BEIRUT, Lebanon — Just a week before, as Israel bombed this country, I was asked: What’s the story in Beirut?
Beirut, once so sophisticated that it was known as the Paris of the Middle East, was a city of cabarets, banking, fashion and long walks on the corniche along the ocean. But 15 years of civil war, inter-religious wars, and Palestinian and Christian militias, along with the Southern Lebanese Army (a Christian proxy for Israel), border disputes with neighboring Israel, the bombing of the U.S. embassy, as well as countless air raids and kidnappings, and occupation by neighboring Syria had reduced Beirut to rubble.
Now, in a land of religious intolerance, Beirut rebuilds itself, and a fledgling gay community is evolving.
No stranger to Arab/Muslim travel, I find the situation in Lebanon intriguing and fascinating. What I did not know was that Lebanon was a country full of contradictions. The Lebanese hate the power of the West (the United State), but would love to have the United States as their protectors. While the Lebanese complain about the culture and cuisine, of the West, they flock to Burger King, Kentucky Fried Chicken, TGI Friday’s, Mobil gas stations, Pizza Hut, Marriott, Holiday Inn, Sheraton, Starbucks and the standard-bearer of the United States, McDonalds.
Lebanon may be at war with Israel, but as soon as the bullets stop flying, Lebanese head for the border for a visit. While war rages in the south, people sunbathe at the beach.
The contradictions are personal as well as political.
A man at Paradise Beach, a gay beach that is not a gay beach, introduces himself and says with sincerity that he’s Machel, he’s straight, and this is his boyfriend Joey.
Online community
In addition to its contradictions, Beirut is awash with conspiracies and rumors: A government minister’s daughter is a lesbian. The Hezbollah is really controlled by Israel. A cabinet minister’s son is gay and was sent out of the country.
Miky, one of the members of Club Free, Lebanon’s first gay organization, acts as my host in Beirut. He is a giant gay cherub, a contradiction in terms — which is something you must learn to appreciate if you are to understand Lebanon. Miky is everyone’s older brother, and after traveling for 16 hours without sleep, Miky decides for my first night in Beirut that I need Lebanese food.
We head to Zaatar Wou Zet, a gay-friendly restaurant across the street from the American University where so many of the kidnappings of Americans had occurred in the 1980s. The street is full of neon lights advertising the latest restaurants. This street could be transported to any similar site in the Western world. Miky orders labneh, a white, creamy thing that is between yogurt and cheese that you scoop up with a flat bread; tabbouleh, a salad of parsley, tomatoes and onions; and kafta, barbecued ham mixed with parsley. We ate a cheese man’ousheh, which is similar to a strombolli.
The Internet has played a major part in connecting community. Miky tells the story of when he first got online, found a search engine and just typed in the word “gay.” Like others in Lebanon, Mikey thought he was the only one, so he put a classified online, and soon he was chatting with others.
Miky’s story is similar to many people.
IRC, a real-time Internet chat program that creates chat rooms, has a gay Lebanon site. Many of Lebanon’s fledgling gay and lesbian community first met at IRC or through www.gay.com which, simply because of its name, was the first place young gay men and lesbian woman looked for soul mates.
Machel and Joey (the straight man with the boyfriend) met online four months ago.
These online connections led participants to discuss the fate of their community, which resulted in the idea to create Lebanon’s first gay organization.
Mazen, a 30-something artist and published author, is the de facto head of Club Free, as the group is known. The people creating this new venture are brave souls. Most are not out to their families, but know it’s only a matter of time. They are as a group young, educated, middle class or above and Internet savvy.
“Surfing the ’Net has allowed us to witness a growing openness of the gay community, and now we in Lebanon wish not only to witness but participate,” Mazen said.
Club Free held its first fund-raiser May 21. The members rented a bus and headed for the hills to do a little trekking. The group is most proud of its activities on World AIDS Day. That day. Club Free sent out 10,000 e-mails about safer sex that were signed for the first time as “The Gay community of Lebanon.”
The perils of such a step should not be looked at as trivial. Event the Lebanese government, which is propped up by Syria and its religious proxies, realizes the power of the ’Net.
On April 3, vice police raided the Beirut offices of Destinations, a major Internet provider. According to Zied, an official of Destinations, “The police came in cut all the phone lines and refused to allow anyone to solicit legal assistance. The staff was interrogated, and the senior staff person was taken to Hobaich Police station across from the American University of Beirut.”
Interrogations went on for the next three days. The crime, according to police, was that Destinations, a non-gay company was playing host to an Internet site on its server called Gay Lebanon, which was, at the time of the raid, under construction, with only the name on screen.
The police later discovered that the site was controlled from outside of Lebanon.
Culture, tradition
The raid, like almost every other attempt to control the gay community, was castrated by the cultural and religious morals, and given power by the censorship laws. The government censors almost anything it believes will be offensive to either one of the religious factions, Syria or a host of other areas of concern sometimes not even delineated in writing. But even though the rules were in writing, it might not mean a thing.
Honor crimes, which allow a man to kill his wife, daughter or sister if she has dishonored the family name, are illegal in Lebanon, but are still practiced and rarely prosecuted.
The cultural theme of honor to the family is one reason many gays would not even consider coming out. While they might not be killed they very well might thrown out of the house and left without money or other resources. Many family members live together until the younger ones marry. Those who remain single often stay until their 30s or 40s.
Danny, a local model who has appeared in numerous national and international magazines and newspaper ads and could easily pass for a Versace model, turned his face when asked to be photographed for this article.
“I am proud of who I am, but my family is well-known and I don’t want to cause them shame or embarrassment,” he explained.
When asked about the new gay organization he said, “Definitely, I will support it, I will not join it, but will help.”
Hedy, 42, a major figure in the Lebanese public relations community, contacted me after urging from the American embassy. He was not comfortable talking on this subject, and was shocked to learn that there was a gay organization being founded. Hedy lives with his mother and will not go to Acid or B.O. 18 — the gay clubs that are not a gay clubs — since “Lebanon is a small country and I don’t want to bring dishonor to my family.”
He’ll go to Paradise Beach — the gay beach that is not a gay beach — but only if he sits in the restaurant on the hill so nobody will see him.
Hedy is the only person who asked my religion while in Lebanon. When I told him I’m Jewish, he put his finger to his lips, and pointed out the window of the restaurant.
“Please don’t say that out there, they’ll kill you,” he said.
Asked about the new group, he said, “I don’t know what they can change, but I wish them the best since we need something.”
My entire time in Lebanon I felt completely safe, even while in Muslim slums, but I was beginning to understand the fear that people such as Hedy had.
The glass closet
Homosexuality is illegal in Lebanon The law talks about crimes against nature, and unnatural acts. Like everything else in Lebanon, it’s based on religion, tradition or honor, and the government makes that point and reminds the gay community of that often. “Ellen” was broadcast in Lebanon until she came out, and the government ordered it off the air. Films with a gay angle are censored, but the government is powerless to censor DVDs or the black market, so gay films do make their way to Lebanon. At Acid, a dance bar which is not gay, but with gay clientele, government personnel record license plates of the cars in the parking lot.
There are no real gay bars in Lebanon, even though 90 percent of the patrons in a club might be gay. In other bars and clubs in Lebanon and Arab/Muslim countries, men dance together, but they are heterosexual men at heterosexual watering holes. As you wander the streets, you’ll notice street cleaners — men who literally clean the streets. These are the Syrians, the occupiers of Lebanon, who live below the standards of Lebanese the people and the country they control.
Since there is freedom of speech (except about Syria), and radio and TV talk shows have adapted U.S. sensationalistic standards, you’d expect an exchange of views on gays and lesbians, but nothing could be further from the truth. Lebanon is the glass closet: those in it can see out; those looking in can see in, but neither can communicate past the glass.
No government official would comment on the record about Lebanon’s gay community, and the U.S. Embassy, which had warned me that “such things were not talked about in Lebanon,” put me in touch with a Lebanon official for background information, which was off the record, and not to be quoted directly. He told me that there has never been a request for government officials to discuss gay issues.
Prison horrors
Mustafer (not his real name) is a perfect example of Lebanon’s contradictions. He’s a proud member of the Lebanese military, who, while walking the corniche one evening, started a conversation with a man. One thing led to another, and they had sex.
Back at the corniche, the other man demanded money. Mustafer was insulted, and declined. The hustler’s friends then appeared, and Mustafer, trying to protect himself, headed for his car. The hustler grabbed his keys, and somehow the two of them were off.
Soon, they came across one of Lebanon’s numerous military checkpoints, and Mustafer yelled for help. Military personnel questioned both men, and unsatisfied with their answers, began to beat them.
According to Mustafer, the beating lasted somewhere between three and four hours. When I asked about his bruises, and how badly he was beaten, Mustafer laughed, and said, “You don’t know that they know how to beat you in certain places where there will be no bruises.”
After being beaten, Mustafer admitted that he had had sex with the hustler. Mustafer believes that, subconsciously, he wanted his family to know.
In Lebanon, if you are arrested on a morals charge, almost always your family is called. This is the most damage the police can do to you and your family.
Mustafer’s family has connections, but would not use them to help him since they did not want others to know their son had had “unnatural sex.”
Mustafer spent two weeks in prison before being bailed out.
“It is hell because there is special treatment for gay people in prison,” he said. “In prison a killer is better then a homosexual.”
Prison consisted of a 30-foot by 30-foot cell for 53 men with a side room the size of a closet with a hole for a toilet, which often flowed into the bigger room where the inmates sleep on the floor, each allowed one and a half blankets.
There are no windows, no daylight. Each prisoner is given a loaf of bread each day. Breakfast is a plate of olives. The other two meals were two buckets of gruel which the prisoners fought over.
Mustafer says he remains traumatized by this incident, but in many ways, he’s the poster child of intolerance that the government displays. Gays and lesbians him as the martyr who first made them realize they must organize.
Mustafer also says has dealt with what has happened to him, and put it in the past. He has joined with others to start Club Free to, as he says, “help inform” others so that what happened to him does not happen to them.
According to Mustafer, the maximum sentence for homosexuality is six months in prison, which he received, but since his case took two years to process the judge allowed that time to be used as his punishment
Later, in a Lebanese practice, he paid $3,000 to have his record erased. The erasure was so well-done that he now serves in a security detail in the military. With good humor, he says, “Do they know they have a fag walking the halls of their security ministry?”
Mustafer’s story has become a rallying point for members of Club Free and also helps members to organize so that, as Mustafer says, “We can protect ourselves by spreading information.”
Mountains to climb
A surprising aspect of Club Free is that its founding members — 30 — strong, are Christian, Muslim, (both of Muslim’s two major groups, Sunni and Shiite), Jewish and Palestinian, and the mix even consist of woman and men.
When I mention the diversity issue, the group, in a collective sigh, complain about American political correctness, which they tease me about for the remainder of my stay.
Mazen, a Club Free member, realizes the mountains his group must climb. Having spent time traveling in the West, he is a most surprising leader. Like everyone else in this small country of 4.5 million people, he sees the challenges ahead, and realizes there are other more important issues in Lebanon then gay rights.
“We don’t even have civil law in this country,” he explained. “That is why we will join the coalition to create civil law. It is the first step to liberalization in our country, but the religious leaders will fight this.”
Without civil law, various religions have a monopoly. To get married, couples must go to their local churches or mosques. One cannot marry out one’s religion or even another sect in a particular religion, and, of course, there are divorces. All moral laws and censorship are based on a maze of archaic religion and cultural tradition. The Parliament is almost useless in passing any law. Honor law is different because it is not based on religion.
SAS, a club which usually caters to a straight, young hip crowd, has created — or allowed — Thursdays to become a lesbian night at the venue.
Miky, Rasha — a 21-year-old psychology student and member of Club Free — and I head to SAS. Rasha explains that lesbians have an easier way of life in Lebanon since in such a male-dominated society, female sexuality just falls off the scope.
“We can sleep over at each other homes, and no one would think that we’re lesbians, but men can’t do that,” she said.
At SAS the music is fast and the bass louder. The dance floor is full, so people dance on the chairs, tables and atop the bar. The sexual repression of this country lets loose on its dance floors, as groups gyrate as close as the establishment will allow.
The belly dancer
Tradition might be what family life is all about in Lebanon, but to understand its contradiction, head to Amore Y Libertad, a Cuban nightclub in a fashionable section of Beirut that pays homage to Che Guevara.
Dean Martin music plays in the background. We are here to see Musbah, the world’s only professional male belly dancer.
We chat backstage before his 1:30 a.m. show. He’s wearing a tan jacket and matching pants with pink shirt, eye shadow and lipstick. He is a flamboyant, self-assured figure.
He tells about his recent interview in The New York Times and on CNN. I ask if either of them mentioned that he was gay. He replies: “I have always dressed like this. I’m not denying it, but in this country, if you dress this way or you’re eccentric, they think you are weird; it’s not weird, it’s stylish. I live my life as I am. I am Musbah. I live as Musbah.”
Later, we watched him dance. In true belly-dance tradition, he attempts to allure the king with wiggles, gyrations and hand gestures. At one point, he jumps from the stage, and dances in front of and for a male patron. It is all over in 15 minutes.
As we await our tab, the background music is the soundtrack from “Grease,” and I wonder what the authorities would do if Musbah were doing his act at one of the gay clubs that’s not gay.
Past, present
At Acid and B.O.18, there is always a wink that’s there gay discos. To make that point, woman often are admitted free, and given complimentary drinks. Of course, most of the woman are lesbians. If men get too close during a dance, the bouncer will separate them.
Miky explains that when friends want to dance or kiss, other friends will surround them on the dance floor so management or bouncers won’t notice. This teamwork has created a close relationship between gay men and women.
To understand the Lebanese people, one must realize what they have been through.
Everyone can tell you their story of the war if you ask.
Rasha wonders when if the people of Lebanon will ever come to terms with the war.
Miky tells about going to the bank with his sister and mother. They left the bank, turned the corner of a crowded shopping street, and heard the loud sound of a car bomb — Beirut is one of the few places in the world where people know that sound — and went back to see the carnage of bodies.
They will not bring up or linger on the subject, and I wonder if it’s out of politeness to their guest or because they don’t want to deal with the emotional impact of what had happened to them.
As Rasha and I discuss this as we drive through crowded streets on our way to a bar that is not a gay bar. Suddenly, cars and pedestrians appear from nowhere honking horns, screaming and waving green and white flags. People are hanging from car windows as they pass by. It becomes a chaotic and friendly riot as the streets become over crowded.
The area basketball team has just won a championship.
The security police are out in force to assure there is no trouble. As we pass a group of hundreds, I give the international sign — index finger jabbing the air — and say “we’re No. 1.” The crowd roars and follows suit.
Stuck in a massive traffic jam, Rasha and I continue our discussion, and I hear the distinct pattern of the car horns: 1, 2 (slow) — 1, 2, 3 (faster) — 1, 2, 3, 4 (a little faster) — 1, 2 (slower). It makes me laugh. Rasha asks why.
The horns remind me of a 1970 demonstration in front of the Woman’s House of Detention in New York City. Angela Davis was imprisoned there, and we chanted, “Ho ho, hey hey, House of D has got to go!” Then we’d clap. The clapping was to the same beat: 1, 2 — 1, 2, 3 — 1, 2, 3, 4 — 1, 2. It was and is a political statement of the left.
Rasha tells me that right after the war, beeping the horn like that could get you arrested.
And here we are in Beirut, wondering when its citizens will come to terms with their past, while the past has, in fact, become a part of their daily lives.
As we discuss the civil war in past tense, just an hour away to the south, gun fire and kidnappings are reported on in the morning paper. But Israel is withdrawing and there are signs of peace.
As we discuss this, Miky says, with a smile, that there was a rumor homosexuality was introduced to Lebanon as a Zionist plot.