Lebanon Speaks Up Loud Against Homophobia

Save the Date.
May 17: The International Day Against Homophobia (IDAHO)

Lebanon might not have a flashy gay parade with rainbow flags waving above our heads just yet. But many of us Lebanese, gay, straight or anywhere in between, are already actively engaged in a collective effort trying to raise awareness and fight homophobia.
 
More often than not, homophobia is just another by-product of ignorance. People remaining stuck with their pre-conceived ideas, their limited knowledge about how homosexuality plays out in real life.
 
That’s where your stories, your personal experiences and your opinions can help a great deal. Sharing some of your thoughts with the rest of us will help spread awareness within, as well as outside the community.
 
So here’s the deal: As Lebanon’s LGBT blogosphere, we are asking everyone, gay or straight, to take a minute to think: How does homophobia affect you or someone you love?
 
Write 150 words or less and email to: myidahostory@gmail.com
 
You will be advancing the cause more than you think!
 
Wanna check our blog?

This is it: http://lebidaho.wordpress.com/
———————————

This project is a collaborative effort between LGBT bloggers & our awesome Graphic Designer!

Listed alphabetically…we are:

Beirut Boy: Email @beirutboy
Gay in Beirut: Email @GayinBeirut
LebaGaGa: Email @lebagaga
Lebanese Alien: Email @Lebanesealien
Lebanon Rebel: Email @lebanonrebel
Rainbow Experience: Email @rainbowexp
Raynbow Monitor: Email @LebLGBTmonitor
Graphic Designer: @zoozel

--pic designed by @zoozel

Homegrown

Not a homegrown cruising website for Arabs, I guess we’re doing ok with the manjams of the world . Rather, the new forum AHWAA describes itself as a ‘safe place to debate LGBTQ related issues in the Middle East’.

I checked out some forum posts and it does seem like a good place to share stories or seek support from new friends (at least virtual).

There are many middle eastern countries represented in “Mideast Youth”, the team behind this commendable highly needed platform. But a flagrant absence of Lebanese youth behind the effort, perhaps because we feel less repressed? Let’s see how it picks up over here.

Cut the Crabs

I'm finally over it enough to talk about it, that time I got the crabbies.

"Use a Condom or Masturbate" - Poster for
a safe sex campaign in San Francisco.

Flashback to this early phase in my sex life. I've recently broken up with my boyfriend but we’ve stayed close, with travels in between. Technically single the whole of last month I’ve been screwing around like a madman. Even with this guy from msn last week who must have been scratching his crotch everytime I wasn’t looking.

Now I’m sitting here on the couch and my ‘ex’ is kneeled down in front of me. No, he’s not blowing me to try and revive our flame; he’s holding a magnifying glass, wearing the eyeglasses he never wears, and scrutinizing my pubes. Plunging his nails under every infested hair pulling out each crab as I look away in disgust.

A glamorous sight indeed. Though in this moment of despair, he meant the world to me.

The little brown dots on the kleenex sheet next to me. They're starting to move around. They're live insects that were just there hanging on my pubes feeding on my blood. A whole bunch of them like a virus infection. They’ve even laid down eggs that are about to hatch. In French, ‘morpions’ reminds of nasty sex jokes while ‘la gale’ sounds like middle age diseases like ‘la peste’ or ‘la rage’. I feel like the dirtiest man on the face of the earth right now. I’m gonna puke.

To make things worse, I must have had them several days already, even though it's only today that the itching became so unbearable, enough for me to tell my ex I suspect something. So I must have contaminated that other hookup from two days ago. He will be cursing me next week.

If crabs are a common episode in many gay guys’ early trials and tribulations, and relatively manageable, they forced me to face the reality of random gay sex and sexually transmitted diseases and infections. Here was one for me with horrendous names to cope with like crabs lice or scabies, and that even the condom wouldn’t stop... one you can only prevent by being 'pickier'.

But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger now doesn’t it? Well I’m glad I killed the little bastards that time around.

-Post, pic by GiB#2

I heart Beirut



Speaking of Beirut nostalgia... do you remember
these old posters?



Beirut I love you (I love you not): a TV/Web series well worth checking out. In the same spirit but perhaps not the same quality of script or filming as Shankaboot, but very good, creative work -- a nice dive into Beirut of the street, modest picturesque Beirut, graffiti Beirut, Beirut of the old meets new slash east meets west, girls boys and jewish moms, should I leave or should I stay, the Beirut of Soap Kills and Mashrou3 Leila… of all of us Tareks and Yasmines.

The 12 episodes are all online on youtube for your viewing pleasure. Still, my personal favorite has to be the short film that initiated this short series idea for OrangeDog Prods. It was the 10-minute cute couple’s love parade on Amelie music by Yann Tiersen. I remember my eyes getting all wet and feeling like “It sounds good to be straight!” and “I wanna fall in love again!”

-- by LeGiBiT

Bring On the Porno Chic

There’s a new party in town called “Porno Chic” – oops scratch that, it’s “P… Chic” to stick with Facebook etiquette – the new label created by two cool dudes from Beirut’s gayfriendly society.

A first installment in Zico House last month, a second one in Argos (Hamra) two weeks later, and a #3 at the Roger Moukarzel studio in Qarantina a couple weeks ago – feedback says they were all kindof fun and started to build a growing pack of regulars.



Terrible quality phone pic
from the Roger Moukarzel party
but… you get the picture.



To stay in line with Facebook lexicon, we’ll say we LIKE the gayfriendliness / diversity / age mix of the crowd; we LIKE the male/shemale dancers in minimal attire (a daring and rare sight for Beirut); we LIKE the choice of music pre & post general drunk status. And we LIKE the choice of locations so far, although still lacking the creativity of Cotton Candy – speaking of which, last Saturday’s at Cinema Estral with Nomi Ruiz was a blast!

But to be fair, let’s also mention we UNLIKE the “open-bar” that runs out of alcohol at 1am; the unavoidable hangover from the cheapest choice of vodka. We UNLIKE promoting so much the drinking part of it like this is a fraternity beer pong, and trying too hard to convey that trash/glam image they seem to have in mind.

Party #4 is coming up this Saturday with a mystery “P…C…” theme. Scratch that. It’s “Pussy Cat”. Will you make it there to find out what the kittens have in store?

Hit Up Your MP's! Dr K's Open Letter



Logo from the MP's website:
"Your Voice, for Justice and Freedom"
Will he listen to Dr K's call?

A follower forwarded over to GiB a copy of the open letter he sent to MP Ghassan Moukheiber a few months ago. Dr K chose Moukheiber out of 128 MP's not only because he happens to be the MP for his circonscription, but also because he used to be most open to the LGBT cause, and happens to be a lawyer. The letter is still without a response, so if anyone knows someone who knows someone who knows MP Moukheiber or any of the younger/cooler crowd in Parliament, please circulate!

The text is originally in French, and a secret admirer just provided the English translation in the Comments section :) -- GiB#2

Monsieur le député Moukheiber, 

Je ne suis pas un quelconque activiste, ni un militant pour une cause humanitaire, ni affilié à un quelconque parti politique, je suis tout simplement un citoyen libanais en exil à l'étranger et qui étudie la possibilité d'un éventuel retour à mon pays après mes études. Par cette présente lettre je souhaite exprimer ma tristesse face à une situation qui reste bloquée au Liban depuis des années. Il s'agit du statut juridique de l'homosexualité.

En 1990 , L'Organisation Mondiale de la Santé supprima de sa liste des maladies mentales l'homosexualité. Aujourd'hui , 20 ans plus tard, des homosexuels libanais continuent à être poursuivis pénalement au liban. Quiconque essaie de prouver que l'homosexualité n'existe pas au liban se leurre royalement. Il s'agit d'une orientation naturelle de la sexualité humaine, les psychiatres du monde entier sont aujourd'hui d'accord pour dire qu'aucun traitement ni aucune psychothérapie ne peuvent faire changer l'orientation sexuelle des humains, et qu'elle résulte de l'action conjointe de facteurs hormono-génétiques et environnementales. Le mariage entre hommes qui s'aiment est légal dans plus de 8 pays dans le monde; des dizaines d'autres pays offrent la possibilité d'une union civile et une majorité de pays dans le monde ne condamnent pas cette orientation... Les mentalités évoluent inexorablement. Pourquoi est ce que le Liban est toujours à la traîne dans ce domaine? Pourquoi est ce que la loi 534 continue aujourd'hui  d'exister et d'etre appliquée alors qu'une telle loi discriminante et homophobe ne devrait pas avoir sa place dans un pays démocratique?

Si ce sujet me tient à cœur c'est parce que je suis en couple avec une personne formidable qui est du même sexe que moi. Et à chaque fois que nous rentrons au Liban ensemble, nous réalisons qu'une éventuelle vie dans notre pays est tout simplement impossible. Pourtant je suis citoyen libanais, j'exerce mes droits civiques en tant que citoyen libanais, pourquoi est ce qu'une vie normale me serait impossible dans mon pays? A quand un débat honnête sur ce sujet au Parlement? A quand la suppression totale et définitive de la loi 534? A quand des commissions parlementaires libres non politisées et indépendantes de toute influence politico-religieuse pour faire avancer les choses dans le domaine des droits de l'Homme?

Monsieur le député, la situation des homosexuels au liban est déplorable! L'exclusion pousse à la déviance, la communauté gay au liban ne cesse de se tourner vers des addictions en tout genre y compris vers la drogue, la prostitution et autre pratiques néfastes tant sur le plan physique que moral, pourquoi ne pas tendre la main à ces personnes plutôt que de les exclure? Il est grand temps que notre gouvernement prenne des actions concrètes en notre faveur. Il existe bien d'autres pays arabes (même plus islamiques que le liban) qui n'appliquent pas une telle loi discriminante, tel que la Jordanie.

Monsieur le député , il est grand temps que nos politiciens assument leur responsabilité en prenant des actions concrète pour limiter la fuite de cerveaux! Des centaines d'autres couples homosexuels libanais n'attendent que l'annulation de la loi 534 pour retourner au pays.

Nous attendons tous des actions concrètes en faveur de la liberté et de l'égalité.
En espérant que les choses changent dans ce sens,

Bien à vous ,
Dr K.

Confessions of a Hairy Arab

“Arabs are Hairy”

Without any doubt, this stereotype serves Lebanon's brand equity very well on the meat markets abroad.

What better place to admire bear chested
Lebanese dudes... than the ski slopes in Faraya?!

…if only these admirers who swoon over our body hair, had any idea about the secret struggle of Lebanese guys with their hair, I bet they would find it less sexy!

A struggle that is becoming more obvious by the day: Just looking around at the beach, you can tell two things about Lebanese guys and their hair: One is the demystifying fact that not all Lebanese are hairy, as there are many naturally smooth guys.

And Two, that the concept of shaving and trimming body hair has become commonplace in Lebanon, much as it has abroad, both among gay and straight guys. At last, it is no longer just another superfluous bodily care to label as “gay”, merely as “metro”.

Though one thing that gay guys still love to do much more than others, is to delineate their beard with millimetric precision (tezyi7): This one hair must stay, this one must go, this one I take off with the “string” or the “mousse”, that other one I try to get rid of permanently with laser – There, the perfect beard to go with the perfect eyebrows.

My own experience with body hair reached new heights recently, when I came across an old photo of mine taken at the beach when I was around 22. Taking a closer look at the photo, I could not believe my eyes how little hair I had on my chest at the time: only a few soft little hairs in the center. Little did I know back then what the twenties had in store for me in the hair department: Today, a few years later, I carry a chestful of hair!

Digging more into the issue, I went back to my childhood’s “secret drawer” where I found, along many other weird things from my past, a little plastic jewelry box. Inside it, not your average baby name bracelet: far from it. It contains…

My first pubic hairs!

I must have been in my early teens when I got them, carefully pulled out a few of them, and decided to keep them as a relic, a souvenir. This screams “What the F***?!” and I hear you, but I guess it tells a lot about the fascination of young men with their changing hairiness.

Apparently the teen years and early twenties go by with more of this kind of good surprises, enforced by compliments from hairy men’s lovers.

It’s only later on that things start to take a bad turn. One day around the mid-twenties, the horror happens: You notice you’re starting to grow hair “in the wrong places”. In places where hair simply doesn’t belong. Is it the 21st century way of life, the electromagnetic waves of our cellular world, is it the pesticides, I have no idea what it is…

All I know is I’m not liking these little hairs growing undercover as “duvet” on my shoulders and on my back. And what is it with this incredibly long transparent hair that I busted coming out of my ear?

This brought on my all-out battle against unwanted hair. I was still naïve enough to think I was in power with my little metrosexual arsenal on hand: Costly laser hair removal sessions, torture-like waxing appointments, even these nasty depilatory creams and their most nauseating smell in the world. It’s only a matter of time before one has to capitulate: the time it takes to realize that the enemy hairs are only growing darker, thicker, unsexier.

And because bad news seldom come alone, on another horror day, you notice you haven’t just started to grow hair in the wrong places, but also to lose it “in the right places”. That’s when you look in despair at your dad’s hair – or your uncle’s on your mother’s side if you trust the saying, – trying to get a glimpse at your future baldness.

The Light from Above, the one you get in the elevator or from the bathroom mirror glass, becomes your biggest foe. Suddenly you find yourself paying more attention to the disgusting billboards from hair transplant centers, watching what shampoo you use and buying expensive Minoxidil hair preservation products.

And then one day, Life strikes again, ruthless… with the first white hair. The rebel white hair you dreaded comes out of the lot, you pull out in all self-confidence, telling yourself it must be due to the last horror movie you watched... yeah, right.

-post, pic by GiB#2

Beware Our Boycott Power



From a wall in Gemmayze

There is an email circulating around about one of Gemmayze’s favorite spots, Kayan, refusing to serve drinks to a group of gay guys, and throwing them out of the place with no clear reason why. The note tells the story in detail and calls on a boycott of this place.

Personally, I would tone down the reaction a notch, as I heard that the folks showed up in a large group, loud and without a reservation. Leaves room for a misunderstanding. But still, it’s quite disappointing coming from Kayan who’s always been among the more gay-friendly bars out there…


Kayan, GiB’ll give you another chance, but watch your ass from now on!

Dogs not allowed. Gays not allowed – Rue du Liban – Feb. 1st, 2011

This is not Nazi Germany. This is Beirut’s proud nightlife.

Karim comes in, joins his friends, tries to get the waitress attention to finally ask for an Almaza mexican beer. The night is quiet on rue du liban, in gemmayzeh, on a Tuesday night around 10.30 pm. There are some tables waiting to receive more customers in Kayan, one of gemmayzeh’s supposedly most relaxed bars. Kayan’s crowd is normally diverse, different nationalities, different ages, etc.

This is a story Kayan’s diverse crowd will not appreciate.

Beirut, liberal capital of the middle-east. Gemmayzeh, liberal nightlife quarter of Beirut. Whether this is true or not, one thing is for sure, Kayan still has a long way to go. Or better if it doesn’t get the chance to prove itself. Boycott Kayan.

Around this table of 8 guys in their late 20’s or 30’s calm and cheerful laughter can be heard, stories are shared -a typical night out between friends catching up. Except Karim has been waiting for his beer for about 15 minutes. The waitress comes back empty handed and announces to the guys that it’s the ‘last call’ for alcohol. Anyone would find that strange at 10.30 pm in Gemmayzeh. Karim asks nicely if he could still get his drink since he ordered it 15 min ago and Gilbert asks for a last Vodka. The barman is busy mixing more drinks, people are still coming in, the request for a drink didn’t seem out of place. The waitress comes back, stressed, nervous and having difficulty making a sentence “I’m sorry but there’s no more last call, we are closing down early tonight.” The poor waitress lookshopeless, turns around and walks away before any questions are asked. Three minutes later, another waiter drops the bill on the table and says “We are closing down. Can you please pay and leave.” The two barman are still making drinks. The place is packed, as usual, people are still coming in. Something’s strange. Alessandro leans towards a regular of the bar to tell him what’s going on. He confirms what any sensible person refuses to believe “I’m sorry to say this guys but it’s their diplomatic way of being homophobes”.

In shock, humiliated and embarrassed, 8 men find themselves at the door of Kayan in total disbelief of what just happened.

The clerk from Somalia is sent out to bugger off the fairies. In vain of the clerk's effort to shut the fairies up, the big bold headed manager finally shows up, in his white barmen outfit, asks them to leave and keep quiet not to bother the neighbors. When confronted about kicking out gays, the big bold headed straight man goes back into his cave behind his bar.

What’s next? A “Gays not allowed” sign on half of Gemmayzeh’s bars?

-- by GiB#2.

Phoenix Rising B.S.

Music On, Music Off
A highlight from Daraj l Fann - the "art stairway"

Word has it Acid re-opened its doors last Friday. It’s good to hear about a place (re)opening up in Beirut, rather than more places (including the Government) shutting down, amidst all the “Lebanon is at the edge of major civil turmoil” and the “the country’s due for its next war” that we’re hearing around.

It was starting to look like a pattern in the last two months, with Acid closing down, then Ahwet l ‘ezez – a symbolic old-style Gemmayze hangout turning into a bank branch – then Basement – a pillar of Beirut’s electronic music scene falling under the real estate frenzy – to mention just these two. Pretty depressing indeed in this gloomy political atmosphere.

What exactly ended up happening with Acid, did the manager come to terms with the owner, the neighbors – and what was the real problem to begin with anyway? I do not know. But what’s reassuring’ about it being back up is that it disproves those who thought it had something to do with it being a gay club.

Apart from a serious identity issue (the
college football font and the rest of the flyer says
it all), the RGB party was ok fun

A few weeks ago there was a tweet about this article that read “One Beirut Gay club down, two sprout up!”. The two clubs in question were RGB in Sin el Fil (tried it once) and Vice Versa in Broummana (haven’t tried), which I believe are both still on. The editor at GayMiddleEast made it sound as another great example of Beirut’s ‘eternal ability to reinvent itself’ or the ‘phoenix rising’ cliché bullshit, and even ended his article with a resounding “Beirut – the super cool gay capital of the Arab world!”.



With all the shit going on in the country (and Acid back up!), this all seems so hard to swallow today!


UPDATE: I found out from Boy Breathing Beirut that they closed Acid back last Monday. Officially red-taped. Allegedly the place "promotes sexual deviance”.

K Gets Some Support

DrFaDi says:

First, i would like to congratulate you for choosing a psychologist who believes he cannot change you. Actually, being gay is no longer considered to be a mental illness. On the contrary, shrinks should not try to change sexuality of a person, but make him feel comfortable with it.



Banky: policemen (London)



I believe your problem is being afraid of your homosexuality. Have you thought of WHY you are afraid of being gay? Are you afraid of being different? I think you already know that homosexuality is normal, i would even say it's natural. What is more convincing is knowing that there are gay animals!! In animal kingdom, religion and society don't play any role, so they can behave as they please. (btw, statistics show there are 10% of a population that is gay, just so you don't feel lonely).

It's too bad that society has put limits for this natural preference. It was common in Greek and Roman societies to have gay sex, it was even common between the teacher and his student. Athletes used to do it too, many ancient drawings show this. But when monotheist religions came and ruled, they banned all these practices and considered them as sins. It is even banned for married couples to have sex if not planning to conceive. They just want to protect The Family.

Nowadays, since the liberation of minds and declaration of Human Rights, homosexuality is being liberated from religion. Societies are looking at gay people in a human point of view. They are after all as human as straight people. So my advice for you is accept yourself, be happy with yourself, and don't worry! There are many openly gay people who succeeded, there are even more who are in the closet but still help their brothers. We should be united to change society's view. Be proud to be gay!

Majd says:

Yo, K, I just came out to my Palestinian/Syrian dad living in Canada a couple of months ago. It was difficult, full of contradictions. And i'm still living the shock resulting from it. I haven't had a conversation with him that's more than "hi, how are you." since i told him. Like you, i'm not OK with the way casual sex is, in a way, shoved down our throats (no pun intended), although i have a many friends who enjoy it. It's ok to have those different contradictions. The most important thing is that we're aware of them and try to resolve them.


Anon says:

Great post ! To this anonymous writer from another anonymous writer... If there is a reason why gays would ever want to change, its not because of us being gay- its because society is still learning to understand and accept us. We are living in a historical and changing time period. But if society accepted us just like they do heterosexuals, i highly doubt anyone would ever think of changing. The love and intimacy that two guys share is beyond words, but if i have to think of a word to describe it, it would be "phenomenal".

That alone would never make me want to change to please others- that fact that it feels so right and natural. I'm a 100 % Lebanese, happily married(to a guy) . We have a child together and my Lebanese parents and cousins all know and love me unconditionally. My Husband, son and I attend church regularly and the pastor loves and respects us as we are. We live our lives very normally and rarely ever encounter prejudiced or discrimination. We enjoy being an pioneers in our community and braking barriers for the younger LGBT generation who needs good role models. I pray that you can find some inner peace and love and acceptance.

In Pride we Trust

Anon says:

If I may, there are a couple assumptions here that aren't shared by the entire gay community. For example, I didn't start understanding I was gay until much later in my life, thinking that my attraction to men was simply because of the lack of women in my life (I lived in Syria, where gender segregation was more popular). Once I moved to Lebanon, and a short trip to England later, I realized I could have access to all the women in the world, and it wasn't going to change what I wanted.

Never did it cross my mind, though, that there was something wrong with me. I understood quickly that there was prejudice against who I was, but I didn't think that who I was was particularly wrong or vile - I thought other people were prejudiced. Reconciling my faith and my identity were harder, but somehow being biologically who I am just didn't seem so wrong to me.

Which brings us to the pill question: No. Even after thought, even after realizing that I'd have to work harder and live in the periphery, I don't want a pill that would change me. I'd be far more frightened of anything that would so fundamentally change me than anything anyone can throw at me. Literally - I fear not being myself more than losing my life. This isn't to say that your experience isn't legitimate or that others don't experience what you experience.

It's just too kind of offset the assumption that we ALL feel that way. As for telling parents and stuff, that is more along the lines of not hurting them rather than not being comfortable with who we are. I also hide that I drink and eat pork, and have occasionally smoked stuff that wasn't tobacco. That's not about being ashamed of that as much as I know my parents would really, really not like it.

K’s Shout Out

Dear GiBs,

It’s only been 2 days since I’ve been reading your blog, and today seeing that you haven't written anything yet in 2011, I decided to write to you.

I could relate to many things you said, but not to most.

Like you, I have lived my whole life in Beirut, I understand the culture we live in and the injustice that is part of our lives. Whether we are gay or not.

Like you, I come from a disappearing middle class, one that like any other social class in Lebanon is filled with social and family obligations.

My path however is quite different from yours.

I realized that I was gay a couple of years ago, and scared about it I decided to go to a psychologist for help, with the hope he could help me change.

He explained to me since the beginning, that there is nothing that can be done. I did a one-year therapy (secretly), at the end of which I decided to tell it all to my parents. It wasn't easy, and now, one year later, it still isn't.

Throughout therapy I could never find a guy here because he would be Lebanese, and Lebanon being a big village we would be bound to meet again or know someone he knows.

After telling my parents, I realized I could not live here any more and therefore left to the States for a year. During that year, I made great friends, had some amazing experiences, but nothing sexual. I was too afraid to take a step in that direction.

While abroad I would always have the same discussions with the gay guys I met. The minute I would meet one I would ask him:

- I there was a pill....
- NO!
- But you didn’t even hear the question...
- I know your question! They warned me about you! If there was a pill that would make me go straight?!
- Euh... yeah
- Well the answer is no!
- How can you say no so quickly! I mean think about it!

… and then I would go on depicting a scene almost as in science fiction, where gays would line up to turn straight just by swallowing one pill – in the back of my paranoiac mind there would be a side effect to that pill, but of course I would never add it to the discussion.

It would take me almost 20 minutes afterwards to describe to them the scene, the characters they were, and the advantages of being ‘like everyone else’. I would look at them, their eyes buried into deep thoughts, hesitantly change their answers from this offended "NO" to a tentative "I don’t know… it depends...", or an undecided "maybe".

Basically my whole point with this is how do you accept it enough for you to live it?

Because in my mind NO ONE, NO gay accepts it fully. There will always be a small noise nagging you from inside your head. Which is normal. No one wants to be different. No one wants to be part of a minority that has to fight for their right of existence.

But how do you accept it enough for you to act upon it? How does GiL’s horniness to pick up a complete stranger outweigh his fear of this stranger stealing from him, killing him? What he recounted is even worse than my imagination had created.

I’ve never been to Acid, or Bardo or any of the places you talk about. In fact, I never understood people who go there. Aren’t they scared of being recognized by other people?

You seem to be quite comfortable with your homosexuality but (if I understood correctly from your blog) you haven’t told your parents yet while I, who is still fighting it internally, already have. So many contradictions lay between us!

I want to believe I am not the only one that feels this way, though while reading your blog and others’, that’s not how it seems.

If being gay is difficult enough, being gay in a third world country is even harder... but being gay in a third world country and not accepting it after a year of therapy and another one abroad is more than I can deal with.

I hope you were not offended by anything I said, because it isn’t at all my objective but simply the way I look at life.

Thank you for sharing your experiences, I am sure you are helping people, not only in Lebanon, but around the world to accept themselves.

-Your fellow GiB

-- guest post by K. Photo taken by GiB#2 in San Francisco.

Dress It Up In Light

Just superb. That's the one word I would use to describe the sound & light show of the UFA event/competition, which premiered yesterday and will play again a few times until end of year.

For info, the insurance company brought together a bunch of Lebanese artists who created really cool short clips that were projected on the Downtown building. It used a very high-tech kind of 3D projectors that would tailor the projections to the greatest detail of the heritage building. Each competitor team's artwork came with its own soundtrack and had at least something creative, something impressive or something interesting about it... Long live young Lebanese talents, creativity, and energy!

On the downside this high level of quality makes it hard to choose who I want to vote for... I'll need to bring a better jacket and watch the show again another time (no worries, it's free!). But for now, I thought I'd use some of the low-res pics I took to make this collage - consider this my holiday wishes card! Best wishes to all of you folks.

- Post and pics by GiB#2.

Life Without Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Americans have been actively debating lately on an old policy referred to as “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”, a policy that allows the military to investigate its applicants’ sexual orientation and to prevent openly gay guys and girls from joining and serving in the military. The Democrats put back this question on the table last year in yet another effort to repeal this old policy, and due to the newly acquired power of the Republicans, to no
avail…

...that's until yesterday, when the happy news came out: “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” has been repealed. Big win for LGBT rights activists and for a number of personalities who are highly sensitive and personally implicated in this issue from Barak Obama to… Lady Gaga. The reaction in America is nothing less than a jubilation - take a look at this excellent mashup on the subject from the Huffington Post.

But just like the U.S. is geographically, this debate is thousands of miles away from the level of our own debate here in Lebanon. Here, it is hard to even imagine putting the words “gay” and “military” in the same sentence. As a matter of fact, we’re not even able to put on the national debate agenda an archaic law that criminalizes homosexuality, let alone actually repealing it… but this post is not just another bashing of our infamous Article 534 – it’s about our very own version of don’t-ask-don’t-tell.

When I first heard there was a movement in the States to repeal don’t-ask-don’t-tell before I knew what it meant, I thought: Who the hell would want to revoke a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy? can you imagine what life here would be like for us gay guys in particular, if it weren’t for the don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy that the Lebanese people sort of abide to nowadays: "If I don’t ask or tell you my religion / political affiliation / what turns me on, then please, don’t ask or tell me in return."

Knowing how indiscreet and judgmental Lebanese people can be, sometimes we can almost hear through their thoughts as they scrutinize us wondering to themselves ,“does he have a girlfriend?”, “is he married?”, “is he gay?” – what would it be like if they did not keep at least some of their questions internally to themselves? I mean it’s one thing to be “out” and comfortable with oneself as a gay guy, and another thing to have to deal with this kind of people’s questions and opinions on a daily basis…

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, not a ring: just please, never ever repeal don’t-ask-don’t-tell in Lebanon!

- By Gib#2. Photo credit: The Huffington Post

Nudity and the Family Jewels

“The management” of the gym I go to put up a “notice” recently, reminding everyone that they can’t be walking in the nude in the Lockers area “for ethical reasons”. Chance for us to talk a bit about the Lebanese and their family jewels.

It is no secret that we are quite a conservative society, and as such, we tend to be quite inhibited when it comes to nudity. That Lebanese guys hate to be naked around each others is easy to notice through many little things of everyday life, especially for us GiBs who tend to notice them due to our interest in men.

Our society seems to close the loop against public displays of nudity on both sides of the equation. On one hand, guys don’t like to show up naked, even in men-only environments, and never had to do it growing up for reasons like not having Pool Day at school. And on the other hand, every public place is designed to encourage this kind of privacy, from individual changing cabins to individual shower rooms, such that guys never have to get used to it anyway.

This is very different from the West, where I discovered as a kid that it was normal, for example, to shower in an open shower room along with classmates. It happened without carrying any sexual connotation whatsoever. Being raised not to associate nudity with shame and taboo as we are here, I believe the kids abroad stand a bigger chance to grow through puberty more comfortable with their body and with themselves in general.

Also in the West, it is generally accepted for guys to hang around naked in front of each others, say in a gym’s or a pool’s locker room. How many movies have that locker room scene where you get to take a peak at the lead actor? There, nudity among men seems to come much more naturally and more often than not, there are simply no ‘privacy options’ even for the shy to play prude.

As far as I can tell from my own experience, this inhibition is also true of Lebanese family men within the privacy of their own home. They are uncomfortable being naked in the presence of their wife and kids. I was almost shocked the first time I went to Europe as a kid and saw that in my cousin’s family, it was normal for daddy to shower all together with mommy and the three kids – not something I would ever see back home. And no, they were not naturists.

I don’t consider myself to be neither a voyeur, nor an exhibitionist, just a guy who doesn’t mind seeing a naked guy around. Within the limits of moral behavior, I consider that every person is free to be as uninhibited as they want – on the basis that others can just look away if they’re bothered. It’s a personal choice and a cultural matter. And as much as I respect other people’s feelings and ethics, I hate being told what to do and not do as far as personal and cultural matters…

… so to “the Management” of the gym, I just want to say that this notice sounds kind of backwards to me - and I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with homophobia…

-- by GiB#2

Leb BloGosphere’s Brand New Two

Two great additions to Lebanon’s gay blogosphere came to life last month -- two new blogs that will cover exciting and still unrevealed facets of our gay life in Beirut.

One is Karim’s Rainbow Experience, the blog of a teenager living in Beirut who sounds extremely motivated and courageous, and who’s got a lot to say about how it is to grow up gay in Lebanon nowadays, to come out of the closet in our society and affirm oneself so early on in life. Keep it up Karim, we at GiB (for one) are really eager to find out if, and how, gay Lebanon has changed for the upcoming generation.

Skim through drugs, swinging and other Beirut
excesses... to gay confessions on Page 14.

The other blog is that of a pioneer of gay activism in Lebanon, human rights militant and founder of Helem, Georges Azzi. For GiB, the new blog holds a high promise, that of shedding some light into the knots and bolts of LGBT advocacy, community and NGO work in Lebanon... which might also carry with it a powerful message for those of us who’ve been stuck for too long in the 'silent majority'.

With these two new up-and-comers, it may seem that 2010 is ushering a new trend in the Lebanese bloGosphere. Together we’re boosting the online presence of the Lebanese gay community, which can only make us stronger, make our voice louder and serve our case better…

…And it seems we’re getting the general public's interest and getting free publicity, too! Gosh, some of us just made it onto Beirut TimeOut’s “baddest” issue!


-- by Gib#2
(Photo courtesy of Beirut Boy)

Part 7/7: “Ya Bash!” – Lessons Learned

“Ya Bash!”

That was probably the sound I heard most often during my weeklong stay. The sound echoes on the floor anytime a detainee tries to get the guard’s attention, be it for a cigarette, for food, for a status check, or because some detainees are pulling up a fight.

No shutting up! Speak out like these flower burgeons
on a blossoming tree in Geitaoui

Turns out “Bash” comes from “Pacha” and dates back to the times of the Ottomans, who ruled Lebanon in the early 1900’s and to whom we owe much of our carceral system today. No wonder then that the system seemed so archaic seen from the inside.

Besides getting acquainted with Jail culture, Jail etiquette and Jail jargon (as mastered like no other by this underground rap band called “Irhab” from Roumieh), I also had enough time to digest quite a few lessons that I hope will keep me on the safe side in the future:

We live under a corrupt Justice system…

Yes, we already knew that, but as much as I’d heard about it before I was still shocked to see it at work from the inside. If you get arrested in Lebanon, the legal limit on detention time (up to 48 hours) without getting a hearing, exposing the charges and proofs against you or speaking with a lawyer, simply does not always apply. You can linger in for days and weeks before they even turn to your case, especially if you don’t take the proper steps to get help from the outside. And even more than in our society in general, socioeconomic class plays a huge role in the kind of treatment we get and whether our rights are secured or not.

… where you really need to have your ass covered

Getting help from the outside in such an emergency situation meant I had to involve my family into the details of my case. They in turn had to attempt anything and everything to get me out of there, like trying to call Someone who knows Someone or hiring a “good” lawyer – and making 2,000$+ readily available for it. Ideally, I would already have a lawyer’s contact that I would have called myself. Getting this kind of help is the only way out of the rotten structure, for the system’s so corrupt that one guy can make it all the way to Roumieh to serve a jail sentence, while for the same exact charge another guy might get out straight from the courthouse without even a hearing with the judge.

… where they won’t hesitate to intimidate you

During what probably added up to 4 hours of interrogations and filling out endless sheets of Q&As in my deposition, my interrogators added a number of twists here and there to my own version of the events, sugarcoating it at places especially the beating part. I ended up signing on a declaration that I did not entirely agree with. While this probably spared me some physical torture in Hbeich, some others’ interrogations did not go as softly as mine. As for mental pressure, I did have to cope with the humiliating remarks of some of the guards, and almost broke down on my first day in the basement of the courthouse in Baabda, the closest place to Hell on Earth I ever experienced. I was lucky I did not catch the eye infection that many of us were starting to get.

… where drugs can aggravate any other case

Urine tests seem to have become commonplace in the detention centers, the airport and other security checkpoints. They can test you for THC (cannabis), cocaine and morphine regardless of whether you are being arrested for a drugs-related issue or not. That a test comes out positive from smoking up in the last month or snoring a line in the last couple days, would aggravate any other case with the heavy charge of ‘drug consumption’ (ta3aati), a charge that remains on criminal records for 2 or more years. And that’s regardless of which kind of drug it was, how much of it, how long ago, if it was found on you at the time of arrest… and even what country you were in when you used it!

… where homosexuality is still considered a real crime

Yes there is a flourishing gay scene in Lebanon, yes Beirut is full of horny guys and gay sex is everywhere, yes Beirut boasts loads of gay friendly places from bars to clubs to hammams to cruising spots, you name it, it has it all... So much that we tend to forget at times that it also has Article 534 of the Constitution, the law that makes homosexuality illegal in Lebanon, a law we keep in mental denial like only we Lebanese know how to. Most of the time it seems like this law is collecting dust in some chief officer’s drawer, but yet in other instances like in my case (which may be exceptional, I don’t know) it seems like they just take it off-hold and use it sporadically, like a joker card they can pull out anywhere, anytime.

… and we need to do something about it!

Seven packs of cigarettes, seven days and seven nights later, looking like shit, smelling like shit and feeling like shit, I’m finally out and back home. Apart from the scars, it already feels like a bad dream and I could easily act as though nothing had happened, call it a bad week and slowly forget it – But some good friends are telling me that maybe it happened for a reason and I have to do something about it. So I decided to write it down on GiB, share it with the local organizations such as Helem and Human Rights Watch to support their upcoming report on police brutality, and consider filing a complaint. Was this a courageous or a suicidal thing to do, a good thing for me and with a positive impact on the community or another drop of sand in the Sahara, and do I have this freedom of speech in Lebanon today... I guess I’ll have to wait to find out!

-- By GiL. Photo by GiB#2.

Part 6/7 – My Own 12 Angry Lebanese

I met my 12 Angry Lebanese during a week’s time spent locked up in three different detention rooms, trying to stay clean, well fed, positive and friendly – maybe even trying to make the best out of it. Every day had its share of hellos and goodbyes as some of us went out and new people came in. We shared a tiny space, a disgusting toilet, junk food, personal stories. Solidarity between convicts is something that comes naturally and is touching at times – Not everyone had enough money for food, or relatives sending them supplies.

This one goes out to these 12 and to all the others, some of whom made it out before reaching prison, some others probably up in Roumieh by now. Let this series of portraits also be yet another standing ovation to Zeina Daccache for her most moving and inspiring work with “12 Angry Lebanese” – a tribute to the thousands of people living through the horrors of Lebanon’s jailing system day in and day out, whether they’re experiencing it first-hand (the prisoners) or second-hand (their relatives).



29 year-old Mazen whom I met over in the “Mores” floor. An average Joe, a good guy, Mazen fell to the exact same modus operandi that they used on me. He was the first catch for that night, I was the second. When I could finally open my mouth to speak past the first night, we found support in each other. He made it out in about 3 days because he was clean on the drug test.


40 year-old rich kid from Cairo and his girlfriend are speeding through the security check at the airport as they’ve started calling their names for boarding, carrying loads of Champagne from the Duty Free. But remains of coke in a straw which was cut in half and forgotten in a box of cigarettes, added a prison stay to the couple’s 5-day non stop Orchid/Skybar Beirut marathon.


17 year-old Mohammed from DaHiye gets caught with 114 carefully packed one-halves of Freebase. Says business has been good lately, and that he’s been making up to $12k a month. Now he’s absolutely certain that it's the militia running up his neighborhood that sold him off to that other gang who busted him. But Mo’s almost happy to know that his next stop is Roumieh: he’ll be joining his four older brothers who are already in, and who continue to do their business from within.

Zeina Daccache's theater play "12 Angry Lebanese"
and the related documentary: Two must-sees.

28 year-old Rami is in for the eighth time. Says the fourth day without heroin is the most critical, that the withdrawal symptoms are worst. His stomach won’t take in anything. He’s vomiting water. Rami knows all the guards by now, and does a great job at guessing which one of us is getting sent up to Baabda next. Rami has never done a proper rehab, only 8 prison stays. Each and every time after he got out, he’s gone back to H.


19 year-old Karim’s car gets searched over and over again at a checkpoint, as though they knew there was something. The hair of his two friends and his looked too crazy indeed not be hiding something. The cop finally finds a tiny piece of hash: it’s the leftovers of these university students’ first-joint-ever. The three friends came in knowing virtually nothing about this world, but got out a week later from what felt like a crash course in Criminology and Toxicology.


38-year old family man Salim is so coked up when he gets thrown into the room at 4am that his eyes are shining in the dark. We are 8 people in a 10m2 room trying to get some sleep, but he won’t stop talking to whoever seems to be awake. Salem’s stories are so hard to believe it’s almost funny, but there must be some truth to them as he did end up spending time in each of the Drugs floor, the Mores floor, and the Gambling floor.


80-something year-old Abou Mezher is brought down from his village somewhere up in the mountains still wearing his gardening clothes. He was arrested in his own garden where it turned out he’s been growing one marijuana plant next to each plant of tomatoes. He calls it l nabte shareefe (the Plant of Honour) and has been making a living off it for years, but that’s probably the end of his little family business.


21 year-old Johnny has been helping his entire village get through the hurdles of official exams and paperwork, by forging legal signatures and documents. He’s been doing it for years now and has become such an expert at printing and faking techniques, he might be headed for a big career. While his crime appeared to be pretty big in terms of social impact compared to some others’, he was the first one to come out and without even a hearing (da3wa).


15-year old Abboudi has been away from his house for weeks. He’s still too high on Rivotril and Benzoxyl when he gets picked up, that he’s unable to recall why he’s getting arrested this time around. Something to do with Abou Ali, his older brother from another mother and also his drug dealer. As his fiercest protégé, Ahmed likes to hang out with Abou Ali all the time, it feels so light and mellow when he’s around, and all that counts is he is with him now.


35 year-old Abou Ali is the Pablo Escobar of his district, but only for prescription pharma drugs. Over the 15 years of his 5 past imprisonments, he has accumulated so many scars on his body that – by his own words – he looks like a zebra. Based on jail experience he’s found self mutilation to be the best way to keep the staff away. Abou Ali doesn’t mind pissing outside the hole despite the smell, and telling Hassan to clean after him.


16-year old Palestinian boy Hassan looks after everyone, keeps the room tidy and organized, even cleans the “bathroom” after Abou Ali, spreads the good mood. Hassan says he shouldn’t be here, that they’re trying to make him admit of raping a mute child from his neighborhood, and that he has no clue where they got this crazy idea from.


And last but not least…

50-something year old Umm Omar, mother of four, mother of all convicts, the only feminine presence around. She kept us well fed throughout the day and smoking cigarettes that she would smuggle in for us. Umm Omar makes a decent living as the cleaning lady to the floor, and also gets bonus reselling us goodies from the snacks and stores around Bliss street… at 50% percent premium.


(all stories as told, names were changed)

--by GiL. Photo by GiB#2

Part 5/7 – From Remorse to Revolt

“I did my time… time and again…”

The line from Queen’s “We Are the Champions” is in repeat in my head for about 36 hours by now, and I still haven’t talked with anyone yet it's like they forgot about me in there. Oh yes I did tell the guard “No” when he came asking if someone wanted to use the single phone call we're allowed to. Of course they would be the ones making the call, and I can't trust them talking to my parents on my behalf.

I’m taking on me.

"I’m doing time for all the times I’ve done similar things before. For every time I’ve taken these kinds of risks, even greater ones sometimes. For every time I’ve had sex in the car, for every time I’ve smoked a J in the car. For all those times I crossed fingers at the darak checkpoint, high as a kite."

"I’m doing time for every time I’ve succumbed to each one of these two vices of mine."

The voice in my mind is jumping three languages but it’s saying the same thing over and over:

“I’m a fag and a junkie. Ana Loote w 7eshesh. Je suis un pédé et un drogué”.

I’m about to get punished for both vices, at once. Two in One. I’ve been playing with the devil for too long, as though to force this destiny, and look what’s happened. "You ruined your life. You happy now?”

Still taking on me. The hours seem endless, the mental maturbation is becoming unbearable.

Until finally hours later at the sound of the early morning adaan, the only indication of time since last night, my tears suddenly go dry – And those would be my last tears until I hugged my parents a week later outside the courthouse in Baabda.

For in a moment of clear consciousness, I started to wonder:

“Wait a minute here. Forget the drugs for a second and try to keep it down to the facts. What did I just get arrested for, what the hell was my crime?  The only real facts are: 1) I picked up a guy from the street in a cruising area and 2) I admitted to him that I MAY have sexual intercourse with him because I made it sound LIKELY I’ve had gay sex in the past.

That’s it.

There were NO talks whatsoever about money, which would make me liable under sex-for-money charges. There was NO sexual contact between me and the guy whatsoever, which would make me condemnable for having gay sex in public. There were NO drugs involved at that point.

It’s clear to me today: To put a long story short,

On a random night of 2010 in Beirut, I was ARRESTED FOR BEING GAY.


--by GiL. Photo by GiB#2 from a bookstore in Paris

Pink Dollars

Beware people of the world! GiBs are waging a war: beating Tel Aviv as the gay capital of the Middle East.


According to an article posted in the business section of L'Orient-le-Jour, our local French daily, Beirut is gaining notoriety as a touristic destination for gays from around the world. Can you imagine the potential impact on Lebanon’s economy? And do you realize how efficient this war can be? Drop the guns already. It’s time we compete economically and socially.

This other post provides interesting statistics as well as an overview of the rivalry for the Pink title.


While Tel Aviv offers a somewhat tolerant environment towards gays, GiB lifestyle is mostly underground. This secretive aspect makes everything sexier, sassier and spices things up a notch.


The Tel Aviv Tourism Association recently launched a campaign to market the city to gay communities around the world in a campaign called “Tel Aviv Gay Vibe.” How soon should we expect the Beirut version?

Part 4/7 – Hbeich It Is

I’m now in the back seat of their car, what’s left of my T-shirt red with blood. We’re finally having a conversation but I still have doubts they’re truly from the police as they’re saying. I’m trying to behave as a good boy, and allude to the fact that I’m willing to give them “anything they want”, but not getting a clear answer.

I’m getting driven through Beirut, and I soon figure out I’m headed to the Hbeich detention center – the infamous Hbeich that I’d heard so many horrors about during college.

Hbeich's floor arrangement – Ground floor is 

'Storage house for the Drugs department’ (!!), 

'Mores' on 2nd, ‘Drugs’ on 4th, ‘Gambling’ on 5th,

‘Civil Matters' on 7th

Up two floors and into a hallway, they make me take off my pants and confiscate them (I later learned it’s because I could use the strings that serve as a belt to hurt myself). Then they make me strip off naked and do ten sit ups, in case I’m hiding something in there. Finally they push me into a cell where two other guys are asleep, in that unbreathable smell of urine.

Hours later, my head is still buried under my shirt as I’m desperately trying not to breath the smell. Occasionally I stick my nose through the tiny window opening in the door, which serves both as the only contact with the outside world (them) and the only air ventilation for the room.

I feel humiliated and miserable like never before, and still don’t realize what’s going on. It must be around 5 am when life takes yet another strike at me. Between two sobs, it sounds so quiet outside that I can hear the sound of my car coming out from the street: it’s this unmistakable noise that it’s been doing when I drive it at low speed.

Oh great. Now they’ve brought my car over. They’re gonna search it down. They’re gonna find the little piece of hashish I forgot in the hand compartment. I’m gonna be in for drugs too. I’m gonna be in months. Someone please help me die. I burst into tears.

--by GiL. Photo by GiB#2

Part 3/7 - Abduct a GiB

Him: “Make a right here. Keep going. Now park here this is a good spot.”

Me: “But there’s cars that pass by this street!”

Him: “Don’t worry they can’t see anything if your headlights are off.”

Me: “But dude THEIR lights are on, so THEY can see us.”

Him: “Don’t worry here’s good”, he says as he lights up a cigarette. “Just turn off your lights”

A guy comes out of the shade and is now approaching my car from across the street.

Me: “Funny looks like this guy’s coming to pee next to the car he hasn’t seen us here!” I say in way of joke.

But the guy outside keeps getting closer and closer to the car. He’s now speeding up his pace.

The Slap - from an Amsterdam Graffiti

[PAUSE HERE] Of the whole experience following what is about to happen, this is the one moment that still gives me chills today: It is the precise moment when I figured out what was going on, while it was too late to take off.

“Oh no please don’t tell me this is what I’m thinking, please don’t tell me this is happening to me”, I think to myself. Next thing I know the guy outside is grabbing my shirt through the window and giving me my first slap in the face. The one sitting next to me, who for a second had pretended he was unbuttoning his jeans, is now lending him a hand.

The slapping is non-stop and getting more intense as I start screaming, screaming as loud as I can. In my head and as far as I could tell from these guys dressed in civil and from the way they set me up, there is no doubt I am getting abducted and/or stolen my car and things. I’ve heard this scenario more than once before.

The two guys have dragged me out of my car by now. I throw myself on the floor. They’re trying to get me inside a white Toyota with a civil plate, they won’t stop hitting and I won’t stop screaming. They’re trying to quiet me down and tell me something but I can’t hear anything. There’s cars that pass by every minute or so, but they seem to ignore my screaming so bad that it really feels like I’m in a nightmare.

One of them is finally able to handcuff one of my hands. If they get the second one on, I’m done. I must resist. I’m fighting back as much as I can, I even bite one of the guys as hard as I can. It must have been about 20 slaps in the face so far, I’m completely detached from by body at this point, my whole body feels numb. I can taste my own blood but I still find the time to check with my tongue if my teeth are still in place.

And then comes the grand finale, a proper Hollywood-style punch in the eye. Within a split second my eye feels swollen and blind. I finally surrender to my two aggressors.

--by GiL. Photo by GiB#2

Part 2/7 – Ambush a GiB

The man standing on the curb looks like he’s coming straight out of Mr Lebanon's cast. Tall, muscular, handsome, and just standing there, at night, by himself.

I’m on my way back home but wait, this guy looks hot as fcuk. Plus this is the Freeway cruising area so he has to be up for some fun. Wow he’s even giving me the look now, that unmistakable look.

It’s kinda weird though, I could swear this guy's Lebanese. Everything about him. And that makes him the only Lebanese guy around here not cruising in his car: The sidewalk is the turf of foreign workers turned rentboys.

There’s something mysterious and hot about this guy. I’ve got to figure him out. Let alone I could use a hunk like this before bed. I pull over the car and stop right next to him.

- Me: Hey there, how are you?

- Him: Good and you… what’s up?

- Me: Nothing much. Just driving around…

- Him: Just driving around eh?

- Me: Yup heading back home. But then I saw you!

- Him: You wanna fcuk or get fcuked?

- Me (thinking: guy's fast!): Umm neither I think… just go for a ride and see what happens.

- Him: You like to scuk?

- Me: Yeah I guess that part could happen. Listen do you want to come up or not?

- Him: Ok I’m going to walk back this way and you’ll pick me up from over there.

- Me: But why from over there? Just hop in here it’s much more quiet!

- Him: No, I want people to see me get in the car with you.

- Me (thinking: WTF?!): Fine, let me pick you up from over there then”

I drove forward into the light and picked him up.

How is it I could ignore all the signs, how is it I couldn’t see that everything about this guy was getting weirder by the minute, I still can’t figure….

... I guess the fish-hook must have been way, way too pretty and the fish (me) must have been way, way too horny.

-- by GiL. Photo by GiB#2 in Paris.

It Gets Better | by Art Hake

Something’s been messing my mind. This epidemic of teen suicides in the US, involving kids who were taunted for their sexuality and then chose to end their lives in order to escape the bully. Four independent incidents in a month do not label as an epidemic, thankfully, but I hope we can agree that it’s four times more than acceptable. Some of the kids were not even sexually active yet; they were different. Some stronger kids called them “fag” or “sissy” and hit them. They became frequent victims of groups. They got cornered. They were lost. And they couldn’t take it anymore. 

The sad part is, if enough light is shed on the topic, I’m sure we can come up with darker numbers.


As a result of low media exposure and total inertia from authorities, the “It Gets Better Project” was founded. And things did get better. At least for the movement. Joel Burns’s emotional speech, a city councilman from Texas, was streamed on YouTube more than 2 million times. Ellen DeGeneres featured a special on her show. How cliché! And President Obama raised his eyebrows. But most importantly, hundreds of individuals from around the globe uploaded amateur videos of their own “it gets better” experiences on the net, facing their videocams from their bedrooms, voicing hope and support to the confused youth. I can’t get enough of watching these films. Google them! The Google Employees’ video is not bad at all either.


Being a sexually-confused teen is no easy job, especially in Beirut. Hell, being Lebanese is no easy job! Justin Aeberg. Billy Lucas. Cody Barker. Asher Brown. Seth Walsh. Raymond Chase. Tyler Clementi. All gone. How many Tonis, Abdos, Ahmeds and Alis were bullied for being GiBs? To be honest, we don’t hear of too many scary stories. Beside a fishy double death this summer, I do not recall of any major GiB news headline lately. I guess these things are kept within intimate circles, away from social scrutiny. Never underestimate the fear of shame.


We hear stories or rumors or both. Probably both. But not on the news. We’re not worthy of being mentioned. We don’t exist! But we’re targeted. By jokes. By law. By practice. By habit. By norms. By local gods. By locals. By ignorance.


Our strongest feature as a society is our ability to bond with each others and develop social networks. They replace support groups and LGBT-friendly associations. They also cause wars, sometimes, but they do keep us away from dying old in total solitude. However, in most cases, what else do we have but ourselves?


These videos refreshed bad memories. I was so fucking lucky for an unbelievable family and for the luxury of a decent education. I was granted good health and an agreeable lifestyle. Despite everything that was offered to grow up normally, I couldn’t escape those bumps on the road. I was different; I tried hard not to show it. The bullying was acceptable: it’s more or less what every kid goes through. We’re big on asserting who has bigger balls. And some occasional verbal abuse did sting. But it was nothing compared to my incomprehension of my feelings and urges. At first I refused my body’s choices. I will spare you the emotional rollercoaster I went trough. But god what a ride! You’re packed, ready to go and things still go bad. With the challenges of school and friendships, the shooting hormones, the identity crisis, the one-way infatuations, the fear of reaching out, the terror of being caught… you’re in deep to your knees. Not to mention the burden of an injured country with bad odds. University days were softer due to a new level of independence. I just wish I had GiB friends to talk to back then, they would have spared me discovering myself through creepy sexual encounters fetched on the Internet. Ambushed by diseases and sexual deviants, this is how most of us start our GiB career. When I finally accepted myself, I was an adult already. But time was on my side. I met incredible people. I lived in a happy city for a college year. I met the man of my dreams. I came out to friends and friends came out to me. I don’t live in a GiB ghetto, I am a hardworking Lebanese man with a career and big hopes. And friends. I love my life despite all its imperfections. I’m motivated. I want more of life.


This is my little contribution to the Project. Look at us, in tiny Beirut, thrown like unwanted puppies in the forest. Things will get better.