This post was submitted by Kareem

What do you get when you combine the second longest river in the world, a whole lot of desert, a crossroad between Africa and Asia, and dozens of ancient pyramids? One of the most populous countries in Africa and the Middle East, Egypt is also one of the most famous locations in the world. I would bet there are not many people who aren’t familiar with the terms “pharaoh” or “sphinx.” Egypt embraces its ancient history steeped in rich civilizations, the results of which take the form of magnificent architecture that still stands despite thousands of years under the harsh North African sun. But contemporary Egypt is a much different place. The stepping stone for the Muslim invasion of North Africa in the seventh century, Egypt’s pharaonic culture of old has been replaced by an Arab, mainly Islamic one. Withstanding colonialism and other invasions, it would be safe to say that most Egyptians today identify with the greater Arab society, as was showcased in the Arab socialism movements in the 1960′s and 1970′s. But with the assassination of Egyptian President Anwar Al-Sadat in 1981, Egypt was ushered into an era of “emergency rule” under the regime of President Hosni Mubarak, who still holds office today. I would argue that with the fall of Arab socialism, Egypt’s more open society was replaced by one very much repressed by its own government. From Islamists like the Muslim Brotherhood to pro-democratic reformers, the current Egyptian administration’s strict rule of law has impeded social progress in many arenas, especially that of Egyptian homosexuals.

As I traveled throughout the Middle East, I was consistently told that Cairo, the capital of Egypt, is a gay city. With a population double the size of New York City, yet crammed into an area about the quarter of the size of Paris, Cairo is the definition of Middle East metropolis. Loud, polluted, and exhausting, Cairo can be a handful to those not accustomed to the large crowds and erratic traffic that defines the city. Needless to say, Cairo is not for the faint of heart. When I arrived, I couldn’t help but make comparisons between Cairo and New York City: both are the centers of their country’s media and entertainment, equipped with wild cab drivers, looming skyscrapers, and metro systems that, despite initial doubts, are actually functional. Cairo does indeed market itself as the hub of the Middle East; most Arabs understand Egyptian Colloquial Arabic through the various television programs, soap operas, and news outlets that beam out of Egypt. But unlike New York City, Egypt’s gay community is for the most part underground.

If anything, the gay scene in Egypt reminded me of a New York City where the Stonewall Riots happened, but the fight for civil rights, and ultimate recognition of homosexuals, did not. In other words, a twisted alternate reality of the American gay civil rights story set to a backdrop of pyramids and bustling souqs. Unlike most Middle Eastern countries, Egypt does not specifically label homosexuality as illegal, although in many cases it is treated like a crime and, if anything, is an extreme taboo. In terms of government, the Egyptian homosexual community is treated as a scapegoat to cover up for unsound political and economic decisions, corrupt politicians, or to assuage the growing resentment of the Islamist opposition to the current secular regime. The most obvious example of this was the Queen Boat Incident that took place back in 2002. After allegedly receiving tips that men were dressing in women’s clothing, the Egyptian security forces surrounded the Queen Boat, a riverboat nightclub and restaurant docked to the island of Zamalek in central Cairo. The police arrested fifty-two of the Egyptian party-goers, imprisoning them in facilities across the city. Many of the men were tortured and beaten. After a fairly publicized trial, about half were released and the other half were accused of defaming Islam, the religion of about 90% of the country. Some of the accused individuals even claimed to have been random citizens kidnapped by the police in the poor outskirts of Cairo and then accused of taking part in the Queen Boat affair. Liberal Egyptians point to this horrific act against the Egyptian gay community as the time when many Egyptians woke up to the idea of homosexuality in their society. This has been both a good thing in terms of creating awareness in Egypt of sexual minorities, but has also resulted in widespread condemnation across the country of gay people and any sort of political representation. Despite the horrors many of the Queen Boat victims have described since being released from the authorities, there has not been a movement to try and make the Egyptian government realize the rights of gay people in the country. If anything, the government has clamped down even further on any move to represent sexual minorities in Egypt, blaming human rights groups and NGOs of trying to import Western values into their society. Egypt’s stonewall has come and gone, but the country still lacks a conducive atmosphere to start any sort of momentum towards a civil rights movement.

But, like most of the world, gays in Egypt still live their lives, albeit without any guaranteed rights or say in the government. After the Queen Boat, Egypt’s gay community moved underground, meeting in pre-determined bars and apartments. I was lucky to find myself invited to a private gay party hosted at a neighbor’s apartment. In all honesty, before I arrived, I battled with my western stereotypes of what a “gay party” would be like: a massive sex-fest involving pent-up Middle Easterners. Why else would they all want to meet in private, in an apartment no less? These trepidations were immediately erased once I arrived at the party. The get-together turned out to be much like any other house party one could find in the city involving young people and ex-patriots. About four dozen Egyptian men and women mingled, Muslim and Christians, male and female, merely interested in meeting others like them. And while the hosts were initially alarmed at the entrance of a group of foreigners (there is always the fear of being caught by secret agents of the Egyptian security forces), we were welcomed with open arms. And after a few drinks, the fear of discovery was left behind to be replaced by dancing and flirting. As I left the party, I felt assured that, beneath the extreme conservatism projected by the Egyptian government and Western media on Egyptian society, there lies a community of people yearning to live their lives the way they want, the way they were meant to, religion and politics be damned.

The Queen Boat still sits docked alongside Zamalek, hosting Egyptian weddings on the weekends and intimate dates during the week. It is now a permanent fixture to Cairo’s skyline. Unlike other establishments that might close down after such a public incident, the Queen Boat still floats in the Nile, staring the Egyptian capital buildings in the face, a sign that no amount of religious appeasement or government corruption will make it pull up anchor and sail away (if it’s even capable of such a feat). And while the Egyptian government continues to suffocate its people and sexual minorities, shimmers of hope can be found emanating from the Nile-bound society. In 2002, Alaa Al Aswany published his novel, The Yacoubian Building, featuring a gay main character, to both Egyptian and international acclaim. A film adaptation was released in 2006 that featured love scenes and a recognizable romantic relationship between the gay character and his boyfriend. These small steps by way of the Egyptian entertainment industry have opened the door for future exploration of sexual minorities in a country with a population as diverse as its history. Egypt may not be the vacation destination for the global gay community just yet, but there are definitely signs that the tide has turned. Egypt has had it’s Stonewall. The time to call for civil rights is now.

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