio-environmental spaces. It also addresses how individual narratives that document the effects of internalised and externalised homophobia in Bosnia are frequently discredited.
Expanding environmental (in)justice (Davis & Edge, Reference Davis and Edge2022; Goldsmith & Bell, Reference Goldsmith and Bell2022), testimonial (in)justice (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007) and everyday peace (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2014; Ring, Reference Ring2006) as Queer individuals of Bosnia establish and maintain shared community spaces (Forde, Reference Forde2019), this article will depart from two main questions: First, in what ways can testimonial (in)justice and environmental (in)justice contribute to a more inclusive and sustainable form of everyday peace for the LGBTQIA+ community in Bosnia? The second, how do LGBTQIA+ individuals in Bosnia experience and respond to the silencing of their testimonies in cases of socio-environmental injustice, everyday violence and discrimination? Consequently, this article argues that increased homophobia in Bosnia reduces Queer people’s engagement with socio-environmental spaces, and this leads to testimonial and environmental injustice in everyday spaces and restricts everyday peace opportunities with one another.
Drawing on 43 participant narratives collected through interviews that reflect their courage, resistance and personal risk, the article identifies five key findings that illustrate how Queer voices are often discredited and silenced. The participants’ stories shed light on how they persist in their advocacy against social and systemic oppression by enacting personalised strategies of peacebuilding with community building, managing self-disclosure and fighting for a future where Queer people can be visible, respected and safe from violence.
Testimonial and environmental (in)justice, and everyday peace
Critical scholarship on epistemic injustice focuses on individual or interpersonal testimonial injustices in which individuals’ testimonies, ideas or statements are discredited or dismissed because of their marginalised or intersecting identities (Altanian, Reference Altanian2024; Fricker, Reference Fricker2007). Fricker describes epistemic injustice through the lens of feminism, in which people are “ingenuously downgraded and/or disadvantaged in respect of their status as an epistemic subject” (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007, p. 53). Testimonial injustice, which is part of epistemic injustice, is defined as “when prejudice causes a hearer to give a deflated level of credibility to a speaker’s word” (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007, p. 1). The discussion of testimonial (in)justice is critical in the context of Bosnia, as it occurs when certain voices, such as marginalised groups, are disbelieved or ignored due to biases (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007) or socially constructed images of Queer people (Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025a, Reference Yavuz2025b, Reference Yavuz2025c). When Queer experiences are amplified, it disrupts testimonial injustice by highlighting marginalised voices, ensuring they are not only heard but also taken seriously through actions and policies. Fricker also emphasises how testimonial injustice is particularly harmful when it is rooted in social stereotypes that distort the credibility of certain groups:
A widely held disparaging association between a social group and one or more attributes […] display some resistance to counter-evidence owing to an ethically bad affective investment (p. 35).
When marginalised voices are discredited through testimonial injustice, these exclusions often take place in socio-environmental spaces such as parks, rural landscapes or public events like Pride parades, where their visibility and their access to safe environmental engagement are limited (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007; Goldsmith & Bell, Reference Goldsmith and Bell2022; Hernandez, Reference Hernandez2025; Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025c). As Yavuz and Moore’s (Reference Yavuz, Moore and Maiangwa2026) study finds, Queer individuals meet in secret, quiet spaces in the dark that are dangerous, and they are likely to experience many physical attacks when they attempt to meet up with other Queer individuals. Such a lack of environmental access to very basic human needs, such as freedom of assembly or the right to use socio-environmental spaces, limits legal freedoms and practical opportunities for social interaction for Queer people in Bosnia. Such restrictions prevent them from existing in society, and it further harms potential reconciliation, which is crucial for a post-accord society like Bosnia (Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025a). While Johnson and Wilson (Reference Johnson and Wilson1999) acknowledge power disparities in sustainable environmental development, they emphasise that marginalised groups should be enabled to voice their concerns and participate in defining what sustainability means. That said, institutions’ role in providing access to the right space is crucial to fostering equitable access.
As Zarabadi (Reference Zarabadi2022) illustrates, public environments become unsafe or inaccessible when harassment and fear shape who feels permitted to claim those spaces as marginalised people’s “lived experiences affectively, materially, and discursively intertwine with… radicalization, threat, and fear proliferated in the public…” (p. 453). This also echoes how Queer people’s access to parks or socio-environmental spaces is often constrained by heteronormative surveillance, homophobia and fear of violence. In other words, Queer individuals frequently experience exclusion from socio-environmental spaces due to conservative cultural and political norms that limit community formation and visibility towards efforts of reconciliation and inclusion. Such marginalisation through prominent power imbalances brings broader socio-environmental questions, as access to public and shared spaces is not only a social justice issue but also a sustainability issue central to how people relate to, care for and maintain their environments.
Environmental education scholarship foregrounds a sense of place and place-responsive pedagogy in questioning if the community offers a space for all, including social minorities, to engage in safe exploration and activism in their natural environment (Greenwood, Reference Greenwood2008; Hay, Reference Hay1998). As Stevenson (Reference Stevenson2011) argues, personal, cultural and professional identities have been largely overlooked in environmental education. This exclusion is particularly consequential for Queer people in Bosnia, and attending to Queer lived experiences in socio-environmental spaces not only addresses a gap in environmental education research but also expands sustainability discourse.
Environmental injustice exacerbates Queer people’s basic human needs and health outcomes as LGBTQIA+ individuals suffer as a result of political or institutional decisions. “Social determinants of health, such as housing conditions, economic opportunities, and access to health care, may negatively and disproportionately affect the LGBTQ+ population and reduce their capacity to respond to environmental harm” (Goldsmith & Bell, Reference Goldsmith and Bell2022, p.79). Yet, as Queer people in Bosnia are not granted safe access to these socio-environmental spaces or negotiating tables to advocate for their environmental experiences, they remain secluded from the public eye in secret, dark and hazardous environments (Yavuz & Moore, Reference Yavuz, Moore and Maiangwa2026). When Queer people are pushed into socio-environmental spaces characterised by fear, anxiety and uncertainty, they are less likely to seek medical care due to fear and discrimination (Goldsmith & Bell, Reference Goldsmith and Bell2022). They also experience a higher risk of unemployment compared to non-Queer individuals, and when unemployment happens, it can lead to poverty, which pushes Queer individuals into an increased exposure to environmental pollution and injustice (Goldsmith & Bell, Reference Goldsmith and Bell2022).
While testimonial injustice is significant, and some might see it as undermining everyday peace, it can also strengthen the strategies that Queer people use in everyday peace. However, for everyday peacebuilding to be effective, testimonial injustice must be corrected so that marginalised voices are recognised as credible within their social spaces.
Everyday peace practices have great potential to disrupt forceful assumptions of power and to be scaled upward in a bottom-up approach to social justice (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2021; Ring, Reference Ring2006). Such disruption can be achieved in various ways, including interactions among strangers, neighbours and families, which help engage individuals in building community resilience and positive identity outcomes, such as feeling less excluded (Parmenter & Galliher, Reference Parmenter and Galliher2023). A simple act of greeting or speech between members of two groups, for instance, can be disruptive to a conflict. In post-conflict societies, these small steps promote transformative dialogue that uncovers common truths, highlights individual contexts and rehumanises those deemed a social other (Aiken, Reference Aiken2013). In this way, beginning at an interpersonal level to promote societal dialogue through everyday community interactions, such as greetings, societies leverage themselves to disrupt the dominant narratives that incite violence in their day-to-day life.
Yet with much to be negotiated, as Bosnia takes on a recursive process in defining its civic identity to integrate the ethno-national identities, there is much concern about the intersectional inclusion of LGBTQIA+ individuals. When faced with complex conflicts woven into social and cultural norms or values, many attempts to achieve a transformative resolution may yield only a momentary pause in the ongoing conflict (Byrne et al., Reference Byrne, Mallon and Yavuz2023; Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2022; Yavuz & Byrne, Reference Yavuz and Byrne2023). However, a genuine disruption of such social conflict would require the resources for bottom-up peacebuilding, including socio-environmental spaces such as peace zones, protests and activist groups. Such social advocacy opens the stage for diverse interpretation and more imaginative problem-solving capabilities following the disruption (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2014). However, without prioritising challenging normative discourse by vocalising the lived experiences of Queer people, peacebuilding practices lack epistemological recognition and, thus, the capacity for continuous social negotiation and collaboration (Ritholtz et al., Reference Ritholtz, Serrano-Amaya, Hagen and Judge2023; Russell et al., Reference Russell, Sarick and Kennelly2021).
Disrupting homophobia
To fully adopt social and systemic practices of peace, marginalised communities require more than a temporary ceasefire; rather, they need a disruption that offers a deliberate means to emancipate systemic injustice rooted in social structures (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2022; Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025b). While combating injustice, disruptions create space for creative solutions that promote peace by focusing on coexistence and collaboration rather than compromise or competition (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2022). However, the scope of possible disruptions is vast. Disruptions may be initiated from a direct interaction with the conflict as a singular event, pre-event or long-term processes and trends.
Finding and employing disruptions in heteronormative spaces and social structures offers a means to question the state of being for people within the ecology of places like Bosnia (Sandilands, Reference Sandilands, Pellow, Gleason and Adamson2020; Bazzul & Sorensen, Reference Bazzul, Sorensen and Russell2021; Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025a, Reference Yavuz2025b, Reference Yavuz2025c; Yavuz et al., Reference Yavuz, Moore and Maiangwa2026). However, despite the potential for such disturbances in the current state of being to enrich a communal culture that demonstrates collective existence, there is also a risk of harm. An ethical disturbance in a social space must consider what is enabled and what is lost amid inventing and actualising expressions and circumstances that include diverse beings and thoughts that have not been imagined yet (Bazzul & Sorensen, Reference Bazzul, Sorensen and Russell2021). Yet, through the intra-active nature of the universe, people and space respond to one another in an entangled manner as meaning and pragmatism contribute to the ontological state of being within culture and environment.
For Queer individuals living in Bosnia, this challenge of advocating for social inclusion within the Bosnian identity (or lack thereof) and access to communal spaces for cooperation and dialogue is increasingly met with social backlash, particularly as Europeanization at the national level promotes LGBTQIA+ rights (Ayoub, Page & Whitt Reference Ayoub, Page and Whitt2021; Swimelar, Reference Swimelar2020). This process of norm diffusion provides Queer visibility and inclusion by leveraging Bosnia’s position in the European Union to promote a nation’s LGBTQIA+ legal protections (Swimelar, Reference Swimelar2017). However, despite this budding effort to integrate LGBTQIA+ protections into Bosnia’s political system, integrating social values that promote LGBTQIA+ rights has its own unique challenge.
For Queer identities to be integrated into social values, sharing experiences guides an attitudinal shift through increased visibility for Queer people, and progress into socio-political discourse and activist events is essential. During this time of social transformation, Bosnians have been met with rejection and Queer violence (Swimelar, Reference Swimelar2017). To strengthen resistance against dominant social groups, the peacebuilding stories of others serve as a springboard for rethinking the potential of everyday peace and social activism (Otto, Reference Otto2020). By exchanging stories and identifying similarities within social moments of peace advocacy, communities can continually resist hierarchical domination by integrating peaceful practices into their daily routines and social structures.
Sharing stories and communicating personal experiences is a universal aspect of human nature, offering a space to express one’s narrative. Although stories themselves do not have a moral implication, the speaker may elicit harmful narratives that repress the stories of minority-identifying people (Senehi, Reference Senehi, Senehi, Sanole-Staroste, Byrne and Sandole2009). Dominate narratives may silence those of minority groups with limited access to media representation by disseminating stereotyped cultural productions widely (Maiangwa & Byrne, Reference Maiangwa and Byrne2015; Senehi, Reference Senehi, Senehi, Sanole-Staroste, Byrne and Sandole2009). Furthermore, even when stories of minority experiences are offered to an audience, it is up to the listener to evaluate the speaker’s credibility (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007), and for all parties to desire to recognise everyone’s experience and dignity (Senehi, Reference Senehi2002).
Stories serve as a means to build a bond with the narrator, allowing the reader to empathise with and understand the protagonist’s emotions and everyday experiences (Senehi, Reference Senehi2002). As stories are shared and commonalities are discovered, narratives initially presented as individual testimonies become a collective problem to solve (Shuman, Reference Shuman2005) and offer a means to (re)negotiate identity and community functions (Federman, Reference Federman2016). Within this potential for long-term social processes to enact a meaningful disruption, and when utilising the testimonies of marginalised communities, everyday practices of peace continually integrate lived experiences into social systems (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007; Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2014). However, as these transformations occur, they enable more extensive forms of activism, such as walks, protests and marches. These marches serve as a form of collective action, and when employed in nonviolent protest, this enactment of one’s testimony can express dissent and withdraw support from those in power (Muñoz Proto, Reference Muñoz Proto2014). When Queer spaces erupt within social contexts, there is great potential for an increased exchange of informal education as we listen to the stories of others (Ayoub et al., Reference Ayoub, Page and Whitt2021; Bazzul & Sorensen, Reference Bazzul, Sorensen and Russell2021; McCready, Reference McCready2019). Although collective public displays of one’s testimony can promote meaningful change, they may also put these vulnerable communities at a greater risk for violence from those who oppose the integration of queerness or Queer belongingness into their national identity.
In the context of post-war peacebuilding and the integration of Queer visibility, Bosnia’s LGBTQIA+ activism and Pride Parades offer the LGBTQIA+ community (and straight allies) an opportunity to come together, share space, and publicly and openly celebrate their identities. While it takes years to become fully visible in society, the visibility that activism provides helps break down stereotypes and increase people’s awareness of Queer issues, which can lead to greater acceptance of the LGBTQIA+ community (Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025a, Reference Yavuz2025b, Reference Yavuz2025c; Yavuz et al., Reference Yavuz, Moore and Maiangwa2026).
Methods
This study conducted semi-structured individual interviews with 43 Queer community members and NGO workers from the Bosniak, Croat and Serbian communities, all 18 or older. The research participants provided informed consent, and their participation was voluntary. Participants were also sent an electronic copy of the consent form via email.
This research was approved by the Research Ethics Board at the University of Manitoba. The 43 interviews in 2022 were audio-recorded. Each audio/video file was uploaded to a licenced MS Teams account and immediately erased from the voice recorder. Each interview was transcribed word-for-word, and the participants’ names were replaced with pseudonyms they chose. These names reflected their ethnic and religious background.
43 participants (42 of whom identified as members of the LGBTQIA+ community) were recruited for this study from diverse ethnicities, genders, sexualities and religious backgrounds. The average participant age was 30 years, ranging from 18 to 71. 16 participants identified as Bosniaks, 11 as Serbs, seven as Bosnians, three as Croats, three as Bosnian and Herzegovinians, two as Serb/Croat and one Ostali, which translates to “other.” 25 participants identified as gay, six as lesbian, four as bisexual, three as Queer, one as asexual, one as transgender, one as pansexual, one as sexually fluid and one as heterosexual.
The interviews were conducted in major cities, Sarajevo and Mostar, in Bosnia; however, a significant number of participants from cities in Republika Srpska, such as Banja Luka, Bijeljina, Doboj, Foča and Prijedor, and also from other cities in the Bosnia Federation, such as Tuzla, Bihać, Cazin, Stolac, Zenica and the Brčko District of Bosnia, were interviewed. The study used two sampling methods to recruit participants: purposive sampling (PSM) and snowball sampling (SSM). The SSM is known as a chain referral sampling method in which interviewees provide leads to the researcher (Babbie, Reference Babbie2020).
Data analysis
Queer testimonies and environmental injustice: activism in Bosnia and Herzegovina
Considering the significant global political shift today, it is crucial to incorporate Queer perspectives into peace and conflict studies (Hagen et al., Reference Hagen, Ritholtz, Delatolla, Delatolla, Ritholtz and Hagen2024; Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025a, Reference Yavuz2025b). Queer narratives, like many other marginalised groups, play a significant role in peacebuilding processes. Thus, it is critical to hear about the LGBTQIA+ individuals’ lived experiences and perspectives, not only as victims but as knowledge-holders, community leaders and change-makers (Basu, Reference Basu2013). Giving access to Queer people to share their voices for action promotes not only the visibility of LGBTQIA+ narratives but also serves as a steppingstone for advocacy, political recognition and everyday peace practices (Guyan, Reference Guyan2022; Ring, Reference Ring2006). In the context of environmental injustice affecting Queer people, access may mean different things, such as the ability to use socio-environmental spaces, resources and infrastructure safely and equitably (Goldsmith & Bell, Reference Goldsmith and Bell2022). These accesses include holding Queer events and participating in Pride parades in environmentally safe spaces, going on a date at a park, visiting beaches, lakes or rivers without fear or harassment, and accessing emergency shelters that are inclusive of Queer identities.
Pride parades are critical ways to signify LGBTQIA+ visibility and, in the long run, normalise activism (Irvine & Irvine, Reference Irvine and Irvine2017; Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025c). Despite Queer visibility being challenged, there have been some positive improvements in recent years, especially after the first Pride Parade was held in Sarajevo in 2019. This, however, also brought more violence and discrimination, especially for those who have decided to be more visible or go out in public (Yavuz et al., Reference Yavuz, Moore and Maiangwa2026). The politics of visibility can create contradictions in how visibility operates in society. “Pride Parades intend to normalise LGBTQ citizens, and yet marchers can be rendered invisible within their visibility strategy” (Irvine & Irvine, Reference Irvine and Irvine2017, p. 35). The prevailing political atmosphere may also force Queer people into a constrained public sphere, where they experience environmental injustices that limit their ability to freely express their identities (Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025c; Yavuz et al., Reference Yavuz, Moore and Maiangwa2026).
In this study, only 35 percent of the participants are willing to be visible regardless of the possible outcomes for them; the rest expressed various concerns that might put them at risk, such as family disownment, domestic violence, violence on the streets and structural violence related to finding jobs. In societies like Bosnia, where LGBTQIA+ activism progresses slowly and Queer spaces are vastly limited, there are many challenging layers to seeing the picture closely. Ana (female, 30-year-old, Croat/Serb, pansexual) has mixed feelings about activism because she believes that such visibility might come with golden handcuffs. She emphasises the importance of spatial justice in environments where visibility and presence are crucial. She recounted the following in her story:
I think we have to be very visible in the sense that we constantly show up, but once we get that visibility, we must be extremely careful about how we behave. I know it’s very sad, but people are waiting for us to make mistakes, so they can reinforce their biases. They don’t want to change their opinion about you. So that’s the trick… On the other hand, one must be careful about not getting anything working from the shadows and not actually being prominent or visible anywhere, because people are just afraid to notice you when they’re going to think it’s a very isolated thing, like there’s only one or two of you. But once you step into the spotlight, you need to act with control and patience.
Ana’s experience illustrates a powerful example of how Queer people face prejudice that undermines their credibility simply because of their social identity. As Fricker (Reference Fricker2007) describes testimonial injustice “happens whenever prejudice on the part of a hearer causes them to attribute a deflated level of credibility to a speaker’s word” (p.1). Ana’s example also shows how speakers are often denied the proper level of credibility due to negative, prejudiced assumptions about their social group and the pressure to adhere to the norms and values of the dominant social group before being granted a platform and audience for activism.
While Queer activism in Bosnia predates 2019, the first Pride Parade marked many Queer Bosnians’ first direct experience with Queer activism. Another participant, Dino (male, 18-year old, Bosniak, demisexual), has been actively engaged in Pride Parades since 2019. He said he wanted to be part of history because “people are going to remember us being on the street.” As part of history, Dino is offering his testimony through activism, with excitement and intention to continue Pride Parades. Despite his fears of public homophobia, Dino said he was so motivated to join the parade crowd, and what he witnessed exceeded his expectations, not only in the parade’s vibrant impact but also in its powerful assertion of spatial and environmental justice.
It was shocking, to say the least. We expected maybe 50 people to come, up to 100. Out of all of my friends. I was the only person who had the courage to show up and just walk. It was a brave thing to do for anybody at that point because we all knew it would be on us. We are going to be remembered. People are going to remember us in the streets. And in the worst-case scenario, we’re going to get attacked. When I arrived and saw the crowd, it looked like thousands. I was stunned. Most people were not even from Bosnia. But I was still shocked.
Being part of history is not easy for Queer Bosnians, and it takes a lot of courage to participate in the parades. The purpose of the parade is to occupy space for Bosnia’s Queer community to celebrate their identity and resist homophobia. The first Pride parade set the stage for many parades to come and was accomplished in Sarajevo under a heavy police presence, including snipers who were in buildings along the parade route. Despite media coverage of some counter-protests at the parade, the Queer community celebrated diversity as they collectively resisted political homophobia. Dino shares his reflections on the first parade as he believes that the media reported it differently from how he experienced it on the streets:
Thousands of police officers were present, even though they were expecting around 100 participants. It felt overwhelming. Snipers were positioned on rooftops. Everybody expected the worst.
I remember moments of silence, rare moments when we could hear people from, I think, a km away. There was an anti-LGBT parade. It was oriented around the fact that we were marching at the Pride, and they were reciting Quran verses and praying loudly so we could hear. In moments, I heard them, and the chills ran through me because I didn’t want to think about consequences, but there were consequences.
As Dino notes, the Pride Parade was reported differently at the time than he experienced it. Dino’s experience illustrates the importance of having those impacted represented in the testimony. Without it, many challenges, including the heavy police presence, the fear of violence and the counter-protests, were framed in a way that did not capture the risk of armed violence and the intense emotional atmosphere of the space intended for collective peacebuilding. Dino’s fear also illustrates the consequences of environmental injustice when there is no platform to express testimonies.
The younger Queer generation lives in limbo, and the conflict impacts them more often as they will pass their trauma onto the next generations, but they are determined for change to happen. Consistent with Otto’s (Reference Otto2020) notion of storytelling as an impetus for new peacebuilding strategies, most of the young people the first author met are finding innovative ways to challenge the government and the homophobia they face. Most of the youth speak English fluently. Speaking another language is a trend, and it is common to hear them switching from Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian (BCS) to English in the streets or at home whenever they wish to create a safer space for themselves. Speaking English and the ability to switch between BCS and English also serve as a peace strategy in various ways, as it allows them to have a safe space to discuss queerness without fear of judgment or surveillance (Sedgwick, Reference Sedgwick1990).
Abraksas (male, 31-year old, Serb, bisexual) shares his observation about the role of youth and how pop culture has done more than traditional activism as follows:
The younger generation is more influenced by this so-called diced pop culture. I think this pop culture has done more to promote acceptance than traditional activism. I think people who are 19 seem more open and quicker to come out. They’re freer to come out and be feminine and don’t carry the same shame. That said, the pressure from religion and nationalism is still strong. Interestingly, women are more liberal and accepting of having gay friends than heterosexual people.
Religion and nationalism appear to create strong pressures, and these forces act as epistemic authorities, shaping who is considered legitimate and visible, or whose experiences are credible in the eyes of the public.
Jovan (male, 23 years old, Orthodox, Serb, gay) also shares Abraksas’s vision and believes that younger generations will bring the reform the community needs into society. Most participants are also convinced that sustainable peace will come when younger generations take control of the political system and civil society organisations. Jovan believes it is obvious that older people are unwilling to change. Thus, younger people have a greater responsibility to reimagine society. They are fearless and want to live their lives on their own terms.
Internalised homophobia and barriers to Queer activism
Resistance entails disrupting everyday violence, civil order and societal norms (Hall, Reference Hall, Kidd, Medina and Pohlhaus2017; Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2022; Swimelar, Reference Swimelar2020). However, the community members who were upfront in the first Pride Parade paid a huge price. Dino was beaten up a month after the parade by 10 men while he was on a tram. Dino fainted when the ambulance arrived, and after he reported it to the police, no one was prosecuted.
Nothing ever happened. Bosnian politics, basically… I was really badly injured because I was bleeding a lot. This one guy truly hated me from the bottom of his heart. That’s what I saw in his eyes when he smashed me against the floor, and I was bleeding on this side. And he picked me up to look me in the eyes, to smash me again.
And the other guys that were with him asked him to stop. ‘Stop it, stop it, stop it.’ They literally had to grab him to stop, and they left. Finally, I woke up and started running. I don’t even know where. And that’s when somebody called [an] ambulance and [the] police, and they came. And I went to the hospital, and everything was kind of fine because I only needed some antibiotics, and they didn’t stitch me up or anything, so I was kind of [okay].
Everyday peace typically refers to the small, informal practices that individuals engage in to manage conflict and maintain coexistence in divided or fragile societies (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2021; Ring, Reference Ring2006). However, Dino’s experience reveals the fragility of everyday peace; it shows how peace is not evenly distributed and marginalised groups, such as LGBTQIA + individuals, often live in a different reality where violence disrupts their ability to participate in everyday peace practices.
While Dino’s experience with the attack may not be seen as an example of everyday peace, it exposes the limits of everyday peace for marginalised communities in hostile environments. Everyday peace relies on informal mechanisms of conflict avoidance, negotiation and coexistence (Mac Ginty, Reference Mac Ginty2014) and is often critical in informing political systems (Balvin et al., Reference Balvin, Haji and McKeown2025). Yet, for people like Dino, these mechanisms fail when prejudice and systemic impunity allow violence to go unpunished. Dino’s survival and resilience can be framed as a form of everyday peace practice, as he continues to use his presence as a display of testimony (Hall, Reference Hall, Kidd, Medina and Pohlhaus2017). While the attack represents an extreme rupture, Dino’s ability to endure, navigate the system and continue despite the trauma can be seen as a reflection of how marginalised individuals engage in acts of survival within these unwelcoming, antagonistic environments.
Moreover, the reaction of some of the attackers, who told the main aggressor to stop, suggests a moment of micro-level negotiation over violence, which could align with everyday peace as a small-scale act to prevent further harm or escalation. Even within this violent episode, there is a glimpse of internal resistance as some members of the group were uncomfortable with the brutality and intervened. This suggests that even in deeply hostile settings, there are moments where individuals reject extreme violence, and this can shape future interactions in ways that everyday peace theory considers important.
Discussions/key findings
The respondents’ stories of bravery, courage and commitment, along with their activist work to resist violent structures that oppress Queer people, serve as a critical example of challenging testimonial injustice in Bosnia and the limitations of using activism to achieve everyday peace. This article focuses on environmental injustice not only as exposure to ecological injustice, but as a relational and spatial condition shaped by power, recognition and belonging. For Queer individuals in Bosnia, environmental injustice is experienced through the unequal production of social and educational spaces that constrain safety, voice and visibility. Subsequently, five important findings emerged inductively from the data regarding activism and resistance to homophobic practices and structures in Bosnia. These themes are challenges in testimonial and environmental spaces, the lack of involvement and collective activism, fear of Queer visibility, the failure to receive legal protection of human rights, and, finally, finding liberation in Queer space.
Activism as an ongoing challenge in testimonial and environmental spaces
First, activism is an ongoing challenge for Bosnia’s Queer community, shaped by the intersection of testimonial and environmental injustices and everyday peace. Considering how recently LGBTQIA+ activism has been introduced in Bosnia, the Queer community experiences resistance from others as they seek to maintain societal values. Participants reported that substantial national, religious and cultural influences shape how everyday people in Bosnia perceive LGBTQIA+ activism in their country. The existence of LGBTQIA+ activism was reported as non-Bosnian or as a western, made-up, indoctrination that is a threat to those who have anti-LGBTQIA+ sentiments. The identified framing of Queer activism as a western imposition not only perpetuates testimonial injustice, where the legitimacy of Queer people and their lived experiences is discredited by dominant narratives that exclude Queer individuals, but also reinforces environmental injustice by denying Queer communities’ equitable access to socio-environmental spaces. With this, our findings were consistent with previous research, identifying that efforts to integrate Queer epistemology into the cultural values of Bosnia, the enhanced visibility is met with greater risk for violence and discreditation (Hall, Reference Hall, Kidd, Medina and Pohlhaus2017; Swimelar, Reference Swimelar2020).
Lack of involvement and collective activism
Second, Bosnia’s Queer communities were found to lack local involvement in collective activism due to various concerns, including fear for one’s safety and social standing. Participants indicated that, in some areas, such as Tuzla, few people attend workshops or community events. This reflects not only social stigma but also a form of environmental injustice. When Queer individuals feel unsafe or unwelcome in socio-environmental spaces, their exclusion becomes spatially enforced, which eventually becomes an example of environmental injustice. Some participants, who remained involved in the Queer movement, suggest the need for more Queer people to be active in community activism and to have a specific agenda so that local people can participate in Queer events. In Tuzla, especially, the hesitation of Queer individuals to engage in activism is scrutinised by the broader societal perception that queerness is not a legitimate or recognised identity characteristic within local cultural and political narratives. This denied credibility of marginalised people as activists for a more inclusive society clearly displays the testimonial injustice committed against Queer individuals that further burdens peacebuilding efforts for recognition, inclusion and protection for Queer people living in Bosnia.
As aforementioned, the lack of participation in LGBTQIA+ activism in smaller cities like Tuzla reflects both testimonial injustice and the challenges of everyday peace in maintaining Queer visibility within constrained social spaces. The challenge of organising in smaller cities suggests that Queer activism in Bosnia is not just about public demonstrations but also about fostering micro-level social change by carefully integrating activism into local communities. Activists engage in everyday peace strategies by identifying small-scale, contextually appropriate ways to promote visibility without provoking hostility, such as focusing on local engagement and carefully curated public events. However, with only a few activists sharing the concentrated burden of representation and resistance against social pressures, this study reveals the limitations of everyday peace, as only a handful of activists bear the brunt of hostility. To enable structural transformation, increased participation by activists is critical. Therefore, while localised activism in Tuzla reflects the subtle, everyday acts of resilience and negotiation necessary for peace, it also underscores the urgent need for broader social and institutional change to address testimonial injustice and create sustainable activist networks.
Fear in Queer visibility
Third, the reluctance to activism and pride is a pressing issue for local efforts to increase Queer visibility in Bosnia. The first step is always challenging. When the first Pride parade was organised, some participants reported feeling scared to participate, especially during moments of silence at the Pride space, when anti-Pride protests were visible in the surrounding areas. Most participants reported being scared to be in that space due to media attention and concerns about potential anti-pride protests that might cause social, emotional and/or physical harm.
Some participants also elaborated on their experiences and perceptions of parades, noting that being visible in the “publicly” Queer space would jeopardise their own safety because of the backlash or discrimination they may face proceeding the event. Some also reported personal experiences of friends or loved ones being disowned by their parents and families due to their coming out and increased media visibility. Activists who were interviewed and received significant media visibility had been disowned or are no longer in contact with their parents after coming out or after their parents learned of their participation in the Sarajevo Pride Parade.
Lack of legal protection of human rights
Fourth, the police maintain the state’s ideological apparatuses and fail to enforce the law concerning human rights violations. LGBTQIA+ people do not trust the institutions’ agents, like the police, criminal justice or health care. LGBTQIA+ people in Bosnia experience direct and daily structural violence when using public amenities. For example, many people were attacked during or after the first Pride parade in Sarajevo, yet the police lost interest upon discovering that a violent act was a hate crime against the Queer survivors who reported the crime. Some individuals were intentionally targeted and beaten up by homophobes at night, whereas others were threatened on the streets as they went about their day-to-day lives. None of the perpetrators were prosecuted. The lack of law enforcement protection means that LGBTQIA+ people lose trust in the justice system, which enables systemic discrimination from the continued invalidation of victimhood.
Finding liberation in Queer space
Fifth, the Queer space is liberating, but getting to that space is thorny for LGBTQIA+ individuals. Most participants noted that they went through multiple homophobic systems and had to live in a family that normalises violence against Queer people. After being physically and mentally tortured by those close to them, Queer people are forced to find a way to escape this violent reality, either by attending university, going to work or simply fleeing their town and moving abroad. However, when this is not an option, Queer individuals are forced to navigate an unwelcoming environment for Queer Bosnians, with a policing of personal expression as a tool to adhere to the expectations of others and decrease risk of prejudiced exclusion and condemning media representation. Consequently, when LGBTQIA+ individuals find others who feel or look like them, they stop policing their own behaviour and gestures or choice of clothes to wear, which allows them to fit within homophobic systems like their family, school or neighbourhood. As soon as they find a safe space for themselves, like an organisation, club or gathering, then they can feel liberated and valued for their authentic expression of their testimony.
Conclusion
The participants’ narratives shed light on the prevalence of homophobia within families, communities, schools and legal systems, burdening the social space available for Queer Bosnians. For those living in Bosnia, homophobia was not merely seen as isolated incidents but rather as a systemic problem deeply rooted in the cultural fabric of Bosnia, with emphasis on how social institutions perpetuate and reinforce heteronormative norms and behaviours. The marginalisation of Queer people in socio-environmental spaces is not incidental but rather structurally produced through the state’s ideological institutions, where Queer people are stripped of belonging within their shared environment. When Queer people are subjected to meeting spaces outside of the public sphere, when families disown their children or when schools fail to provide affirming environments for Queer people to thrive, the result illustrates a shrinking in socio-environmental space and denial of Queer inclusion. The Bosnian example also demonstrates how systemic homophobia is not only an epistemic but also an environmental issue, as it shapes who can safely claim space and engage in education and advocacy. Yet, through everyday peace, pathways and relationships are built to enable sustainable inclusion for shared stories and intersectional inclusive education to promote socio-environmental justice.
The participants’ testimonies, gathered through inductive research, illustrate how homophobia in Bosnia is not just an individual prejudice but a deeply ingrained, systemic issue. This systemic exclusion denies credibility and recognition of Queer individuals, dismissing their experiences and treating their identities as illegitimate within social and institutional structures of Bosnia as an enactment of testimonial injustice (Fricker, Reference Fricker2007). The lack of inclusive sharing and acceptance of lived experiences, rejection within families, and the hostile environments in schools and neighbourhoods contribute to a broader epistemic marginalisation, and it creates a geography of exclusion where Queer voices are rendered invisible and unsafe. However, in response to these challenges, this article identifies the everyday peacebuilding strategies Queer individuals use to navigate hostile environments. Through strategic visibility, careful self-presentation and the creation of intimate, localised support networks, they engage in micro-level peacebuilding to maintain stability and resilience in their daily lives (Yavuz, Reference Yavuz2025b). While these adaptive strategies allow for survival and community building, they also highlight the limitations of everyday peace, as they do not directly challenge or dismantle the structural conditions that sustain homophobia and restrict environmental advocacy. Addressing these injustices requires both everyday acts of resistance and broader systemic change, ensuring that LGBTQIA+ individuals are not only able to share space in peace but are also fully recognised as credible voices in their current realities and in shaping their futures, thereby including Queer epistemology within environmental education and advocacy.
Acknowledgements
The first author would like to thank the convener and the audience at the 2025 International Studies Association Conference in Chicago for their valuable feedback and insightful questions on an earlier version of this paper.
Ethical statement
Ethics approval no: HE2021-0071. Ethics approval was granted by the University of Manitoba, Canada. Participants provided informed consent, and no adverse events occurred during the study.
Financial support
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
Author Biographies
Mehmet Yavuz is an Assistant Professor and Director of the Creative Peacebuilding and Conflict Transformation Lab at Kansas State University. His work focuses on queer peacebuilding, examining how peacebuilding unfolds in divided societies, including Bosnia and Herzegovina, Cyprus and Northern Ireland. His research explores the intersections of peacebuilding, identity, activism and marginalisation, focusing on how these dynamics shape societies and drive transformative change. Dr. Yavuz’s latest publications have appeared in academic journals such as Conflict Resolution Quarterly, Journal of Homosexuality, Studies in Social Justice, Peace Review: A Journal for Social Justice, and Peace and Conflict Studies Journal.
Peyton Woods is a Ph.D. student in the Prevention Sciences programme at Kansas State University. Their research focuses on identity development and negotiation during social and relational transitions, with particular attention to how individuals define themselves within social groups and how personal identity enactments are interpreted by social partners. Peyton is also a member of Creative Peacebuilding and Conflict Transformation Lab.
Daniela Premuda is a legal professional and community researcher based in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina. She holds an LL.M. in Public International Law (Human Rights track) from Utrecht University, where she was a Bright Minds Fellow, with additional training in peace and security studies. Her work bridges law, grassroots activism, and everyday peacebuilding, with a focus on women’s rights, queers, refugees, and post-conflict societies in the Western Balkans. After professional experience in the Netherlands, she returned to Sarajevo to contribute to locally rooted, justice-oriented peace practices. Daniela is also a member of Creative Peacebuilding and Conflict Transformation Lab.
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