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He was standing in the lobby of the Marriot Hotel in Cairo, just in front of the reception desk, when I first laid eyes on him. A chubby, pleasant-looking man in his mid thirties, he wore a fashionable black turtleneck and a pony tail that set him apart from the conservative-looking Arab businessmen congregated in the opulent lobby. I nodded at him and flashed him a copy of NEWSWEEK, as we’d agreed on the telephone; he gave me a little smile of acknowledgment and followed me out the glass door and onto the banks of the Nile. As we stepped into a taxi for a trip across town to Cairo’s bustling bazaar district, Horus, as he called himself, admitted that his pony tail was a risque statement in today’s conservative Egypt. “People give me looks,” he said, in near perfect English. “I’m now considered a ’suspect’.”

These are perilous times to be gay in Egypt. During the past 12 months, a massive police crackdown against homosexual men has terrified the country’s deeply closeted gay community and raised a chorus of criticism from human rights groups in Europe and America. Nobody knows how many gays are languishing in Egyptian jails–the number is certainly in the hundreds–or what prompted the massive dragnet. But because of the strict societal taboos against homosexuality, Egyptian human-rights groups have shunned such cases, leaving it to a handful of local gay activists to raise legal fees and provide other support. The work can be hazardous. Gay activists in Egypt risk ostracism, arrest and even violence. But for crusaders like Horus, one of perhaps a dozen Egyptians who has ‘come out’ to friends and family, heightening the world’s awareness of human rights abuses takes priority over personal safety.

Born into an upper-middle-class Cairo family, Horus came out eight years ago, he told me, following a traumatic breakup with a longtime lover. The man had been a fellow performer in Horus’s theater group in Cairo; but he was so ashamed of the relationship that he kept it a deep secret, refusing to let them be seen together in public. Eventually he left Horus, claiming that homosexuality was a “sin”. At first, Horus felt betrayed and angry. “Then I thought to myself, ‘how can I blame him when I’m doing the same thing he’s doing?” he says, sipping thick Arabic coffee in an outdoor stall. ” I also was hiding who I really am.”

He first revealed his sexual identity to his theater colleagues, most of whom proved to be supportive. His immediate family was far less so. “My brother was very homophobic. He accused me of being sick, called me a faggot and told me I had to be treated by a psychiatrist.” His father, a chemist at a Cairo university, responded by walking out of the room and refusing to discuss the subject further. (His mother had died years earlier) Even sympathetic relatives responded with a measure of denial: A favorite aunt still invites him to her house for social engagements–to meet available women. “She still believes that I just haven’t met the right girl,” he said with a resigned smile.

Gradually, his activism deepened. In 1999 Horus wrote and directed an experimental play for a Cairo theater called ‘Harem’–a pun on the Arabic word ‘Haram,’ meaning forbidden–a semi autobiographical work dealing with homosexuality and other taboos. The play was praised by many Cairo critics and selected as a entry into an international theater competition in Europe. But some members of the Egyptian nomination committee called the work “immoral” and, after a heated debate, the play was withdrawn. Since then, Horus says, he has had difficulty finding financial support or a stage for his plays.

Even as his work in the theater dried up, he was finding a new identity. In 1998 Horus became the “moderator” of an Internet mailing list and chat room for homosexuals that caught on in the Cairo underground; within a year more than 800 subscribers had signed on.

The Internet brought Horus into contanct with other Egyptian gays who had similar stories of shame, self-loathing and deeply closeted lives. He encountered young men who had been locked out of their homes by their parents and forced to sleep on the streets, others whose fathers had savagely beaten them, some whose parents had forced them to seek psychiatric help so they could be “cured” of their “disease.” At the same time, he discovered that his chat room was providing a desperately needed service: it was allowing gay men to be candid about their identities, to discuss their frustrations, and develop a support network of fellow gays. “There were three optimistic years when people were finding their way to us and other Web sites, and we started to have hope that maybe one day people will understand that we exist, that we are visible,” he says.

Then came the crackdown. Apparently worried about spreading gay activism and anxious to placate its fundamentalist Muslim constitutency, the increasingly conservative regime of President Hosni Mubarak tightened the screws on Egypt’s homosexuals. In 2000, Horus says “we started to hear about an Internet crimes department–set up mainly to trap gray men on the Internet.” That year, two men who ran a gay Web site were arrested, convicted of various crimes and sentenced to lengthy jail terms. The government also intensified its harrassment and prosecution of gay men gathering in public places.

In 2000 eighteen homosexuals were convicted and jailed for two years following a dragnet of Cairo nightclubs and discotheques. Then in the spring of 2001, came the case that made headlines around the world and became a symbol of Egyptian intolerance: the arrest of 53 gay men at the Queen Boat floating discotheque on the Nile in Cairo, and their highly publicized trial last November before a special State Security Court normally used to prosecute suspected Islamic terrorists.

The Queen Boat case had a personal impact on Horus. Although he rarely attended parties on the boat, three of his closest friends were among those arrested that night. Within days, the Queen Boat case “took over my life,” he says. He pressured reluctant attorneys to defend the arrested men, contacted their families, raised funds abroad via the Internet, followed the trial and wrote lengthy reports for international human-rights groups. He even took the dramatic step of appearing undisguised on CNN International to talk about the case. In the end, 22 of the defendants were convicted on charges ranging from defiling religion to debauchery; one was sentenced to five years in jail, while the others drew prison terms of between one and three years.

The last few months have left Horus feeling increasingly pessimistic. His Internet chat room has all but disbanded. Most of the gay men he knows are frightened and have stopped going out at night. Every day brings new stories of roundups of homosexuals in Cairo and other cities; several friends have been held for as long as sixty days without charges and beaten badly in prison.

Horus is now trying to arrange attorneys for eight suspected gays picked up in the Nile Delta city of Damanhur and charged, like the Queen Boat 52, with defiling religion and debauchery; last week police refused to allow the lawyers entrance into the prison where the suspects are being detained. “Egypt was one of the most open minded countries in the area, but now we are more conservative than any other,” Horus said, leading me through the labyrinthine alleys of the bazaar. He flinches at the sight of a half dozen Egyptian security policemen making their rounds past souvenir stalls and coffee shops. “I get paranoid whenever I see the police these days,” he admits.

He points to a cluster of burqa-wearing women gathered outside a mosque: “Look at that. A few years ago those women would have raised eyebrows in Cairo. Now, nobody pays attention. The fundamentalists are taking over this country.”

Horus’s increasingly high profile as a gay activist in Egypt has begun to earn him invitations abroad even as he finds himself at growing risk at home. Next week, he is flying to the United States to attend a human rights conference, after which he plans to tour the country for the first time. He says he has often contemplated leaving Egypt for good. “I’m going through ups and downs,” he says. “One day I feel the country isn’t safe for people like me. Other days I think I should stay and fight.” At a taxi stand on the edge of Cairo’s old city, Horus bids me farewell. “I try to stay hopeful,” he tells me, shaking my hand. “But it’s a very dark time right now.”

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EDMONTON — Junaid Bin Jahangir was such a devout Muslim that when he arrived in Canada he ate only yogurt for two days until he was sure which food followed halal dietary rules.

The university student prayed five times a day, and joined a local mosque.

Then one day, at age 27, he started to wonder why he had never been with a girl. “Why don’t I like women that way?” he asked, and it led him to a counselling office, where he sat, sobbing, with the realization that he was gay — a pariah to his community.

Mainstream Islamic leaders say gay men should be shunned and some around the world are killed each year.

Mr. Jahangir’s world imploded; work on his PhD ground to a halt.

But out of that despair, Mr. Jahangir began to work on another project: Understanding the teachings of Islam on homosexuality. From his office at the University of Alberta, he contacted experts, read everything he could on the subject and studied the scriptures intensely for two years, rebuilding his own identity in the process. His work is starting to be recognized internationally.

Now he argues Muslims misinterpret the Qur’an if they consider the ban on homosexuality to be as firm as bans on alcohol or pork. The common story from which most Muslims draw their teaching is about violent homosexual rape, he says, and it’s time to rethink the possibility of consensual, supportive relationships.

Although his PhD in economics is still incomplete, Mr. Jahangir was asked to contribute a chapter to a new anthology on homosexuality compiled by a noted Australian academic. The book, Islam and Homosexuality, edited by Samar Habib and published by Praeger Publishers, appeared recently in bookstores.

But he remains fearful of talking about the subject. He doesn’t want his face shown in photographs, and when he agreed to do a presentation at the University of Alberta in the run-up to the book launch, organizers asked campus security and a local newspaper to attend in case someone wanted to cause trouble.

The meeting went well, and it appeared that some Muslim students attended, judging by the half-dozen head scarves among the crowd. But he still complains no Imams or professors with the university Islamic Studies department will speak with him or about the topic. The silence is so deep it’s frustrating, he says.

“The apathy is unbelievable. How many more marriages do we want to fail as we pretend this doesn’t exist?

“Gay youth are committing suicide,” he says. “The 13- or 14-year-old girls, they are the ones who need this. If they believe they are lesbian, what do they do? Get married and follow through the motions? What joy do they have in their lives?

“Let’s at least talk about the issue because it affects us all.”

Mr. Jahangir wrote his views in an opinion piece published in the Gateway, the University of Alberta student newspaper. But the local Muslim student association simply sent an e-mail to its members recommending they avoid him. Now he avoids the Muslim community, and any local mosque, too, he says. “I’m a pariah.”

Mr. Jahangir grew up in Dubai and studied to earn a bachelor’s degree in Pakistan. He came to the university in Edmonton for his master’s and PhD.

He was goal-oriented, and totally focused on his studies until about four years ago, when he finished the field exams for his commerce degree.

He still had a thesis to write, but that’s when he first seriously asked himself the question: “Why don’t I like women that way?”

“Does this mean I’m gay?” he asked the student counsellor.

“‘That’s for you to decide,’” the counsellor answered. Mr. Jahangir broke down crying.

From then on, he couldn’t focus on his thesis.

He went to see a local Imam and told him his fears. “‘You’re effeminate,’ ” the Imam told him. “‘I want you to go to the gym and keep a diary.’”

Mr. Jahangir discarded the advice. “I said this is no solution.”

He sought help from an Islamic counsellor on the Internet. “All she said was, ‘You seem like a good person. I’ll pray for you.’ ”

He went to a doctor to get hormonal tests, but they came back normal.

Finally, he went to a professional local counsellor, who turned out to be Jewish, and she taught him that holy scriptures have been interpreted by people differently over the years. The common interpretation is not always the truest, he says. He kept visiting her regularly for five months.

“They are as conservative as we are,” he says. “I really learned a lot from her. That boosted my confidence to study on my own.”

It has now been four years since he first took on the motto — “knowledge is your shield” — and started searching for books and articles on the subject. He’s still working on his economics degree, but being included in the anthology for his work on homosexuality feels like having published a second thesis.

In the book, Mr. Jahangir examines the story of Lut, or Lot, a nephew of Ibrahim (or Abraham), who is often remembered from Christian Sunday school lessons as the man whose wife turned into a pillar of salt when she looked back at Sodom and Gomorrah burning in fire and brimstone.

In the Qur’an, Lut was a prophet sent to warn the people of the city to turn away from evil practices. Angels in the form of young male travellers came to warn him to flee because the city was about to be destroyed.

Lut persuaded the strangers to stay at his house for protection and, during the night, the men of the city threaten to break into his house demanding the strangers be given to them for sex.

Lut and his family fled during the night.

Mainstream Islamic thought interprets the sin of Lut’s people primarily as homosexuality.

But Mr. Jahangir argues the sin discussed here should be recognized as rape, not loving same-sex unions. “This is rape as a violent tool. That’s how you humiliate your enemies,” Mr. Jahangir says.

Most major sins in the Qur’an are spelled out, says Mr. Jahangir, such as the prohibition against incest, “forbidden to you are your mothers and daughters, your sisters.”

But why draw such a firm prohibition against homosexuality from a story, he asks. “A story can be interpreted in so many different ways. Why does it have to be this?”

“Even sympathetic people will say it’s a test for you from God,” he says. “Where does that leave you? You can’t expect them to be robots. If it is a test, the majority will fail.”

Instead, Mr. Jahangir argues, Muslims should apply the principle from the Qur’an that states anything not expressly forbidden is permissible.

Marriage is a basic need for a healthy life and Islamic law is mindful of genuine private and public need, he says. Since science has demonstrated homosexuality is not a choice, he argues, Islamic principles should support loving same-sex unions.

“It’s not about sex. It’s about being alone in old age,” he says. “It’s about living the full civil life of responsibility.”

The community has ostracized Mr. Jahangir because of his views, he says. But he’s not worried for himself anymore; he has the support of his family back in Pakistan.

He spends his time teaching and in advocacy work, and has a new circle of supportive friends.

Loneliness comes when he sees couples walking together and friends with children. “But I have an amazing group of close friends here. Being alone doesn’t bother me that much,” he says. “This is where my adopted family is.”

Mr. Jahangir says he knows girls who have run away from homes in Edmonton rather than get married and who are still hiding from their parents. A young male relative was suicidal, but seems to have found a measure of peace through reading his work, he says.

Mainstream Canadian culture is much more supportive of homosexual youth than it once was, he says. “It’s really the task of the day to work in the Islamic context as well. These books, hopefully, will ignite the conversation.”

Read more: http://www.nationalpost.com/news/story.html?id=2401755#ixzz0cPRiOpIm
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There is a synchronicity in the world that, if you are willing to follow your heart, brings you together with paradise.

That really isn’t what Shilo was thinking about when he arrived in Istanbul. He may have mused on the plane at the strange turns his life had taken in the last few years.

It all started out when a white cat adopted him. His long hours and singular focus on his work had left him something of a lifelong bachelor. Not that he never went out or dated, but when prospective mates discovered they were a distant second to his work, they tended to move on.

As a parting gift, a lover gave Shilo a beautiful pure white kitten with blue eyes, an Oriental Shorthair. He did so with a smile, and the best of intentions. Being a cat person himself, he undoubtedly knew that the pretty little bundle of joy which Shilo named Star, would soon take Shilo in hand, er, paw. And so she did.

When Star was a few months old, Shilo discovered his suspicions were true – she was quite deaf. Scientist that he was, he couldn’t help but begin to investigate the cause. You see, he was a geneticist – and genetics determines which white cats are deaf, and which are not.

And so began a long, roundabout journey that eventually led him to Turkey.

There are many breeds of cat that have white members, including some breeds that are always, or most often, white. The eye color, too, seems related. There are blue-eyed whites that are never deaf, such as the British Foreign White. Shilo’s curiosity led him on.

In Turkey exists three separate breeds, with either many or all of their members being white, blue eyed and odd eyed – and none of them were deaf. In particular, Shilo became interested in the Turkish Vankedisi. The government rarely allows these beautiful and somewhat rare cats to be exported – and so Shilo set out for Turkey.

Which led to him standing in the Istanbul airport, bags in hand, looking for Zeki – a young guide he had hired through an Internet website.

Shilo was momentarily stunned when he saw the young man holding up the sign with his name on it. Zeki was younger than he had expected, perhaps only in his late teens. His golden skin glowed with health, making a perfect contrast with his coal black, curly hair, cut short, and his large, dark eyes. His lips were full, cheekbones high, chin pointed; in short he had the sort of Oriental beauty usually reserved only for women. Yet he was undoubtedly male, with wide, muscular shoulders, a tiny waist, and perfect, round ass filling out his skintight European style jeans.

Spotting Shilo staring at him, Zeki shook the sign and pointed at him. Shilo nodded, at a loss for words and Zeki ran up to him and took his bags.

“I am Zeki. You are Shilo?”

Shilo gulped, “Yes.”

“I am pleased to meet you. I have a room for you at a very nice hotel. You would like to go there? Or do you wish to have a meal?”

“Your English is very good.” Shilo managed to get a word in edgewise, as the youth bubbled with energy and enthusiasm.

“Yes. I learned in school. Also, I visited America a few years ago. I have family there. We went to Disney World. Florida is very nice. American’s very nice. You wish to eat? Do you need to exchange some currency?”

Shilo was stretching his long legs just to keep up as Zeki sped through the airport and across the parking lot to a shiny compact car. Again, he was surprised.

“Yours?”

“Yes. I keep nice, for guests. I buy it myself from guide money.” Zeki smiled.

The drive is best not described. Let’s just say that for a little while Shilo was less interested in Zeki and more concerned about surviving until they got to the hotel.

They raced through the lobby. Zeki nodded at the desk clerk and headed for the elevator.

“They know we are coming.”

Then they were at a door and inside what proved to be a quite luxurious suite.

“I unpack for you. You would like a shower? Perhaps something to eat?”

Shilo sat down on the bed and just shook his head, smiling as he watched Zeki bustling around, unpacking and putting away his things as he chatted on, outlining the itinerary he had planned for Shilo. Quite simply, Shilo was overwhelmed.

“Tomorrow morning, we leave early for Lake Van. I have spoken to some people there. We will see the cats. Perhaps you can talk to them about selling you a cat. Perhaps not… It is very difficult to export one of the Vankedisi, but you will be so surprised to see them at home. They wander freely about the town and play in the lake. They love water.”

“Yes, I very much wanted to see them in their own home. I’m not sure if I wish to buy one, if I can have some information and hair samples that may be enough.”

That brought Zeki up short, and before long Shilo was chattering along excitedly himself, explaining that he was a geneticist and was doing research into what caused some white cats to be deaf, and others to be free of the handicap, which led him into talking about Star. To his surprise, he discovered Zeki liked cats as well and soon they were sitting on the bed together, chatting along like old friends.

Shilo became more and more physically aware of this extremely attractive young man, the exotic, spicy scent of him, his bright eyes and quick smile. His body responded with a quietly swelling hard-on, which he began to try and shift to conceal.

To his surprise, Zeki placed a hand on it and squeezed gently, then stroked him through his pants. Both of them stopped talking. Their lips met and found other useful things to do. Zeki’s deft hands soon had Shilo out of his clothing and naked on the bed, stretched out on his back as those full, soft lips kissed their way down his body until at last they enveloped his now rock hard cock.

Shilo moaned and ran his hands through the coarse, soft black curls of Zeki’s head as the young man expertly sucked his cock. Zeki’s tongue teasing the head as his clever fingers massaged Shilo’s balls until he moaned in ecstasy.

Afraid he would cum much too soon, he tugged at Zeki’s curls until the young man looked up at him, smiling, the foreskin of his cock nipped between sharp, white teeth as he paused.

“You, too” Shilo managed to gasp.

Zeki stood and lifted the loose shirt over his head, revealing a physique a Greek god would envy. As he wiggled out of his tight jeans, he grinned and teased, turning his back to Shilo as he slowly revealed a perfect ass.

Chuckling, Shilo rolled over and grabbed the jeans, jerking them down and then twirling Zeki around. A thick, dark engorged cock swung and slapped him lightly in the face, making both of them laugh. Shilo grabbed at it as it bobbed while Zeki kicked off his shoes and jeans then drew the young man into the bed.

They lay close, naked skin against skin, golden brown and pale cream, bright gold curls intermixing with coarse shining black, swollen pink and shining with precum throbbing against dark and thick meat, thudding with every beat of Zeki’s heart.

Shilo ran his hands over the firm, young body as they kissed. Zeki shuddered as Shilo pinched his nipples then rolled himself so that he wound up on top of the tall American.

Shilo spread his legs and relaxed, even as he trembled with excitement. Zeki wet his big cock and then penetrated the offered asshole. Groaning, Shilo arched his back and spread his legs wide as that thick dick shoved its way into him, forcing him open and filling him with its heat.

With all the aggression and energy of youth, Zeki began to pump hard into Shilo’s ass. Shilo moaned with mixed pleasure and pain as that big cock bludgeoned deeper, spreading him to his limits and then some, filling him in a way he had never felt before. He reached and grabbed his own ass with both hands, spreading himself, wanting more of that hot staff inside of him.

Zeki took Shilo’s pale dick in one hand and began stroking hard in rhythm with his own thrusts. He fucked harder and faster, his excitement, and his cock, growing. Helpless beneath the younger man, Shilo was moaning in time with his thrusts, lost in the sensation of heat and strength inside him, his own dick swelling as Zeki stroked him until he released a thick, creamy stream of cum that glistened on his golden chest hair.

Running his hands over Shilo’s chest, Zeki rubbed his own cum into the golden fur, and then licked it off his fingers with obvious delight. With a last few hard thrusts, he gushed a huge load of cum into Shilo’s ass, the hot wetness splashing down both of their thighs and dampening the bed beneath.

He lay on Shilo’s chest a moment, catching his breath. Shilo put his arms around this gorgeous young man and wondered if he would consider moving to America.

(And that is how Shilo met Zeki, four years ago. Now Zeki and Star, and the new Turkish Vankedisi kitten, rule Shilo’s life with gentle shared despotism and teach him to balance work with play…)

Bareed Mista3jil, meaning express mail, isn’t just the first queer Lebanese book ever published — it’s also the first queer Arabic book, period, to be published.

A compilation of anonymous personal narratives from Lebanese LBTQ women of all social classes and religions, Bareed Mista3jil addresses coming out, religion, family, emigration, abuse, and activism. MEEM, an activist and support group for Lebanese LBTQ women, publicly released the book at the Al Madina Theater in Beirut last May, attracting an audience of 400 people.

MEEM organizer Shant (who declined to give her full name) described the book as a big step for Lebanese LGBTs.

“We can actually talk about our experiences and show that they touch more than just the lesbian community,” she said.

Shant reports a lot of positive feedback for the book, which is sold at Virgin Megastores in Lebanon, and MEEM is already planning a fourth reprint to keep up with demand.

It’s not surprising that the first queer Arabic book debuted in Beirut, given that Lebanon is known for having a relatively free press (compared with other Arab nations) and a liberal capital city. However, queer activists in Lebanon still have their work cut out for them. Homosexuality is sometimes punished under a law banning “sexual acts against nature,” so coming out is not always safe or even possible (hence the anonymity of Bareed Mista3jil’s writers).

“Some queer women are very out with friends and family and closeted at work; some are out at work but closeted to families. There isn’t the notion of 100 percent out,” said Shant.

MEEM is now campaigning to overturn 534, the Lebanese law used to punish homosexuality, and maintains a monthly e-magazine, Bekhsoos.

You can read excerpts of Bareed Mista3jil at the book’s website, or order it online. And, if you happen to be in the California area next month, MEEM will be having staged readings in San Francisco on December 10th, and and in Berkeley on December 13th. Members of MEEM have already toured Palestine, Jordan, Turkey, Denmark, Belgium, France, and Armenia, making the book’s release a truly international event.

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