Sexual relations in Middle Eastern societies have historically articulated social hierarchies, that is, dominant and subordinate social positions: adult men on top; women, boys and slaves below. The distinction made by modern Western “sexuality” between sexual and gender identity, that is, between kinds of sexual predilections and degrees of masculinity and femininity, has, until recently, had little resonance in the Middle East. Both dominant/subordinate and heterosexual/homosexual categorizations are structures of power. They position social actors as powerful or powerless, “normal” or “deviant.” The contemporary concept of “queerness” resists all such categorizing in favor of recognizing more complex realities of multiple and shifting positions of sexuality, identity and power.

In early 1993, news of President Clinton’s proposal to end the US military’s ban on service by homosexuals prompted a young Egyptian man in Cairo, eager to practice his English, to ask me why the president wanted “to ruin the American army” by admitting “those who are not men or women.” When asked if “those” would include a married man who also liked to have sex with adolescent boys, he unhesitatingly answered “no.” For this Egyptian, a Western “homosexual” was not readily comprehensible as a man or a woman, while a man who had sex with both women and boys was simply doing what men do. It is not the existence of same-sex sexual relations that is new but their association with essentialist sexual identities rather than hierarchies of age, class or status.

A recent study of family and urban politics in Cairo suggests that social taboos and silences relating to sexual behavior provide a space of negotiability.1 They accommodate discreet incidents of otherwise publicly condemned illicit sexual behavior-adultery, homosexuality, premarital sex-provided that paramount values of family maintenance and reproduction and supporting social networks are not threatened. Such silences, however, leave normative constructions of licit and illicit sexual behavior unchallenged, sustain patriarchal family values, and legitimize patterns of sexual violence such as honor crimes, female circumcision and gay bashing.2

Also in 1993, an Egyptian physician affiliated with Cairo’s Qasr al-’Aini Hospital informed me that AIDS and venereal diseases were not problems in Egypt because neither prostitution nor homosexuality exist in an Islamic country. While this statement may express conventions deemed appropriate for conversations with foreigners, it is profoundly ahistorical. Over the centuries, Islamic societies have accorded prostitution much the same levels of intermittent toleration, regulation and repression as their Christian counterparts and, until recently, have been more tolerant of same-sex sexual practices.3 Denying the existence of transgressive sexual practices helps obscure the ideological nature of “transgression,” making it difficult, for example, to see prostitutes as workers who support themselves or their families by performing services for which there is a social demand. Such denials also legitimize failures to respond effectively to public health concerns such as AIDS.4

Representations of Power and Sexuality

Western notions of sexual identity offer little insight into our contemporary young Egyptian’s apparent understanding that sexual behavior conforms to a particular concept of gender. His view, informed by a sexual ethos with antecedents in Greek and late Roman antiquity, is characterized by the “general importance of male dominance, the centrality of penetration to conceptions of sex and the radical disjunction of active and passive roles in male homosexuality.”5 Everett Rowson has found this sexual ethos “broadly representative of Middle Eastern societies from the 9th century to the present.” This is not to suggest that there has been an unchanging or homogeneous historical experience for the Arabo-Muslim world but rather to acknowledge both the remarkable continuity reflected in the sources and the need for research that would further map historical variations.6

Islam recognizes both men and women as having sexual drives and rights to sexual fulfillment and affirms heterosexual relations within marriage and lawful concubinage. All other sexual behavior is illicit. Whether the 7th century message of the Qur’an undermined or improved the position of women is much debated. There is more agreement that in subsequent centuries Muslim male elites, adopting the cultural practices of conquered Byzantine and Sasanian lands, construed that message to promote the segregation and seclusion of women and to reserve public and political life for men. Social segregation was legitimized in part by constructing “male” and “female” as opposites: men as rational and capable of self-control; women as emotional and lacking self-control, particularly of sexual drives. Female sexuality, if unsatisfied or uncontrolled, could result in social chaos (fitna) and social order thus required male control of women’s bodies.7 The domain of licit sexuality was placed in service to the patriarchal order. The patriarchal family served as paramount social institution and the proper locus of sex, thus ensuring legitimate filiation. Its honor required supervision of women by male family members, while marital alliances among families of equal rank maintained social hierarchies.

Where men rule, sexes are segregated, male and family honor is linked to premarital female virginity and sex is licit only within marriage or concubinage. Those denied access to licit sexuality for whatever reasons-youth, poverty, occupation (e.g. soldiers), demographic sexual imbalances-require other sexual outlets. Such contradictions between normative morality and social realities supported both male and female prostitution and same-sex practices in Middle Eastern societies from the medieval to the modern period. Ruling authorities saw prostitution as a socially useful alternative to potential male sexual violence (e.g. against respectable women) and a welcome source of tax revenues, even as some religious scholars vigorously objected. According to Abdelwahab Bouhdiba, “institutional prostitution forms part of the secret equilibrium of Arabo-Muslim societies,” necessary to their social reproduction.8

In medieval Islamic societies, understood through their (male-authored) literature of morals, manners, medicine and dream interpretation, sexual relations were organized in conformity to principles of social and political hierarchy. “Sexuality was defined according to the domination by or reception of the penis in the sex act; moreover, one’s position in the social hierarchy also localized her or him in a predetermined sexual role.”9 Sex, that is, penetration, took place between dominant, free adult men and subordinate social inferiors: wives, concubines, boys, prostitutes (male and female) and slaves (male and female). What was at stake was not mutuality between partners but the adult male’s achievement of pleasure through domination. Women were viewed as naturally submissive; male prostitutes were understood to submit to penetration for gain rather than pleasure; and boys, “being not yet men, could be penetrated without losing their potential manliness.” That an adult male might take pleasure in a subordinate sexual role, in submitting to penetration, was deemed “inexplicable, and could only be attributed to pathology.”10

Rowson explains the relation between gender roles and sexual roles in medieval Muslim societies by locating them in, respectively, distinct public and private realms. Adult men, who dominated their wives and slaves in private, controlled the public realm. Sex with boys or male prostitutes made men “sinners,” but did not undermine their public position as men or threaten the important social values of female virginity or family honor. Women, who could not penetrate and were confined to the private realm, were largely irrelevant to conceptions of gender; female homoeroticism received little attention. Effeminate men who voluntarily and publicly behaved as women (mukhannaths) gave up their claims to membership in the dominant male order. They “lost their respectability as men but could be tolerated and even valued as entertainers”-poets, musicians, dancers, singers. Men who maintained a dominant public persona but were privately submissive threatened presumptions of male dominance and were vulnerable to challenge.11

The articulation of sexual relations in conformity to social hierarchies represents an ideological framework within which individuals negotiated varied lives under changing historical conditions. Adult male egalitarian homosexual relations may have been publicly unacceptable, but there is evidence that, in the medieval period, men of equal rank could negotiate such relations by alternating active and passive sexual roles.12 In Mamluk Egypt, lower-class women could not afford to observe ideals of seclusion and secluded upper-class women found ways to participate in social and economic life and even used the threat of withholding sex to negotiate concessions from their husbands. Women in the Ottoman period went to court to assert their rights to sexual fulfillment (e.g., to divorce an absent or impotent husband).13 State efforts to repress illicit sexual conduct or promote social-sexual norms (e.g., by closing brothels or ordering women indoors) were sporadic, short-lived and typically occasioned by political circumstances and the need to bolster regime legitimacy.14

Ideological Reproduction

Reproduction of ideological Islamic sexual roles in the modern period has accompanied dramatic transformations, including the rise of modern state systems, Western colonial intervention, and various reform and nationalist movements. These complex processes have not significantly challenged the patriarchal values that undergird the sexual order or impaired the capacity of states, elites and political groups to deploy both secular and Islamic discourses in their support. Colonial authorities left existing gender relations largely intact, as did middle-class reform and nationalist movements. While secular legal codes have been adopted in many countries, they have generally deferred to religious authority in matters of family or personal status laws. Both nationalist and Islamist discourses have invoked ideals of Islamic morality and cultural authenticity to control and channel change.15

Increased economic and educational opportunities for women and the rise of nuclear family residential patterns have eroded patriarchal family structures, with, for example, older forms of arranged marriages giving way to elements of romantic attachment. Nonetheless, as Walter Armbrust and Garay Menicucci suggest in their film discussions in this issue, the popular media constantly reaffirm that family interests and normative sexual behavior take precedence over individual romantic aspirations. Moreover, because regimes link their legitimacy to the defense of morality and the licit sexual order, opposition groups and ordinary people draw attention to the existence of sexually transgressive behavior to criticize a range of government policies.16 Thus, premarital and homosexual relations among Moroccan youth, in the context of AIDS prevention debates discussed in this issue by Abdessamad Dialmy, are attributed to the government’s failure to provide employment and, hence, access to marriage and licit sexual relations. Both official and oppositional discourses affirm sexual norms.

Sexual relations, whether heterosexual or homosexual, continue to be understood as relations of power linked to rigid gender roles. In Turkey, Egypt and the Maghrib, men who are “active” in sexual relations with other men are not considered homosexual; the sexual domination of other men may even confer a status of hyper-masculinity.17 The anthropologist Malek Chebel, describing the Maghrib as marked by an “exaggerated machismo,” claims that most men who engage in homosexual acts are functional bisexuals; they use other men as substitutes for women-and have great contempt for them. He adds that most Maghribis would consider far worse than participation in homosexual acts the presence of love, affection or equality among participants.18 Equality in sexual relations, whether heterosexual or homosexual, threatens the “hyper-masculine” order.

Gender norms are deeply internalized. A recent study of sexual attitudes among rural Egyptian women found that they viewed female circumcision as a form not of violence but of beautification, a means of enhancing their physical differentiation from men and thus female identity.19 An informal study of men in Egypt found that aspirations to “hegemonic notions of masculinity” informed a continuous process of negotiating the nature of masculinity-the ability to provide for families or exercise control over women-in response to declining economic conditions.20 The persistent notion that women lack sexual control affords broad scope and social sanction to aggressive male sexuality. Women alone bear the blame-and the often brutal consequences evidenced by honor crimes-for even the suggestion of their involvement in illicit sexual activities. Suzanne Ruggi notes in this issue that honor crimes may account for 70 percent of murder cases involving Palestinian women. Honor crimes are also common in Egypt, Jordan and Morocco.

Violence directed against male homosexuals appears to be on the rise. Effeminate male dancers known as khawals were popular public performers in 19th-century Egypt; today that term is an insult, equivalent to “faggot.”21 The 19th-century khawals may not have enjoyed respect as “men,” but there is little evidence that they were subjected to violence. Hostility to homosexual practices has been part of the political and cultural legacy of European colonialism. Today, global culture’s images of diverse sexualities and human sexual rights have encouraged the formation of small “gay” subcultures in large cosmopolitan cities such as Cairo, Beirut and Istanbul and a degree of political activism, particularly in Turkey. Although homosexuality is not a crime in Turkey, Turkish gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transvestites and transsexuals have been harassed and assaulted by police and sometimes “outed” to families and employers. Turkish gay activists have specifically been targeted. Effeminate male prostitutes in contemporary Morocco are described as a marginal group, ostracized and rejected by their families, living in fear of police and gay-bashers (casseurs de p&eacuted&eacutes). For some, as for Turkish transsexuals, prostitution serves as one of the few ways in which they can live their sexuality.22 Many homosexuals in Middle Eastern countries have sought asylum in the West as refugees from official persecution.23

“Queering” the Middle East

In noting the threat posed to the dominant sexual order by egalitarian sexual relationships, Malek Chebel acknowledges the great silence that surrounds the fact that widespread active male homosexual relations in Middle Eastern societies presuppose the widespread availability of passive partners.24 Demet Demir, a political activist and spokesperson for Turkish transsexuals, touches upon the same contradiction when she states, with reference to the popularity as prostitutes of Istanbul’s transsexuals: “These people who curse us during the day give money to lie with us at night.”25 Is this the “functional”-and misogynist-”bisexuality” described by Chebel above the mere substitution by men of other, available men for unavailable women? That view, which hardly explains the choice of a male or transsexual over a female prostitute, is entirely consistent with and sustains the ideology that positions public or visible or audible men as sexually dominant.

Little attention has been given to the nature of these expressions of male sexual desire which, as Deniz Kandiyoti has noted, seem to “combine a whole range of masculinities and femininities.”26 There are, she suggests, generational and institutional dimensions to the production of masculine identities. Thus, men who are expected to be “dominant” in one context may experience subordination, powerlessness and humiliation in others, for example in relation to their fathers and to superiors at school or during military service. How does “masculinity” change meaning in these different domains? The complexity of questions of sexuality, identity and power are explored in this issue by Yael Ben-zvi who finds herself, in Israel, simultaneously privileged as an Ashkenazi Jew and marginalized as a lesbian. The aim of “queerness,” therefore, is to recognize identity as “permanently open as to its meaning and political use and to encourage the public surfacing of differences or a culture where multiple voices and interests are heard.”27

Bruce Dunne, an editor of Middle East Report teaches Middle East history at Georgetown University.

Endnotes

1 Diane Singerman, Avenues of Participation: Family, Politics, and Networks in Urban Quarters of Cairo (Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 1997), pp. 92 and 100.

2 See Latefa Imane, “Un programme de sensibilisation et de soutien aupr&egraves de prostitu&eacutes masculins,” Le Journal du SIDA 92-93 (December 1996-January 1997), p. 55.

3 See As’ad AbuKhalil, “A Note on the Study of Homosexuality in the Arab/Islamic Civilization,” Arab Studies Journal 1/2 (Fall, 1993), pp. 32-34.

4 See Malek Chebel, “La s&eacuteparation des sexes engendre un masculin maghr&eacutebin,” Le Journal du SIDA 92-93 (December 1996-January 1997), p. 27.

5 Everett K. Rowson, “The Categorization of Gender and Sexual Irregularity in Medieval Arabic Vice Lists,” in Julia Epstein and Kristina Straub, eds., Body Guards: The Cultural Politics of Ambiguity (New York and London: Routledge, 1991), p. 73.

6 Ibid., pp. 72-73.

7 See Judith Tucker, Gender and Islamic History (Washington, DC: American Historical Association, 1993), pp. 3-13; Steven M. Oberhelman, “Hierarchies of Gender, Ideology, and Power in Ancient and Medieval Greek and Arabic Dream Literature,” in J. W. Wright Jr. and Everett K. Rowson, eds. Homoeroticism in Classical Arabic Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997), p. 66.

8 Hassanein Rabie, The Financial System of Egypt: A.H. 564-641/A.D. 1169-1341 (London: Oxford University Press, 1972), p. 119; André Raymond, Artisans et commer&ccedilants au Caire au XVIIIe si&egravecle (Damascus, 1973), pp. 508-09 and 527; Abdelwahab Bouhdiba, Sexuality in Islam (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985), p. 193.

9 Oberhelman, op. cit., pp. 67-68.

10 Rowson, op. cit., pp. 66-67.

11 Ibid., pp. 66 and 72-73.

12 Ibid., p. 66.

13 Huda Lutfi, “Manners and Customs of Fourteenth-Century Cairene Women: Female Anarchy versus Male Shar’i Order in Muslim Prescriptive Treatises,” in Nikki R. Keddie and Beth Baron, eds. Women in Middle Eastern History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991), pp. 101 and 109-18; Tucker, op. cit., pp. 18-19.

14 Rabie, op. cit., p. 119; Raymond, op. cit., pp. 604-09.

15 See Tucker, op. cit., pp. 19-33.

16 Singerman, op. cit., pp. 93-94 and 100.

17 Huseyin Tapinc, “Masculinity, Femininity, and Turkish Male Homosexuality,” in Kenneth Plummer, ed., Modern Homosexualities: Fragments of Lesbian and Gay Experiences (London and New York: Routledge, 1992), p. 46; Singerman, op.cit., p. 99; Chebel, op. cit., p. 27.

18 Chebel, op. cit., p. 27.

19 Hind Khattab, Women’s Perceptions of Sexuality in Rural Giza (Giza, Egypt: The Population Council: Monographs in Reproductive Health 1, 1996), p. 20.

20 Kamran Asdar Ali, “Notes on Rethinking Masculinities: An Egyptian Case,” Learning about Sexuality: A Practical Beginning (The Population Council and the International Women’s Health Coalition, 1995), pp. 106-07.

21 Singerman, op. cit., p. 100.

22 Imane, op. cit., p. 55; Turkish Daily News, August 22, 1997; Amnesty International, Breaking the Silence: Human Rights Violations Based on Sexual Orientation (London: Amnesty International UK, 1997), pp. 26-27, 52.

23 Information provided to MERIP courtesy of the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission Asylum Project, San Francisco.

24 Chebel, op. cit., p. 27.

25 Turkish Daily News, August 22, 1997.

26 Deniz Kandiyoti, “The Paradoxes of Masculinity,” in Andrea Cornwall and Nancy Lindisfarne, eds., Dislocating Masculinities: Comparative Ethnographies (London and New York: Routledge, 1994), p. 212.

27 Steven Seidman, “Introduction,” in Steven Seidman, ed., Queer Theory/Sociology, (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1996), p. 12.

AMMAN (AROL)– The issue of male homosexuality in the Arab world remains a taboo and untapped subject away from national debate.

This tendency is not spoken about openly– though male-male friction is acknowledged. Nor is it legally recognized in these conservative societies.

While the issue of recognizing male homosexuality is not totally different from other countries, male Arab homosexuality has indeed a different notion from that in the West.

Gay activities are frowned upon in Islam but a set of cultural and traditional taboos has played a role in the acquiescence of much of these sexual activities if confined to a certain set of moral conducts.

That is to say, homosexual behavior may be overlooked but experiencing feelings of an emotional nature beyond sex makes a man gay and hence, a potential outcast. In a society where the family bond, “honor” and image are extremely important, many tend to follow the dictates and norms of society, even if this means living in conflict with their inner feelings.

Sex vs. emotions
Many Arab men make a distinction between sex and emotional attachment. Bruce Dunne, author of an article titled Power and Sexuality in the Middle East, believes that sexual relations in the Middle East are about power. He writes: “Sexual relations in Middle Eastern societies have historically articulated social hierarchies, that is, dominant and subordinate social positions: adult men on top; women, boys and slaves below…Both dominant/subordinate and heterosexual/homosexual categorizations are structures of power.”

Having pure, raw sex with another man and being the active partner doesn’t make a man gay. This notion of same-sex is also true in the West. It differs, however, with regard the application.

“Since the concept of same-sex relations does not exist in the Arab world, being ‘Gay’ is still considered to be a sexual behavior,” says Outreach Director of the Gay and Lesbian Arab Society, Ramzi Zakharia, in an e-mail interview. But according to Western definition, “that limits it to ‘homosexual’ behavior, which does not mean that the person is Gay. Just because you sleep with a member of the same sex does not mean you are Gay… it just means that you are engaging in homosexual activity. Once a relationship develops beyond sex (i.e: love) this is when the term gay applies,” adds akharia.

He believes that gays in the Arab world, unlike those in Western societies, “limit their activities to sex and rarely explore feelings beyond that,” experience.

Impressions from a European
European-born Marcus, who has been in Jordan for two months, has already noticed a remarkable difference between the Kingdom and his native country. While he says that the men he has met generally shy away from emotional intimacy mostly because they experience inner conflicts, these same men are capable of justifying a purely sexual experience.

Having sex (discreetly) is alright, and sometimes even seen as an exploit. It is therefore justified.

Men holding hands or walking arm in arm are familiar scenes in Arab streets. In general men are more intimate with each other than they are in the West and a man without a woman at his side is not really seen as strange, Marcus observes.

These scenes would not draw the eyes of passersby, but the same man-to-man intimacy could be outrightly interepreted in the West as a gay relationship.

“It is much easier to meet men and be close to them here,” Marcus says.

(This article focuses only on male homosexuality. This reporter tried to interview females and to tackle the issue of female homosexuality, without results. Arab and Jordanian women are quite reserved and inhibited on this issue, even anonymously, for fear of causing problems to their friends).

Marcus, 29, is gay. He is in the country for the first time learning Arabic. Marcus preferred not to use his real name. Although he says he feels more at ease about being gay in Jordan than he does in his home town, he did not want his colleagues at work to read his name.

Marcus says he feels comfortable approaching a man in Jordan with frankness about his desires. Even though the man may not be gay there is some sort of “understanding” at what is going on, and little or no offence would be taken.

Some men interviewed in Jordan, however, appeared offended at the mention of this topic and they even refused to bring up the issue in general. When they did finally speak about homosexual behavior and gays– which they believed were the same– they spoke with repulsion and with harshness.

But Marcus says he has not yet experienced anything of this sort and life for a gay in Jordan is much easier in some ways. Back in his home, a man cannot easily approach or look at another man. “We have the legal recognition but we have a social taboo,” Marcus says.

Living a dual life
It may be easier to engage in homosexual behavior, but it certainly is not the case when emotions are involved. This Arab distinction of sex versus emotional attachment is largely derived out of a conflict with dualreligion and tradition. Arab men engage in homosexual behavior, and don’t cross the realm of being gay in order not to morally hurt themselves or their families. These Arab men would prefer (though not because they really want to) to fit into society’s mold and they justify their sexual preferences as “something men do”, and not as “something I do because I am gay.”

If these same people were living in Western societies, they would most probably be gay and not only engage in homosexual sex. In the West, those who are gay will cross the homosexual boundaries, even if that means staying in the closet. In the Arab world, only some do. Many, however, live a dual life.

Indeed, several gay Arab men living in the US have said that when they return to their homes for long visits, they adapt to societal expectations of them as men, become “hypocritical” and engage in only homosexual behavior, if they do at all.

“They (Arab men) do not face friends/families or even themselves with the truth of their identity. Rather, the majority will carry on with society’s plans, get married, get the kids… and then either carry on sexual relations on the side… or vent out their sexual frustrations on Alcohol, Drugs, Spouse Abuse, and other negative and destructive behavior,” according to Zakharia.

Homosexuality for Arabs contradicts and even undermines the male, patriarchal image as a “macho” in Arab societies.

A non-typical Arab male?
One 26-year-old Lebanese of Palestinian origin living in Canada explains his conflict, similar to the feelings of many others like him. The following was received from him by e-mail and is printed without editing. He did not want his name used:

I am a non-typical gay Arab male who grew up in Lebanon and then migrated to Canada. Non-typical, I say, because I find myself very different from the gay Arab men (gay men in general) that I know. And I know quite a few. I am able to find a trend in my behavior as I also recognize the common traits that I find in the men I am acquainted with. This leads me to believe that I am different and perhaps they are the norm.

In addressing my homosexuality I try to reconcile many things, namely religion, family, culture and image. Religion , in my mind, tells me not to over indulge. It also is a source of guilt and fear of God. I am Muslim but my friend tells me that my guilt is a Catholic guilt.

My parents raised me with a set of expectations that no matter how much I fight and how compromising my parents get, still is embedded in me. It is inherent that I must succeed. It is inherent no matter what my limitations are. Not to say that my parents will disown me or hurt me. They are very loving. Too loving sometimes. By too loving I mean that they foster dependence to a point that makes me feel controlled most of the time and safe the rest of the time.

Arab culture as I see it is two tier. One side is the culture itself which I love and want and am proud of, the other level is culture in the context of common society. Arabs are perhaps the most hypocritical ( in my view ) when it comes to values. The facade is that of religion and morality. Behind the closed doors is everything else. The two main things I pray one day will happen are that we will become assertive internationally and protect our rights, the other is that we will undo the sexism that we are notorious for.

The last aspect is image. This is personal. We can blame everyone but we must also look within. I look at myself honestly and I see a guy who does not entirely accept himself. This is the number one hindrance to change. I see myself being proud and then I see myself being quiet and complacent. I attribute that to me. I am not being up to the challenge of being gay. I see myself wanting a woman and children whenever I am acquainted with a girl who may be interested in me in the context of marriage.

As I said I am non-typical or I choose to feel this way. I try to reconcile heterosexual values with homosexual life. I go in circles and I find that it all boils down to me as a person. I have to be happy. I find what makes me feel happy, what fulfills me and the rest just falls into place.

In brief, growing up I was a naive and chronically introverted kid with a lot of imagination and no support or anyone to share with. I was never really able to conceive what sex was in its biological sense until I was in Canada and was reading a lot. I did not know about anal sex until I read about it. I never experimented with other boys. The closest I got to that was physical play such as wrestling with my friend.

How do you know the Earth is not flat until you are told it is not? When one looks at it, the Earth looks flat. Similarly society looks heterosexual.

This young man considers himself a non-typical Arab gay, but another young Arab man pointed out in a response to him that he was in fact typical:

I am a non-typical gay Arab male you’re wrong. You ARE the typical Gay Arab male. Your post was very interesting. You reminded me what I was a few years ago, but also I realized that I didn’t advance so much!. When I go home or when I am with my family, I am exactly like you.

Homosexual sex is not new. It has been around in the Arab world for a long time. The problem is love. “Once you decide to explore your identity beyond sexual activity, once you decide to reject your patriarchal role… this is when you get in trouble,” Zakharia says.

In countries such as Lebanon, Palestine, Egypt, Syria, and Jordan, society is slowly changing and emulating the West. With their proximity to Western culture and thought, and people being exposed to new concepts regarding gender roles and sexuality, platforms for debate on homosexuality are opening up.

In Lebanon, society is slowly shifting from a Patriarchal model to a “nuclear” family model; this year’s attempt to introduce civil marriage is a prime example. Other post-Colonialist countries in the region are following, such as Tunis, Zakharia says.

AMMAN (AROL)– The issue of male homosexuality in the Arab world remains a taboo and untapped subject away from national debate.

This tendency is not spoken about openly– though male-male friction is acknowledged. Nor is it legally recognized in these conservative societies.

While the issue of recognizing male homosexuality is not totally different from other countries, male Arab homosexuality has indeed a different notion from that in the West.

Gay activities are frowned upon in Islam but a set of cultural and traditional taboos has played a role in the acquiescence of much of these sexual activities if confined to a certain set of moral conducts.

That is to say, homosexual behavior may be overlooked but experiencing feelings of an emotional nature beyond sex makes a man gay and hence, a potential outcast. In a society where the family bond, “honor” and image are extremely important, many tend to follow the dictates and norms of society, even if this means living in conflict with their inner feelings.

Sex vs. emotions
Many Arab men make a distinction between sex and emotional attachment. Bruce Dunne, author of an article titled Power and Sexuality in the Middle East, believes that sexual relations in the Middle East are about power. He writes: “Sexual relations in Middle Eastern societies have historically articulated social hierarchies, that is, dominant and subordinate social positions: adult men on top; women, boys and slaves below…Both dominant/subordinate and heterosexual/homosexual categorizations are structures of power.”

Having pure, raw sex with another man and being the active partner doesn’t make a man gay. This notion of same-sex is also true in the West. It differs, however, with regard the application.

“Since the concept of same-sex relations does not exist in the Arab world, being ‘Gay’ is still considered to be a sexual behavior,” says Outreach Director of the Gay and Lesbian Arab Society, Ramzi Zakharia, in an e-mail interview. But according to Western definition, “that limits it to ‘homosexual’ behavior, which does not mean that the person is Gay. Just because you sleep with a member of the same sex does not mean you are Gay… it just means that you are engaging in homosexual activity. Once a relationship develops beyond sex (i.e: love) this is when the term gay applies,” adds akharia.

He believes that gays in the Arab world, unlike those in Western societies, “limit their activities to sex and rarely explore feelings beyond that,” experience.

Impressions from a European
European-born Marcus, who has been in Jordan for two months, has already noticed a remarkable difference between the Kingdom and his native country. While he says that the men he has met generally shy away from emotional intimacy mostly because they experience inner conflicts, these same men are capable of justifying a purely sexual experience.

Having sex (discreetly) is alright, and sometimes even seen as an exploit. It is therefore justified.

Men holding hands or walking arm in arm are familiar scenes in Arab streets. In general men are more intimate with each other than they are in the West and a man without a woman at his side is not really seen as strange, Marcus observes.

These scenes would not draw the eyes of passersby, but the same man-to-man intimacy could be outrightly interepreted in the West as a gay relationship.

“It is much easier to meet men and be close to them here,” Marcus says.

(This article focuses only on male homosexuality. This reporter tried to interview females and to tackle the issue of female homosexuality, without results. Arab and Jordanian women are quite reserved and inhibited on this issue, even anonymously, for fear of causing problems to their friends).

Marcus, 29, is gay. He is in the country for the first time learning Arabic. Marcus preferred not to use his real name. Although he says he feels more at ease about being gay in Jordan than he does in his home town, he did not want his colleagues at work to read his name.

Marcus says he feels comfortable approaching a man in Jordan with frankness about his desires. Even though the man may not be gay there is some sort of “understanding” at what is going on, and little or no offence would be taken.

Some men interviewed in Jordan, however, appeared offended at the mention of this topic and they even refused to bring up the issue in general. When they did finally speak about homosexual behavior and gays– which they believed were the same– they spoke with repulsion and with harshness.

But Marcus says he has not yet experienced anything of this sort and life for a gay in Jordan is much easier in some ways. Back in his home, a man cannot easily approach or look at another man. “We have the legal recognition but we have a social taboo,” Marcus says.

Living a dual life
It may be easier to engage in homosexual behavior, but it certainly is not the case when emotions are involved. This Arab distinction of sex versus emotional attachment is largely derived out of a conflict with dualreligion and tradition. Arab men engage in homosexual behavior, and don’t cross the realm of being gay in order not to morally hurt themselves or their families. These Arab men would prefer (though not because they really want to) to fit into society’s mold and they justify their sexual preferences as “something men do”, and not as “something I do because I am gay.”

If these same people were living in Western societies, they would most probably be gay and not only engage in homosexual sex. In the West, those who are gay will cross the homosexual boundaries, even if that means staying in the closet. In the Arab world, only some do. Many, however, live a dual life.

Indeed, several gay Arab men living in the US have said that when they return to their homes for long visits, they adapt to societal expectations of them as men, become “hypocritical” and engage in only homosexual behavior, if they do at all.

“They (Arab men) do not face friends/families or even themselves with the truth of their identity. Rather, the majority will carry on with society’s plans, get married, get the kids… and then either carry on sexual relations on the side… or vent out their sexual frustrations on Alcohol, Drugs, Spouse Abuse, and other negative and destructive behavior,” according to Zakharia.

Homosexuality for Arabs contradicts and even undermines the male, patriarchal image as a “macho” in Arab societies.

A non-typical Arab male?
One 26-year-old Lebanese of Palestinian origin living in Canada explains his conflict, similar to the feelings of many others like him. The following was received from him by e-mail and is printed without editing. He did not want his name used:

I am a non-typical gay Arab male who grew up in Lebanon and then migrated to Canada. Non-typical, I say, because I find myself very different from the gay Arab men (gay men in general) that I know. And I know quite a few. I am able to find a trend in my behavior as I also recognize the common traits that I find in the men I am acquainted with. This leads me to believe that I am different and perhaps they are the norm.

In addressing my homosexuality I try to reconcile many things, namely religion, family, culture and image. Religion , in my mind, tells me not to over indulge. It also is a source of guilt and fear of God. I am Muslim but my friend tells me that my guilt is a Catholic guilt.

My parents raised me with a set of expectations that no matter how much I fight and how compromising my parents get, still is embedded in me. It is inherent that I must succeed. It is inherent no matter what my limitations are. Not to say that my parents will disown me or hurt me. They are very loving. Too loving sometimes. By too loving I mean that they foster dependence to a point that makes me feel controlled most of the time and safe the rest of the time.

Arab culture as I see it is two tier. One side is the culture itself which I love and want and am proud of, the other level is culture in the context of common society. Arabs are perhaps the most hypocritical ( in my view ) when it comes to values. The facade is that of religion and morality. Behind the closed doors is everything else. The two main things I pray one day will happen are that we will become assertive internationally and protect our rights, the other is that we will undo the sexism that we are notorious for.

The last aspect is image. This is personal. We can blame everyone but we must also look within. I look at myself honestly and I see a guy who does not entirely accept himself. This is the number one hindrance to change. I see myself being proud and then I see myself being quiet and complacent. I attribute that to me. I am not being up to the challenge of being gay. I see myself wanting a woman and children whenever I am acquainted with a girl who may be interested in me in the context of marriage.

As I said I am non-typical or I choose to feel this way. I try to reconcile heterosexual values with homosexual life. I go in circles and I find that it all boils down to me as a person. I have to be happy. I find what makes me feel happy, what fulfills me and the rest just falls into place.

In brief, growing up I was a naive and chronically introverted kid with a lot of imagination and no support or anyone to share with. I was never really able to conceive what sex was in its biological sense until I was in Canada and was reading a lot. I did not know about anal sex until I read about it. I never experimented with other boys. The closest I got to that was physical play such as wrestling with my friend.

How do you know the Earth is not flat until you are told it is not? When one looks at it, the Earth looks flat. Similarly society looks heterosexual.

This young man considers himself a non-typical Arab gay, but another young Arab man pointed out in a response to him that he was in fact typical:

I am a non-typical gay Arab male you’re wrong. You ARE the typical Gay Arab male. Your post was very interesting. You reminded me what I was a few years ago, but also I realized that I didn’t advance so much!. When I go home or when I am with my family, I am exactly like you.

Homosexual sex is not new. It has been around in the Arab world for a long time. The problem is love. “Once you decide to explore your identity beyond sexual activity, once you decide to reject your patriarchal role… this is when you get in trouble,” Zakharia says.

In countries such as Lebanon, Palestine, Egypt, Syria, and Jordan, society is slowly changing and emulating the West. With their proximity to Western culture and thought, and people being exposed to new concepts regarding gender roles and sexuality, platforms for debate on homosexuality are opening up.

In Lebanon, society is slowly shifting from a Patriarchal model to a “nuclear” family model; this year’s attempt to introduce civil marriage is a prime example. Other post-Colonialist countries in the region are following, such as Tunis, Zakharia says.