Words: Charley Carter (they/them)
The importance of queer art as a celebration of queer love, specifically in the Middle East, which is so often sidelined
At this year’s Scottish Queer International Film Festival, stories of queer people from all over the world are being told. No Pride in Genocide is a series of short films about queer people living in, and from, countries experiencing active genocide. Taking place here in Glasgow, it confronts the centring of the Western queer experience and the privileges that come with it. Fundamentally, it urges us to remember that, ‘While queer lives are celebrated and marketed in some parts of the world, elsewhere they are being bombed, silenced and erased.’
In Blood Like Water (2023), directed by Dima Hamdan, Shadi, a young Palestinian man, is blackmailed with a video of him having sex with another man. He and his family are forced to choose between being publicly shamed with the release of the video, or collaborating with the Israeli occupation. Based on true stories, Blood Like Water calls attention to “pinkwashing”: appealing to LGBTQ+ rights to obscure harmful actions. It is “pinkwashing” which promotes the idea that queer people should support Israel’s actions, as it offers legal protections for LGBTQ+ people, and therefore is (allegedly) a place of safety for queer people in the Middle East. This safety, however, is not extended to queer Palestinians. Queer people, like Shadi, are among the thousands of Palestinians killed, displaced, and imprisoned during the Israeli occupation. They live without the protections afforded to queer Israelis and are vulnerable to situations like those depicted in Blood Like Water. The relentless energy of the film ends with Shadi sitting with his parents, each contemplating the situation they have been forced into, and the decision they must make.
Teyama Alkamli’s I Never Promised You a Jasmine Garden (2023), is about a 15-minute phone call between long-distance friends Tara and Sarab. In one continuous shot, we follow Tara preparing for her friend’s birthday party as she cooks, tidies, and goes to the shops, all with her headphones in as she and Sarab talk. Nearly 5 minutes into the film, we realise that Tara desires something more than friendship. As she studies herself in the mirror, she asks if Sarab has thought any more about her ‘nuclear confession’. Sarab deflects and later tells Tara that something has happened.
‘With a woman?’ Tara asks.
‘No, dumdum, with a man,’ replies Sarab.
Tara’s face falls. The situation is relatable for anyone, anywhere, but the film’s perspective is undeniably a Middle Eastern one. She numbly listens as Sarab recounts her romantic experience, then Sarab’s voice fades away as the film cuts back to the birthday party. ‘Make a wish,’ says one of her friends, and while this is not directed at her, the camera stays on Tara anyway, as she wishes for a relationship she cannot have.
The final film, Cinema Fouad (1993), directed by Mohamed Soueid, is a documentary about Oscar Al-Halabiye, a Syrian trans woman, freedom fighter, and belly dancer living in Beirut. She discusses her childhood, her relationship with God, her transition, the films she likes, and the discrimination she faces (somewhat echoed in the confrontational, provocative, and goading questions of the interviewer). Most poignant is her relationship with her lover and fellow freedom fighter, a Palestinian man who is now living in Switzerland. In a letter to him, she tells him about the documentary, but confesses that, ‘As far as I am concerned, seeing you is more beautiful than any film.’
For many queer people, films are a means of personal discovery. Oscar, having taken her name from a TV show, similarly recounts stories of her favourite actresses. Describing a film she has seen, she jokes, ‘You politicians think you are so cunning, but may God protect you from the wrath of the belly dancers!’ This brings to mind the importance of art as resistance. Like many queer documentaries of the 20th century, Cinema Fouad stands as a testament to the importance of queer art as a celebration of queer love, specifically in the Middle East, which is so often sidelined.
Following the screening, there was a short panel with representatives of No Pride in Genocide Glasgow and Solidarity Screening. Both organisations are taking action against the continued occupation of Palestine. No Pride in Genocide combats “pinkwashing”: this summer, they protested sponsors of Glasgow Pride complicit in genocide, such as JP Morgan, which holds shares in Israeli weapons manufacturers. Meanwhile, Solidarity Screening aims to engage and educate its audiences through free screenings of predominantly Arab films, prompting discussion and encouraging direct action. With the work of these organisations in mind, each film shown at the No Pride in Genocide screening decentres the Western perspective on queerness, bringing to light the often ignored lives of queer people in the Middle East.
