Hope as a Strategy: What's Happening to Queer Rights in the World — and Why We Will Win Anyway

Every June, the world is painted in the colors of the rainbow. But in 2026, behind the bright parades and sequins, there is a question that more and more people within the community are asking themselves: Does the average queer person have any real reason to hope? We are used to opposing shame with pride. But in the face of a global right-wing turn, a stressful economy, and a world in which AI is changing the rules of the game faster than legislation can keep up, Pride alone may not be enough.

A wound that does not heal

It is impossible to begin a conversation about hope without first acknowledging that it seems to many to be an unattainable luxury. Not because of a weak character, but because of the accumulated trauma, which psychologists call a "basic wound": the experience of school bullying, rejection by the family, years of life with a sense of "otherness" that needs to be hidden.

These wounds have quite measurable consequences. Research from the Williams Institute at UCLA shows that LGBTQ+ people in the U.S. face higher levels of depression, anxiety and economic insecurity than their heterosexual peers — And this is after decades of formal progress in rights. Exclusion itself is costly: discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity can cost a country up to 1% of GDP.

To make matters worse, community members sometimes treat each other. High demands for political "correctness", intolerance of mistakes, public reprisals on social networks – all this creates what can be called a "deficit of hope" within the environment itself. When you've survived on the outside, but you feel like a stranger on the inside, it's especially destructive.

World map in 2026: alarming but ambiguous

A look at the global picture can be frightening. In 2025, U.S. President Donald Trump rolled back years of funding for global human rights initiatives and HIV prevention programs, and lawmakers in Ghana, Kazakhstan, and Turkey tightened legislation against LGBTQ+ people. In the same year, Burkina Faso and Trinidad and Tobago criminalized same-sex relations.

These figures are not an abstraction. According to Outright International, the U.S. has abruptly stopped funding LGBTQ+ inclusion projects in low- and middle-income countries, paralyzing dozens of organizations around the world. Even in progressive cities like Los Angeles, clinics that provided access to HIV treatment and gender-affirmative health care are closing.

Europe's reaction is ambivalent. Hungary under Orbán's leadership continues to shrink the space for LGBTQ+ people, but according to reports, the ban on Budapest Pride in 2025 did not stop the march, with between 180,000 and 200,000 people participating.

But this is only part of the picture.

At the same time, Thailand and Liechtenstein legalized same-sex marriage, and Lithuania celebrated the first same-sex civil partnerships. On January 23, 2025, Thailand became the first country in Southeast Asia to officially recognize same-sex marriage. In the Netherlands, a symbolic event took place: Rob Jetten was sworn in as the country's prime minister, becoming the first openly homosexual head of government in the Netherlands, the country that in 2001 was the first in the world to legalize same-sex marriage. In April 2026, Amsterdam celebrated the 25th anniversary of the first same-sex weddings, and current Prime Minister Rob Jetten announced his upcoming wedding of his own with a partner.

This is not just good news. This is a signal that the historical pendulum is swinging in both directions at the same time.

Economics as an argument

One of the most underrated arguments in favor of LGBTQ+ rights remains economic. If the LGBTQ+ community were a separate country, it would become the world's fourth-largest economy with a GDP of about $4.6 trillion. The global LGBTQ+ tourism market is estimated to be worth around $357 billion in 2025 and could grow to $604 billion by 2032.

But it's not just about purchasing power. A study by the Williams Institute, which covered data from 132 countries over 45 years, found that every additional legal right for LGBTQ+ people was associated with an increase in GDP per capita of about $1,400 and a higher human development index. In other words, countries that discriminate against their queer citizens literally pay for it with money.

Молодёжь поколения Z, около 18% которого идентифицирует себя как негетеросексуальная, к 2030 году будет располагать совокупным доходом около 33 триллионов долларов. Это не нишевая группа, просящая о терпимости. Это экономическая сила, с которой придётся считаться.

In May 2025, stock exchanges recognized this: 15 exchanges on five continents joined the "Ring the Bell for LGBTQ+ Equality" campaign, a joint initiative of the UN and major market participants, including LSEG and EuroNext.

Lessons from the past: what the community can do

Queer history is primarily a story of survival in conditions where the state was either inactive or actively persecuted. The AIDS epidemic of the 1980s remains the clearest example: when the authorities were procrastinating, ignoring and turning away, it was LGBTQ+ activists who organized mutual support networks, forced pharmaceutical companies to accelerate clinical trials, and literally created a new model of patient activism that changed medicine.

This experience has not disappeared – it is being passed on. Today, we see a similar logic in the creation of queer medical cooperatives, self-help networks for trans people in countries where public medicine is not available to them, and the emergence of international legal foundations to help LGBTQ+ refugees.

It is noteworthy that in parallel, even against the backdrop of strict laws, quiet work continues inside the most repressive countries: underground support groups, encrypted chat rooms, networks of "safe houses". Repression creates the appearance of victory, but does not destroy the community itself.

Why Hope Is Not Naivety

It's easy to confuse hope with optimism. Optimism says: "Everything will be fine." Nadezhda says: "I don't know what will happen, but I will continue to act." This is a fundamental difference.

Real hope is built on three things.

Mutual trust within the community. Less witch hunts, more patience for those who make mistakes or are at the beginning of their journey. History shows that communities that are able to unite around common things turn out to be more stable than those that fragment around differences.

Autonomy of infrastructure. The creation of medical, legal, and social services on the principle of "us for us" is not a substitute for the political struggle, but as an insurance against its failures. While some doors are closing, others are opening: if the state retreats, the community builds its own networks of care.

Global thinking. National movements are increasingly facing coordinated international pressure – and must respond with coordinated international support. Courts in Japan, Botswana, and Hungary are preparing to rule on LGBTQ+ rights cases — and their outcome largely depends on how loud global solidarity sounds.

In lieu of a conclusion: the right to joy

Hope is not luxury or naivety. It is a survival tool. The ability to imagine a future in which you have a place, even if that future has not yet arrived, is a prerequisite for creating that future.

When a teenager comes to Pride for the first time and sees thousands of people who exist openly and without apologies, it's not just a celebration. This is an encounter with proof that another life is possible.

It is this proof that is worth defending – stubbornly, strategically and with joy.

The material was prepared using
data from the Williams Institute at UCLA,
Outright International, LGBT Capital, OECD
and Context by TRF.