Tag: #jordan

This Arab is Queer

I feel, I am blessed to have read this book, that too during pride month. The book, which the Time magazine hailed as ‘groundbreaking’, is indeed that. It’s also trailblazing in so many ways. It’s an anthology of 18 essays written by queer Arab writers from the SWANA region, edited by Elias Jahshan, a Palestinian Lebanese journalist living in Australia. Now when was the last time you heard or saw space for a queer arab? And that’s the power this book yields. By asking 18 brilliant writers to write their stories, their way, many through their lived experiences, this book embodies the queer arab narrative, emboldens the queer arab and makes their visibility and intersectionality a necessity. While the stories are rooted in the arab-ness and queerness, diaspora or otherwise, the feelings of dignity, safety, and belongingness remain universal.

The book begins with the feminist giant (that’s also her newsletter) Mona Eltahawy’s essay, The decade of saying all that I could not say. Mona, a survivor of sexual assault, has been a crusader against patriarchy. In her essay she astutely describes her reckoning of owning her sexuality, her bisexuality, and the umpteen nuances that make it so. Her liberation by shedding the shame surrounding sex, has been an act of rebellion. As a Muslim woman, her vehement uprising against heteronormativity has been her emancipation. Mona writes not just to inspire us but to instigate our power.

Though each essay is profound, I would like to highlight a few that stayed with me. Amrou Al-kadhi’s essay, You made me your Monster, is a fierce, defiant take on Arab-ness, Quran and his Islamic identity. His transgressions viewed as blasphemous in the Arab world are just his ways of honouring his own authentic existence. Through his flamboyant, glamorous drag persona, Glamrou; Amrou is reinforcing the power in provocation.

Danny Ramadan, in his essay, The Artist’s portrait of a marginalised man, talks about how his writing is always up for debate, whether it’s fiction or non fiction and if it’s based on his real life experiences, simply because he’s a queer Syrian man with a refugee experience. He poignantly points out people’s assumptions about him and his work since he’s a queer arab and also worries if his real life trauma is going to unknowingly and inadvertently slip into his every narrative.

Amna Ali’s essay, My intersectionality was my biggest bully, is an eye opening piece about her journey as a Black Queer Arab. Growing up as and being a visibly Black person in a racism predominant society like UAE, Amna had a tumultuous upbringing wherein she was taught to be shameful about her blackness. Later, she became shameful about her queerness too. This amalgamation of multiple identities made her distraught, caused her abuse and violence, until she learnt to make peace with them. Amna has since realised her intersectionality as a Somali-Yemeni-Emirati queer person, is her true strength and yet it continues to be an arduous journey.

Hasan Namir’s story, Dancing like Sherihan, is about his tryst with shame due to his queerness leading to his ingrained belief about him being a sinner. His strict Iraqi Muslim upbringing was always at odds despite him moving to Canada and experiencing queer freedom. His essay deftly portrays the internal struggles of a queer person as they oscillate between religious virtues, familial pressures, internalised shame and queer trauma. Hasan’s relationship with Tarn, leading to their marriage and later having a child is one that of queer joy. It makes you misty-eyed, it makes you hopeful and it feels like a collective queer victory.

Madian Al Jazerah’s moving piece, Then came Hope, is an ode to him as a displaced Palestinian Queer man who is constantly engaged in an embittered battle with shame whilst remaining hopeful that he would emerge triumphant. His trauma is multilayered as he navigates zionism and homophobia. His astute observations on the blatant yet veiled discrimination in the gay world is one that many of us can identify with. Madian has a beautiful bookstore in Amman which I had visited back in 2019. It’s now through this book that I know the connection between the bookstore and him and have been so ecstatic since. Queer joy indeed comes in so many forms and experiences. I would like to quote a couple of lines from his essay which I felt were earth shatteringly brilliant. Here goes;

‘I know from experience that you can put shame on the highest shelf and forget about it for a while, but bigots and bullies can smell it and it is always within their reach.’

‘When we talk about love, the image of a heterosexual couple is accompanied by a thousand positive romantic associations. When we talk about gay men, the image is of two men having sex.’

Many or most of these stories are about shame and trauma, and that’s so true since those are the first feelings one experiences as a queer person. They also highlight the yearning for love, acceptance and inclusion. These stories are a lot tragic, which just goes on to show the commonality in their lived experiences as a queer arab. At the same time, the writers have done a commendable job in instilling faith and hope despite their grim realities of being a queer arab in a world so hostile towards them. This is a book that is going to jolt you out of your assumptions, privileges and entitlements. Burst that bubble, it’s time for a masterclass on humility and humanity.

Elias Jahshan has done beyond stellar work as an editor. Bringing together each of these supremely talented and gifted writers is not just groundbreaking but distinctively exceptional. Take a bow!

~ JUST A QUEER HUMAN. 🥹🥲

The Map of Salt and Stars

Unrest in Syria began on 15th March, 2011 as part of the wider 2011 Arab spring protests out of discontent with the Syrian government, eventually leading to an armed conflict. The war is currently fought by several factions. The Syrian Civil War is second deadliest conflict of the 21st century after the Second Congo War. The conflict has caused a major refugee crisis with millions fleeing to neighbouring countries (source Wikipedia). This book by Syrian American author, Zeyn Joukhadar, is rooted in Syria and celebrates it with a double tale of voyage and exile. The first tale is about 16 year old Rawiya, set in 12th century, who leaves her house in Benzu, near Ceuta (Ceuta is a Spanish autonomous city on the north coast of Africa), in search of adventure and with a quest to explore the world beyond the desert. She becomes an apprentice with the renowned explorer and mapmaker al-Idrisi and sets out on this perilous and unforeseeable odyssey to assist al-Idrisi in sketching the map through the Maghreb and the Mediterranean. During this adventure of a lifetime, she comes across blood thirsty mystical creatures; vicious men; cruel, tyrant kings and their armies; and difficult terrain and weather. This only establishes Rawiya as a gallant warrior. Rawiya single handedly helps al-Idrisi in completing his exploration of the world whilst constantly battling attackers and reminding everyone through this pursuit that her gender is no barrier in achieving accolades and appreciation and in being one of the greatest warriors of her time.

The second tale is of the present day, 12 year old Nour who has moved to Homs in Syria from Manhattan after her father’s death; with her mother, who is a mapmaker and two sisters, Zahra and Huda. As she is adjusting to her new life in Syria while knowing only a few words of Arabic, she is now one amongst many who has got trapped in the Civil war. She experiences bombing of her house and from there on, her ordeal for survival begins. Instantly her status becomes that of a refugee as she manages to escape from Syria. She has to let go of her mother and sister Huda during this gut wrenching journey which takes her through Jordan, Libya, Algeria and finally to Ceuta. The tale is as much a portrayal of Nour’s resilience, as much as it is, about her coming to terms with the menacing traits of human behaviour and the rot that has crept into humanity at large.

The narrative constantly flips between the stories of Rawiya and Nour. It’s a slow paced read. Islamic history and ancient names of cities find a constant mention through the book. I had to refer to Google lot many times to educate myself about the same. The author brilliantly depicts the striking geographical similarities between the old world and the current. Maps form an integral part of the storyline throughout the book. There are constant references about stars, galaxies and various constellations. I did find Nour’s narrative a bit tedious, since it gets a lot metaphorical at times. It isn’t an easy book to read. How would it even be? How can any book that talks about a devastating civil war be pleasant in any way? The author deftly portrays the geopolitical dissimilarity in tales of Rawiya and Nour. Rawiya’s is about bringing the world together by sketching the map and defining the borders, whilst ironically in Nour’s, it’s about a disintegrated world and the battles at the borders.

~ JUST A GAY BOY. 😞

The Bride of Amman

📍Jordan 🇯🇴

This debut novel by the Jordanian writer, Fadi Zaghmout, originally written in Arabic (Aroos Amman), later translated into English by Ruth Ahmedzai Kemp, caused quite a stir when it was released. Understandably so, considering the bold and controversial issues it explores, which are often deemed taboo and blasphemous in the traditional Jordanian society. The story is told through five characters of Leila, Salma, Rana, Hayat and Ali; all living in the capital city, Amman. Through these stories, the author tackles the persistent and pertinent issues of patriarchy, misogyny, chauvinism, incest, rape, sexual abuse, homophobia, widely prevalent in the conservative Arab community. An Arab woman’s worth is equated with her ability to get married at the right age, be a dazzling bride and bear children, especially sons. Her career and education are just an ornament. Zaghmout repeatedly asserts how women have no authority or agency over their own lives and bodies, and their choices are subject to male dominance and approval. Particularly disturbing story is that of Hayat, who is raped and sexually abused by her own father; later chooses promiscuity with multiple married men to escape this horrid truth.

Zaghmout’s narrative is a poignant reflection of contemporary Amman, however, I felt, that at many instances, he has tried to infantilise the grave problems. Hayat, as a rape survivor, is shown to forgive her father for his unpardonable crime. Her choice of being promiscuous seems to be very flippant and it seems as the only way a woman can get over her sexual abuse past. Ali, a closeted Iraqi gay man, gets married to Leila, has a child, and continues to have gay sexual encounters on the sly. Leila later discovers his homosexuality and upon confrontation, chooses to accept her life as his wife, devoid of sex, delves steadfast into her career and turns a blind eye to his indiscretions. In the book, the men are forever exonerated for their crimes and wrongdoings, by the women. There’s always some “logical” reasoning to the way the men have behaved. This almost invisible, subtextual chauvinism can’t be ignored. Also, other than Salma’s story, the others seem to have the proverbial happy ending. This smacks of immature writing.

Majority of Indian gay men remain closeted and continue to have heterosexual marriages and children under the pretext of parental pressure and culture. They also have multiple gay liaisons after marriage with gay abandon (no pun intended) and literally no remorse. Are the Indian women too, like Leila, choosing to not see the obvious because of the pressure to stay married and the stigma of divorce? Or are they truly oblivious?

Though the book is about Ammani women, one can’t miss the fact, how close this hits home. Indian women, are still governed by the cis men around them, and it remains an ongoing struggle for them to establish their equality and agency.

~ JUST A GAY MAN. 🥺