A First Kiss

            I decided to ignore the warnings, the stories and the rumors.

            I kissed him goodnight, in the middle of downtown Beirut.

            Everything I expected from a first kiss was there: the pounding heart, the butterflies, the thrill, and the joy… But one unexpected thing happened.

            When we opened our eyes, we saw a policeman calling us.  We just ignored it and walked away, until he started screaming.

We ran. We acted like we were guilty of something, like what we did was wrong, like we were criminals, caught red-handed.

            Luckily we both got home safely. Stripped of all dignity, humiliated, scared, annoyed, confused, but safe.

            Today, whenever I pass by downtown Beirut, whenever I think about him, hear his name, whenever someone ask me about my first kiss, I do not remember touching his lips, running my hand through his curly hairs or trying to control my pounding heart.

No. I just remember the angry and disgusted voice of a policeman, the awkward looks we got while running in the crowded street and our awkward laugh while saying goodbye like what just happened was the most normal thing in the world.

            I think about how no one should ever have to face such humiliation. But then the Dekwaneh abuse happens, and what I thought was the worst kind of humiliation possible, an incident I have been afraid to share for a year now, seems stupid and ridiculous.

            I open my diary, read what I wrote that night, one year ago, and try to put myself in their shoes, multiply this page on a diary by a hundred, by a thousand.

But I can’t.

            Instead, I just do what I would have done if I had to face a similar situation. I write. And today, I am sharing what I wrote, to everyone who has ever been humiliated, by a person, by a city, by a country.

An Ode to Beirut

Beirut is every old building, every skyscraper. Beirut hides in every dark corner, every lost street, and every spooky alley. Beirut has a thousand ways to reach the same destination; it is a maze of stairs, sidewalks and highways linking every corner of the city to the other. Beirut is in the street art, from the shocking statements to the sweet messages on the walls; it is the colorful posters and ads; it is the face of a martyr standing in front of his flag.

Beirut is the laundry on the balconies, the laundry on the rooftops. Beirut is the electric cables bursting out of random places. Beirut is the coffee shops, the library, the supermarket, the butcher’s and the mall.

Beirut is the minaret and the church bell.

Beirut learns to ignore the fact that it woke up to the sound of a dozen cars honking simultaneously. Beirut is the never-ending constructions.

Beirut watches the sunrise behind the cement jungle as it’s waiting for the school bus. Beirut is the smell of coffee in the streets and the sound of two coffee cups thumping against each other at 6AM.

Beirut watches the sunset at the waterfront, waiting for the grey polluted sky to turn red. Beirut is the blinking lights of the boats leaving the port, the deafening sound of the planes landing in the airport.

Beirut is the sound of thousands of generators buzzing three hours a day. Beirut takes electricity cuts into consideration while scheduling its day. Beirut gets out of the most relaxing shower even if the water stopped running just after it poured shampoo on its hair.

Beirut is the cursing of an angry man at the TV every day at 8PM. Beirut loves being a mess and makes everyone talk about it. Beirut is a drama queen.

Beirut is every glass of alcohol poured on a Saturday night; Beirut is the cigarette smoke rising until it reaches the moon.

Beirut never sleeps because Beirut can never do everything it has planned.

Beirut is the old man, smoking his arguileh, playing tawleh in the middle of the road. Beirut is the fake boobs, the fake ass, the fake nose, walking besides a lost child in downtown. Beirut is the veiled woman and her almost naked friend.  Beirut knows all about the cab driver’s life after a 10-minute ride. Beirut is the neighbor and his son, the cousin and her dog, the co-worker and his girlfriend, the hairdresser and his mom, the old high-school friend and her husband; Beirut is a family.

But Beirut doesn’t need people’s company: Beirut just needs the city.

Beirut is my best friend drinking a bottle of wine on the sidewalk and laughing her ass off at something that doesn’t even matter. Beirut is my lover smiling and making me forget everything around me.

Beirut is the city you cannot explain, the experience you cannot share. Beirut is the place you can’t shake off your head.

Beirut will always be here, but you won’t. Beirut won’t miss you, but you will. Beirut creates, but you follow. Beirut happens, but you are. Beirut doesn’t need you, but you do.

Beirut is where you were; Beirut is where you are.

Beirut isn’t where you will be.

This is why you crave it so much.

Because Beirut is where you will always want to be.

Humans of the World

I have been tweeting about Brandon Stanton's Humans of New York for months now but some things are too good to be shared on Twitter exclusively.
When I really like something it ends up on every social network page I own, so here we go.

This TEDx Talk was given at Columbia and these truly were the most inspiring 15 minutes of my life.
If I could sum it all up, it's  about how the media is a business like any other: it shows you what you want to see.
We all know that deep down but never try to see the other side of the story. This is where Brandon's portraits come in.

Now what do you think about when I say "Lebanon"?
Kids playing in the souks? An old lady walking in the streets of Ashrafieh? A man and his tarboosh selling kaak or coffee on the street?

Well, this is exactly the kind of pictures you will find on Humans of Lebanon. This is how you know the people behind it failed to grasp HONY's idea which they were apparently inspired by.
I hope the page is going to evolve and show more of the Lebanon we do not know.

Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to see a portrait on my Facebook timeline. Humans are awesome no matter what.

The Year of Karim

I take New Year resolutions very seriously.

2012 was all about discovering my world and trying new things.
Since all my friends felt like leaving Lebanon at the same exact moment this summer, I was left alone in Beirut. This is how I discovered the city, by walking aimlessly in the streets with my laptop and a book. I got lost quite often but it was worth it. The camping and the hiking also helped since I got to discover the hidden beauty of the lost and abandoned wonders of Lebanon.
The year was also full of first times, things I never imagined would have happened. And I don't regret a thing.

And here comes 2013, the year during which I graduate from high-school. It is already meant to be amazing so I thought of the perfect resolution: Build unforgettable memories.
So when my friend got me an awesome Polaroid, I immediately started taking pictures of everything we do, whenever we go out. The plan is to fill a whole wall with these.

Also, luck seems to be on my side.
Yesterday, we had the traditional New Year lunch at our place with the whole family (and by that I mean no less than 50 people). So, like every year, mom hides 3 coins in her famous and delicious kebbeh arnabiyyeh and look what I found in my plate...

This means that 2013 is going to be as awesome as expected!

From Beirut to New York City

My brother always told me that if I had a chance to leave for college, I would most probably never come back to Lebanon. Life is so much easier abroad, more opportunities, better jobs, better everything...
My friends always told me that if I had a chance to leave for college, I would be the first one to forget about them (yeah, thank you for that guys!). I could easily start a new life and forget everything about my past.
I never disagreed with them but today everything has changed.

College seemed so far away a month ago.
This morning, I woke up expecting my suitcase to be packed and ready to go.

It is all I can think about, even if I'm not leaving before August. These are going to be the longest 8 month of my life but I am grateful for that. I want to enjoy every second of my last year in school with all these amazing people because, a year from now, we will all be scattered around the world.

All these thoughts are rushing to my head now that I got my acceptance letter. I am so psyched to be going to the best university of all times in the most beautiful city in the world but still afraid of living alone in a place where there is nobody I know and most of all, sad to be leaving everything behind.

It is only now that I realize I won't be able to live with myself if I never come back to Lebanon. I can't just ignore that last 18 years of my life, this place shaped me and made me who I am, from the streets that I know like the back of my hand to the man who sold me my first ice-cream, my first bottle of wine, my first pack of cigarettes, from the random strangers who smile at me in the street to my closest friends with whom I spent the best years of my life, from the welcoming smell of home when I leave for too long to my family that I never loved more than today.

I spent the last 3 years of my life working towards leaving this country and now I only have 8 month to make up for all this lost time. And even if I do make the best out of my remaining days here, I am not ready to say goodbye.

Lebanon & Drama

So, a pillar collapsed and the landlord is informed. He did nothing about it. Two weeks later, he advices everyone to sleep out of the building. Then, it collapses.

What is everyone doing? Standing in the red cross and the police's way, trying to get as close as possible. How nosey are you? Get out, you are freaking useless. 

What is the media doing? Sending 10 cameras there and interviewing survivors, minutes after the collapse, saying names on national TV without anyone's consent.

What are the people trying to help doing? Throwing rocks on the ruins randomly. What if there is someone under that you bloody idiot? 

What is their miracle solution? Pray and light a candle. Yes, that's helpful.

Lebanese people, Y U SO DUMB?

Identity Crisis: The Nationality Dilemma

A year ago, a friend of mine visited minors in jail. She told me she met some guys who were sent there because they were gay and I though, "How messed up can this country be?"...
During this independence day, somehow, the flags, the tarboosh, the sherwels reminded me of something.  

I am Lebanese. I have always been and will always be Lebanese.
I might not be able to build a family here but this land is my land.

And this is how I realized that my nationality is very similar to my sexuality.
Hard to accept at first, but once you understand it, a true blessing.

So this, my friends, is why I waved the flag so high, this is why I wore my tarboosh so proudly.
You can say all the shit you want about this independence being a joke, but this is why I celebrate the Lebanese independence.

Just because, I am Lebanese.

Living the Life.

I am the Lebanese teenager.
I go to school 6 days a week. I come back home, have lunch and study, spend some time with my parents when they come back, have dinner and go to bed.
I go out on Saturday nights.
I spend Sundays with my family.

I spend Christmas with my family.
Go out on New Year's Eve and come back home the next morning for the traditional family lunch.
I do something useful during summer.

And it goes on and on, and it has always been this way.
And it will always be this way.

I am going to college somewhere in Lebanon, because that's what my brother did, because that's what my sister did, because that's what everybody does.
I am going to graduate and everyone is going to celebrate.
I am going to work for some time, then I am going to leave Lebanon for a couple of years.
I am going to come back and work at my father's company.
I am going to start a family and raise my kids just the way I have been raised.
They are going to have the life I had.

A life where there is no place for their dreams and expectations.
A life where the world is not their oyster.

Can I change anything about that?
I can try. I can work my ass off to get a scholarship somewhere and leave this country.
I do not like this country and I will do everything I can to leave as soon as possible.

PG50

Yes, I am just a kid. No, I do not know how it feels like to be 50. 
These are just observations on the behavior of men and women, going through their midlife crisis.

1) The Midlife Crisis
This happens when the subject steals stuff from his kid's wardrobe. It can get really dangerous when the subject is a father who only has daughters.
The subject can also feel the need to adapt to the new technology and the new lifestyle.
Eg: The Cousin.
The guy shows up at ever family event with a new accessory that is just too ridiculous. One time it was the creepy sunglasses, next time the hat. Give the kid his stuff back!!
Eg#2: The Mother.
She started taking English lessons and asked me to teach her how to use a Mac. She's doing pretty well too!

2) The 60s Crisis
This happens when the subject gets a mini heart attack every time he hears about someone's death. Especially when this person is younger than the subject is. However, their response is less wild and more like... Relatively rebellious.
Eg: The Father.
When he heard about Steve Jobs death he almost cried... Then he asked who the guy was. Then he asked what Apple was.
His answer to that? He did NOT tuck his shirt into his pants before going out.
This is just... Rawr.

3) The Older People's Crisis
This happens when the subject is completely and absolutely sure he is going to die soon, even if he is in perfect health. The subject will start talking about legacy and use words like "the next generation".
Eg: The Aunt.
Every time you miss a family dinner she will go like "It might have been the last time you see me!". When you pass an exam or something like that she will start saying things like "I'm so sorry I will not be there when you graduate!"

Free As A Bird: To Immigrate, or not to Immigrate? - By Ralph H.

 I look at the world and I notice its turning.

If I go there is no turning back, If I leave there is a huge possibility that I won’t come back home, back here, back to Lebanon. But it was never my choice to leave in the first place. The only thing I did was get used to the idea of going away, leaving, immigrating, whatever you want to call it. Lebanon has been a breeding ground for hatred, homophobia, disgust, prejudice, loneliness. But it is also my home country, it is where all my friends live, it is where all my memories, or most of them, lie. Every Lebanese person complains about Lebanon, only in the end to say that this is the best country in the world. But is it? Are we only saying that out of sheer patriotism or obligation or do we believe in the words that escape us? In my opinion it is only because we got so used to the traffic, to the people, the swear words, the gossip, the drops of water hitting your face while you walk along the sea front, the shopping, the downtown, Hamra street, Gemayzeh, Monot, Byblos, Fairuz, friends, family, the small villages nestled in the protective twists and turns of the overlapping mountains… the list could go on forever. I think every country is unique in its own way; every country has something worth discovering. The question remains, to move, or not to move? I think most of us at some point proclaim that we cannot wait to pack our bags and leave. I remain one of those people. I am surrounded by these people. It is almost all I think about. Beirut I love you, I love you not. I have found more freedom abroad, freedom to act the way I want to, freedom to wear whatever I want tom freedom to say whatever I want to… I cannot live in any country where I cannot truly by myself to everyone, where I have to hide. I think everyone feels the same way.

By Ralph H.

Lebanon speaks up loud against homophobia.

Save the date: May 17th - 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 rainbow_experience@hotmail.com

You will be advancing the cause more than you think!

Don't forget to check the LebIDAHO blog!

Contributing bloggers (Listed alphabetically):

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

The Lebanese Family.

A lot of families moved to Beirut after the war.
So you often hear about people going to their parent's village during vacations.

My dad is from Jbeil, and we have a nice, 100-year-old house my grandfather built there.
I used to spend my summers there with the family. I used to love it there. So peaceful, so cozy.
We used to go out in the garden, get a few of fruits & vegetables then come back and prepare dinner.
We would play baseball all day or go watch everyone play soccer in front of the church.
When my brother would go hunting, I would wait for him and we would clean the birds together. And by clean I mean remove their feathers and guts and try to establish what they ate by cutting open their stomach.
We also had an old Nintendo 64. So when it was too hot outside we used to sit and play Mario Kart for hours.
Well, that was when I was a kid.

Now, I just hate it there.
Not because there is no TV, no DVD player, no internet and no power 6 hours per day.
It's just that I can't imagine spending a whole summer alone with my family, far from the civilization and everything. 
I also realized today that I can't recognize anyone there!
See, I haven't been there for a while.

The old woman that would harass you every time you pass by her house is now long gone.
The happy couples your parents used to hang out with are now grandparents.
The young men your brother used to go hunting with are now getting married.
The kids that would play soccer in front of the church are now studying in the city or out of Lebanon.
All those kids you used to play hide and seek with have now a whole bottle of gel emptied on their head and are chewing a gum bigger that their head like their life depended on it.

And you're standing there wondering were the people you once knew are.
And they are standing there, wondering who that stranger, that intruder is.

Then of course your dad comes closer and starts talking to you.
And it hits them! You're the architect's son.
In small villages in Lebanon, you are unknown to the inhabitants until you get a job.
Until then, you are known as your father's son.

That's what I don't like. This whole living-in-the-60s thing.
Seriously, I feel like this whole country is stuck in this vicious circle and is never going to get out of it.

The Story of a Lebanese Hairdresser

I was half-asleep at a family lunch today when I caught my cousin talking about hairdressers in Lebanon.

"All the feminine hairdressers in Lebanon just pretend to be straight. They take the whole heterosexual thing seriously. They get married with their make-up artist, get a couple of kids and all... then run away with the shampoo guy.
True story."

So true, so true!

Cup'n Cake

I always pass in front of Cup'n Cake and just stand and stare at their beautiful cupcakes for a while, so today I decided it was time to try one... So I ended up buying four of them, cause I thought that one wasn't enough.

My stomach is spoiled.

The chocolate cupcake was too heavy but the rest was exquisite, especially the coconut :))

Taxi!

I like lists.
They make me feel comfortable. I like having everything planned, nice and organized.

But then, I decided to try to make a list of all the Lebanese taxis, and that was troubling.
So now I started this list, not knowing if it will ever end.

Then I thought that opening the Yellow Pages was wiser. So I did.
Two pages, yes, two pages, for only taxis.
How many? 111.

So, I'm just gonna post the hilarious one here.


Safe Taxi
As in, we're not gonna rape you, steal your money and leave you on the street. I feel better already!
But everyone knows that if you don't want to get raped, you have to ask for Banet Taxi! No men allowed!

Pythagore Taxi
Now I know you're smart! I wish you could see how relieved I am right now! Wooh! A taxi driver that can calculate the hypotenuse of a right triangle! Can you ask for more?
And his friends Smart Taxi and Taxi Al Sakafa.

France Taxi, Paris Taxi, London Taxi, Versailles Taxi
That's a little too far from home, dear. 

Also, if you're not afraid of the new radars, you can always choose Schumacher Taxi or Vite Taxi.

Some prefer staying simple: Friendly Taxi, Smile Taxi, Happy Taxi, Good Taxi, Best Taxi

While some are just too good for you! Lord Taxi, Private Taxi, Elegance Taxi, Excellence Taxi, Crystal Taxi, VIP Taxi, Crown Taxi, Queen Taxi, Sultan Taxi. This is just too luxurious.

And there's of course, the twins: Geries Taxi & Gerges Taxi.
Wait, triplets! Visa Taxi & Viva Taxi & Riva Taxi.
 
But if nobody wants to go in, you can always beg like Please Taxi!
Or maybe a warm welcome? Ahla taxi!

Jésuite Taxi
Specific religious background required.


Yeah... Enough sarcasm for tonight.

Yum, yum...!

I'm in heaven!
I just had the best dinner ever!

I went downtown to buy macaroons from LaDurée, gosh, it's expensive!
Three macaroons for LL10,500! But it's totally worth it!
The shop is so luxurious and beautiful! I cried when I got in, cried!
Then I got my cell phone and started taking pictures! Wow... It's paradise for me.

Framboise, Caramel and Mimosa...!

It's so beautiful :'(

Then, I went to Classic Burger Joint, Sodeco. It's the best burger in the country! The fries are awesome, and I love their honey mustard! P-:

The owner is opening a Pizza Joint next to it! I can't wait! 

Back in time...

I was in the car with my parents yesterday, and they turned the radio on to Nostalgie's Classique 80.
They got all overexcited and my father told me: "Yiii haydoleh men eyyemna! Anna ou emmak kenna ner'oss aala hal agheneh!"
My mom started singing and dancing in the car!

I love old music!  People are listening to noise these days! Where did all the creativity go? Music is not an art anymore...
Why are all the new songs depressing and annoying? Music is not supposed to give you a headache!
When I listen to Nostalgie I get hyperactive and happy! It cheers me up and makes me want to dance!

I was curious and wanted to know more, so I asked my dad about life during the 80s in Lebanon.
There was an awkward silence, and then he turned around and told me: "Kenna rayhin jeyin ben Jbeil w Beirut..."
War... I completely forgot about that!
The eighties, the parties every night, the weird and creepy dance moves, the disco... all of that was just a dream in Lebanon...

When I came back home I started downloading all the songs I heard on the radio:
Call me - Blondie
I Am What I Am - Gloria Gainor
Happy Together - The Turtles
Video Killed the Radio Star - The Buggles
... And a lot of Ace of Base, Bee Gees and Cher!

But I want more songs! I need more songs!
I'm going through a phase, and it's not the first time.
Last year I had Funky Town stuck in my head for 3 month...
I slept at 5AM yesterday listening and downloading more and more music!

Any suggestion? ;-D

Coming Out - 2

Dont forget to read part 1 and part 3!

Why did I stop pretending?

Have you ever kept a secret for so long, buried it so deep inside of you that your lie became your reality, that lying became intuitive?
I never wanted that for me! But I knew that I was slowly starting to lose my identity, my reality... myself!
That's when I started looking for blogs, forums or whatever; just to be myself for a couple of minutes every day.
But that of course wasn't enough...

I knew I had to come out, but one thing stopped me from doing so.
Coming out in Lebanon means being ready to see the people you could always count on abandon you, ready to risk everything you have.
People gossip, a lot. Men, women, teenagers, adults.
Sometimes you can't even trust your best friend.
I wondered; why should I take this risk? What's in it for me?

But then I went to Spain, after gay marriage has been legalized. I've walked in the streets of Madrid, where two men can hold each other’s arm, where they can hug or even kiss, where they sit together in the park without anyone judging them or making any comments.
And then I went to England, alone with a friend. That's where I lived the life I've always dreamed of.
No more lies, just myself. No hate, just open-minded people and tolerance.
Now that I've seen what my life was like, out of the closet, when I realized what I was missing by pretending being someone I wasn't, I decided that I had to tell my friends.
The risk couldn't stop be anymore.
The risk? What risk? Lose a couple of friends and survive bullying?
This was nothing! Nothing compared to the risk of losing the happiest years of my life, trying to keep a secret that will one day be revealed.

Where did I find strength to come out?
I knew I had two choices.
Live my life pretending to be straight, pretending to be happy;
Or take all the risks it takes to be myself, and keep in mind that it gets better, that one day I will get to my brighter future, the future I dream of.

Homosexuality in Lebanon - Tahkik on MTV

This show was disturbing and off topic.

Instead of focusing on discrimination, on the violation of our rights, Tahkik talked about homosexuality, like if it was a disease (Yes, they used the D-word), interviewing a very badly informed doctor and a psychologist...

They talked about online dating, and about the guy's role in bed! How is this supposed to help the Lebanese LGBT community who is still fighting for their rights?

Why do you need to talk about sex? How is this going to grab the straight viewers' attention? 

How many Lebanese gay men are online? No need to know this either! How to get a guy's phone number? Uh huh, no!

.

Talking about a gay dating website

They showed hanged people in Iraq! How are people going to react to this? Pity? We don't need your pity!

The only thing I appreciated was that a gay man, a transgendered woman and a gay couple talked on national TV. Even though the couple didn't want to show their face, I thought it was really brave! 

I went to bed after Randa's testimony, sleepy and disappointed, but I read all of LebLGBTMonitor's tweets and re tweets who did a great job motivating everyone to talk and write about it. :-)

Another thing that disappointed me (more like disgusted me) was all of the homophobic comments I read while watching the show online.

Homophobia, back again....

Remember that project I posted about? My group had to choose a theme to work on it during 9 month... And we chose homosexuality.
It took me ages to convince everyone to work on that, and now everything is falling apart.

My friend just called me, he told me his father didn't accept that his son work on something illegal and wrong like this. That is was unacceptable that the school administration let us choose this subject. He even told him he was going to call the director and tell him all that.

He didn't let his son call Helem, we had to take an appointment and try to get more information about this organization. I thought I could make this year great, try to help the LGBT Lebanese community, after all it has gone through.
Were my expectations too high?

Now my friend promised his dad that he was going to either change the subject, or just change his group.
I never thought this would ever happen... I was too confident, I believed that my friends were going to help me, and support me. But he changed his mind. I understand him... His father must really be homophobic, probably more than mine.

I thought that I could make a difference. My teacher gave me hope, but in a christian school like mine, I don't think this will ever happen.
But I can't fight anymore, not now that I'm all alone.

I just have to give up.