In May of last year, Tamaz Sozashvili and several friends forced their way into a sitting of the Human Rights Committee of the Georgian Parliament. In a country where LGBTQ people are regularly beaten on the street and hate crimes go largely unreported and unprosecuted, Sozashvili rushed to a podium, grabbed a microphone and made an impassioned plea to politicians on a committee deciding whether to mark the International Day against Homophobia and Transphobia (which they decided not to do).

“I was bullied at school for 12 years. I still hate to visit the place, because every day it was terrifying, each day meant facing death. Today I cannot visit my parents in Kakheti [in eastern Georgia], because it is dangerous,” said Sozashvili. “This is the difference between me and you. You will never, never understand this, you will never understand what it costs me to stand here and say this,” he told the politicians, jabbing his finger for emphasis.

Since the 2000s and especially in recent years, Georgia has sought to distance itself from its Soviet history and to market itself as a wine-soaked country firmly in the European camp. Tourism is booming in Georgia, and Forbes has proclaimed its capital one of Europe’s hippest destinations, declaring in 2018 that Berlin was “out” and Tbilisi was “in.”

While many in Georgia’s government have embraced the mantle of a rapidly developing nation that celebrates Western culture and values, LGBTQ activists like Tamaz have faced a less tolerant side to the nation: violence and political indifference in their fight for civil rights and justice. For a month after his speech at parliament, the 23-year-old was afraid to ride public transportation for fear of reprisals after he had outed himself in public.