Men’s views and understandings of sexual violence
Throughout the research, sexual violence was a term that was understood and used in different ways. Various terms were cited, sometimes used interchangeably. Sexual violence was most often understood as “rape”. A few participants spoke synonymously about “sexual exploitation” or “exploitation”, while others used the term “harassment”. One participant unpacked sexual violence as “being forced to do sex without willing”, whereas others more implicitly referred to “doing it by force” or “being taken by force”.
Waheed, a man from Afghanistan, stressed the mental aspect in his understanding of sexual violence: “For example, someone is walking and you forcefully catch them and rape them or perpetrate this action with them […] and they are not mentally ready for it. This is a negative act: it is one-sided, it is enforced and there is no coordination”. Others’ understanding similarly differed according to the context and the victim-perpetrator relationship in which the violence occurred. Montasser, from Syria, distinguished sexual violence from rape: “Sexual violence is between a man and his wife. I mean, at home, in the family. Rape is between any man and any woman, it is possible on the road, possible in the forest and possible at sea”, the latter implying the perpetrator is unknown to the victim.
Most participants’ understanding of sexual violence were deeply gendered, viewing it as a form of violence predominantly– if, according to some, exclusively– experienced by women. Musaab, a man from Sudan, envisioned sexual violence as involving a female victim and a male perpetrator: “If I ask her and she says no and I take her by force, this is rape […] but if she is a woman, if she did this to me, then it is normal. If I enforced that, then this is rape”. Underpinning these myths, some believed that men would be physically unable to be forced to have sex (“how can his penis become hard when he doesn’t want it?”), that in case of sexual violence “men resist” or “can, at least, protect themselves”, and that men are always ready and willing to engage in sex with women – rendering it impossible for a woman to force a man into such acts.
Similarly, sexual violence against men was often associated with, or considered equivalent to homosexuality, with the perpetrator presumed to be male. This presumed association rendered male sexual violence an absolute taboo for some participants. For Iyas, a man from Sudan, “it is not allowed by my religion to know about that [sexual violence]”. However, situating sexual violence against men within a migratory context, Youssef, from Sudan, explicitly detached the issue from homosexuality: “[I am] not thinking they [the border guards] are gay, it’s just some sort of violence”.
Men’s experiences with sexual violence
These abovementioned understandings and views on sexual violence strongly shaped men’s narratives of their own experiences with violence and victimhood. Recounting their experiences, sexual violence was a recurrent element when talking about women’s experiences they witnessed on the way to and in Europe. Within these accounts, the violence encountered by themselves as men was often contrasted with that of women, described as less severe and, by some, even relativized. In doing so, women’s physical weaknesses were emphasized and contrasted with men’s physical strength and endurance. Aman, from Eritrea, explained: “Women get raped […] but the boys only beating or shooting or torture”. As this account exemplifies, violence experienced by men was typically recounted as being of a physical nature and labelled as torture, even when unwanted sexual acts were involved. The men’s experiences often involved a combination of physical, mental, and sexual violence, although the latter was not clearly emphasized or explicitly named as such. Latif, a man from Palestine, recounted his experience of being illegally pushed back at the Serbian-Hungarian border. There, the border guards “would beat us and kick us until they got tired”, after which they would “load us into an old lorry”. Crammed together in the vehicle and driven back to the border, “they [the border guards] did not drive the lorry on the paved road; instead they drove it over stones and soil so that we would not receive oxygen. Sometimes they allowed clothes, [sometimes not]”.
Nevertheless, the participants reported hearing many stories about the sexual victimization of other migrant men, whether through the news, community members, or peers. Mubarak, a Sudanese man, shared: “We see it [sexual violence against male migrants] on the news all the time, or some people who are there at the camp […] They tell us what happened”.
Reflecting a normative and gendered view and understanding of (sexual) victimhood, the men in this study rarely named or interpreted their own experiences as sexual violence. Yet, from a public and global health perspective – which defines sexual violence broadly as “any sexual act perpetrated against someone’s will […]”([73], p. 5) – both indirect and direct victimization surfaced in some of the men’s narratives.
Indirect victimization
Most participants revealed that they had witnessed sexual violence against female migrants, either hearing the violence from a distance or seeing it happen in front of them. In these situations, the powerless position in which men were placed by the perpetrators – and thus their inability to defend or protect their female counterparts – was repeatedly stressed. Protecting women along the way, especially family members or those from the same ethnic or national group, was considered a man’s responsibility and closely tied to the concept of honor. Nasser, from Sudan, stated: “If the girl is Sudanese, then I can risk my life for her, this is what we call honor […] if this Sudanese is subjected to something, I feel responsibility […] this is a duty for being a man”. Similarly, an Eritrean participant, Filemon, described how he had to witness the gang rape of “an Eritrean woman [with whom he shares] the same blood […] you cannot leave your sister being hurt or letting her die”.
One participant indicated that the men were deliberately held in such submissive positions to humiliate them. He recounted being locked inside a nearby room or cellar, from where they “could hear them enjoying”, or being threatened as he “tried to protect her but they shoved the gun in my face”. Another participant recounted how, during treacherous crossings, marriages between men and women were made up, presenting themselves as a family unit to protect one another. However, Mussa, a man from Sudan, shared how – even in the presence of female partners and children –the (threat of) sexual violence against women was used as a tool to humiliate men in their roles as partners and fathers. He narrated: “I had a friend with his wife and their children; they were with us on the boat […] the police assaulted him and threatened to throw him in the water. My friend got scared, and despite that, the police were provoking him by saying ‘go inspect her (his wife)’. They even told him that they would force his wife to take off her clothes in front of everyone […] then hold her like this, he was provoking him, to humiliate him.”
Direct victimization
Several accounts pointed to sexual harassment – sexual violence where no physical contact was involved, yet one’s physical and sexual integrity was violated. In these instances, participants mostly spoke about being ordered by border guards, smugglers, or police to forcibly undress at border crossings, while caught in the forest, or in smugglers’ compounds. Montasser, from Syria, recalled how this forced undressing and nudity happened to other men in front of him while attempting to cross the Belarusian-Polish border: “Many men were beaten in front of me, they broke their hands and broke their legs. They forced them to take off their clothes, in the snow, in the twelfth month (December) and the first month (January). It’s very cold.”
While being held in smugglers’ compounds or prisons, Hakim, from Eritrea, described the conditions in which, after several weeks, they were allowed to take a shower and change clothes in the presence of fellow migrants with whom he was imprisoned. He explained: “[…] At that time, more than five people take shower together. They give water in a small container, they give you your clothes and go five people wash together. They don’t have time, they ask to go without clothes in front of girls, in front of men also.”
While these experiences took place along the men’s migration journeys to Europe, other incidents occurred in informal shelters and host families, where the perpetrators were individuals in an authority position to protect and care for the migrants. One participant recalled the experience of a male friend who was staying in a Belgian host family: “After three days, he invited my friend to spend the evening together. When he entered the living room that evening, the man was dressed in women’s lingerie and offered my friend to have sex. If he refused, he had to leave, again on the street“.
Sexual violence involving physical contact, first of all, included unwanted touching. In this context, being ordered to forcibly undress, followed by (naked) body searches by police and border guards, was commonly cited. A few participants had experienced unwanted touching by fellow migrants in the context of unwelcome intimate or sexual advances. Abdo, a Sudanese man, illustrated the contrast between a friend’s touching and that of a stranger: “That [touching his body] happens all the time. I mean like,… if he is my friend and he is joking, it’s ok. But he, if he is not joking and I don’t know the guy very good, then yes it will be a problem because sometimes yes, people I don’t know they trying to, yes, but I say no.”
Secondly, sexual violence was, in some cases, cited as a torture technique, mostly perpetrated by smugglers to blackmail one’s family into sending money to fund their further travels into Europe. One participant considered torture to include the “rape of young men”, while others described the beating of bodies “on all parts”, including the genitals, and their electrocution with wires. Although genital areas were targeted, Abdo from Sudan believed these to be incidental. He cited: “They are not going to beat you in sensitive places, for it is sensitive. It is just when you get it, where you get it, just get it.”
Thirdly, in a few accounts, (attempted) rape of men was mentioned as occurring in the country of origin during armed conflict, while in prison, in transit countries outside Europe such as Libya, or at border crossing points throughout Europe. Bashir, a man from Sudan, speaking about his time in prison in Sudan, explained how rape was highly prevalent there and intentionally used to “hurt you badly”. Bashir further shared: “Some of them got raped. A lot of them to be honest. Yes, if you are, I don’t know, good looking and they just want to hurt you badly, they are just going to rape you, yes. It’s normal.”
Faheem, a young man from Sudan, recounted the time he was held at a smugglers’ compound in Libya. He recalled his experience with one of the bosses of his compound, who groomed him by providing water and food “and finally telling me to have sex with me”. Faheem continued: “They do that [rape] also for the boys because they try to me and I am sure they did it for some people”. Waheed from Afghanistan, who migrated along the Eastern European Balkan route, referred to the experiences of minor boys, who, according to him, were mostly at risk of experiencing sexual violence. Although he did not experience or witness it himself, he explained: “On the way there are some children, underage, they are kind of beautiful and they get harassed on the route […] they are harassed and forced to do this act [sex], sometimes, in some conditions”.
After arriving in Europe, the most common form of sexual violence that recurred in the narratives was forced transactional sex. Many participants accounted receiving invitations from male and female citizens on the street, as well as professionals, volunteers, or members of host families, to have sex in exchange for money, shelter, food, cigarettes, showering, clothes, or help during the crossing. Aman, from Eritrea, talked about the experiences of his friends who were hosted for a week in a Belgian family: “In some places they ask us to have sex with them, some women ask us to make sex with them. And like that. They ask like that”.
Consequences of sexual violence on men
Experiencing sexual violence was perceived as leaving a profound impact on men’s lives. Youssef, from Sudan, talked about its lifelong impact on a survivor’s life –whether male or female –and compared it to taking away their life: “Someone who has hurt you because just for some temporary pleasure, you have ruined the whole human being’s life. You have changed the whole course of his life. That’s like taking his life”.
With sexual violence standing in contrast to expectations of hegemonic, heterosexual ideals of masculinity, the most frequently cited impact of sexual violence on men was on their gender identity. For Imran, a young Eritrean man, the humiliating experience of witnessing sexual violence in which he, “as a man, [I] couldn’t do anything”, caused frustration, powerlessness, and “until now, [I have] a problem in my head”. As he recounted this, he repeatedly slammed both hands down, visibly expressing a deep frustration that persisted to this day. Participants recounted how similar experiences also impacted the way in which others, in particular female migrants, perceived them. Aman, an Eritrean man, spoke about his female peers blaming them for not intervening during sexual violence, simultaneously depriving them of their masculine identity. He accounted: “Some girls say like that: ‘you are not men’, ‘why you see like that?’, ‘why you don’t do like anything?’ […] some of them they say like that to us, that we are women, why don’t [you] try to solve, try to help”. This ‘emasculation’ by women, in turn, trickled down to one’s self-perceived masculine identity, with Aman bluntly stating about himself: “You feel like [you are] a woman”. With these words, he literally ascribed himself a female identity, associated with passivity and subjugation, reflected in the humiliating position he found himself in.
Following Hakim’s experience of forced nudity and having to shower in the presence of fellow migrants, he felt deeply ashamed afterward, especially in front of the girls, “not wanting to greet them, not wanting to stay in front of them”.
As the majority of participants originated from heteropatriarchal societies, including countries where homosexual relations are forbidden, the impact of rape on women and men was perceived differently: “It’s different for men, it’s so different. Especially in our country, these things are strictly forbidden […] So, if you get these things, it is difficult psychologically”. Here, no distinguishment was made between consensual homosexual sex and rape. Abdo, a Sudanese man, hesitantly put the impact of rape on a man’s “normal feelings” into words: “For a man? Is very bad impact, you mean, if you don’t want to, I mean they will, it’s very bad, I mean like, they will, I don’t know, maybe they will make you… I don’t know how to describe it to be honest. It is not good for you to be raped. It will hurt your feelings a lot […] the normal feelings that you are a man and this should not happen to you”. Ridwan’s account, a man from Eritrea, aligned with this understanding – that upon rape, “you are murdered as a man. (…). Everybody says like that”. Again, sexual violence was presumptively understood as perpetrated by another man and therefore associated with homosexuality, generating the male rape myth that sexual violence is less severe or even not a problem for people who identify as homosexual: “If you are homosexual, it is not a problem. If he is homosexual, I think the problem is less. But if he is not homosexual, it is difficult”. Others believed that men are turned homosexual after having experienced rape, while for some it depended on who is penetrating and who is penetrated: “The one who penetrates is a man”, whereas the one who is penetrated is “no longer a man […]”.
In stories of participants where women forced men into sexual acts, the impact on the man involved was minimized, belittled, or even disregarded. Musaab, a participant from Sudan, stated: “I am man, I am not girl […] this is not, not problem, you know”. In a similar vein, Youssef, from Sudan, perpetuated the belief in male stoicism by stating that, regardless of the perpetrator’s gender, “A man forgets [sexual violence], yet never forgives. […] he can move on with his life. This is nothing”.
Coping and prevention upon sexual victimization
Participants’ experiences with sexual violence took place alongside multiple, overlapping forms of violence and exploitation and a daily struggle for the fulfillment of their basic needs. Physical, psychological, and economic violence from smugglers, border guards, and police were omnipresent in all the narratives. “It’s normal”, cited Philippe, a participant from Burundi, “it’s normal that they do like that [beat us]”. Other forms of violence and suffering alike, participants persistently normalized sexual violence, left it undistinguished from other forms of violence, and considered it a part of their migration journey. These ideas persisted within the community: “They say for the girls, if she takes this way, that means that she is ok with all that [sexual violence]”.
Situating his experience in time and space, Omar, from Yemen, said: “At that time, it’s normal […] you accept these things, you tell to yourself ‘it’s normal’”. Normalization similarly applied to the context of forced transactional sex with some participants framing this as normal, intelligible and even to be expected, especially when demands were voiced by females.
It was apparent that several participants firmly stated to have avoidantly “forgotten” experiences such as sexual violence, to have “erased that part of [their] life” or to have “completely deleted these [experiences]”. One participant pointed out that he did not care about the past, as “it makes me a problem if I think about anything bad in the past”. The account of Abdo, from Sudan, aligned to this coping mechanism yet pointed to the gradual pace of it: “Now I forget way by way but until now it’s in my memory”.
In the face of sexual violence, participants upheld beliefs on ways how to protect themselves and others in case they would be confronted with sexual violence. Most frequently cited was men’s protection of each other, in particular when travelling in group. In this scenario, Yonas from Eritrea, pointed out the impossibility for sexual victimization against men occurring: “If men are in groups, they cannot do sex unwillingly”. Faheem, from Sudan, explained how, as a young man, he felt protected by older male adults he was travelling with; the adults served as spokespersons and advocated on his behalf to the smugglers’ leaders (‘big bosses’), yet he indicated that – as men – they couldn’t do the same on behalf of the girls: “They [adults] told me, if he [alleged smuggler] calls you, give some signs to us, like that they can protect me and speak. […] They can speak with the big bosses so he knows that he is doing like that for the boys but for the girls, we cannot speak”.
In the context of unwanted invites for transactional sex, some participants either refused or neglected these demands. Moussa, from Sudan, stated how he would react differently if the same happened in his country of origin:“[Here, if] they come to you and tell you have sex with me […] then we keep walking, not to interact. But if it was in Sudan, you will beat him, because we don’t know it like this”.