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Travels in the Muslim World, Edited by Michael Luongo (ch.
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Lesbian and Gay Muslim Websites: The majority of Muslim countries, including supposedly ‘liberal’ ones like Tunisia as well as dictatorships like Sudan, outlaw same-sex relationships. See full article (October 2000) at: http://www.newint.org/issue328/holy.htm 1 Islamic Feminism Revisited 2/06 2
UK Gay Muslim Activist Adnan Ali is Interviewed 3/06 4 Four-Day Conference to Highlight South Asian Gay Issues 6/06 5 Marriage for Gay Muslims? 6/06 6 Queer Muslims find peace 6/06 7 Homosexual and 'passionate about Islam' 7/06 7a Middle East dispatch Coming out in Arabic 10/06 7b Love, Lust and Passion: Sex and Taboos in the Islamic World 10/06 8 Gay Arabs organising in Israel 3/07 9 Arab Lesbians Hold Rare Public Meeting in Haifa, Defying Islamist Ban 3/07 11 Bear Arabia is a unique social network for dating and travels in the Arab world 5/07 12 Website for Arab and Asian gays launched 7/07 13 Changing Hearts and Reading Minds 7/07 14 Mithly.com website dedicated to the (LGBT) Arab communities of the world 7/07 *15 New documentary features gay Muslim experience 9/07 16 Holy hatred: Homosexuality in Muslim countries 9/07 17 Middle East dispatch Coming out in Arabic 10/07 18 Gay Muslims Find Freedom, of a Sort, in the U.S. 11/07 19 Two Cases Shed Light on Floggings in Muslim World 12/07
10 February 2006 1 by Margot Badran Read the full text at http://www.countercurrents.org/gen-badran100206.htm
March 1, 2006 2
June 22, 2006 4 While soccer fans worldwide have been eagerly awaiting this month's World Cup Finals, another group with roots across the globe has been anticipating an event held even less frequently. DesiQ 2006 is a conference on South Asian lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) issues to be held at UCSF's Mission Bay Campus from Wednesday, June 21 through Saturday, June 24. Planned so that it coincides with Gay Pride weekend, the conference will draw approximately 100 delegates — artists and activists, students and professionals alike — from across the country and even as far away as India and Sri Lanka, according to organizer Rakesh Modi. "It's a conference to bring together the queer community of South Asian origin … and to celebrate our diversity, our ethnicity and our sexuality." The conference's name is a coined compound of "desi," an informal word referring to anyone of South Asian origin, and "Q," abbreviated for "queer." In part because of the particular difficulty for South Asians to come out, given traditional religious and cultural constraints, a Bay Area South Asian gay group called Trikone has stepped forward in organizing the conference, the first since 2000. Although the conference intends to highlight and celebrate the growing South Asian queer community, attendees need be neither Indian nor gay, says Dr. Robert Owen, a UCSF faculty member involved in the conference planning. By e-mail, Owen describes the impact previous conferences have had on participants: "I saw South Asian men and women moved to tears of joy as they looked around and found themselves surrounded by a couple of hundred other people with whom they shared not only cultural history but also sexual orientation." He tells the story of meeting two medical residents who discovered that they were both members of the same small, extremely conservative Muslim sect who had lived their entire lives believing they were totally alone and the only persons with such feelings in their religion. Organizers, using the unifying mantra "From Visions to Actions" as a conference theme, have arranged for a range of workshops, panel discussion, keynote speakers and networking opportunities throughout the event. There are educational talks on topics as diverse as sexually transmitted infections in the LGBT community to a comparison of class dynamics in Indian and LGBT cultures. Several workshops will focus on engendering activism, teaching techniques for coalition- and movement-building. Social issues are addressed in sessions such as one entitled "Domestic Violence in the Queer (Asian Pacific-Islander) Community." On the lighter side will be events where attendees will learn Indian classical dance and attend a film night and evening gala. At the culmination of the conference, DesiQ 2006 participants will march with a float during the Pride Parade on June 25. The conference begins with registration at the UCSF Mission Bay Genentech Hall on June 23 from 3 to 6 p.m. More information, including how to contact organizers, can be found at www.desiq.org/index.htm Alan Teo is a fourth-year medical student and former Synapse Executive Editor.
June 12, 2006 5 by Ayesha Akram On a Web site for gay South Asians, 27-year-old Syed Mansoor uploaded the following message last summer: "Hi, I am looking for a lesbian girl for marriage. I am gay but I would like to get married because of pressure from parents and society. I would like this marriage to be a `normal' marriage except for the sex part, please don't expect any sexual relationship from me. " Being an Indian gay person, I believe it is so much worth it to give up sex and have a nice otherwise normal family. We can be good friends and don't have to repent all our life for being gay/lesbian. " Across the globe and especially in America, hundreds of other gay Muslims have started to pursue marriages of convenience -- or MOC, as they are known -- in which gay Muslims seek out lesbian Muslims, and vice versa, for appearances sake. Mansoor works as an accountant and is a devout Muslim. He strictly abstains from drinking alcohol or eating pork and is particular about offering early-morning prayers. To his friends on Wall Street, he is a financial whiz; to his parents, a devoted son. But Mansoor is also part of a burgeoning trend of gay Muslims adopting marriages of convenience. Hard statistics on the trend are hard to come by, but on a single Web site for South Asian gays and lesbians seeking such marriages, almost 400 requests had been uploaded. They ranged from a desperate plea from Atlanta -- "I just finished medical school, and the pressure for me to get married is becoming ridiculous. I can't have a conversation with my parents without them pressuring me" -- to a straightforward one from Texas: "I will not object to her having sex with other women." Mansoor credits the Internet for making these marriages a real possibility for gay Muslims. Gay activists agree, and say that in recent years, they have seen a rise in such marriages among Muslims. Jack Fertig, a co-coordinator for Al Fatiha, a national advocacy group for gay Muslims, says he comes across at least one such e-mail request every month. "It's obvious that this is becoming a viable option," he said. "People are seeking, looking and trying to make connections that could develop into such marriages." Other activists say gay Muslims are resorting to these unions for reasons of self-preservation. "Marriages of convenience are the result of gay Muslims wanting to avoid emotional and physical harm to themselves," says Muhammed Ali, a board member of Homan, a Los Angeles-based support group for gay Iranians. Homosexuality is a crime punishable by death in much of the Islamic world. In Iran last year, two gay teenagers were publicly executed, while in Afghanistan, the Taliban government would torture homosexuals by collapsing walls on them. Though gay Muslims in America don't have such fears, they still seek out marriages of convenience as a way of staying in the closet. Many of them worry about being ostracized from their families if their secret is revealed. A marriage of convenience is the perfect solution, Mansoor said. "It's a great option," he said. "I get married to a lesbian, we sleep in different rooms and remain friends. Meanwhile I can have a boyfriend." Mansoor is also willing to throw a financial incentive into the deal. A year has passed since he posted his request on an online discussion board and as yet he has received no replies. But Mansoor continues to hope. "Now that I have a good job and earn handsomely, my family keeps asking, `Why don't you find a wife?"' he said. "I plan to have a marriage of convenience just to satisfy the world." Muslim authorities around the world have repeatedly emphasized that homosexuality is not permissible. Muzammil Siddiqi of the Islamic Society of North America said there is no flexibility on this topic. "Homosexuality is a moral disorder. It is a moral disease, a sin and corruption ... No person is born homosexual, just like no one is born a thief, a liar or murderer," he said. "People acquire these evil habits due to a lack of proper guidance and education." Mainstream Islamic scholars also take an unfavorable view of MOCs. The face of Imam Omar, a scholar at the Islamic Cultural Center of Manhattan, crinkled with laughter when he was asked about this phenomenon. "These people are Muslims?" he asked. Omar receives all sorts of inquiries and is now rarely taken aback. But a query about marriages of convenience stunned him. "What kind of marriage is this?" he asked. "A nikah (marriage) in Islam needs to be consummated. There is no concept of marriage in Islam without sexual relations." Running his hand through his salt and pepper beard, he continued: "Homosexuality is strictly forbidden in Islam. I say to these people do not circumvent marriage. Do not change the rules of religion." Mansoor shook his head when the Imam's proclamation was repeated to him. With a shrug of his thin shoulders, he said: "I don't care about what people say," he said. "I can't change myself. I just can't." Though some gay men feel a union of convenience is the best option, Rachel Sussman, a marriage counselor in New York, said they may not know what they are getting into. "It's opening up a Pandora's box," she said. "What happens if his partner falls in love with someone? What happens if he falls in love with someone who is not OK with him being married?" "It's opening up a Pandora's box," she said. "What happens if his partner falls in love with someone? What happens if he falls in love with someone who is not OK with him being married?"
June 15, 2006 6 by Catherine Patch As a devout Muslim who is gay, El-Farouk Khaki knows what it is like to be an outsider. The Toronto lawyer and human rights activist, who founded the Salaam support group for queer Muslims, was born in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and came to Canada with his parents in 1974 at the age of 10. "I was in my mid-teens when I spoke to my parents for the first time about being gay," says Khaki, 42. "They were wonderful, but they said it was a natural part of puberty to be questioning your sexuality and it was something I would grow out of." He says he first dealt with isolation as a young freshman at the University of British Columbia, but it wasn't until law school that he became openly gay. "I think my coming out had a lot to do with the stress and pressures of law school," he says. "I really hated law school, as a bastion of social conservatism and elitism that was predominantly white, particularly in the middle '80s." Khaki moved to Ottawa in July of 1988 and came to Toronto the following year, setting up his legal practice here in '93. "I didn't know anyone in Vancouver who was Muslim and queer," he says. "But when I came to Toronto, I started meeting people who were gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered - and Muslim. "One of the difficult parts of coming out as a Muslim - or in any religious tradition - is the religious condemnation and the religious interpretations of text, which demonize same-sex relationships," he says. "As a believer, that was a problem for me, so once I moved to Toronto and began meeting other people, I started the original Salaam in 1991." He says the original purpose of Salaam, which means peace, was social and support, "just to know that you're not alone." At this year's Pride gala, Khaki is being honoured for his spirituality and his contribution to queer life through Salaam. "I think Salaam is very important, both locally and internationally, in terms of creating a safe place for people of Muslim tradition to be able to come together both socially and spiritually," says Rev. Brent Hawkes of Metropolitan Toronto Community Church. "There are Jewish synagogues that are open; there are Christian places that are open, there are Buddhist places that are open. But progressive Muslims, particularly gay and lesbian Muslims, don't have many options. The work that El-Farouk has done is to help to make sure there is an option there." Khaki says the original Salaam disbanded in 1993. "This was pre-Internet, and communications were much more difficult. People would say, `If you call and my mother picks up the phone, don't tell her your name; don't say this or don't say that.' "After a series of incidents, including a nasty letter from Islamic Jihad, I decided it wasn't worth my life, it wasn't worth the angst. So I shut it down." Salaam was reborn in 2001 after years spent reorganizing and establishing ties with sister groups such as Al-Fateha in the United States. "Salaam is a unique organization because we have a true diversity in gender, as well as a diversity in orientation," Khaki says. "Our co-ordinators, as well as our membership, come from diverse racial backgrounds: We have Iranians, Indo-Pakistanis, Turks, Ismalii, Shiite, Sunni, people who are religious and people who are not, people who are believers, people who are not. We've also had non-Muslims or people who don't identify as Muslim. "A lot of our members are newcomers, so a lot of what Salaam has been doing is providing support for queer refugees, as well as for the whole body of Canadian queer Muslims, a group that we have some difficulty in reaching." There are several reasons for the inaccessibility of queer Canadian Muslims, Khaki says. "There is the degree to which people are out to their families and communities. For example, there is a very large Somali community in Toronto, yet Salaam doesn't have any members from the Somali community. My understanding is that a lot of them are very concerned about visibility. You won't see them on Church St. or in other groups or organizations. "We're not interested in debating or challenging or confronting the larger Muslim community - that's not our goal," he adds. "Our goal is to provide a sense of community and safety for people who come to us. Bringing people together is the cornerstone of Salaam's work. "Every Ramadan, we host a fast-breaking dinner, called an iftar, for about 150 people. It's an interesting event, because it's 50 per cent Muslim, 50 per cent non-Muslim, 50 per cent queer, 50 per cent not queer. "I think it's very important right now for Muslim organizations to be building bridges," he says. "We need to recognize that there is a fringe element at the present time within the Muslim community that resorts to violence; for reasons that are multi-level. "We need to isolate this element and identify what leads to this sort of alienation and this psychology of violence."
July 6, 2006 7 by Jennifer Carlile, Reporter "I tried not to be a sinner all my life, and then I thought, here I am, I'm going to go to hell," Ubaid said of when he came to terms with his homosexuality. Coming out Ubaid began rejecting his parents overtures for him to get married. They couldn't understand his resistance and he failed to give them a reason. Ubaid insisted that his words not be misused to slander Islam as a repressive or hostile religion as he feels very strongly about most aspects of the faith. However, he said he hoped that the Islamic world would become more open to discussions on sexuality and more accepting of those who are not heterosexual.
October 2 2006 7a Brian Whitaker reports on a lesbian group's struggle for acceptance in the Middle East The list was certainly not a joke but, in a society where same-sex relations are still taboo, its members guarded their privacy. The only way a newcomer could join was by personal recommendation. "Eventually I got in," Ms Morcos recalled, "and I found a lot of other [lesbian] women who couldn't be out." After corresponding by email for a few months, she thought it would be good to talk with some of the invisible women face to face, so, in January 2003, Ms Morcos and her flatmate called a meeting. "We had no expectations," she said, "but eight women turned up. The meeting lasted eight hours and I don't think anybody wanted to go home." That, it later turned out, marked the birth of Aswat ("Voices") - the first openly-functioning organisation for Arab lesbians in the Middle East. "We realised we had a great responsibility towards other women in our community," Ms Morcos continued. "We tried to contact many organisations and sent out letters but the only reply came from Kayan ["Being"], a group of feminists in Haifa ... Many NGOs don't count it as a human rights issue or want to be associated." Three years on, though, Aswat is firmly established with more than 70 members spread across the West Bank, Gaza and Israel (where the organisation is based). Only about 20 attend its meetings; the need to keep their sexuality secret, plus Israeli restrictions on movement, prevent others from attending but they keep in touch through email and an online discussion forum. Beyond the group itself, there are also signs of acceptance in a few places. "We do a lot of work within the community, for example with youth groups, counsellors, and so on," Ms Morcos said. "That proves to me at least that the gay/lesbian movement has started for us as Palestinians." One of Aswat's main goals is to provide information about sexuality that is widely available elsewhere but has never been published in Arabic. This is not simply a matter of translation; it's also about developing "a 'mother tongue' with positive, un-derogatory and affirmative expressions of women and lesbian sexuality and gender ... We are creating a language that no one spoke before". If women are to find their voice, the language needs to be re-appropriated, Ms Morcos explains in an article on Aswat's website. "I have forgotten my language. I don't know how to say 'to make love' in Arabic without it sounding chauvinistic, aggressive and alien to the experience." Recognition for Aswat's work came earlier this year when Ms Morcos won the 2006 Felipa de Souza award from the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission. The citation described her as "a true example of courageous and effective human rights leadership", but Ms Morcos is quick to point out that other women are also doing a lot of work behind the scenes. Speaking to a standing-room-only meeting of the Palestine Solidarity Campaign during a visit to London last week, she explained that necessity has made her the public face of Aswat. Many of the women involved do not want to be identified - often with good reason. "But if we don't want to come out as persons, let's at least come out as a movement," she said. Ms Morcos's own coming-out was not entirely voluntary and proved particularly unpleasant. In 2003 she gave an interview to the Israeli newspaper Yedioth Ahronot about the poetry she writes. In passing, she mentioned her sexuality - only to find that the L-word turned up in the newspaper's headline. An article on Aswat's website describes what happened next: "All of a sudden, the Arab population of her home town [in northern Israel], which she generally assumed to have no interest in the literary supplements of Hebrew newspapers, seemed to have read the article and had something to say about her. Local corner shop owners made photocopies and distributed it, because, after all, everyone knew it was about the daughter of so-and-so from their own town. The consequences of that article were far more serious than Ms Morcos had imagined: her car windows were smashed and tyres were punctured several times, she received innumerable threatening letters and phone calls, and, to top it all, 'coincidentally' lost her job as a school teacher, since parents of pupils complained that they did not want her as a teacher." Arab society today is riddled with the kind of anti-gay prejudices that were found in Britain half a century ago, and persecution is common. Muslim clerics condemn homosexuality in no uncertain terms, though similar statements can be heard from Arab Christian leaders too, such as the Coptic Pope in Egypt who once declared that "so-called human rights" for gay people were "unthinkable". With a few exceptions here and there, this is the prevailing attitude in all the Arab countries, but in Palestinian society the issue of gay rights is further complicated - and made much more political - by the conflict with Israel. Israel legalised same-sex relations between men in 1988. Four years later, it went a step further and became the only country in the Middle East that outlaws discrimination based on sexuality. A series of court cases then put the theory into practice - for example, when El Al was forced to provide a free ticket for the partner of a gay flight attendant, as the airline already did for the partners of its straight employees. These are undisputed achievements but they have also become a propaganda tool, reinforcing Israel's claim to be the only liberal, democratic society in the Middle East. At the same time, highlighting Israel's association with gay rights has made life more difficult for gay Arabs, adding grist to the popular notion that homosexuality is a "disease" spread by foreigners. Linking the twin enemies of Israel and homosexuality provides a double whammy for Arab propagandists, as can be seen from sections of the Egyptian press. In an article to mark the 30th anniversary of the October war, a headline in the Egyptian paper Sabah al-Kheir announced: "Golda Meir was a lesbian." In 2001, following the mass arrest of more than 50 allegedly gay men, al-Musawwar magazine published a doctored photograph of the supposed ringleader, showing him in an Israeli army helmet and sitting at a desk with an Israeli flag. Israel, however, is not quite the gay paradise that many imagine. There is still hostility from conservative Jews, and some of their blood-curdling statements are not very different from the more widely publicised remarks of Muslim clerics. In Jerusalem last year, the ultra-Orthodox mayor banned a pride march, though an Israeli court promptly overturned his decision. As the parade took place, a Jewish religious fanatic attacked three marchers with a knife and reportedly told the police he had come "to kill in the name of God". The gay rights movement in Israel also has a questionable history. Lee Walzer, author of Between Sodom and Eden, explains in an article that the first Israeli activists pursued "a very mainstream strategy" that "reinforced the perception that gay rights was a non-partisan issue, unconnected to the major fissure in Israeli politics, the Arab-Israeli conflict and how to resolve it. Embracing gay rights," he continues, "enabled Israelis to pat themselves on the back for being open-minded, even as Israeli society wrestled less successfully with other social inequalities." As part of their strategy, activists sought "to convince the wider public that gay Israelis were good patriotic citizens who just happened to be attracted to the same sex". As a general principle this may be valid, but in the context of war and occupation it leads into murky territory. Should it really be a matter of pride that openly gay members of the Israeli armed forces are just as capable of wreaking havoc on neighbouring Lebanon as the next person? The question here is whether gay rights - in Israel or elsewhere - can really be divorced from politics or treated in isolation from other human rights. Helem, the Lebanese gay and lesbian organisation, thinks not, arguing that gay rights are an inseparable part of human rights - as does Ms Morcos. For Ms Morcos, there's a connection between nationality, gender and sexuality. She has a triple identity, as a lesbian, a woman and a Palestinian (despite having an Israeli passport) - "a minority within a minority within a minority", as she puts it. Her first concern, though, is to end the Israeli occupation, and she sees no prospect of achieving gay rights for Palestinians while it continues. Nowadays, the more radical Israeli activists also acknowledge a linkage. In 2001, Walzer recalls, "Tel Aviv's pride parade, typically a celebratory, hedonistic affair, got a dose of politics when a contingent called 'Gays in Black' marched with a banner proclaiming, 'There's No Pride In Occupation'." Later, a group called Kvisa Sh'chora ("Dirty Laundry") sprang up and began drawing parallels between the oppression of sexual minorities and Israeli oppression of the Palestinians. The issue was further highlighted in 2002 when Ariel Sharon became the first Israeli prime minister to formally meet a gay delegation. Activist Hagai El-Ad asked: "Is this an achievement for our community, or an example of a lack of feeling, callousness and loss of direction?" He continued: "It would be unbearable to simply sit with the prime minister and, on behalf of our minority, ignore the human rights of others, including what's been happening here in relation to Palestine for the past year: roadblocks, prevention of access to medical care, assassinations, and implementation of an apartheid policy in the territories and in Israel. The struggle for our rights is worthless if it's indifferent to what's happening to people a kilometre from here. All we get by holding the meeting with the prime minister," he concluded, "is symbolic legitimacy for the community. What he gets for sitting down with us is the mantle of enlightenment and pluralism." This mantle of enlightenment and pluralism does not, however, extend to Israel's treatment of gay Palestinians. For those who face persecution in the West Bank and Gaza, the most obvious escape route is to Israel, but this often leaves them trapped in an administrative no-man's-land with little hope of getting a proper job in Israel and constantly at risk of arrest and deportation. Meanwhile, as far as the average Palestinian is concerned, fleeing into Israel is a betrayal of the cause, and gay men who remain in the Palestinian territories also come under suspicion - not always without good reason. There have been various reports of gay Palestinians being targeted or pressurised by Israeli intelligence to act as informers. Whether or not they actually succumb to the pressure, all inevitably come under suspicion. "Gays in Palestine are seen as collaborators immediately," said Ms Morcos.
October 20, 2006 7b by Amira El Ahl and Daniel Steinvorth Rabat, Morocco. Every evening Amal the octopus vendor looks on as sin returns to his beach. It arrives in the form of handholding couples who hide behind the tall, castle-like quay walls in the city's harbor district to steal a few clandestine kisses. Some perform balancing acts on slippery rocks and seaweed to secure a spot close to the Atlantic Ocean and cuddle in the dim evening light. The air tastes of salt and hashish. On some mornings, when Amal finds used condoms on the beach, he wishes that these depraved, shameless sinners -- who aren't even married, he says -- would roast in hell. Cairo, Egypt. A hidden little dead-end street in Samalik, a posh residential neighborhood, with a view of the Nile. Those who live here can stand on their balconies at night and see things that no one is meant to see. The cars begin arriving well before sunset, some evenings bringing as many as a hundred amorous couples. Almost all the girls wear headscarves, but that doesn't prevent them from wearing skin-tight, long-sleeved tops. The boys are like boys everywhere, nonchalantly placing their arms around their girlfriends' shoulders and even more nonchalantly sliding their hands into their blouses. The locals call this place "Shari al-Hubb," or "Street of Love." The gossips say that children have been conceived here and couples have been spotted engaging in oral sex. Beirut, Lebanon. As techno music blares from the loudspeakers in the dim light, patrons shout their drink orders across the bar. Boys in tight jeans and unbuttoned, white shirts, their hair perfectly styled, jostle their way onto the dance floor. The men shake their hips, clap their hands and embrace -- but without touching all too obviously. After all, those who go too far could end up being thrown out of "Acid," Beirut's most popular gay disco. Officially, "Acid" is nothing more than a nightclub in an out-of-the-way industrial neighborhood. As liberal as Lebanon is, flaunting one's homosexuality is verboten. Gays are tolerated, but only as long as they remain under the radar and conceal their activities from public scrutiny. For many in the Arab world, discretion is the only option when it comes to experiencing lust and passion. There are secret spots everywhere, and they are often the only place to go for those forced to live with the contradictions of the modern Islamic world. In countries whose governments are increasingly touting strict morals and chastity, prohibitions have been unsuccessful at suppressing everyday sexuality. Religious censors are desperately trying to put a stop to what they view as declining morals in their countries, but there is little they can do to stop satellite TV, the Internet and text messaging. A counterforce to Western excesses? Do the stealthy violations of taboos and moral precepts foreshadow a sexual revolution in the Arab world? Or is the pressure being applied by the moralists creating a new prudishness, a counterforce to the perceived excesses of the West? For now, everything seems possible, including the idea that a man can end up spending a night in jail for being caught with a condom in his shirt pocket. Ali al-Gundi, an Egyptian journalist, was driving his girlfriend home when he was stopped at a police checkpoint. He didn't have his driver's license with him, but it was 4 a.m. and he was in the company of an attractive woman. For the police, this was reason enough to handcuff Gundi and his girlfriend and take them to the police station. "On the way there, they threatened to beat us," says the 30-year-old. At the station, they took away his mobile phone and wallet and found an unused condom in his shirt pocket. "They were already convinced that my girlfriend was a whore," says Gundi. The couple ended up behind bars, even after telling the police that they planned to get married in a few months. Only after the woman notified her father the next day were the two released from jail. For Gundi, one thing is certain: "If the officer who stopped us hadn't been so sexually frustrated, he would have let us go." The sexual frustration of many young Arabs has countless causes, most of them economic. Jobs are scarce and low-paying, and most young men are unable to afford and furnish their own apartments -- a prerequisite to being able to marry in most Arab countries. At the same time, premarital sex is an absolute taboo in Islam. As a result, cities across the Arab world -- Algiers, Alexandria, Sana'a and Damascus -- are filled with "boy-men" between 18 and 35 who are forced to live with their parents for the foreseeable future. There is one exception, and it's even sanctioned by the Islamic faith: the "temporary marriage" or "pleasure marriage" -- not a bond for life but one designed for intimate sins. Such agreements, presided over by imams, are not regulated by the state. They can be concluded for only a few hours or they can be open-ended. But particularly romantic they are not. Separating the sexes Another frustrating development for young Islamic men is the growing separation of the sexes. More and more women are wearing modest clothing. Some choose to wear headscarves or cover their entire bodies, and some even wear black gloves to cover the last remaining bit of exposed skin on their bodies. A porn site on the Internet: 56 percent of young men in the Mahgreb region admit to watching porn on a regular basis. Nowadays a woman walking along a Cairo street without a veil stands a good chance of being stared at as if she were from another planet. Journalist Gundi is convinced that "oppression brings out perversion in people." The men want their women to be covered and veiled because they are afraid of women -- "afraid of the feelings women provoke." Ula Shahba, 27, sees the trend toward covering one's head as an expression of a new female self-confidence, not as a symbol of oppression. For the past two years, Shahba has worn the headscarf voluntarily -- out of conviction, as she emphasizes, insisting that no one forces her to do so. But, she adds, the decision wasn't easy. "I love my hair," she says, "but it shouldn't be visible to everyone." Shahba doesn't believe that the headscarf is a sign of religious devoutness. "It's more of a trend," she says. A Moroccan study published in early 2006 in L'Economiste, a Moroccan business publication, shows how paradoxical young Arabs' attitudes toward religion and sexuality can be. According to the study, young Muslims in the Maghreb region are increasingly ignoring the clearly defined rules of their religion. Premarital sex is not unusual, and 56 percent of young men admit to watching porn on a regular basis. But the respondents also said that it was just as important to them to pray, observe the one-month Ramadan fast and marry a fellow Muslim. When seen in this light, young Muslims' approach to Islam seems as hedonistic as it is variable, almost arbitrary. Muslim novelist "Nedjma" ("Star"), the author of "The Almond," a successful erotic novel, describes Moroccan society as divided and bigoted. Despite progressive family and marriage laws, she says, the country is still controlled by patriarchal traditions in which men continue to sleep around and treat women as subordinates. It is a society in which prudishness and sexual obsession, ignorance and desire, "sperm and prayer" coexist. "The more repressive a society is, the more desperately it seeks an outlet," says Nedjma, who conceals her real name because she has already been vilified on the Internet as a "whore" and an "insult to Islam." Men like Samir, 36, a bald waiter who wears a formal, black and white uniform to work, could be straight out of Nedjma's novel. Samir grins at the prospect of catching a glimpse of unveiled girls in his café in Rabat. But in the same breath, he admits that he would never spend a significant amount of time in the same room with a woman he doesn't know. "No man and no woman can be together without being accompanied by the devil," he believes, adding that he is quoting the Prophet Muhammad. But most sources paint a completely different picture of the religious leader, describing him as a hedonist and womanizer who loved and worshipped women. Indeed, he married 12 women, including a businesswoman 15 years his senior, to whom he remained faithful until her death. Author Nedjma says that Muslim men today are "betraying the message of Muhammad," whom she describes as a delicate, gallant man. She doubts that the prophet was afraid of female sexuality, as many of the men in her social circle are today. Even conservative theologians emphasize the compatibility of pleasure and faith -- but only after marriage. They can even evoke the Prophet Mohammed, who said: "In this world, I loved women, pleasant scents and prayer." This presents an odd contradiction to the puritanical present, which represents a fundamental departure from Islam's more open-minded past and has instead made way for a humorless and rigorous Islamism. Journalist Ali al-Gundi believes that Muslim men have a troubled relationship with their own sexuality. "Most men only want to marry a virgin," he says. "What for? Isn't it much nicer to be with a partner who has experience?" Gundi talks about his girlfriends who have done everything but actually have sex, so as not to damage their hymens. That would mean social death. Egyptian filmmaker Ahmed Khalid devoted his first short film, "The Fifth Pound," to the topic of taboo. The film tells the story of a young couple who use a bus ride to be together and exchange more than just a few innocent, tender words. Every Friday morning, when everyone else is at the mosque for prayers, they meet on the third-to-the-last bench on the bus, a spot where none of the other passengers can see what they are doing. As they sit there, shoulder-to-shoulder, staring straight ahead, they stroke each other's bodies. Their only fear is that the bus driver will see what they are doing through the rear view mirror. He watches the couple, fully aware of what they are doing, all the while indulging in his own fantasies. In his imagination, the driver sits down next to the girl, carefully removes her headscarf and unbuttons her blouse. She closes her eyes and presses her fingers into the armrest. The headscarf slowly slides off the seat. Both reach climax, the girl in the bus driver's fantasy and the boy through his girlfriend's hand. In the end, the couple pays the driver four pounds for the tickets and a fifth for his silence. Of course, Khalid was unable to find a distributor for his scandalous, 14-minute short film, and even Cairo's liberal cultural centers refused to run "The Fifth Pound" without it being censored first. Even though, or perhaps precisely because the film does not depict any actual sexual activity, it excites the viewer's fantasy -- an especially odious offense in the eyes of religious censors. The Internet is a refuge for hidden desires, even though it offers only virtual relief. Google Trends, a new service offered by the search engine, provides a way to demonstrate how difficult it is to banish forbidden yearnings from the heads of Muslims. By entering the term "sex" into Google Trends, one obtains a ranked list of cities, countries and languages in which the term was entered most frequently. According to Google Trends, the Pakistanis search for "sex" most often, followed by the Egyptians. Iran and Morocco are in fourth and fifth, Indonesia is in seventh and Saudi Arabia in eighth place. The top city for "sex" searches is Cairo. When the terms "boy sex" Yusuf al-Qaradawi, an imam who lives in Qatar and has a television show on Arab network Al Jazeera, considers homosexuality as an especially decadent monster created by the West. It is against the "divine order," says the religious scholar, citing verses in the Koran that describe homosexuality as a common practice in pre-Islamic Arabia. Homosexuals are referred to in Arabic as "Luti," or people from the city of the Lut, which is mentioned in the Koran and the Bible and is described as having been destroyed by God's wrath. The sources seem to clearly support this notion. As a result, very few gay Muslims even attempt to reconcile their faith with their sexual orientation. Most, says George Assi, a spokesman of Helem, the only gay and lesbian organization in the Arab world, are in despair over the fact that they cannot be as virtuous as their religion prescribes. Helem, a Lebanese organization that is neither completely legal nor prohibited, has its office in an Islamic business district in Beirut, a city that offers greater political and sexual freedom than any other place in the Arab world. But even here the organization faces protests and threatening phone calls, especially from the Gulf states. "Many talk about us as if we were sick people who must either be healed or abandoned," says Assi. "Shocking, sad" stories Unlike Lebanon, Egypt is a place where freedom of opinion is always in jeopardy. The country's once-blossoming worlds of art and literature are especially affected. This makes it all the more astonishing that a play could be produced on a Cairo stage that deals exclusively with sex. Even the play's title, "Bussy," is a provocation. It resembles the English word "pussy," but it is also a slang term Egyptian men use to tell a woman to "look here." And this is precisely what the directors wanted: to attract attention -- to discrimination, lack of respect and mental immaturity. "We had no intention of being daring or of provoking anyone. We merely wanted to tell the truth," says director Naas Chan. The performance was created as an analogue to the famous New York play, "The Vagina Monologues." When the American production was performed at the American University in Cairo, it was met with disgust, indignation and -- enthusiastic applause. But because it had little to do with the problems of Egyptian women, a group of students decided to stage a sort of "Islamic Vagina Monologue" with amateur actors. Ordinary women were asked to talk about love and sex. "Their stories were so shocking, so touching, sad and amusing that they needed no editing," says Chan. And that was how "Bussy" was created. In one scene, a girl, her voice choking with tears, talks about the day her mother took her to the doctor, without telling her that he was going to circumcise her. "When I woke up I felt the pain. Something was missing ... the flesh that they had stolen belonged to me!" Another woman describes her experience with an imam who, when she was 10, forced her into a closet and raped her. "When I told my mother about it, she said that I was making it up." "I was surprised that almost all the stories we got were serious," says director Chan. The women talked about their experiences with abortions, rapes, female circumcision and plain, everyday discrimination. Each of the 50 stories submitted reflects a slice of Egyptian reality. Telling the stories required a great deal of courage, says Chan. The mere knowledge that one's own story will be performed in front of an audience represents a break with tradition. Sexual abuse, says Chan, is considered a family matter, and if it is disclosed to outsiders, the family feels dishonored and believes the woman has been deprived of her value. Abir embodies yet another archetype in Arab-Islamic moral society. She is 32 years old, petite, dark-skinned and wears an expensive, long black wig. She lives alone in a small but tidy apartment. Images from the days of the Pharaohs hang on her walls next to large, white pencils -- souvenirs from a trip to Germany's Rügen Island. Abir sits on a white wooden couch with pink upholstery. She wears shorts and a pink T-shirt. A tattoo of the sun adorns her right upper arm and she has a nicotine patch stuck to her left arm. Abir married for the first time when she was 23. Her mother was dead, her father bedridden and she had been making a meager living as a maid. The marriage was a nightmare. Her husband beat her, and on one occasion her mother-in-law cut off her long black hair and hung it on the wall -- as a warning. Abir obtained a divorce and took a job in a bar, where she met wealthy foreigners. Abir spreads out a series of photos on her coffee table. They show two happy people, swimming in the ocean, sitting on a park bench, shopping in Germany. But when the man in the photograph, a German named Ingo, still didn't want to marry her after three years, Abir broke off the relationship -- on the phone. "Why should I waste my life?" she asks. She also has photos of her and Luis, an American, with whom she had a relationship for a year. Luis wanted to take her home to the United States. "A wonderful man, he spoiled me," she says. But then they had a falling out and Luis left without her. He married another woman and Abir was beside herself. By the time she had come to her senses, she had lost her job as a waitress and decided to do what she had done in the past. She sold her body. "Egyptians pay 200 pounds (about €28), and Saudis pay 1,000 pounds or sometimes even more," says Abir. "Foreigners pay me $200. Condoms are required." She shows us the results of her most recent AIDS test, which was negative. Without the test she would not have been granted a German visa. Today she is afraid of being alone, says prostitute Abir. Almost all of her siblings are married. The police give you a hard time, sometimes for no reason at all. It's enough for them to see an unmarried woman sitting alone in a bar." Prison terms and beatings are the minimum. If a couple is caught in the act, the woman is the one who suffers. Abir wants to get married as soon as possible. She says that she has just met another American. She wants to take him to the mosque. As a Muslim woman, she can only marry a Muslim man. And she says the American is going to convert soon and learn more about her religion. When that happens, she says, the first thing she will do is get out of Egypt. Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
12 March, 2007 8 Associated Press - A rare gathering of openly gay Arab activists is slated to be held in Israel this month, drawing the ire of religious conservatives. Headlined "Home and Exile," the March 28 meeting is meant to spark discussion of homosexuality among Israel's 1 million Arab citizens, said Roula Deeb, a prominent Arab feminist and one of the scheduled speakers. The conference is being organized by Aswat, an Arab lesbian group based in Haifa, a coastal city home to both Jews and Arabs. Around 100 to 150 people are expected to show up, Deeb said. With homosexuality a taboo topic in much of the Arab world, the meeting is important simply because it is taking place. Israel is generally tolerant of homosexuality, and the country's secular metropolis, Tel Aviv, is home to a thriving gay community. But Israel's Arabs, who make up 20 percent of the population, live mostly in separate communities and homosexuality is still considered out of bounds. When news of the conference, which was advertised on Aswat's Web site, reached the Islamic Movement in Israel, it sparked a war of words between Arab liberals and Muslim conservatives. "Lesbians ... need treatment, they don't need to spread their strange ideas in the Arab community," said Mohammed Zbidat, a spokesman for the Islamic Movement, a conservative force that has grown increasingly influential in the Arab Israeli community in recent years. Homosexuality is strictly forbidden by Islam, and an earlier statement issued by the Movement described it as a "cancer" in the Arab community. The conference draws its supporters mostly from the ranks of secular and educated Arabs. It is sponsored by two Haifa cafes popular among Arab intellectuals and artists, and an Arab women's rap group is scheduled to perform. "This is a political issue," said Raja Zaatry, a journalist at the left-leaning Ittihad (Unity) newspaper, who condemned the Islamic Movement's stance in an editorial last week. Today, they are attacking gays and women — tomorrow, who else?" he said in an interview. "We shouldn't compromise. We have to challenge this fundamentalist stream in our society." In Lebanon, perhaps the Arab world's most liberal state, homosexuals have held news conferences and run a magazine called "Barra" — meaning "out" — the only publication of its kind. But nearly everywhere in the Arab world, individuals face persecution if they come out openly. Still, violence against participants in the Haifa conference is not expected. March 28, 2007 9 Haifa, Israel - Arab lesbians gathered in the northern Israeli city of Haifa at a rare public event, quietly defying protests from Islamists and a taboo in their own society. So strong is the antipathy toward homosexuality in their communities that only few of the Arab women in the crowd of about 250 at the Wednesday meeting were gay — a sign of how much Arab women feared being identified as lesbians, said Samira, 31, a conference organizer, who came with her Jewish Israeli girlfriend. "We'd like all women to come out of the closet that's our role. We work for them," said Samira, who battled her own family when they found out she was a lesbian. Israel's Jewish majority is generally tolerant of homosexuality, and the country's secular metropolis, Tel Aviv, is home to a thriving gay community. On the other hand, Jerusalem, with its large proportion of Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox Jews, is strongly anti-gay. And among Israel's Arab citizens, who make up 20 percent of the country's population, homosexuality is taboo to most. Homosexuality is strictly forbidden by Islam, and a statement issued by a large Muslim group in Israel described it as a "cancer" in the Arab community. Driven deep underground for the most part, only 10 to 20 Arab lesbians attended the conference, organizers said, and most blended in with their Israeli counterparts and Arab backers without making their presence known. Poetry readings, music and Arab women rappers entertained the conference, called "Home and Exile in Queer Experience," organized by Aswat, an organization for Arab lesbians, with members in Israel, the West Bank and Gaza Strip. "We are here to say they (Arab lesbians) are not alone," said Rawda Morcos, Aswat's spokeswoman, one of a tiny minority of Arab women who are openly gay. Some related painful experiences. Samira, who has a dozen brothers and sisters, said she told a sibling she was gay two years ago. The news quickly spread among the family, and her 70-year-old mother fell into a depression, begging her daughter to change her ways. But she eventually accepted her daughter's homosexuality "in her own way," by packing large boxes of food for Samira whenever she came to visit. "My mother said, 'take the food, for you and your girlfriend'," Samira recalled, agreeing to be identified only by her first name for fear of reprisals. Some of her family never came around. A pregnant sister told Samira she would "never touch her children." Morcos said she had her car smashed up regularly for months and received threatening phone calls at her family home when her village in northern Israel found out she was a lesbian. Many of the attendees said they were sad that the only place safe enough to hold a conference for gay Arab women was in a Jewish area of Haifa, which has a mixed Arab-Jewish population. "This conference is being held, somehow, in exile, even though it's our country ... but it's not being held in Nazareth or Umm el-Fahm (two large Israeli Arab towns)," said Yussef Abu Warda, a playwright. Outside the conference hall, 20 women protesters in headscarves and long, loose robes held up signs reading, "God, we ask you to guide these lesbians to the true path." Khadijeh Daher, 35, described lesbianism as a "sickness." Security was tight. Attendance was by invitation only, and reporters were not allowed to take photographs, use tape recorders or identify people. Even rapper Nahwa Abdul Aal, who performed for the gathering, didn't support the gays. "Being at this conference hasn't changed my mind," she said. "I still think it's wrong. March 29, 2007 10
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20th July 2007 12 by Tony Grew "I chose the name salaam because it is a word of greetings, peace and love that is shared by many peoples of Middle Eastern and Asian heritage," says Simran, MySalaam.com's founder and coordinator. I wanted to bring together these different, inter-connected communities. MySalaam.com is the first fully interactive, non-religious based UK website for Asian and Arab LGBTs. We needed a space that isn't just about dating and sex. I wanted to create an environment where we could share experiences and unite against the Islamophobia and racism that creeps its way into the LGBT community," said Simran. MySalaam.com aims to fill the current void in the online experience of people from the Asian and Arab LGBT communities. It provides an up-to-date, safe environment for users to interact, and get information. The site wants to be a place to visit for Arab and Asian people seeking support and advice around their sexuality, health and social issues. To visit the site click here.
July 31, 2007 13 by Brendan Bernhard The four hosts of "Kalam Nawaem" are certainly willing to tackle subjects head-on. "The subject of this show is masturbation," announces Fawzia Salama, introducing a particularly controversial edition of the program. A woman calling in anonymously admits that she began masturbating when she was 15. "Nobody taught me how to do it, my body asked for it," she says with a touch of lyricism. "When we talked about, excuse me, the female masturbation," says the show's male producer, "Oh, my God! We made a big, big split in the media. But at the end, simply it was a success. When you make a controversy, this is the true success. And life is a controversy, it is a duality." The presenters of "Kalam Nawaem" are united by their willingness to discuss hot-button topics (sexual equality, homosexuality -- "a super-taboo" -- wife-beating, sexual abuse, infidelity, and child sex education, to name a few). They also share a certain rootlessness. The striking Palestinian actress Farah Bseiso was born in the Gaza Strip but grew up in Syria and Kuwait. Ms. Salama, the oldest of the bunch (she looks about 60), is an Egyptian journalist based in London. Rania Barghout is a Lebanese who once lived in London, now lives in Beirut, and is considering a return to London. Lastly there's Muna AbuSulayman, a divorced Saudi from a prominent religious family. Ms. AbuSulayman is the only host to wear the hijab, and the only one who could be called a conservative. "Dishing Democracy" shows the women's lives off-air as well as on, but the background is often more revealing than the foreground. When Ms. AbuSulayman visits a Saudi shopping mall, you don't learn much about her, but you do get a pretty good sense of the eeriness of Saudi shopping malls: The men in white gowns with red-and-white headdresses, the women like floating black pillars. Only their heavily made-up eyes are visible, and they're the busiest, most flirtatious eyes you'll ever see. My favorite moment in "Dishing Democracy" comes when the Dutch director, Bregtje van der Haak, cuts away from the television studio to gauge the reaction in a Cairo cafe, where an unshaven, unemployed, all-male ensemble is sitting around sucking on water pipes and occasionally glancing at the TV. An episode of "Kalam Nawaem" is on, and it's about sex education. "We're uptight because we try to hide from children what's natural," says Ms. Salama, who probably imported the idea from London. The men in the café are unimpressed by the sex talk: "That's not okay, we're Muslims," says one, a T-shirt-worthy line in the tradition of "No Sex Please, We're British." Another man in the cafe -- mustachioed, quite young, looking distinctly peeved -- isn't taking the bait either. "They want to tell us what to think," he says indignantly, referring to the women on the show, "and now they're getting satellite TV to tell us about it. Additional URLs for the show: From: Mithly.com
website July 2007 14 We believe that a record of the experiences acquired through the daily challenges, joys, and fears of individuals belonging to these communities is invaluable to understanding how we identify with each other as individuals as well as what we aim for as a pressure group living in the most socially and politically turbulent area on the globe. We
find true value in self-actualization and self-expression, whatever
the form, and we hope Mithly.com will be both a guide and a listener to all those who visit. With our articles being circulated in several languages, we wish to leave no one out of this evolution. Together, the dream may one day become reality |
