Coming Out

A Private CultureStruggles To Come To Grips With Alternative Lifestyles

Enlightenment, or at least tacit acceptance, is beginning to reign in some parts of the Middle East. Without a doubt the gay life is in, and a big chunk of hidden society is walking out of the shadows of darkness.

Bassem Mousa, a twenty-something concierge at an upscale hotel in the heart of the now-surging center of action in the middle of Beirut, had come to town only a few months ago from the United States, where he grew up. He was sent to Beirut to live with his aunt and uncle as a “matter of reform.” His immigrant parents thought he would be better off in Lebanon.

“Baba [his father] wasn’t too keen that I was open about being gay, and he wasn’t keen on some of my newer friends,” he explains. “He thought he could put me back where he thought I would be watched more and society would frown on it more. He didn’t undesrstand that things are almost as open here in Beirut as back in the States.

"As a teenager, I had no idea that few people are everything they present to the outside world," Bassem says. "Yet there I was, hiding the reality of my life behind the unreal perfection of my perfect family. No one suspected the fear that gnawed at me even as I paraded pretty girls home to please my father. Funny how it worked out that I had to come to Beirut to come out fully. I didn’t have to hide. We all go to Lebanon so we can breathe."

As the healing continues in the aftermath of the recent war with Israel and a presidential stalemate over who would run the country, Beirut is as alive as ever. Some call Beirut the Paris of the Middle East. Others call it the City of Nightclubs. But for some, Beirut might as well be the Home of the Gay Renaissance.

“All the gays and lesbians are flocking here,” he says. “Baba would be unhappy to see this.”

He seems to blend in more with the guys on the prowl for the opposite sex than the same sex. To look and speak with Bassem is a lesson in Manhattan metrosexuality: manicured nails, a bed head’s “do,” designer clothes and a Wall Street speaking style. He doesn’t fawn over people or talk with a pronounced feminine tone a la Nathan Lane in “The Birdcage.” He seems like he’s just one of the guys.

It’s a humid September evening. The air blasting the best it can from his 1997 "No one suspected the fear that gnawed at me even as I paraded pretty girls home to please my father." tan Mercedes sedan. Hoots and hollers surge as we pass down every street, each more busy than the other. Pulling past the now famous downtown area Solidaire, we are treated to high end cafés and one of the world’s most expensive shopping districts. “This is where you come to get sparkly,” Bassem reports. “Roberto Cavalli, Dolce & Gabbana, Marc Jacobs, they are essential if you are going to compete for the affection of women or men.”

Business is brisk at Solidaire, but not as brisk as it will be later at the clubs. The nightlife tour picks up at 9 p.m. not far from Solidaire along the Mediterranean that separates Lebanon from Europe. The bass notes from Kanye West, T-Pain and Tamer Hosny songs bounces you down the street. Men and women alike are on the prowl looking for some liquid courage and directing provocative glances for someone to buy it for them. Skin is on the menu and being served like 99 cent cheeseburgers, available and cheap. Tight pants, open shirts with exposed chests, necklaces that could signal aircraft—it’s all out there (and that’s just the men).

Mahnaz Kousha, sociology professor at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota, and a native of Tehran, says, “This idea of open sexuality goes beyond the dynamic of region, color and creed. It’s not about if you are American or Middle Eastern or if you live in San Francisco, New York, Beirut or Tehran. People want to love in their own individual style. The more freedoms people receive, the more they will express themselves. But don’t be fooled by thinking that just because you don’t see it that it is not happening.”

And although still illegal in Lebanon, the country has turned the other cheek enough to allow Helem (Arabic for “dream”), the only officially recognized gay and lesbian organization in the Middle East, to operate. It has even been honored by the Lebanese Ministry of Health for its efforts to prevent the spread of HIV and other sexually transmitted infections.”

“Gay tourists come from all over the world because they know Lebanon is a fairly open society,” says Georges Azzi, president of Helem. “This is especially true for Gulf citizens [Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, Oman, U.A.E.], and since they are the most lavish spenders the police are urged not to crack down on the nightlife scene.”

“Our community feels comfortable in Lebanon,” Bassem says, as he meets up with Hala Nasr, 27, an information technology expert and frequent nightclub party-er.

“There’s a special bond between the gays and lesbians,” she says, seconding Bassem’s sentiments. “We aren’t petty with male/female issues that keep clogging up equality and important matters. No one outside of us wants there to be an ‘us’ so we stick together and push each other up higher and higher. Who would have thought a couple of years ago that we would be this accepted anywhere in the Middle East? No one.”

Hala joins our impromptu tour of gay/lesbian Beirut as we continue down the side streets of Hamra, a western Beirut neighborhood, into an underground lesbian club that you need a secret code word to get into (and two female escorts along with you if you are male). “Every Friday the word is posted on an inconspicuous forum on the Internet,” she says. “Only those in the ‘know’ know!”

Arsham Parsi, executive director of irqo.net: “Despite what those in the community say, gays do not have an easy life in the Middle East. It seems though that lesbians have it harder. With the ever-present conventional wisdom for women to marry and marry young, being a lesbian is the equivalent of mental death. Many lesbians are forced into getting married to men they don’t love to save honor in the family. With them the consensus feeling is that they are being raped by their legal husbands and have no safe haven to go to. Living a lie is one thing, but to have to marry someone you are not sexually oriented to is both physical and emotional torture.”

For Hala and her friends, a safe haven is “clubs of discretion” as they are called. Prior to entering the club, the uninitiated begins to over-imagine something out of “Wild Things” or “Mulholland Drive,” with visions of booze and hot intertwined female bodies in a sweat-filled mosh pit of sorts. But upon arrival, the first time visitor finds the atmosphere low key. The only thing I found intertwined was the smell of the cigarettes mixed with Chanel wafting toward us. The scene is about 10 notches lower than what was expected here on the frenzy scale. Much more emphasis is placed on getting to know someone as opposed to the feeding frenzy you see in the straight clubs as singles fight through the masses looking for tonight’s hookup.

"Beirut is open to gays, but it’s still not San Francisco,” Hala explains. “It’s too bad Coup d'Etat, the Middle East’s Despite what those in the community say, gays do not have an easy life in the Middle East. It seems though that lesbians have it harder. first openly lesbian club, closed. There we didn’t feel like we needed to hide anything. After all, Beirut is still in the Middle East. Progressiveness is not on a par with Paris or the States. So the underground is the way to go. We wanted to create a space of free expression where we lesbians can share our experiences."

Same-sex sexual intercourse is punishable by law in Lebanon, but references to it abound. “You see them everywhere. In most of the fashion stores selling ‘very gay’ clothes and in the seaside resort town of Jounieh where half naked guys dance together in cages and men walk arm in arm down the street. And that’s not to mention what’s happening in other countries including Saudi.” Make no mistake, the gay and lesbian are thriving in a lot of places, it seems.

 

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