This Saturday we’ll pack the car, kiss the dog and cats goodbye, give our son some last minute instructions and then make our way to being in the majority for a week—we’re going to Provincetown on Cape Cod for a much needed vacation.

Each summer, thousands upon thousands of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people converge on P-town. It is known as one of the gayest places on earth.

For me, whether I venture onto busy Commercial St. or go down to Herring Cove where we all congregate to worship the sun and the sand, just being in a place where I know I’m in the majority is my own way of seeking political and cultural asylum in my own country.

I know I’ll be safe. I know Lynn and I can walk down the street holding hands, even kiss in public, and we’ll be met with cheers, not jeers. I know I can ask the local police department for help in a rare case of anti-lesbian harassment and they’ll come to my aid. I know I can walk into any bar or cabaret and be entertained by singers and comics who are singing and laughing with us, not about us.

We may not have all the rights and responsibilities we’d like, and certainly not all of us can live an open and affirming life, but—if you have to generalize--being a LGBT person in America isn’t as life threatening as it is in other countries around the world.

While some of us may be unhappy with how slowly the hate crimes and non-discrimination bills are winding their way through the halls of Congress, we’re not the objects of sexual cleansing as many of our brothers and sisters are in Iran and now in Iraq as well. Countless gay men have been killed in Iraq for no other reason than they’re gay. Islamic death squads round them up and kill them—no questions asked.

The blood of these innocent gay men is on the hands of our military and Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice. They know the sexual cleansing is going on and aren’t doing a thing to stop it.

The Iraqi gays and lesbians who have managed to escape are now seeking asylum in other countries. They know if they go home persecution and death are sure to follow. But where are they to go?

And, they are not alone. LGBT people face political persecution throughout the world. In Kosovo, a gay man by the name of Gramoz Prestreshi was stalked and almost beaten to death by a group of thugs. When he reported the crime to the police, they just laughed and called him names. When he went to the local emergency room, the workers there made him mop up his own blood.

Prestreshi, according to a recent Washington Post article, documented the harsh treatment he received. He eventually found his way to the United States where he was granted asylum based on his sexual orientation.

We can thank former U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno for loosening the constraints on gays and lesbians seeking asylum here. In 1994, Reno ordered that a groundbreaking case involving a gay Cuban refugee be viewed as a legal precedent.

According to Equality Immigration, an organization that is advocating for equality in immigration and asylum for the LGBT community, if you live in a country that has a dictatorial government that persecutes a variety of people it is harder to prove ones case for asylum.

Since 1994, a number of lesbians and gay men have been awarded asylum in the United States. But it’s not easy. They had to provide multiple burdens of proof. Asylum seekers must demonstrate that they were abused or harassed by authorities, not merely by angry relatives or drunks on the street. They have to prove that the authorities in their community failed to protect them. Additionally, they have to prove they were abused because they are gay or lesbian—which, de facto means, they have to prove that they are gays or lesbians.

I’d like to know what proving you’re a gay man or lesbian entails. I know for me, next week, it just means being in P-town. If it were only that easy for our LGBT political refugees.