In modern-day
Muslim societies, the struggle for greater sexual liberty is hampered by social
taboo. Two recent titles attempt to remove the veil of modesty and secrecy
surrounding homosexuality and the oft-neglected issue of female sexuality. They
deliver surprises both to critics and defenders of Islam.
The first is Unspeakable Love – Gay and
Lesbian Life in the Middle East by Brian Whitaker, the Middle East editor
of The Guardian, Britain’s leading liberal newspaper. The book boldly
delves into one of the biggest taboos in modern Muslim societies with subtlety
and sensitivity, addressing both Arab reformers and interested Western readers.
“Sexual rights cannot be excluded from any sensible programme for reform,”
Whitaker told me.
The book provides fascinating insights into the
lives of ordinary gays and lesbians, how society views and treats them, and
puts this in its broader socio-economic context.
In fact, Whitaker describes his book as “not
primarily a book about sex, nor even a ‘gay book’ in the usual sense. It
discusses society, culture, religion, politics, reform and east-west
conflicts.”
Its title alludes to the famous description of
gay desire as “The love that dares not speak its name” which first appeared in
an 1892 poem by Lord Alfred Douglas and was immortalised by Oscar Wilde during
his trial for gross indecency. And many of the issues Arab societies are
grappling with are familiar themes which the gay lib movement in the West also
faced. For instance, in Canada, same-sex acts were only decriminalised in 1969
because “the state has no business in the
bedroom of the nation”, as the then Canadian premier Pierre Trudeau famously said.
Although straight myself, my interest in the
status of Arab gays was triggered by the traumatic arrest and 13-month
imprisonment of an ex-workmate – now living in Canada – during the infamous
Queen Boat case in 2001 which marked the start of the current crackdown in
Egypt, despite the fact that Egypt has no anti-gay laws on its books.
One foot out of the closet
According to the International Lesbian and Gay
Association, of the 81 countries outlawing same-sex acts, roughly two-fifths
are Muslim countries. Whitaker’s book focuses mainly on Egypt, Lebanon and
Saudi Arabia to highlight the diversity and complexity of the situation.
The Egyptian government uses emergency
legislation originally designed to crack down on Islamists for its campaign
against gays. Lebanon has anti-gay laws but a more tolerant counterculture is
emerging. Saudi Arabia threatens homosexuals with the death penalty yet has a
vibrant underground gay scene.
“[One] thing that struck me… was the terrible
dilemma that so many young Arabs who are gay or lesbian face when their family
presses them to marry,” Whitaker told me.
One of the cases in the book, Hassan, leads a
dual life as good son and gay campaigner. He has kept his homosexuality secret
from his wealthy Palestinian family for fear of hurting them. Meanwhile, he is
an active member of al-Fatiha, a US-based organisation for gay and lesbian
Muslims.
Laila, an Egyptian
lesbian, had a gentler family experience. Her mother once asked her if she
“really liked women”, and seemed relatively unperturbed by her daughter’s
disclosure. Laila has two possible explanations for this more relaxed attitude:
girls are less important to an Arab family’s social standing and some cynical
families see it as a way – like hymen restoration – of protecting that prized
asset, ‘virginity’.
Feminist
insight
A lot of people are not actually convinced that
lesbianism really exists, and regard it as just some temporary fun between
girls. In addition to social machismo, this could have something to do with the
nature of the act.
“There is comparatively little on female
homoeroticism in Qu’ran [sic], hadith [sayings of the Prophet Mohamed] or
interpretive texts,” writes Kecia Ali, a professor of religion at Boston
University, in her book Sexual ethics and Islam. “Several factors
contribute to the silence… Perhaps the most important is simply that many legal
effects of sex depend on penetration by a penis.”
Ali’s book explores the entire body of sexual
ethics – both homo and hetero – from a feminist perspective. While rather
academic and legalistic in tone, it provides an intriguing take on sexuality
and Islam through the eyes of women, rather than the more traditional
male-dominated interpretations.
As a firm believer in gender equality, certain
aspects of religion have long troubled me. For like-minded Muslims, Ali helps
shed light on the roots of certain inequalities – such as the notions of
polygamy and marriage to non-Muslims – and shows that, while some of these
disparities appear to be intrinsic to Islam and other Near Eastern faiths, most
are due to the interpretive bias of male scholars.
Amusingly, the book also reveals the role of
medieval Islamic scholars as sex gurus – the Dr Ruths of their age. For
instance, al-Ghazali wrote profusely on the importance of foreplay in the 11th
century. “The husband should not be preoccupied with his own satisfaction,” the
sage advised. “Simultaneity in the moment of orgasm is more delightful to her.”
The sexual Lot
of gays
The condemnation of homosexuality in Islam is not
as damning or clear-cut as many believe, and it has largely been tolerated
throughout Islam’s history. Islamic societies “provide a vivid example of a
‘homosexual-friendly’ environment in world history”, writes Scott Kugle in Sexuality,
diversity and ethics. This makes the current intolerance all the more
surprising.
Ideologically, objections to homosexuality
revolve around the belief that gay and lesbian sex cannot occur in a ‘licit’
relationship – seen by the majority of Muslims as heterosexual marriage.
“Same-sex marriage fundamentally challenges the basic sexual premises of
marriage as a contract,” observes Ali’s book. However, some reformers are
slowly challenging the view of what constitutes ‘licit’ sex – both pre-marital
and homosexual – by focusing on consent.
Although many Islamic scholars permit anal sex
in heterosexual relations, they ban homosexual ‘sodomy’ or ‘liwat’, as it is
known to Muslims. This condemnation is based on an allegorical link with the
Biblical tale of the Prophet Lot and Sodom and Gomorrah. However, the story of
Lot’s people in the Quran is fragmented and cryptic and appears to be referring
to rape and adultery, which makes it “unwise to claim that these verses condemn
homosexuality”, as Whitaker notes.
The fact that Islamic scripture is largely
silent on the subject makes the struggle for ‘gay lib’ a largely social one. A
number of recent developments give hope for the future. In Lebanon, Helem, the
Arab world’s only official gay rights group, has aligned itself with other
civil society organisations to push for the modernisation of Lebanon’s penal
code. The group’s Beirut office was one of the hubs of the relief effort during
the recent conflict in Lebanon. “I think this is likely to strengthen Helem’s
position in the future,” Whitaker said.
In Egypt, The Yacoubian Building, which
has been the Arab world’s best-selling novel since its release in 2002, has a
sympathetically portrayed gay character. Its film adaptation, released this
summer, is the biggest-budget Arabic film ever made and has become a box-office
sensation. Despite calls to ban the film by parliamentarians – on the back foot
following the film’s full frontal attack on corruption in high places – it has
brought homosexuality out into the mainstream, sparking a much-needed public
debate.
Sexual freedom is part of the
general struggle for human dignity, which must be waged at every level. Change
will come to the Islamic world when a critical mass of Arabs and Muslims begin
to question the structures ruling their lives, from the family unit right up to
presidents and kings.
This review appeared in the 2 December 2006
issue of The Globe and Mail.
