1. September 2014



Vi kunne høre torturofrenes skrik

Shappal Ibrahim er en fredlig aktivist fra Unionen for unge kurdere. Da han ble kontaktet av en representant for syriske myndigheter som utga seg for a være en støttespiller av “revolusjonen”, forstod han ikke at det hele var et plott for å arrestrere ham for menneskerettighetsarbeidet hans.

Etter å ha avtalt et møte 22 september 2011 ble han kjørt bort og anholdt iQamishli, hans egen hjemby. Han ble en av Syrias mange “forsvunne” og holdt fanget i hemmelighet i nesten to år før han ble løslatt som en del av et amnesti fra presidenten 29. mai 2013.

Her gir han oss et sjeldent innblikk i et av Syrias mange hemmelige fengsler.

av Shappal Ibrahim.

They beat us and insulted us when we entered the detention facility at one of the Damascus branches of Air Force Intelligence. We were beaten for hours and then thrown into jail – 13 men in a 2×2 metre cell. We had to take turns to sit down.

One by one, the detainees were called and taken to the interrogation room. Their screams filled the corridors as they were tortured.  People would come back wrapped in blankets stained with their blood.

They beat me with a cable and electrocuted me on my feet. They would not ask me anything specific; they just accused and insulted me, then they hit me in the face. They wanted me to sign a confession.

There was very little water and food available and we were only allowed to sleep when the prison guards allowed us to.

We were then transferred to another place in Bab Touma – which is also connected to Air Force Intelligence – and three months later to Saydnaya Military Prison near Damascus.

There, they had a system to break us down.

Food was so inadequate we were always hungry and they gave us only a few clothes even though the temperature was extremely cold.

They called me in for questioning many times and the torture was never-ending.

They would ask me to take off my clothes and then sprayed cold water on my body. Then the interrogator would walk on my body and hit me on my back and my feet.

In those difficult moments I was thinking of my three children, my wife, my parents, my friends and the revolutionary movement.

Despite my pains, wounds, illnesses and being cut off from my family, I could still feel the revolution within me and the enthusiasm ignite me again. The principles that brought me to that place are the same that caused me to feel hope and defiance and to not to give up.

In the year and eight months I was detained, I was only allowed one visit, 22 days before my release.

My younger brother Joan was able to see me for six minutes.

Then on 29 May 2013, one of the guards came to our cell and told me I would be released. I didn’t believe him, I thought I was going to be executed. The guards shaved my hair off and I was sure I was going to die. But then they just gave me my things and released me. I didn’t know why, I felt sheer disbelief.

When I arrived in my hometown Qamishli, many people were waiting for me. My friends carried me on their shoulders, they had prepared a reception where I gave a speech to the crowd. It was a moment of great significance to me. I felt like I was born again, and embraced my children and family and was filled with tears of joy.

I felt a great responsibility towards what I saw, and gathered my strength again, and promised myself that I’d dedicate my whole life so as not to let down my people.

Information was leaked to Syrian security once again of my continued activities so they sent me a threat, which prompted my family and my friends to request that I leave Syria.

I remain indebted to my friends and family for their tireless solidarity; they continued to push for my release, organize demonstrations to ensure my case was not forgotten.

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14. August 2014



Egypts mørkeste dag

I dag er det ett år siden egyptiske sikkerhetsstyrker slaktet ned mer enn 600 demonstrater. I løpet av året som har gått har ikke en eneste offiser blitt straffeforfulgt.

Det egyptiske strafferettssystemet har derimot vært raske til å arrestere, stille for retten og dømme påståtte Mursi-tilhengere i svært urettferdige rettssaker. Allerede har 230 personer blitt dømt til døden og domstoler har anbefalt dødsdommer for over tusen mennesker.


Amnesty International’s Egypt-etterforsker Mohamed Elmessiry var vine til den grusomme massakren på Rabaa al-Adaweya-plassen og har kjempet for rettferdighet for ofre og deres pårørende siden.

 I woke to a 7am phonecall. “It’s started.”

This was the day I had feared since the protests began on 28 June 2013. After a month and a half, the Egyptian security forces had lost patience. I called a contact I knew on the square. “Live bullets are raining down on us, randomly,” he told me. “The security forces are dismantling the Rabaa Al-Adaweya and Nahda squares sit-ins.” I could hear shots rattling down the line.

An Amnesty colleague and I rushed to the sit-in protest at Rabaa. We tried to enter from all directions – but tear gas and gunfire made it impossible. We tried the exit route on Nasr street, designated “safe” by the Interior Ministry, but even here the bullets were flying. On every street injured people lay bleeding on the floor, dragged into doorways as medics tried to treat them.

At around 11am we entered the al-Salam mosque on one of the side streets near Rabaa. The mosque had been converted into a field hospital. There were at least eight dead bodies, all killed by gunshots to the head or chest. Every few minutes another casualty was brought in, mostly hit in the upper body by live ammunition. Many of them bled to death within five to 10 minutes and were placed with the other bodies in the corner of the mosque.

One of the protesters there had carried in the body of his friend. He told us how they had been attacked: “The security forces took no mercy on us. They fired tear gas and pellets for the first 45 minutes, then they used live ammunition randomly. They were even shooting those trying to help the injured. What religion tells you to shoot and kill innocent people?!”

I remember another man, in his early 20s, who was carried into the mosque after being shot in the face. He bled from his nose and mouth until he died. Minutes after he died, his mother called his phone. She’d only just missed her last chance to talk to him.

From al-Salam we tried to move to the closest large hospital, but soldiers blocked us. “It’s not the right time,” they said.

It wasn’t until the next day that I realized the scale of the massacre. That became clear after we visited the morgue, hospitals and the al-Iman mosque, where many of the bodies from Rabaa were taken.

Police claim that they were able to differentiate between peaceful and violent protesters: “We have very high-tech vehicles, “Sherda”, with cameras that can zoom up to 8km,” a police officer with the Central Security Forces told Amnesty International. “This is how we differentiated between armed and peaceful protesters, when we used force.”

But what we saw next made it clear they had not:

The Morgue

There’s a path from the main street to the gate of the morgue – it’s around 400 meters long. This path was full of dead bodies and cars carrying even more waiting for autopsy. The bodies lay exposed to Cairo’s August sun. I saw relatives crying as they tried to put ice on the bodies of their loved ones to stop them rotting in the heat, and asking god to give them patience.

Inside the morgue, it was chaos. Dead bodies everywhere, even in the head of the morgue’s office. By the time we arrived, the morgue had already conducted 108 autopsies. They had over a hundred more to do.

I was devastated to see the family of journalist and protestor Habiba Abdel Aziz. She’d been killed by a live bullet to the chest, and her family was trying to collect her body. I had spoken to her just over a week earlier, when she told me:

“I am not Muslim Brotherhood and I don’t belong to them…I am protesting here because I don’t want to see the military rule back. I will not leave this sit-in unless I die or Morsi is reinstated….I voted for Mohamed Morsi and it was the first time my vote counts…..the military don’t have the authority to take out my vote and oust a democratically elected president.”

Habiba was not armed during the dispersal, she was utterly against any form of violent demonstration. She’s just one example of the hundreds of peaceful protestors killed that day.

We left the morgue and headed to al-Iman mosque near Rabaa in Nasr city, a district of Cairo.


The Mosque

The mosque stank of death and decomposing bodies. Corpses were heaped on the floor, leaving no space to walk. When we arrived, we counted 98 dead. A register in the corner had kept track of those that had come in and then been collected by their families. A total of 267 killed.

There were women and children among them. Again, almost all of the dead had been shot with live ammunition in the head or upper body.

Horrifyingly, we noticed six burned bodies in the mosque. Some of them had been burned alive, others after they died. Some were burned so badly as to be unrecognizable, and people were wondering how their families would identify them.

The doctors there told us they had been burned by security forces in their tents or when security forces set fire to the medical centre. One described how he was treated when security forces stormed the building: “A security officer hit me on the back with the butt of their rifle and pushed me towards the stairs. After I left the centre with the rest, the security forces set it on fire.”

Another medic said:

“The security forces were storming the medical centre and I saw snipers on the roofs of buildings near the medical centre dressed in black. We were then forced out by the security forces and had to leave both patients and bodies behind. I hope they weren’t left there when security forces set the medical centre on fire.”


The National Council for Human Rights puts the civilian death toll at 632, and says the majority were peaceful demonstrators caught in crossfire.

Some protesters at Rabaa al-Adawiya admitted to Amnesty International that they had used rocks and Molotov cocktails, setting police vehicles alight in an attempt to prevent the dispersal. And there is no doubt that following the dispersals of the sit-ins, some Morsi supporters did use violence, including firearms, launching attacks on the Giza Governorate building, police stations and security personnel.

But that does not give security forces carte blanche to open fire indiscriminately on protesters.

 For the past year, Amnesty International has been calling on the Egyptian government to conduct an impartial and independent investigation into the excessive use of lethal force by security forces on 14 August. Despite a wealth of compelling evidence heavily implicating the Egyptian military in killing protesters, not a single security officer has been referred to trial for the bloodiest incident in Egypt’s recent history. That fact is an affront to humanity. Egypt must bring those responsible to justice.

Dette ble publisert på dagen etter massakren for et år siden.

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1. August 2014



Bombene stanser først når solen står opp

Bombene regner over Gaza mens innbyggerne forsøker å leve sine liv som normalt. Les den sterke bloggen fra en natt i huset til en menneskerettighetsarbeider i Gaza.

Last Monday into Tuesday were the scariest day and night since the current conflict began. The violence finally reached the area where I live; where I, my children and neighbours had thought it was safe.

After I finished the day’s work gathering information on the killing of the young boys in the Shati Refugee camp on the first day of Eid and the killing of the first Palestinian Christian in this war – both close to where I live – I lay on the couch and started watching the TV. There was a blackout, but I had switched on the generator.

The news helps me capture the bigger picture, because during the day I focus so much on specific cases and details. Soon after I lay down at around 10:30pm, I fell into a deep sleep and the television remote control fell from my hand. I was woken by the sound of a very loud explosion which was followed by many others in quick succession. We are used to the sounds of explosions from Israeli bombings, but these were extremely loud so we knew that it was very close.

The kids and my other relatives who were displaced and are now staying with me came running to me. I was still stretched on the couch, exhausted. When bombing gets close or when my family is scared they always come to me. They think I can protect them from this or that I am some sort of saviour. Of course in reality, there is nothing that I can do.

Bombs lighting up the sky

I got up and and found the sky was lit by loud explosions nearby, in Al-Abbas, Ansar, the Shifa hospital area, and Gaza port. Soon afterwards, intense shelling from the Israeli ships and aerial bombings started. The sounds of explosions, glass breaking, and walls falling down was overwhelming. I told the kids and family to run downstairs and hide in the stairwell and try to keep to the eastern side because the naval shelling was coming from the sea in the west. The windows of my house did not break because I had put duct tape in the shape of a cross all over them to reinforce the glass.

It was terrifying, absolutely terrifying. The bombing went on until six in the morning. It only stopped when the sun came out.

At around 3am the building to the west of my house and the building in front of it were hit with missiles fired by planes. The explosions were a mix of naval shelling and aerial bombings.

Nowhere to go

My family and the neighbours panicked and people started leaving their houses, not knowing where to go. My family was asking me whether we should leave the building and the neighbours were also shouting at us to leave, but where could we go? I told everyone that we should stay put. Imagine if we left, towards Shifa hospital, which was bombed yesterday but is still considered the safest place in the Gaza Strip. To get there we would need to walk in a big group with children and keep close to walls. The drones may not see we are a fleeing family, and we could easily be bombed. I made it clear to everyone that we have nowhere to go and that we should remain under the stairs at the bottom of the building.

Some neighbours made it to Shifa hospital and they told us the next day just how crowded it was. I thought of the people who were forced to leave their homes in Shuja’iya and other neighbourhoods – they are now living without shelter or any support. I thought that soon I may be like them. But I did not share that with my family.

We spent eight hours hiding in the same place. Every once in a while one of us would go to make tea or coffee to pass the time. But the atmosphere was frenetic; my children would be laughing like crazy at one point and then break down crying a moment later. At one point my young daughter Huda started shivering and her body was as cold as ice; it was as if someone threw her into ice-cold water. Other kids started crying too.

Silencing the media

The scariest part was when they bombed the media building. During bombing raids, we rely on the radio news, which we listen to on our cell phones, providing a life-line to the outside world. Without it, there is only the sound of the bombs. We were listening to Al-Aqsa radio, but then it stopped after it was hit. We switched to other stations but they all went off the air, one after the other. That was the most worrying thing for me because it made me feel that I lost what little control I had over the situation.

We remained in silence except for the sound of bombing, which after a couple of hours becomes a background noise you get used to, like that of the generator or the fridge.

Rumours and confusion in the darkness

False news began to circulate, creating panic and confusion. Now, with the electricity also completely out, we were in complete darkness. I could have turned on the generator but I needed to hear the war planes and the drones to know how close they were.

At 6am on 29 July when the bombing stopped I went downstairs to check on my car and the surrounding area. I was worried that my car was damaged because, believe it or not, the insurance in Gaza does not cover damage from war. This is crazy; we have war all the time.

I found a large crater in the middle of the street caused by what seemed like shelling from the sea. It was scarily close to our house. I then went on to check on my neighbour’s home and found the roof had been penetrated by a missile. It was the same for another two neighbours’ homes.

By bombing our neighbourhood they are sending a message that there really is nowhere safe in Gaza. I realised that, at any moment, my neighbourhood could turn into Shuja’iya – reduced to rubble by the bombs.

Getting used to the terror

After doing a quick check of the neighbourhood I went home and slept for a couple of hours. Then I got up, took a cold shower, and set off to work again as if nothing had happened. This is life in Gaza, terror at night and massacres in the day. You get used to this; you have no choice.

I do my work during the day and do not think about the night until it comes, otherwise I will remain worried. What is important is that my family and I all wake up safe. In any case, we have nowhere to go; we can only remain in my home.

A sense of purpose amid the peril

At least feel like I have a purpose during the hardship, and this is what keeps me going. I need to keep focused on documenting human rights violations and reporting on them – to get the truth about what’s happening in Gaza out to the world. I feel like I have a duty to serve, not only Gaza, but the whole of humanity.

What happens here is not only about Palestinians, it is about the whole human race.

Dette innlegget er skrevet av en menneskerettighetsarbeider i Gaza. 

Aksjonér for å stanse våpenhandelen til Israel og Hamas her

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3. July 2014

Prioriterer Regjeringen flyktninger?

Det er flott at Høyre i mandagens VG setter søkelyset på båtflyktningenes farlige ferd over Middelhavet.

Stortingsrepresentant for Høyre og medlem av Europarådet, Kristin Ørmen Johnsen, skriver i en kronikk at båtflyktningene og migrasjonsstrømmen over Middelhavet er en av Europas største utfordringer. Det er vi helt enig med henne i. Italia er det største mottakerlandet i Europa og 60.000 flyktninger skal så langt i år ha ankommet landet. Tusenvis dør i forsøk på å flykte fra elendighet og krig. Syriske flyktninger utgjør en stadig større andel av fortvilte mennesker som ikke ser noen annen måte å komme i trygghet til Europa på enn ved en farlig ferd over havet.

Kristin Ørmen Johnsen utfordrer Europarådets gjenvalgte leder Thorbjørn Jagland til å løse problemet.

Ingenting er bedre enn at så mange nasjonale og internasjonale aktører som mulig er seg sitt ansvar bevisst, og innser at det kreves handling når vi står overfor den største flyktningkrisen i nyere historie.

Men før man stiller krav til andre, bør man sørge for å feie for egen dør. I dette tilfellet er det snakk om å åpne døren for flere syriske flyktninger.

Ørmen Johnsen skriver at Regjeringen tar situasjonen på alvor, og at statsminister Erna Solberg var i Italia 23. juni for å bli orientert om flyktningsituasjonen. Vi håper statsministeren da gjorde seg noen refleksjoner rundt Norges praktisering av Dublin-avtalen.

Ifølge Dublin-avtalen er det første ankomstland som bør behandle en asylsøkers asylsøknad, men dette er ikke et krav eller plikt.

Dublin-avtalen ble etablert for blant annet å forhindre følgende: 1) at asylsøkere som har fått behandlet sin asylsøknad og fått avslag på denne i ett “Dublin-land” skal kunne søke om asyl i et annet “Dublin-land” eller i et tredje “Dublin-land”, og 2) at ingen “Dublin-land” skal ende opp med å måtte ta ansvaret for majoriteten av asylsøkere alene. Dublin-avtalen er med andre ord basert på gjensidig tillitt landene i mellom både når det gjelder å sikre likebehandling av asylsøkerne og rettferdig byrdefordeling av antallet asylsøkere hvert land skal ta ansvar for. I praksis er det verken likebehandling av asylsøkerne eller en rettferdig byrdefordeling landene i mellom.

De rike “Dublin-landene” nord i Europa er såre tilfreds med at det er Hellas og ikke minst Italia som på grunn av sin geografiske beliggenhet er første ankomstland for den store majoriteten av flyktningene som kommer til Europa. Italia har nå sagt at “nok er nok”, enten så tar resten av Europa ansvar og tar imot langt flere flyktninger eller så trekker Italia seg fra hele Dublin-avtalen og lar være å ta fingeravtrykk av flyktningene og lar de reise fritt videre til andre europeiske land.

Dublin-avtalen fungerer med andre ord ikke etter intensjonene.

I en situasjon hvor borgerkrigen i Syria gjør at vi står overfor den største humanitære krisen siden 2. verdenskrig, velger norske myndigheter å bruke Dublin-avtalen til å avvise syriske asylsøkere og sende dem tilbake til første ankomstland. I løpet av 2013 og første kvartal av 2014 har kun 1.155 syriske asylsøkere klart å komme til Norge. 177 av asylsøkerne har Norge avvist i henhold til Dublin-avtalen og sendt tilbake til første ankomstland enten det gjelder Italia som allerede har ansvaret for 60.000 flyktninger eller Sverige som så langt har gitt permanent opphold til mer enn 20.000 syriske asylsøkere. Ikke rart svenskene synes vi er utrolig smålige.

Hele 2,8 millioner syriske flyktninger er på flukt utenfor Syria, og 97% av disse befinner seg i nabolandene Libanon, Jordan, Tyrkia, Egypt og Irak. I Libanon er snart hver tredje innbygger en syrisk flyktning, Tyrkia har tatt imot 1,05 millioner flyktninger, Jordan mer enn 600.000, og Irak og Egypt hver seg mer enn henholdsvis 100.000 og 200.000 syriske flyktninger. Felles for landene er at de gjentatte ganger det siste halvannet året har gjort det klar at de ikke makter å være alene om å skulle beskytte og ivareta rettighetene til de mange syriske flyktningene, og at Europa og resten av verden må ta imot flere flyktninger. FNs Høykommissær for flyktninger (UNHCR) kommer med samme oppfordring. Og senest på fredag 27. juni arrangerte UNHCR en såkalt high level konferanse om den syriske flyktningkrisen med representanter for myndighetene i europeiske og ikke-europeiske land.

Mener Høyre at dagens praksis er en god måte å ivareta flyktningenes rettigheter og behov på, og at det er en god byrdefordeling landene i mellom for å sikre dette?

Amnesty utfordrer Høyre og Regjeringen til å sette flyktningkrisen høyt på sin dagsorden og ta i mot flere flyktninger fra Syria.

Tar dere utfordringen, Høyre?

Politisk rådgiver Beate Ekeløve-Slydal er Amnesty i Norges ekspert på asyl- og flyktningespørsmål. En kortere versjon av dette innlegget ble trykket i VG torsdag 4. juli. 

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27. June 2014



Støtter opp om kjærlighetsbudskapet


Forfatter Tom Egeland mener at #FromOslowithlove er et budskap som enhver by i hele verden med fordel kan stå opp for.

- Egentlig burde det være unødvendig å ha kampanjer som dette i 2014, men dessverre ser vi jo at det ikke er det. Det er fortsatt mange fordommer mot homofili, og da syns jeg det er innlysende at ethvert oppegående menneske skal støtte denne saken.

- Jeg håper jo at Oslo på sitt beste er en åpen og inkluderende by, en by med færrest mulig fordommer, samtidig vet vi at det ikke er slik hele tiden og ikke overalt, sier han.

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26. June 2014



Et personlig forhold til pride


Blogger Suzanne Aabel vil gjerne være med og støtte Europride.

- Først og fremst fordi det finnes en gay person inni meg også, søsteren min er lesbisk og jødisk, mine bestevenner er homofile, jeg har jobbet på Blikk som er et homofilt livsstilsmagasin. Så jeg har ingen forståelse for at man ikke kan elske en av det samme kjønn. Og det er helt ulogisk at andre skal legge seg oppi det, sier Suzanne.


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26. June 2014



La andre være seg sjæl!


Programleder Ida Fladen har et klart kjærlighetsbudskap fra Oslo.

- Mitt livsmotto er jo «vær deg sjæl». Folk må tørre det, tørre å gi litt faen i hva andre måtte mene. Man må tørre å vise hvem man er, selv om andre har noe i mot det. Også må man la andre være seg sjæl!

Ida er svært opptatt av å bekjempe alle typer forhåndsdømming og er stolt av Oslo for sin åpenhet.

- Uansett om det kommer til legning, kultur eller hudfarge – her er det rom for alle, sier hun.

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26. June 2014



Mann på kvinneavdeling

«Hun ligger på rom #000» «Hun trenger smertestillende» «Hun trenger hjelp til stell».  Det var beskjeden jeg fikk da jeg kom på jobb på sykehuset den dagen.

«Ok, den er grei», tenkte jeg og gikk til rom #000 som jeg hadde gjort så mange ganger før.

Jeg husker fortsatt forvirringen da jeg møtte den mannlige pasienten som lå i sengen. Hvorfor omtalte de denne pasienten som om det var en kvinne? Og hvorfor lå han på en kvinneavdeling?

Mens jeg ventet på rapport om hvem mannen var, løp tankene først til mulige forklaringer.  Kanskje grunnen var at det ikke var nok plass på andre avdelinger ved sykehuset.  Eller hadde vi begynt å ta inn mannlige pasienter?  Hvorfor hadde jeg i så fall ikke fått opplæring i å stelle mannlige pasienter?  Dette var absurd.

Det viste seg å være en person som nylig hadde foretatt en kjønnskorrigerende operasjon for å bli mann. Da jeg endelig fikk oppklart mysteriet om pasienten på rom #000 opplevde jeg det som et svik. Både fra personalet som også etter operasjonen forholdt seg til ham som om han var en kvinne. Men mest overfor pasienten som våknet opp fra narkose og burde bli møtt av en helseperosnell som var mentalt forberedt på hans situasjon, slik at han kunne få riktig medisinsk stell.

Hva ligger til grunn for at han ble plassert på en kvinneavdeling?

Diskursen rundt transpersoner i Norge bunner  i diskriminerende holdninger.  De rettslige forholdene tillater ikke juridisk kjønnsskifte før en godkjenningsprosess er på plass, og helsepersonell er spesielt i sentrum for denne beslutningsprosessen.  Diskrimingeringen blir ekstra synlig i helsevesenet når usikkerheten rundt kjønn forårsaker kommunikasjonssvikt selv på det laveste nivået.

Til tross for at han hadde gjennomgått psykiatriske tester, hormonbehandlinger og kirurgiske inngrep inkludert irreversibel sterilisering var han fortsatt ikke gitt muligheten til å bli forstått som en mann. Han måtte derimot fremdeles vente på å få endret sitt juridiske kjønn.

Denne dagen forsøkte jeg å gi ham en så verdig sykehusopplevelse jeg kunne, på tross av at sykehuset ikke la til rette for at jeg skulle det.

Denne bloggen er skrevet av en helsearbeider ved et norsk sykehus. Personen ønsker ikke å stå frem ved navn.
Les mer om Amnestys arbeid for transpersoners rettigheter i Norge og Europa. 

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26. June 2014



“Møt de menneskene du er redd for”


Ordfører Fabian Stang synes Europride skaper skikkelig liv og leven i byen. Han ønsker at Oslo skal være en by hvor mangfoldet har gode levekår.

- Vi er jo kommet forholdsvis langt i Norge når det gjelder å respektere hverandre uavhengig av seksuell legning, men vi ser jo at vi fortsatt har et stykke igjen. Og mange andre steder i verden så det jo en enorm vei å gå. Her har vi i Norge en jobb å gjøre, også i forhold til andre land.

- Mitt budskap er, møt de menneskene du er redd for, det fjerner frykten.

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25. June 2014



Størst av alt er kjærligheten


Domkirkeprest i Oslo, Birte Nordahl, mener Europride viser at “størst av alt er kjærligheten”.

- Jeg opplever at Europride er med på å gi kjærligheten et ansikt ved å feire menneskemangfoldet og dets stolthet. Europride setter likeverd og rettigheter på dagsorden. Det er helt nødvendig. Vi har en lang vei å gå fortsatt, for eksempel i religiøse miljøer og institusjoner.

- Min drøm er at alle mennesker her og i alle byer og land skal få feire kjærligheten og få lov til å snakke både fritt og sant om hvem de er.

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