Disavowed
Homosexualities in Beirut
Sofian
Merabet
Sofian
Merabet is a doctoral candidate in anthropology
at Columbia University. From August 2001 through 2003, he
was an associate researcher at the Center for Behavioral
Research at the American University of Beirut, where he
also taught sociology and anthropology.
| 
Beirut
nightlife in the renovated downtown district. (Hussein
Malla/AP Photo) |
Beirut
can be perceived as a social body, with all the complexities
of such an organism. Lebanon's capital provides, in fact,
the stage for a panoply of moods and dispositions which
are a dynamic result of particular histories and larger
socio-cultural circumstances. As a body, Beirut is, of course,
no monolithic entity; it competes with individual bodies
over the appropriation of niches in relation to which any
city dweller perpetually undergoes the difficult task of
constructing various kinds of identities, among which homosexuality
is a consequential one. Based on a tangled politics of disavowal,
the complicated and often contradictory process of homosexual
identity construction in Beirut is always subjected to multiple
factors located within what one might call the "homosexual
sphere." In Lebanon, these factors not only transcend
the limits of the individual body, but they are often predicated
on the coercion exercised by social norms as well as the
mechanisms of state suppression.
As
an urban microcosm, Beirut seems to embrace all the paradoxes
and incongruities that characterize any city. Yet assessing
the vicissitudes of homosexual identities, along with their
disavowal, requires using a microscope and a telescope at
the same time. Both magnifying glasses are necessary in
order to disentangle the intricate techniques of individual
identity constructions, ranging from various displays of
"conspicuous" behavior to the widespread discriminatory
politics of homophobia. Moreover, both allow for a general
understanding of post-civil war consumerism in Lebanon and
the ways in which certain spaces become contested and appropriated
as "queer" by different individuals, but always
in accordance with the usually defiant character of their
respective social environments. The formation of homosexual
identities in Beirut is dependent upon the individual's
circumstances as well as the pressures -- both subtle and,
sometimes, overt -- of society at large. To understand the
issue, one has to engage in what the French sociologist
Pierre Bourdieu calls a "para-doxical" thinking
that challenges common sense and common sentiments.[1]
One has to defy the idea, for example, of an uncontested
Middle Eastern masculinity and assess the particular case,
as well as the techniques of contention with which the world
and the individual body give meaning to each other.
Drowning
Homosexual Identities
"See
you at Dunkin' on Saturday night!" This exclamation
has become commonplace in Beirut ever since the donut-selling
franchise became, almost overnight, the aspired public stage
for young boys wearing I-shirts, tight jeans and sometimes
circumspect makeup. The great attraction exercised by the
otherwise bland Dunkin' Donuts chain, and specifically its
downtown Beirut division, on Lebanese homosexuals may in
some aspects be trivial but it is still worth examining
within the larger context of post-civil war consumerism
in Lebanon. For one thing, the chain's older branches in
the northern suburb of Zalka and on East Beirut's Sassine
Square have a history of drawing relatively large queer-identified
crowds. On the other hand, the fact of sipping cheap, even
if totally tasteless, coffee and at the same time being
voluntarily exposed to the gaze of others is all the more
relevant when it comes to understanding the unbroken popularity
of the locale. Finally, how is it possible that Dunkin'
Donuts has remained popular among queer-identified individuals
in Lebanon despite the widely disclosed homophobic incidents
that perpetually occur on the premises?[2]
Over
and over, local management has justified the donut shop's
ejection policies by claiming that those who were asked
to leave the establishment displayed a "conspicuous
behavior" not in tune with the intended atmosphere
of the cafe. In every instance, the targets were young men
characterized by the management as "overtly feminine."
Yet even though its various locations have repeatedly been
the theater for banning queer-identified customers, to this
day Dunkin' Donuts remains a popular hangout for Lebanese
homosexuals. What lies behind these directed and ongoing
practices of removing undesired customers according to their
gendered behavior? More importantly, why do other homosexuals,
seemingly undisturbed, continue to frequent the place and
gobble up quantities of noxious nosh?
The
general lack of solidarity among those queer-identified
individuals still sitting at Dunkin' Donuts results in part
from the fear of becoming socially ostracized. Moreover,
this prevalent disengagement often has to do with the consequences
of resisting self-identification. "Ana mesh heek"
("I'm not like that"), numerous gay men in Beirut
will say, ambiguously, as they reject an "overtly feminine"
customer. Hence, the frequent disavowal of any kind of homosexual
identity on their part.
Asserting
a male homosexual identity in Beirut is a difficult and
at times impossible task for the concerned individual. The
result of such difficulty is often outright frustration,
if not chronic schizophrenia, leading to what Bourdieu has
termed in The Misery of the World" the tragic
[element] that is born out of the confrontation without
concession or possible compromise of incompatible points
of view."[3] In
Beirut, the struggle over one's sexual identity translates
not only into bodily practices and performances that vary
according to space and circumstance, but also into the rejection
of others whose own set of attitudes reminds the homosexual
individual of those aspects of his identity that society
tells him to repudiate.
Parading
a Social Ideal
Part
of the answer as to why queer-identified customers continue
to be banned from certain places in and around Beirut, and
this without experiencing any sort of substantial support
from other homosexuals, seems to lie within a prevalent
and socially generalized difficulty of accepting difference
in Lebanon. Confronted with what it considers "conspicuous,"
that is to say "inappropriate," behavior by young
men who are far from embodying the traditional power attributes
in a society dominated by the ideal of strong and virile
males, the management of Dunkin' Donuts in its stated straightforward
argumentation does nothing more than reconfirm this very
ideal.[4] In fact, this
reconfirmation is a perfect example of how homophobia gets
enacted and internalized in Beirut, where "conspicuous"
behavior tends to be understood as some kind of threat to
the social ideal. The challenge of any sort of non-conformism
is being withstood at any cost and without any remote concession
whatsoever in order to protect and reinforce the phallic
image of the potent male.
Therefore,
it is hardly rare in Beirut to overhear complaints within
the "homosexual sphere" about the "inappropriate"
behavior, mostly characterized as effeminate, of those who
do not fit the social norm. These accusations focus on those
individuals who are viewed as a source of gendered embarrassment
and who manage to endanger the social image of an uncontested
masculinity that generally fails to be questioned, let alone
refuted, by large parts of the homosexual sphere in Lebanon.
These recurring complaints tend ultimately to develop into
an internalized homophobia that reenacts all the biases
and mechanisms of rejection entertained by society at large.
It is further an indignation that silently sanctions the
various means of state suppression legitimized by Article
534 of the Lebanese Penal Code that outlaws all "sexual
activity that is contrary to nature."[5]
This
generalized attitude of hostility often leads to a collective
display of arrogance, indifference and pretense towards
those who are not in tune with the exigencies of social
conformity. It is a collective display of haughtiness whose
most pliant proponents are those homosexuals who have internalized
a heightened sense of disavowal which is itself built on
the larger repudiation of sexual difference. Ironically,
however, before he can repudiate the "inappropriate
behavior" of others through a composite process of
projection of one's own repressed desires and fantasies,
the homosexual individual has to register those bodily expressions
that entice him about the other in the first place. This
insidious kind of registration is frequently linked to specific
spaces in Beirut, for instance, oddly enough, such social
venues as Dunkin' Donuts, that facilitate the peculiar convolutions
of the queer encounter.
Queer
Space
What
makes a place in and around Beirut gay or queer-identified?
This is not an easy question, for arguably there are no
spaces in Lebanon that clearly demarcate activities of a
community which socially identifies itself with its homosexual
orientation. Indeed, one might contend there is no such
thing as a "gay community" in Lebanon at all,
providing, of course, one defines a community as a coherent
and encompassing group of people sharing similar, even if
competing, positions and aspirations and where the sexual
preference becomes a cardinal point of identity construction.
There
are, of course, some local gay interest groups that have
formed since the beginning of the decade. For instance,
in a Beirut demonstration against the war on Iraq in March
2003, the press covered a half dozen individuals marching
underneath rainbow flags.[6]
Notwithstanding this arguably cautious "coming out,"
the visibility of local gay advocates within a larger public
who would actually recognize the symbolic meaning of the
rainbow flag remains limited. This limitation is partly
due to the peculiarities of the Lebanese law that classifies
homosexuality as a "sexual activity that is contrary
to nature" and therefore must be suppressed. Moreover,
the various demure attempts by some members of these interest
groups to reach out tend to be confined within the boundaries
of their own -- generally affluent -- social backgrounds.[7]
That being said, one should not drop the adjective "gay"
altogether when talking about homosexuality in Lebanon,
for it is this word that is generally used in English as
a qualifier by the concerned individuals themselves, regardless
of the language they actually speak.
The
Homosexual Sphere
The
distinctive combination between the lack of a comprehensive
community that identifies itself socially with its homosexual
orientation and the persistent idiomatic usage of the English
word "gay" helps in part to explain the conflicting
politics of disavowing sexual difference in Beirut. Within
the "homosexual sphere," individuals obviously
engage in homosexual practices where sex itself becomes
an elicited desire existing in social relationships. At
the same time, however, these individuals persist in their
reluctance to accept the ramifications of an equivalent
social identity, in spite of an extensive habit of subscribing
to the word "gay." As a consequence, it becomes
critical to look out for the spaces that still manage to
accommodate homosexual practices as well as the necessary
conditions for a larger queer-identified encounter to happen.
What
characterizes the homosexual sphere in Beirut? That indubitably
depends on exactly what one is looking for. If it is instantaneous
sexual gratification, then many spots could be the places
of departure towards possible fulfillment. Strolling on
certain stretches of Beirut's Corniche at certain times
may confront the informed observer with suggestive gazes
and evocative bodily postures, making it indirectly clear
to him that the seemingly nonchalant person leaning on the
railing is "concerned," or, as it is common to
say in local parlance, khasso. As convincingly illustrated
by the beginning of Nabil Kaakoush's photo montage entitled
"Hey Handsome," the visual registration of the
one who is concerned, khasso that is, is often followed
by an apparently innocent, but highly encoded, verbal interaction
intended to clarify the protagonists' respective motives.[8]
Subsequent to the never failing questions about the time
or about sneaking a cigarette, there ensues a rehearsed
yet only supposedly disinterested dialogue about the contrived
coincidence of being in the same place at the same time.[9]
At any rate, casual open spaces like the Corniche or some
street corners around certain stretches of the city are
by no means alone in providing the setting for a contemplated
homosexual jouissance. For those homosexual Beirutis
having some money to spend, there is probably no better
place from where to see and be seen than a social venue
like the outdoor cafe.
Appropriating
Down Town
Since
opening three summers ago, the plastic and pompous area
of Beirut called "Down Town" (with
equal stress on both beginning consonants) in all local
vernaculars has managed to captivate the attention of more
than one wannabe bourgeois residing on its wide periphery,
and it is no wonder that some restorative hangouts became
favorites among young, and not so young, male homosexuals.
Right on the centrally located Maarad Street, two establishments
started in 2001 to attract a particular clientele. Whereas
Dunkin' Donuts tended, right after its launching, to bring
in customers mostly in their teens and twenties, immediately
next to it, a cafe gingerly called Scoozi has become the
playground for slightly more mature patrons, presumably
sporting heavier wallets.
Even
if both closely connected places function as focal points
for thorough visual checkups within the homosexual sphere
in Beirut, there are differences. At Dunkin' Donuts, a younger
crowd takes advantage of the locale's relatively affordable
prices while enjoying at the same time the full vista of
downtown Beirut's main promenade. Scoozi, on the other hand,
is not a fast food cafe; it has waiters, and thus it is
more expensive than its showy pink and orange neighbor.
Being more exclusive, Scoozi has become a magnet for those
who can afford it and who are generally senior to the coffee
drinkers at Dunkin' Donuts. At the same time, it is a place
where ejection policies are less likely to be reinforced.
This qualitative difference points to another structural
inconsistency when it comes to understanding homosexuality
in Lebanon.
What
makes it treacherously "safe" for a gay customer
in Beirut to sit at Scoozi is the probability he will not
exhibit a behavior deemed "inappropriate" by those
sitting immediately around him. Regardless of what he genuinely
does, the older and financially potent male is more likely
to embody the social ideal of masculinity than his younger
counterparts at Dunkin' Donuts. He actually ends up fitting
the overall norm perfectly. Even if he indulges in "effeminate"
behavior, this demeanor will be projected onto others and
repudiated simultaneously. Moreover, its alleged "inappropriate"
character will be gladly overlooked by those manifesting
the strongest homophobic biases. Generally, what is actually
practiced sexually by these individuals is located behind
complex exercises of disavowal where the talk drifts away
dramatically from the walk.
The
Talk and the Walk
In
resisting self-identification as homosexual, some individuals
project an image of self-hatred onto the registered "conspicuous"
male other, and thus repudiate him altogether. This repudiation
functions as the foundation of defense and is part of an
individual protection mechanism that Freudian psychoanalysis
calls "disavowal of difference."[10]
Sigmund Freud, in his later work on fetishism, interpreted
this type of contradiction as "disavowal."[11]
As a defense mechanism, disavowal fosters a split in the
ego leading it at the same time to both acknowledge and
reject what it perceives to be reality.
As
Alan Bass remarks in his psychoanalytic study on fetishism,
"Conceptually, a mechanism like disavowal is intrinsic
to the idea that defensive substitutes are created to avoid
a registered reality. While the operation of defense always
implies an attempt to convince oneself that something disturbing
has not been registered, the defense itself always implies
that the disturbance has been registered."[12]
Hence, many a homosexual in Lebanon has to confront a conflict
between the registration of the reality of one's own sexual
orientation on the one hand and the social objection to
that reality on the other. By proclaiming that "I'm
not like that," many homosexuals in Beirut repudiate
the "inappropriate" behavior of others and, by
the same token, disavow their own sexual inclinations. They
register the particularities of their sexual identity, yet
not without peering through the normative lenses of a largely
hostile society.
In
the case of homophobia within the homosexual sphere in Beirut,
the vindictiveness of the former becomes the defensive substitute
which actively reacts to the general "disturbance"
of the latter. Thus the social reality of sexual difference
in Lebanon translates into a reality that is disavowed by
the subject because its acknowledgement is believed to provoke
traumatic levels of anxiety sanctioned by the dominant forces
in society. Subsequently, the contested premises of a donut
franchise in Beirut become a space where the paramount power
of society is not only affirmed, but also applied.
The
most subtle and trenchant form of this coercion is one of
symbolic violence projected through collective cockiness
and disregard for others. Even if it generally remains of
symbolic nature, this social violence is appropriated, often
enough, by the state in the form of razzias and other means
of suppression.[13]
In other words, the consequence of such a widespread "homosexual
homophobia" in Lebanon is part of complicated struggles
for the appropriation and contestation of space in and around
the capital city of Beirut, a space that is at the same
time physical, social and mental. Being constantly redefined
along with other social realities in the country, homophobia
in fact becomes a socio-cultural product of registration
and repudiation of sexual difference that develops into
a shared trauma fostered by social exclusion where (to paraphrase
Bourdieu[14]) the small
misery of the homosexual position conflates with the larger
misery of general social conditions.
Endnotes
1
Pierre Bourdieu, "Effets de lieu" in La misre
du monde (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1993), p. 250.
2
For
details, see Executive Magazine (Beirut) (July 2002)
and the Daily Star (Beirut), July 25, 2003.
3
Pierre Bourdieu, "L'espace des points de vue"
in op. cit., p. 13.
4
Mai Ghoussoub and Emma Sinclair-Webb, Imagined Masculinities:
Male Identity and Culture in the Modern Middle East
(London: Saqi Books, 2000).
5
Daily Star (Beirut), January 20, 2003.
6
Al-Nahar, March 16, 2003 and al-Safir, March
19, 2003.
7
For instance, through a mostly unsuccessful boycott action
against Dunkin' Donuts.
8
Nabil Kaakoush, "Hey Handsome" in Malu Halasa
and Roseanne Saad Khalaf, Transit Beirut: New Writing
and Images (London: Saqi Books, 2004), pp. 166-173.
9
Ibid.
10
Alan Bass, Difference and Disavowal: The Trauma of Eros
(Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000).
11
Sigmund Freud, "Fetischismus" in Das Ich und
das Es: Metapsychologische Schriften (Frankfurt: Fischer
Taschenbuch Verlag, 2000), pp. 329-334. Translated into
English in "Fetishism" in J. Strachey, ed. Standard
Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
vol. XXI (London: The Hogarth Press and the Institute of
Psycho-Analysis, 1961), pp. 152-157.
12
Bass, p. 29.
13
Al-Nahar,
January 9, 2004.
14
Bourdieu, "L'espace," p. 16.
