Shoppers are turning to a new photobook that puts queer Ukrainians centre stage; The Queer Face of War documents portraits and testimony from those living through Russia’s invasion, showing how visibility, service and civic duty became tools of resistance and a challenge to authoritarian censorship.

Essential Takeaways

  • Intimate portraits: J Lester Feder’s photobook pairs close-up images with interviews, giving faces and voices to queer Ukrainians who’ve lived through war.
  • Visibility as resistance: LGBTQ+ soldiers and activists used public storytelling to claim citizenship and shift public attitudes.
  • Weaponised homophobia: The book underscores how Russian authorities have used anti-queer laws and repression to silence dissent.
  • Funding squeeze: State backing for similar projects fell away in 2025–26, forcing the photographer to self-fund publication.
  • Accessible and tactile: The book is available from specialist sellers and appeared in cultural programmes like Eurovision’s Offstage.

Why a photobook matters now: faces, names and the smell of gunpowder

The strongest thing about The Queer Face of War is how ordinary the portraits feel , a soft gaze, a tired smile, a uniform jacket , and how that ordinariness refuses to be reduced to a stereotype. Feder’s images arrive after interviews, when subjects consent to be photographed, and that trust shows on the page. According to Index on Censorship, this project became a deliberate attempt to create the first visual history of a queer community in war. That matters because images can travel where policy papers cannot.

This project grew from reporting and fellowship work with OutRight, and it moved from interview notes into portraiture as people said yes to being seen. The result is less about spectacle and more about civic testimony: queer Ukrainians not only endured violence but actively joined defence and relief efforts, and they wanted that contribution recognised.

How visibility became a form of citizenship

One persistent theme is that being seen , openly serving, sharing stories on social media, appearing in news pieces , worked as a statement of belonging. Feder told Index that organisations like Ukrainian LGBT Military turned Instagram feeds into a “constant drumbeat” of images of queer soldiers, nudging people to come out and participate. The effect has been measurable, with opinion polls and grassroots campaigns shifting in ways that suggest growing acceptance.

For readers wondering whether visibility is safe, the book and reporting make a useful distinction: visibility can provoke risk, but it also builds civic capital. If you’re choosing to support someone or share a story, think about consent and context , many photographs in the book were taken after long conversations.

The chilling contrast across the border: repression in Russia

Where Ukraine offered space for queer military service to become a public narrative, Russia’s legal environment has become steadily harsher. The so-called “gay propaganda” laws were repurposed after 2022, and a 2023 ruling branded international LGBTQ+ organisations extremist. Feder told Index that tolerance that once existed in some Russian cities has been replaced by a real threat of persecution.

This political climate helps explain why projects like Feder’s are urgent: they document populations that authoritarian regimes wish to erase. The book reads, in part, as a rebuttal to censorship , a small, portable archive that resists erasure.

How the book was made and why funding matters

Feder funded the photobook himself after US State Department support for similar initiatives ended with changes in US administration. That shift meant creative documentation became perilously dependent on individual resources rather than institutional grants. Feder says he would continue the work if funds were available, but for now the physical book was published independently in 2026 and reached audiences via cultural channels, including the Eurovision Offstage programme.

If you’re an organiser or donor thinking about supporting similar projects, note the multiplier effect: small grants can turn reporting into durable records that shape public memory and policy conversations.

Where to see it and what it feels like

The photobook is stocked by specialist sellers and featured by museums and cultural sites interested in contemporary queer history. Stonewall Museum pages and independent booksellers list the title, and the book’s design balances text and image so that readers feel both informed and present in the portraits. Handling the book is a quiet, tactile experience , paper grain, ink, captions , that makes the stories harder to forget.

If you visit an exhibition, expect a space that’s close and human rather than theatrical. Feder’s work invites listeners and viewers to linger.

It's a small change that can make memory and testimony harder to erase.

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