Last week, Kesaria Abramidze, a prominent transgender woman, was brutally murdered in her own apartment—stabbed and left to die. It struck me that if someone like her, radiant and glamorous, who went on TV shows and actively created social media content, could be killed in such a horrific manner, what hope do other LGBTQ individuals in this country have? Georgia’s democracy is deteriorating, particularly after the recent passage of two controversial laws: the foreign agents’ law and an anti-LGBTQ measure.
The police acted swiftly last Tuesday, as rumors circulated that the suspect was her long-term lover, a 26-year-old man, who allegedly killed her “following a personal conflict” before fleeing the scene. As a reporter tired of witnessing rampant phobias in this small nation, I found it all too coincidental that the murder occurred just after these laws were enacted, and that the suspect fled in such a cowardly manner. The police opened a case for premeditated murder with aggravating circumstances based on gender hatred. Kesaria’s on-and-off boyfriend, known for his history of violence toward her, was apprehended while attempting to leave Georgia. It puzzles me to this day why someone who had openly threatened her before would commit such a loud and public crime, be captured on CCTV, and flee without attempting to cover his tracks. Naturally, he was quickly apprehended.
Context is crucial here. Georgian lawmakers recently supported a bill targeting LGBTQ rights amid a crackdown on civil society, drawing condemnation from the US and the European Union. The ruling party, Georgian Dream, proposed measures that include banning “LGBT propaganda” and outlawing same-sex marriages and adoptions. In a recent vote in Tbilisi, legislators overwhelmingly backed the bill, while the opposition boycotted the session.
Kesaria Abramidze was one of the most prominent transgender figures in the country, admired for her charm, wit, and outspoken nature. Her loss leaves a significant void. In this internet age, nothing is forgotten; videos of her recounting her joys and struggles circulate widely. In one video, made months before her death, she revealed her history of being manipulated and experiencing violence, a fact which prompted her to leave the country for a time. She also once said, while representing Georgia at a beauty pageant, that she didn’t want to mention the problems and abuse suffered by transgender and gay people in Georgia in order to protect her country – and yet the country did not protect her back.
Under the so-called Protection of Family Values and Minors legal package, schools and universities are to be prohibited from teaching about same-sex relations, and public demonstrations advocating for LGBTQ rights will be outlawed. This mirrors similar laws passed in Russia.
Despite her popularity, I barely knew Kesaria, even though her hometown, Vani, is where my ancestors are from. This historic town, like much of Georgia, is steeped in religious sentiment and patriarchy.
Conversations about her evoke a mix of sympathy and condemnation; many pity her not for her tragic end, but for her choice to transition. Some say she was a true woman, wanting the same things as anyone else: love, family, and perhaps children.
Cathy Jeanne Maclain, a professional therapist, told me, “The atmosphere of homophobia in Georgia is terrible. It is supported by the government, making people feel it is acceptable, even good, to get rid of ‘those’ people.”
I attended Kesaria’s wake with my husband to show that long-term relationships, love, and understanding are what LGBTQ individuals desire too. Her friends and family shared that she yearned to start a family with her partner, a dream now shattered.
Kesaria was fortunate, as her family accepted her for who she was. In both good and bad times, her mother, sister, and friends stood by her. Tragically, six other transgender individuals who have over time been murdered in Georgia were not so lucky. I cried at Kesaria’s wake alongside her mother, with images of her, looking like a winged goddess, surrounding us. Her life ended in a mundane tragedy: a domestic conflict with the man she loved. Yet her death was rooted in transphobia and femicide.
It feels like everything ends with Kesaria. I truly doubt anyone will dare to take a stand in this country now, especially with the current laws in place. Kesaria did not die alone; our freedom died with her. The chilling message from this brutal case is clear: this could happen to anyone, whether famous or not.
Blog by Helena Bedwell
