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‘Why is my life still worth living?’

Gays in Lebanon face threats from family, colleagues

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Lebanon, gay news, Washington Blade

Beirut, Lebanon (Photo by Shakeeb Al-Jabri; courtesy Wikimedia Commons)

By ANONYMOUS

(Editor’s note: The Washington Blade granted anonymity to the author due to personal safety concerns.)

Living in fear, in fear of being outed, in fear of being kicked out of your house, in fear of being fired from your job, in fear of being jailed, in fear of being denied by your parents, in fear of being killed — killed by your own family. This is what life is for a gay man in Lebanon. And despite all of that, I decided to hang on, I went to school, handled all the bullying from my colleagues, crying every night before going to sleep.

Those were the first 17 years of my life until I graduated from school and went to the university. Seventeen years that most of the people my age wish they could bring back, while I wish to erase them from my memory.

At university, the situation was a little bit different and more acceptable since it was an American-system institution. After four years of study at college, I graduated and the road to real life began. It was at the time that I accepted my sexuality and understood that it is part of me, something to be grateful for, my identity, the source of love and attraction in my life. But unfortunately I was unable to share this truth with “almost” anyone else. I understood and loved myself but was never able to extend this feeling to someone else.

You could say that the most important thing is to first love and understand yourself, and this could be enough. But it is not the case where I live. Imagine hearing your father say: “If I had a gay son, I would kill him with my own hands.” Or hearing your mother say: “I would shoot my kids if I knew someone is gay.”

Imagine going everyday to work and hearing conversations about how your colleagues are unable to understand how “two men or two women can love each other” or “how do they fuck each other and how disgusting such an act could be” and how “we can never have friends that are sick like that.” Imagine hearing the only friend that you have and the only person that you came out to say, “I don’t support killing gays but I think those people should be put on an island by themselves and separated from other humans.” Imagine that you came out to a person that you trusted and it turned out he’s not a real friend, and now you are obliged to cater to his needs continuously, with no objection, just to protect yourself from being outed to your colleagues, and most importantly, to your family, and consequently being killed.

How does it feel?

Sometimes I think that I’m unworthy of living, that it would be better for me to die, to kill myself with my own hands. When I look around me, and see that the priests and religious people who preach about love and tolerance are the ones that incite hatred against us, when I see that the whole government is standing against us, when I see that our teachers are our enemies, when I see that my colleagues at work reject us, when I see that my own family, from flesh and blood, is ready to kill me if they knew about my “feelings,” about my “heart,” I ask myself why is my life still worth living?

But I go back and think again. I watch the world. I see that in the most powerful country in the world, people like me are able to get married. I see that in almost all the developed countries of the world, people like me are successful, are able to love and be loved, are amazing and unique. I watch the CEOs of the biggest companies, the brave and courageous journalists of the biggest media chains — they have the same feelings and the same heart as I and they are amazing.

It’s when I see those people that I feel that I have a small hope of breaking out of the jail where I’m living and find freedom and happiness in my life. Although I keep it all for myself, but this is the way that I learned that I am normal, I am lovable, and I CAN be FREE.

It makes me sad that I am writing in an anonymous identity just to protect myself from harm because of my dangerous environment. But trust me, if I was safe, and if I was living in any country where my rights would be protected, I would scream out loud that I am extremely proud of my feelings with which I was born. To all the LGBT people who are living in fear in countries where they may get killed or harmed, or bullied, maybe you are unable to come out to anyone just like me, but please do not hate yourself as they want you to do. You have to know and understand that you should be proud of yourselves. Those who are standing against you are the corrupted, the evil, and the unmerciful. Do not slide down to their level.

And let’s hope together that someday it will get better and we will be able to live our lives freely, to contribute to our society, be rewarded and treated fairly from our governments, and above all, find the love of our life and live it fully as we dream.

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Opinions

Attacking Jews is latest Trump outrage

Anyone who supports equality and peace must vote for Biden

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(Washington Blade file photo by Christopher Kane)

Calling out the Jewish community in the United States as Trump did, is both dumb, and anti-Semitic. The Jewish community has been a Democratic constituency for many years, and attacking them won’t get them to vote for him.

It is a difficult time for many Jews in the world today. I being one of them. I am a strong supporter of Israel, but support Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.), who believes there will never be peace in the Middle East as long as Netanyahu and his government are in control. Israel cannot keep annexing West Bank land, which should be part of a Palestinian state if we can get to a two-state solution. In fact, they must draw back the settlements now there. At the same time, like Schumer, I believe both Netanyahu and Hamas have to go. Being anti-Netanyahu is not being anti-Israel, just as being anti-Trump is not being anti-United States, or wanting Hamas to go, is not being anti-Palestinian. 

Attacking Jews is just one more outrageous thing coming out of Trump’s mouth. He is a notorious sexist, racist, homophobic, pig. He is an old man who can’t control his mouth and continues to spout nonsense. His apparently limited brain power is tied up in disgusting views of the world and individuals. He mocks those with disabilities like he did to a New York Times reporter, and mocks President Biden for his stutter. There was a recent column in the Washington Post reminding people Trump’s father had Alzheimer’s. I think we may be seeing the disease manifest itself in Trump. 

I have written this election is between two older men. I myself am older, and understand one often forgets a name, a date, or an event. Having just written a memoir, which I hope will be published in May, in its preface I say “these are dates and events as I remember them.” But as neuroscientist Charan Ranganath recently wrote in the Washington Post, that in no way limits how a person can understand complex issues, or in my case work as a consultant and research and write weekly columns. For a president, especially one who is older, it is important for us to know who is surrounding him or her. I am definitely more secure knowing those who will be around and advising President Biden, versus those around Trump. No one person alone, whatever their age, can handle all the issues facing a president.

Whether you are a Jew supporting Israel, a Muslim supporting the Palestinian people, or someone like me supporting both, you are better off with President Biden. If you support the Palestinian people having their freedom, then Trump must strike fear in your heart, after all, he is the one who moved the American embassy to Jerusalem. 

The idea of electing a man convicted of fraud in his business dealings, found liable for sexually mistreating a woman, and who faces another 88 criminal counts, is ludicrous. It actually says as much about the people who would vote for him, as it does about Trump. A man who brags about taking away the right of women to control their own body, and healthcare, doesn’t deserve the vote of any woman. A man who opposes equal rights, affirmative action, and saw good people on both sides in Charlottesville, doesn’t deserve the vote of any Black American. A man who opposes any forgiveness of student loans, denies climate change, opposes making community college free, doesn’t deserve the vote of any young person. 

It amazes me when people compare how things were four years ago to today, and say they were better then. A time you couldn’t find toilet paper on grocery shelves, 1,000 people a day were dying of COVID, the Dow Jones was at 19,000 and today it’s at 39,000. The country was hemorrhaging jobs and in the last three years 13 million have been created. Wages are higher and unemployment lower. 

Of course, as President Biden says, we need to do more. He is doing it, Trump didn’t. Trump gave a $2 trillion tax cut to the wealthy, increasing the national debt. He pledges to do it again. Biden passed a massive infrastructure bill, now creating thousands of jobs building and repairing bridges and roads, in every state. He passed the Chips and Science Act, recently announcing new chip factories in four states, creating thousands of new construction and manufacturing jobs. Those factories will change the U.S. from an importing country, to a producing one. That is some of the real change Biden has brought about. 

Trump talks big, but never produced; Biden is producing for the American people, and will continue to do so.

Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist. He writes regularly for the Blade.

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Letter-to-the-Editor

Banning the Rainbow Flag: the latest act of GOP madness

Prohibition included in government spending bill the president signed

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The Progress Pride flag flies in front of the U.S. Embassy in Berlin on July 22, 2022. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

The Republican agenda is an obvious one: Distract from real issues by assaulting the most vulnerable. That’s why they have focused their hatred on the LGBTQ+ community. After years of legislating book bans, curriculum censorship, bathroom restrictions and withholding medically needed gender therapy, their latest act is signature Republican cruelty: For a crucial trillion-dollar budget that would prevent a government shutdown, the GOP slipped in a measure to ban the display of Rainbow Flags at U.S. embassies all over the world.

This is not an act of mere symbolism. In too many countries, being queer is punishable by imprisonment or death. Measures like this give a green light to violence and homophobia both at home and abroad. It places more LGBTQ+ people at tangible risk. It is an outrageous abuse of the political process.

This cynical political maneuver is typical of the GOP, the Party of Destruction. But equally egregious is that President Biden and Democrats approved the budget, knowing the poison pill line item that had already been added.

Now, President Biden vows to repeal the embassy flag ban measure. We will hold him to his vow. Will he expend the political capital necessary to make the repeal happens? We must remember that he and the Congress capitulated to a small group of GOP manipulators and, in this instance, saw the global LGBTQ+ community as expendable.

The Democratic Party positions itself as an ally to the LGBTQ+ community. They must hold their ground. They must represent and defend all of us. Otherwise, an emboldened GOP, led by Trump, will only escalate their merciless attacks on our vulnerable communities.”

Charles Beal is president of the Gilbert Baker Foundation and the Save the Rainbow Flag Campaign.

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Commentary

Returning to the kibbutz: A journey of heartbreak and hope

Hamas militants attacked Kfar Aza on Oct. 7

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Kfar Aza, Israel, after Oct. 7, 2023. (Photo courtesy of K.T. Colin)

Editor’s note: WDG, the Washington Blade’s media partner in Israel, originally published this commentary.

BY K.T. COLIN | In 2019, my first encounter with Israel was through the lens of a sponsored Birthright trip. I embarked on a three-week journey, traversing the diverse landscapes from the northern regions to the eastern territories and finally to the arid southern desert. I had the opportunity to visit different communities within Israel and Palestine. Amidst this exploration, I spent an unforgettable three days and two nights in a kibbutz situated near the Gaza border. The memories etched in my heart were ones of unbridled joy, resilience and the harmonious coexistence of the desert dwellers — an emotional tapestry that forever imprinted itself on my soul. Coming from an Iraqi heritage, I viewed these expressions of coexistence through a lens shaped by my own region’s history of conflict and diversity.

As I recall the Shabbat dinner at the kibbutz, the air resonated with the sacred call to prayers (Adhan) from a nearby Bedouin Arab-Muslim town. The juxtaposition of cultures and faiths was a poignant reminder of the shared humanity that bound the Jewish and Arab Israelis in this region. It was a journey that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on my consciousness. Filled with memories of peace and unity, I returned, only to confront a reality far removed from my cherished memories.

Fast forward to last month, when I returned to the Negev Desert, specifically to Kfar Aza — one of the 22 kibbutzim targeted by Hamas on that fateful day, Oct. 7, 2023. The once vibrant oasis, brimming with the light of life, now stood shrouded in the darkness of war-induced death and destruction. The very bench where camaraderie blossomed in 2019, while sharing a moment of connection with an Israeli companion, lay reduced to ashes. The thriving pathways, once bustling with life, had metamorphosed into haunting reminders of blood and rubble. The faces that animated Shabbat gatherings, weaving tales of peace advocacy between Palestinians and Israelis, were now conspicuously absent. In the wake of Hamas’s brutality, no entity — be it human, animal or plant — escaped unscathed. The aftermath resembled scenes from an apocalyptic movie, a tableau of sensory deprivation dominated by the stench of death and the echoes of destruction. This destruction, while uniquely harrowing, echoed the all-too-familiar scenes of conflict from my childhood in Iraq, underscoring the universal tragedy of war.

Kfar Aza, Israel (Photo courtesy of K.T. Colin)

While my roots trace back to Iraq, a land marred by wars and the brutality of conflict, the devastation witnessed in Kfar Aza struck a chord that reverberated with the echoes of my past. My personal journey, from witnessing Saddam’s reign of terror to observing the aftermath in Kfar Aza, underscores a broader narrative of resilience and the enduring hope for peace. Born during the Iraqi-Iranian war, my father’s absence for the first six months of my life spoke volumes about the toll of conflict. The invasion of Kuwait and subsequent wars entrenched the narrative of war as an unwelcome companion in our daily lives. Memories of the U.S. invasion in 2003, the ensuing civil war, and the subsequent loss of rights for women, secular individuals and LGBTQ+ members further underscored the harsh reality of conflict.

Yet, Kfar Aza was a unique chapter in my journey, revealing a form of malevolence that transcended my prior experiences. In their assault, Hamas meticulously targeted specifically peace activists who wanted nothing but peace and prosperity between Israelis and Palestinians, sparing no atrocity in their pursuit. This was not just about taking lives; it was a heinous assault on the very prospect of peace. The evil that unfolded reminded me of the forces mentioned in the Quran — Yaajooj and Maajooj — entities of pure malevolence against whom even Alexander the Great erected a wall, according to Muslim prophecy.

My upbringing in Iraq, under the shadow of Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship, fanned the flames of anti-Semitism. A once diverse Iraq, home to 165,000 Iraqi Jews, witnessed their forced exodus through decades of genocide. Subsequently, Christians, Yazidis and Sabbea Mandaeen fell victim to ethnic cleansing orchestrated by dictatorial regimes, Nazi pogroms, Iranian militias and ISIS. The slow erosion of tolerance and coexistence occurred methodically, propelled by hate campaigns championed by Arab nationalists and later fueled by Islamist movements, plunging Iraq into its darkest era.

My school days were marked by compulsory flag-greeting ceremonies, ostensibly patriotic but laden with hate. The chants of “Death to America; Death to the Zionists; Death to the Jews” echoed through the air, fostering a culture of animosity. Arabization and Nationalism classes further fueled this bigotry, leaving an indelible mark on impressionable minds.

The recent horrors in Kfar Aza echoed memories of a similar brand of terror perpetrated by Saddam’s regime — the Fedaeen of Saddam, a precursor to Hamas’s brutality. The parallels were chilling — beheadings, brutal punishments and a reign of terror continued even after the fall of Saddam, as they joined Al-Qaeda, leaving a trail of atrocities in cities like Fallujah and Ramadi.

As I witnessed the devastation in Kfar Aza, the echoes of war in nearby Beit Hanoun, Gaza, resonated hauntingly. The pain echoed from both sides — the Israeli people enduring Hamas rockets since 2015 and the Palestinians suffering daily under the same regime. My heart shattered for the children left orphaned, the LGBTQ+ Gazans now without shelter or life-saving medications and the vulnerable girls and boys exposed to the horrors of Human trafficking and rape. The theft of humanitarian aid by Hamas left many without food and water, and the lip services to Palestinians by Arab and Muslim majority nations, painting a grim picture of a future hanging in uncertainty for those who survived.

Despite the deep scars of conflict, both in my homeland and here, I see glimmers of hope that guide us toward a shared future. I have endured the darkest chapters of conflict in my past, and I hold onto the belief that one day this war will end. I dream of a future where Israelis and Palestinians coexist in shared spaces, attending the same schools, dining at the same restaurants and dancing in the same nightclubs. Having witnessed such unity among Jews, Druze, Muslims and Christians in Israel, I pray for a day when this reality extends to Gazans and Israelis in the Negev Desert. The journey towards peace is arduous, but the human spirit, resilient and compassionate, holds the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

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