Meem-oirs Issue 4 - December 2019
Intersex Gender Non-Conforming
Index
Introduction
1
Neither Ends of The Spectrum
2
Dysphoria
4
SuperBoy
8
Something Else
12
Beyond Genderization
16
Halfway
20
My Appearance, My Identity
24
Introduction “Meemoirs” is a result of documentation of oral history and narratives by Mesahat foundation for Sexual and Gender Diversity in the Nile valley area “Egypt and Sudan”. The project aims to
document stories that include various life and human experiences of the LGBTQ+ community in
many governorates in Egypt. In its series of releases, this content sheds light on marginalized groups of the LGBTQ+ community (Queer women – Trans Women – Bi & Pansexuals – Nonbinary and Intersex individuals). In hopes of being a platform for their voices to be heard.
The binary and its limitations have stood as hurdle in the way of individuals of Non-Conforming
sexualities and identities finding spaces that fit their identities, sexualities, feelings, and thoughts towards themselves. Non-Conforming ideas have been vital to members of the Queer
community in shaping the way to new methods of thinking and ways of identification that stray away from the binary, methods of thinking and identities that don’t oblige anyone to adhere to, that above all promote the discovery of what feels true to oneself, these notions have made
their way to our Queer Community, as the result of daily battles, that are fought by warriors, who have paved the way to those who will come after them by refusing to be anything other than their true selves.
In the fourth publication of Meemoirs booklets, we shed light on stories of these warriors, that battle against binary thoughts and those who adhere to it. Those who stand up everyday in the
face of stereotyping of identities and sexualities, and they shine with their courage amidst a society that’s ruled by misogyny and patriarchy.
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Neither Ends of The Spectrum -Juud I was born to divorced parents, I have 2 sisters and we all live with our mother and our father is
out of the picture. I was born a biological female but I never felt or looked like one. Appearancewise, I erred more on the side of males. But I never wanted my body to be explicitly male nor female.
In the beginning, I didn’t identify as Trans due to its binary nature; either Transman or
Transwoman. So it was difficult for me to explain to people that I am a non-binary Trans person. Neither doctors, nor family nor community members would understand. They’d tell me why
don’t you stay as you are as long as you have doubts?! But I wasn’t doubtful. In my mind, I was
sure that I am at neither ends of the spectrum. I might identify as a Transman one day but wake up the next day feeling feminine and dressing as such.
I used to make adjustments to how I look in order to accept it more. But I’ve been battling with Dysphoria* for over a year now. I am always anxious and I lack self-confidence. Whether surrounded by people or alone, I feel uneasy. It is a bit easier around friends than it is around family, but I can’t help but fixate on my own image and how it is not reflective of who I really am.
In 2017, I used to see a doctor behind my family’s back. When I started going I was met with a comment from a doctor that I never seem to forget. He wondered “Why
do you want to switch to a man? Look at yourself, you’re a good-looking woman!”
Back then when I used to go to the clinic, I had a nose piercing. I’d get told to take it off if I wanted to get a
medical report to support my case as Trans. I couldn’t * Gender Dysphoria a distressed state arising from conflict between a person's gender identity and the sex the person has or was identified as having at birth.
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see the point of it. Yes I am Trans but that doesn’t mean that I want to look masculine. But the
idea of being a non-binary Trans person was way above their heads in the hospital, so I stopped going.
It is worth mentioning that some of the troubles I faced in the hospital weren’t actually with the medical staff, it was with other Trans individuals. I couldn’t help but notice how they bully one
another. I couldn’t understand how come one can make fun of someone else while they share the same pain and go through the same struggles. Not to mention all the journalists who’d
show up in the hospital and try to forcibly interview us. My doctor made me talk to one even
though I did not want to. All of this led me to stop going even though this was the only hospital that’s qualified to deal with my case.
All of this made me feel like I am suffocating. I couldn’t be the person I want to be except in the confines of my own room, away from family and the rest of the society. I can’t be myself out in the open in this country.
I am uncomfortable in my own skin and maybe this is why all my relationships I ventured into have failed. Relationships require comfort and openness, and I had none of that.
I hope I can live alone and be the person that I want to be, not who everyone else expects me to be. I also love films and I want to work on them. I had so many ideas for Trans visibility that I wanted to introduce had I been accepted in the Film Institute.
I don’t want to leave this country without trying to change it first. I hope one day I could leave an impact, no matter how small it is. I am not asking for the world; I only want to be comfortable.
3
Dysphoria* -Malak I don’t identify as either male or female at all. I am still in the phase of self-exploration, but I
know so far that I am agender** or gender non-binary***. I don’t mind which pronouns people address me with. I believe that I was late to the self-exploration phase due to my social circumstances, which have caused me dysphoria for so long.
I am from a humble background and I lived with my family in a local area. At home, religion is all
source of knowledge. I am the only son and I have sisters. Therefore I had to become the man of the house. I couldn’t not conform to this role or else we would be put through a lot of shit by
everyone around us. At some point, my dysphoria was really visible but my family turned a blind eye because I was still young and I was excelling at school. I also hid myself behind a veil of
quietness and religiosity. And so I lived for a long while in denial, trying to silence all the voices in my head, afraid of the consequences.
I started experiencing gender dysphoria as early as the age of five. My family saw me as too
soft and quiet and they did not approve. There was an incident when all their bullying had led
me to break down in tears and told them that if God had created me soft, there was nothing for
me to change about the way God meant for me to be. Strangely enough, they held this sentence over my head for so long without noticing the underlying meaning of it. How a 5-year old can perceive and articulate something as complex as gender dysphoria is in itself something to ponder. Even my interests did not make sense to them, I used to like to hang out with my
mother and sisters in the kitchen, and so my father would scold me and call me effeminate all
the time. I wasn’t into putting makeup or doing my hair, all I was into was putting cream on my hair, or learning knitting or liking oriental dance.
My father himself symbolized everything deplorable about the Egyptian male. He did not care for his hygiene, for instance. He was not foul-mouthed but he used to bully me for fun. Of * Dysphoria: the distress a person feels due to a mismatch between their gender identity and their sex assigned at birth. ** Agender individuals find that they have no gender identity, although some define this more as having a gender identity that is neutral. *** is a spectrum of gender identities that are not exclusively masculine or feminine—identities that are outside the gender binary.
4
course, if I responded, it would be the end of the world. Thanks to him, I think I hated all men.
By the time I reached adolescence, I became the boy who looks like a girl. One time a boy in my class said that I was going to grow a vagina because of how feminine I am. I beat him up.
In social gatherings, I couldn’t be as social and outgoing as the rest of the males. I resorted to
the whole shy, religious facade to shield me from people’s questioning. To them, such an image could be accepted.
Still, I was always confused. I did not think I was doing anything unnatural, still I’d be accused by others of doing just that. I did not know what is considered feminine and what isn’t until I started to hear it from others around me about how I act.
I had a lot going on in my mind, but there was nothing I could say because I knew my family’s history with domestic violence. I used to wonder whether I was really a girl. No, I am not. I wasn’t comfortable being seen or addressed as a girl either. So what is it? Why am I uncomfortable in both?
Pressure from my family was not about gender and sexuality, it came more from a practical side. They were controlling and so I had to set up boundaries between them and myself. I
started to form my own circles and take a step away from them. By the time I started college, I was more independent and had no need to tell anyone
anything about myself.
I discovered I was gay right in the middle of the neo-Islamist
wave led by people like Amro Khaled, the preacher. This made
me react to my homosexuality with either panic or denial. I am scared of admitting it since I heard about what happened to
the gay men on the infamous Queen Boat incident*. And I am denial because of my religious upbringing and all the religious pressure practiced around me.
Bit by bit, I started to accept myself more in college. I went on gay dating websites long
before Grindr** became a thing. I would only
chat but I wouldn’t meet anyone yet, I was still scared.
* Queen Boat incident: refers to the fifty-two men who were arrested on May 11, 2001, aboard a floating gay nightclub called the Queen Boat, which was moored on the Nile in Cairo, Egypt ** Grindr: An LGBTQ+ Dating application
5
My father passed away right after I graduated, and that pushed me to get a job right away. This of course increased my freedom and self-sufficiency. For the first time, I felt free from a lot of pressure, and I was finally ready to meet people. There is no denying the role of financial independence in me overcoming those fears.
Although I am comfortable and free, I wish this weren’t the case. I wish I did not have to hide
from my family and I wish I could be upfront about who I really am. But I know for sure that if I’d been upfront, I would’ve been dead by now.
Another milestone for me was the revolution, as it was a time when a lot of principles were
shaken and a lot of givens were questioned by many people. The revolution helped me become more open, because I had been so used to faking things and acting against my nature. I’d
become so good at it, since I’d been doing it for 25 years. To the extent that at some point, I
used to go attend Quran recitals in the morning and watch gay porn at night. I became an expert at cleaning browsing history and leaving no trace behind. All of this to appease my family, but what about me? I am not appeased. Being on the defensive all the time isn’t good for your mental health. But after the revolution, many angels have fallen and many beliefs were
challenged. I was able to break into the LGBT+ community and start exploring my gender. Now, I have no interest in coming out to my family, but I have no interest in not living my life to its fullest and truest form either.
Nowadays, I am working on self-acceptance and getting rid once and for all of all the remnants of religious guilt I might still have towards who I was created as.
One last thing, when a person comes out as non-binary they are accused of being an opportunist who says they’re Trans in order to travel and attend
conferences outside the country. This causes me a great deal of anger. It is one of the
reasons why I am hesitant before coming out
as non-binary to people, especially since I work in an LGBT+ organization, and activists are
always accused of using activism as a one-way ticket to the world outside.
6
People also suspect your intentions when it takes you time to realize who you are. As if you
should know it the moment you’re born. This causes a lot of people to bottle up even among their closest circles, in fear of being called an attention whore or accused of just following a trend. It is uncanny how we could be together standing against the police, but still play detective against each other.
7
SuperBoy -Malek Trigger Warning: The story contain details about medical surgeries which some might find shocking or disturbing. Reader’s discretion is advised.
When I was a child, I did not have any problems with my body. I just wanted to play regardless of what my body looked like. I’d watch The Powerpuff Girls cartoon and want to be a superwoman like them. After all I am one of them, aren’t I? So it wasn’t a body issue.
Yet as I grew up, I started wondering what life would’ve been like had I been born a boy. The
prospects of a typical life of a female scared me to death; getting married and popping children. That’s why I started wanting to be a boy.
I lived most of my life in my hometown; a village you can’t locate on a map. Everyone there
comes from a humble background, my parents included. Nowadays I am between Cairo and Mansoura.
My life is full of stories, and it all started at birth.
I was born with a biological deformation in my genitalia. My mother gave birth with the
assistance of a midwife so of course she did not know any better because my deformation was
a vagina. At 10 years old, I was circumcised like every girl in our village. Ironically, it was a doctor who carried out the operation but he couldn’t figure it out either. I never thought that I was
really a boy, all I knew was that I am a girl who’s a bit different. I was an outgoing kid, too loud for the average girl in our town, I had many male friends at school and I was generally feared there. My own worst fear was being unable to continue my education, since any girl in our
hometown drops out after high school. My parents would tell me that there was no use of
having big ambitions since I was definitely getting married by the age of entering university. When I turned 7 years old, my father prohibited me from playing with other boys. I couldn’t play in the streets, I could no longer run and I had to wear a headscarf. My rage and spite towards the whole world was born then, and I figured out that I could never be free as long as I was a girl.
8
I discovered more about myself when I was visiting one of the very few female friends I
managed to make. She was changing her clothes and for the first time I looked at the naked
body of a female. What struck me was how different it looked from mine. This was my first hint towards knowing what’s wrong. As I hit puberty, I did so as a boy, not a girl. My voice became
deeper and I became hairier. Things just did not make sense. This all helped isolating me further from the world.
People would be shocked when they heard my voice. They’d ask “where is this voice coming
from?!” It was hurtful- to say the least- hearing people’s comments and questions, whether I was a boy or a girl. I felt like a monster, a creature incomprehensible for people.
Finally, my family decided to take me to a gynecologist. After the physical checkup the doctor
asked me to leave the room and told them that I was in fact a boy, not a girl. She also told them that a lot of tests need to be run to figure out the next move. Of course they did not tell me yet
but of course I knew it, although I was too frightened to ask. They delayed telling me till the last minute possible. I saw many doctors and surgeons, and did endless tests and scans. In the end, the verdict was out, the doctors unequivocally concurred that surgeries needed to be done, and only then my parents told me what was going on.
We were at the doctor’s, my mother asked me out of the blue “do you want to be a boy or a girl? You have a problem, we are going to fix it, and you get to decide what you want to be.” As a shy 16 year old, I did not know what to say. I was so scared of everything and so I told her I did not
know. I did want to be a boy, deep down, that is. But I couldn’t envision the rest of my life among the
people who knew me as a girl. My mother told me to think about it, and my father said that we’d follow
the doctor’s recommendation; if he said that I should stay as is, then I was going to. I knew they wanted to
take the path of least resistance and have me remain as a girl. But the doctor put an end to their hopes
when he said that what they can do as surgeons is to operate on the outside, and on the inside, I have the bodily organs and hormones of a boy and I would never live comfortably unless I became one.
9
It was a rough day at our household. I still remember my mother’s tears. I hid in my room as
soon as we arrived home. I did not want anyone to throw the blame on me. Back then, when
people tried to console my parents. they’d tell them “at least it is not the other way around; boy to girl” I couldn’t understand what makes my situation better, until I understood that to them,
switching from male to female is basically like taking a step down the hierarchical ladder, so to speak, what I was doing was stepping up!
I needed the doctor to settle this dilemma once and for all, in all honesty. I knew I was too
hesitant and scared to make a decision myself and I would have opted for the easy way out; which is maintaining the status quo.
Here I was, a lot closer to my childhood dream. I wanted to be a boy, well, I am about to become one. I cut my hair the same day the doctor announced the necessity of a surgery. The first piece of men’s wear they ever got me was this tracksuit. I put it on and refused to take it off since then. They’d tell me wait till you get the surgery but I completely refused. Once I put the tracksuit on, there was no going back.
Still I was so paranoid about how people would treat me. The doctors recommended we move somewhere new. The thought of this gave me hope and I was excited about getting a new beginning.
But my family couldn’t afford the move. I knew it and that’s why I decided we stay. It was a
stupid decision from my part. I did not want them to suffer so I ended up suffering instead. If I could turn back time I wouldn’t do it again.
And so the sex reassignement journey began. It consumed 16 years from my life. I had to have psychological rehabilitation sessions to prepare me to live my life as a boy. My doctor there
used to wonder why I was such an introvert, and I’d bite my tongue not wanting to curse him out loud.
The sex reassginement journey starts with the physicians’ syndicate, Dar al-Ifta* and the civil registry, in order to get my official documents to change.
Then the surgeries start. I wasn’t a child at the time of my first one. I looked bigger than all of them so I couldn’t be kept in the pediatric ward. I was left in a room designated for dressing wounds. It was a nerve-wracking experience, since doctors would often walk in with their injured patients and I had to sit through the process of bandaging their wounds. * Dar al-Ifta: The Egyptian body of legislation based on Islam’s Sharia Law.
10
On my way to the first operation, I was under the impression that it was my first and last one.
The doctor had already explained what needed to be done and I was unsure how all of this could be done in one operation. So I was both scared and relieved. During the operation, I was
anesthetized just from the waist down, so I was aware of everything. I could see the room’s
glaring lights, my stomach cut open and the doctors standing around me, nonchalantly. “Hey doc, you didn’t accept my Facebook friend request.” and things along these lines were
exchanged by the doctors while cutting me up. I couldn’t sit still for all those hours, so whenever I fidgeted or moved my hands they’d pin me down again. 2 hours and a half of this I endured. It
felt like I was dying, for 2 hours and a half, I could see myself dying while surrounded by a group of doctors who did not give a damn.
I cried my eyes out once it was over. Once I saw my mother and the rest of my family I couldn’t hold back the tears. I could feel nothing because the anesthesia hadn’t worn off yet. I was
worried about the pain that should come once it does. To make things worse, the doctor came
announcing that this one went well, and that next we had 2 surgeries, then another 2, followed by the cosmetic surgery. I realized then I was still in square one.
Every two surgeries should be six months apart. It meant I was going to spend the upcoming
portion of my life hospitalized. The thought of having to go back and put myself through what I’d just survived was too painful. I developed a phobia of hospitals after my first surgery, the smell of the OR, the disinfectant, the gurney and even the IV drip. I had started having problems with my veins
becoming weak from all the needles that were poked in them. There was no space left in my body that wasn’t pierced by an IV.
I did five surgeries. Each one is more disappointing than
the other. I was told the first one was a success but all that followed failed. I repeated the same operation once, twice and three times. I was still going nowhere. With every failed attempt, I had more nerve damage and lost sensation in the area operated on. I think this damage is irrevocable.
After the first surgery, fewer and fewer people started to show up. Everyone got used to the
idea and they stopped caring eventually. Only my mother and father would be there after, my
mother in tears and my father telling me not to worry. He was trying to make things easier but honestly they never got any easier. I didn’t want any more surgeries but I knew nobody would
11
stand for it. All I wanted before each one was just getting out. Every night on the hospital bed I’d count the days till I get home.
I became depressed for about a year during my high school. I failed and had to repeat it because I couldn’t focus. I decided not to do any more surgeries, and I passed my second trial. I entered college and started to recover from all of this. Not fully, though.
My issues with my body started then, after all the surgeries left their mark on it. My body was
scarred beyond repair, it was even worse than it had been before all the surgeries. Some doctors used to promise me that I would be able to have children, like normal men! Imagine having to come down with your expectations from there to now.
What good did this entire mess do me? After years wasted in pain and suffering, I truly believe
that my body was better off without them, unlike my father. I can’t imagine that any number of cosmetic surgeries can fix this.
I accept my identity as a boy, not my body. I know I am never walking into an Egyptian hospital every again, at least the governmental ones.
I get mixed feelings when I look at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I think I look normal, like any other man. Sometimes I don’t. I can’t look at myself naked a lot, though. I wouldn’t be able to,
maybe I don’t want to confront it. Maybe it’s too painful. I can’t forget about it. I am reminded of it every time I use the bathroom or take a shower.
Yet somehow I am recovering, I can talk about it if I am asked but I don’t advertise it. My final takeaway is what I’ve always wondered; why am I here?
What if my parents never knew, what would I’ve become then? A married woman with kids? Would’ve it worked?
What if I was born cis-gender*? Would I’ve lived a normal life? Just another villager?
My life is very sporadic now and I am hardly motivated to do anything at all. I once wanted to
become a doctor, now I hate their guts. I am not passionate about what I am studying, I just let things happen to me.
All my effort nowadays is invested in finding a way out of this country. I’ve approached many
embassies with my case asking for immigration. I told them I was dying here, to the point that I put both myself and my family in danger just in order to flee. No luck, still. But I will keep trying till I either leave or die.
* Cis-gender: relates to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex.
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Something Else -Yunis Trigger Warning: The story contains shocking incidents related to FGM and sexual assault. Reader’s discretion is advised.
If you ask my parents, I am a girl. Starting from when I was 4 years old until my last year in
primary school, I played in the street with other boys, I would hit other kids if I had to, I explored girls, I fought for my right to play with the rest of the boys and be treated like them, I argued a lot and wouldn’t take no for an answer. My grandmother, as an old, matriarchal figure of
authority, always tried to stop me, sometimes violently. I’d retaliate. I’d tear off my dresses or
cut my hair. I’d threaten to set fire to everything I have if she laid her hands on me. Since a very young age, I learned to stand up for myself and not take no as an answer. Wherever I was; at
home, at school, nobody can hit me, nobody can insult me and nobody can stop me from doing something without giving me valid reasons.
But I really learned about my identity at an old age. “Hold on a minute, there’s something
different”, I thought. I am something else, I must be. My gender expression did not conform with my biological sex, long before I knew what the difference was. “So if I am something else, if I am not a girl, am I a boy then?”, I would also wonder. It wasn’t until 2017 that I started learning about gender. I still had my doubts after I learned. I was still resistant not because I did not
want to accept it, but because I knew the consequences of believing it. I was okay with the little
privilege I have as a woman, I mean at least I pass as a cis-looking individual and that’s all what society cares for. Yet, as time went on, I figured that how the world sees you does not matter if you know what you really are and you cannot see it in yourself. In the beginning, I used to talk using masculine pronouns but I’d tell people to use feminine pronouns with me still, I did not
know why I did this. I guess it was me avoiding conflicts and confrontations. I did not want to explain myself; as long as they see me as female, let them refer to me as such.
By 2018, I started to say that I am fine with both gender pronouns. If I am addressed as male, I feel thankful for whoever took the effort to do it and decided not to categorize me as female
just because I look the part. The feeling was very empowering that I finally got hooked on it. I
demanded it from my closer circles. That from now on, I want to be addressed as I see myself 13
not as I am being seen. At first I used to let it
because it’s too much to carry and it makes
people understand the complexity of the issue
know.
slide, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter if
of gender, what matters is addressing me the way I want to be addressed.
As for my sexual orientation, things were a bit
more complicated. Till the age of 15, all I knew was being with women. It wasn’t exactly having sex with women, it was more the innocent, childish fooling around and
exploration like when kids play bride and
groom. I just played bride and bride all the time. I was once seen kissing my female
cousin by her mother, my aunt. This is how I got circumcised, her and I, three days later
after we were found out, not to mention all
the violence and abuse we went through. Back then I did not understand the consequences of the FGM surgery, but I started to get it as I
grew up and felt nothing sexually. Dysphoria
was there but of course it was way above my
head to understand. I had my first experience with a boy at the age of 15, I kissed a boy, I
wasn’t ready for anything else because deep down I felt unprepared, or under-qualified; I felt I was not a complete woman. Feeling like this made me
become resistant to the idea of
being a woman, but I knew I had to accept it because look, this is
the body I was given. I would look at my body and my plump
breasts and feel uneasy. Why do I hate my big breasts? Maybe
me feel hot, temperature wise? I did not
All I knew was how depressing it is to be
spoken to or seen as a woman, and that I am
unhappy with my feminine body. The reasons were a mystery to me back then.
Then when I was 17, I was raped. It is
needless to talk about how painful it was, it
may suffice to say that I hated my body even more; a space others see as okay to violate.
My reaction was getting to know more men. I was being vindictive, I decided to get into
more men’s lives in order to ruin them. During all of this, I never felt much, I never felt like a woman and my body never responded the
way it was supposed to. I decided to explore
men out of my own volition, same way I used to explore women when I was younger. Back
then, I identified as heterosexual not bisexual. In 2019, I had sex with a girl. Was I happy
though? It brought back so many unpleasant
memories but I knew it had nothing to do with the girl herself. I concluded that I enjoy men more than women. I started to accept and understand my orientation
better in that time. It took me a while to understand the
difference between gender and sexuality, I could understand
that- unlike what I’d thought
before- liking women does not necessarily mean being a man, and vice versa.
14
The tale of gender dysphoria is always a sad
worse because people are a lot more
like constant agitation and anger. I thought it
everything; maybe my only win is my choice of
one. Before putting a label on it, dysphoria felt was trauma at first and that all I needed was
recovering from that. Till the time I shaved my head in 2016, I did it in support of someone who had cancer. I found myself blissfully
happy about it. Everyone I shared my picture
with wondered how come I wasn’t feeling sad or regretful. Exactly 7 people repeated this comment until I asked one girl how girls
usually feel if they get her heads shaved. She said they cry. I asked her how come I was
happy with it. She said I couldn’t be a girl, then. As my hair grew, my anger did too. I started to dress more in unisex. And the more I hear “boy or girl?”, the happier I am; despite its
original intention. From a stereotypical view of what a woman or a man is, I fit neither. I don’t
wear dresses, I don’t put on makeup or do my
hair, does this mean I am a man? When I hang
conservative and religious. I am constricted by pronouns, which is something I established
since childhood. I made it clear my inability to use feminine pronouns, so I won this battle;
just this one. I have to be veiled and wear very modest clothes. I can’t show skin or stand out in any way. I could barely create a safe space for myself there, by branching out into the
world of arts and culture. But I still belong to
the conservative family that sees everything
in binary absolutes. My closest thing to an ally at home is my brother; he is not liberal or
anything but he’s a glimpse of hope in what’s otherwise complete darkness. I may be also thankful for my ability to travel to Cairo and
Alexandria frequently and make some friends there, this might be another factor helping with my survival to this day.
around with men and I talk about my actions and ask them if that’s what a man would do,
they say no. So what am I? Something else, in
between. And this is fundamentally awesome. My dysphoria is wearing off gradually.
Granted, it’s at its maximum when I am home with family. This is where abuse is at its
maximum. Sometimes I’d also feel it when I
am having sex with someone who sees me as purely or fully female.
The context for those who live outside Cairo, the urban center, is nightmarish. It is a lot
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Beyond Genderization -Zain The way I was raised wasn’t particularly genderized. I have a brother but there was no
distinction in behavior, we were not told to act in a certain way because we were boys or girls.
We both played sports, and I used to partake in football games with the other boys in the family. I am my parents’ first child. My mother’s doctor identified the fetus as male, 99% chance. Then
he carried out another test where he further confirmed it. So, after she went in labor, when my father told her that she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, she scolded him for the untimely joke.
I grow up in a middle class neighborhood, with self-made parents. My family has a strong work ethic; in fact, they worship work and they have no time for much else, not to mention
communicate with each other. In my case, the apple didn’t fall a lot further from the tree; I did not have a very successful social life although I participated in sports and activities.
I had zero interest in “feminine” toys. When someone brings me a doll, I’d use it play surgeon
and operate on it, since I did not understand any other use for it. All that interested me as a kid was music and medicine. I learned about the principles and ethics of scientific research since
childhood. To me, the human body was much like “Alice in Wonderland”; something fascinating and worthy of exploration.
As far as school went, I used to be bullied consistently by everybody. There was only one year I
spent bullying-free, which did not take place in Egypt. That’s why entering college for me was a chance for a clean slate, a new beginning where nobody knows me. And it really was a new
beginning. I was successful both academically and socially. I learned how to see beauty around me and how to appreciate differences rather than be alienated by them. I could safely say that both college followed by the revolution were turning points in my life, where I felt the least
alienated. College taught me about exploring and appreciating beauty in my surroundings, while the revolution was about breaking taboos, reforming one’s own beliefs and learning to accept the other. I wasn’t even out of the closet back then but I’d say some people understood it. I
started my master’s degree afterwards, which also contributed to my journey intellectually and 16
technically. Although I can’t say I learned much on a personal level back then.
The worst period I’ve been through was when I had to meet suitors for marriage. It might as well have been the most demeaning thing I had to do. On one hand, I am a person who
seeks control over everything, so I wanted to control this and force it to happen. On the
other hand, the most I felt for anyone is mild admiration, the kind you’d feel towards your friends, but I couldn’t feel romantically or
sexually interested in any man I met. I could
surly related to them, though. These thoughts led me to conclude that I was Trans. Later, I
found out that my mother was okay with me being Trans; she actually asked me if I was,
and I wish I’d told her I was in fact Trans. At
least she would’ve been given an answer, a word to define what she sees in me.
Yet recently I decided to explain to her what it means to be gender non-binary*. I even
explained the whole pronoun dilemma. She
gets it but not completely, I am happy she is receptive enough to try to understand,
something I doubt my father can do. I am also past the phase where any violence or force
could be used against me. I was also blessed with a community of people around me who
seemed accepting of my queer** identity even though I never said it out loud, and they never asked any questions. Yet I was alienated a bit from them on account of being the only
religious believer among them. I had my own
interpretation of religion and my own version of religiosity. So I knew that anyone I meet
would accept parts of me while other parts
not. In hindsight, I’d say that being religious has opened up more possibilities for
exploration; exploring why people of nonconforming gender identities and sexual
orientations might have a negative outlook on religion. Is it because religion gives no voice to them or because violence was practiced on them in the name of religion? If this is the
case, is it because of the religious teachings themselves or is it due to people’s own
interpretations of what their religion tells them to do?
When it comes to identity, I see it as an ever-
changing process, same as orientation. I might * Non-binary, or genderqueer, is a spectrum of gender identities that are not exclusively masculine or feminine—identities that are outside the gender binary. **Queer is an umbrella term for sexual and gender minorities who are not heterosexual or are not cisgender.
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have been helped by the fact that I was accepted and supported by people who never cared to
ask intrusive questions such as “if you’re queer, why do you grow out your hair?” or maybe “how come you’re Muslim?” and so on. I am also lucky to have access to information and sources to
learn more about myself and others. And finally, I had a supporting family that went along with decisions which they might haven’t been in complete agreement with. Decisions such as
working in the field of activism or participating in the revolution. Imagine letting your children go somewhere and you can’t tell whether they’ll be back or not. So this all required a considerable amount of courage, respect and consideration. I am also grateful for their notion that there are no taboos when it comes to acquiring knowledge. They let us make our own decisions and
backed us up in front of other family members. “How come you’re letting live on her own?!” people would ask, and they’d say “she’s free to make choices.” The fact that they let me live alone has helped me a lot with learning discipline and self-management. Their main issue remains, being my safety. They’d been under the impression that me living alone was
temporary but I’ve got them to understand that since I moved out, there was no coming back. I also got them to accept the fact that I am not getting married, albeit after a few years of debates.
My mother tiptoes around the subject of my sexual orientation. Every now and then, she asks questions about homosexuality but she never used any derogatory terms or made any
insensitive remarks about LGBT+ people. She still believes that “this is wrong” from a religious
point of view, though. Yet all our discussions remain hypothetical, until the day I introduce her to my wife, maybe then we’ll have a different discussion. I never disliked having a body of a female, but I wouldn’t have minded a male body at all.
Sometimes I wonder why I don’t have both
and I can just switch between the two. As for my sexual orientation, I tried to like men
knowing that this was what I was supposed to feel, but I never genuinely did. I attribute my
trails to basic peer pressure while growing up. As for women, they’ve always held a much
more special place in my heart even before I knew the concept of homosexuality existed.
My attraction to females was justified by the 18
high regard I have for the Feminine. When I was first introduced to the concept of lesbianism, it did not come in an adverse context and so I never perceived it as a sin. I wondered whether I was possibly a lesbian, but at that time, my sexuality was basically an unexplored territory. I believed that it’s possible for anyone to like anyone, which was a belief that the rest of the society, its norms and its religions did not share with me.
Afterwards came the phase of “Okay, do I like women because I am a lesbian or because I am a
man?” Then there was the phase of Trans and watching Boys Don’t Cry and wondering. I saw an old picture of me with a friend recently and I understood in hindsight how Tomboy I was. I still
don’t have a full grasp on what these phases were but I don’t mind them. I don’t mind anything. Let it be gender or sexuality, I believe we all carry shades of the thing and its counterpart within ourselves.
In the early 2000s, there was this song by Nelly Furtado called I’m Like a Bird, I relate so much to this song. I fully believe now that there will be no certain community or certain label with
which I’d fully identify. For one reason or another, being a Muslim and a radical feminist is one of them. Yet nevertheless, I am thankful for all what the Queer community has taught me, even if it has its own vices as well as virtues.
I am also thankful for the entire civil society and its various movements, specifically the
Feminist activism community. In my work I try to connect these communities together, as someone who belongs to all of them. Last but not least, I am happy about the level of
acceptance and awareness exhibited in the Queer community. This couldn’t have been achieved without the abundance of dialogues and a willingness to accept differences among people. And it’s something that previous generations might haven’t been lucky enough to have.
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Halfway
-Hayatem
I am a Queer person. I see myself standing
Cairo, in hopes of meeting people like me. I
have things in common with both and I cannot
adolescence. Back then, something terrible
halfway through the male-female spectrum. I pinpoint being exactly either. This started at
the age of 5; in Upper Egypt, where I am from,
women are veiled as a rule. So I used to do the same. I hated how I looked with the headscarf so I decided to let my hair grow and be an
unveiled woman, something that my family
understood my orientation as far back as
happened that I would never be able to forget.
When I was in high school, the school principal one day ordered all the students to be sent to
the playground in the middle of the day for no reason. It wasn’t time for recess or PE.
was strongly against. I used to put on makeup
Everyone in the school was in the playground,
beaten up because of it. Other times, I used to
the bathroom. They were both completely
and my mom’s lingerie, and I would get wear very manly clothes and shoes.
Sometimes I’d cook and sometimes I’d act all macho. Sometimes I’d play the bride and other times I’d play the groom. Since
childhood, I never felt 100% male or 100%
female. If I am in drag*, I don’t shave my body
hair. If I am dressed like a CIS man, I would put on feminine perfume or a bit of makeup. It
never mattered to me what would people say
and I never did it just to be different. I did it for self-expression even before knowing the words “non-binary” existed.
In Upper Egypt, when I was young, I dreamed of growing up and continuing my studies in * Drag refers to the wearing of clothing of the opposite gender
then we found him escorting two boys out of
naked, and he paraded them all the way from the bathroom to his office, in front of
everyone, unclothed. He was making a point;
they were caught having sex in the bathroom
and this was his way of making an example of them. This is the price you pay for such a
deviant act, apparently. I never saw these
boys again, I can’t tell whether their families
decided to switch schools for them or just kill them. Regardless of the outcome, this was a
turning point for me. I realized how weak and violated I can be. I couldn’t shake the scene
from my head; them nude, their shame, my discomfort. I knew this could happen to me
and I would find nobody to help or save me.
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There was nobody to talk to back then, although I knew about my orientation and I had a lot to say. I couldn’t understand why I should be cast in Hell even if I haven’t even had sex with
someone. Why should I hate myself and why would I be punished if I haven’t acted upon any of my impulses? Moreover, what’s wrong with my impulses? What if I liked men? How come
differences are unnatural? To me, it did not make sense to expect that everyone in the whole
world has the same, conventional sex drive. I had nobody to tell any of this to, especially after
the incident in my school, which left me shaken. The only exception was my grandmother. She was very close to me back then and when the
incident happened I broke down to her in tears and I
announced that I liked men. She hugged me and told
them it would all turn out alright. She never breathed a word of this conversation to someone else or even to me till she died. She never asked any follow-up
questions. She just told me not to worry. To this day, I don’t know whether she had a feeling about me, or
whether she understood what I really meant or what I was going through. I never came out to someone
else or dated anyone in Upper Egypt, but all of that changed later on.
I had so many troubles in the past with my family and friends due to my gender identity and expression.
Being non-binary, everything I did was different; how I talk, dress, behave or even the pronouns
I use are different and unexpected. Things remained this way until one day when I met someone who introduced me to the concepts of gender-queer and gender-fluid*. For the first time, I did not feel alone.
When I understood what my gender identity is, I became a lot more accepting of myself. I knew I was gay a long time ago, sexual orientation wasn’t a problem. It was my gender identity that I
had to contend with. I was confused and unable to tell whether I was Trans or not. But with the understanding of gender fluidity, all my dysphoria went away and I was finally okay with
everything I do. I accepted my feminine side and I had no reservations in showing it to the world, let them accept me or reject me. It was unimportant since I finally accepted myself. * Gender fluid is a gender identity which refers to a gender which varies over time.
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But my troubles did not end inside our
at my own body; I am born male, but I
gender non-binary to someone I just met or
When I dress as a woman, I feel like a real
community. For example, I cannot come out as else I am subjecting myself to the risk of
ridicule or being outed to everyone else. I can be more myself when I travel outside the
country or within my closest social circles. But
every now and then I get called a Ladyboy or a Transwoman in denial. That’s why I decided to keep it for myself, especially within the gay
community that sees me as an insult to their
masculinity. I remember I was once on a date
wouldn’t mind having a vagina, had I had one. woman. Still, I have no problem with the
actual body that I have. In sex, I am versatile, I
can do both roles, in relationships as well. This might be confusing to my partners, at times. I have both feminine and masculine
mannerisms, I dress what would be
considered mostly as unisex, I wear both types of perfume, etc..
and for some reason I came out to my date as queer. He did not understand, he asked me
again if I was a ladyboy. His masculinity was
compromised because we’d had sex and I was the Top. To him, that was an insult. To others, they are okay with my identity but would
rather not see my feminine side, so I never
feel at ease with being myself. All of this could traced back to deeply-rooted patriarchy and misogyny. Therefore, I had to let go and get used to people’s ignorance.
Another milestone in my life would be military
image on both men and women. Therefore, all
queer or not. Yet my biggest potential
Let’s be real, society has enforced a certain of us are expected to conform to it.
Conventionally, the man has to provide, work
and lead the relationship. While a woman is a
soft ball of nerves that cries, cooks and raises the children. This is what the society dictated and everyone plays along with. This whole
setup doesn’t work for me; I could neither be
the woman nor the man. I can relate to both in certain ways but never fully. Even when I look
service, which is a tough time for anyone;
problem is being outed, of course. I was afraid of being perceived as soft or brittle. This led me to a discovery; as much as the
heterosexual world stereotypes us, we do the same to them. In fact, we as part of being
LGBTQIA+ are naturally tougher and more
resilient. Being a minority primes you to be
that way. I was afraid of being perceived as soft, and I never was. It was mainly other
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heterosexual, cis-looking men being called
and ready for whatever happens, from the
LGBTQIA+ people serving in the military;
they come back. They are always on guard,
out as so. Moreover, there are a lot of
whether temporarily like me or actually chose to work there. All you have to do is make sure nobody knows, because if they did, you’re
screwed. You get a military trial and your life is basically over. Yet I found out that in the
army- much like in prisons- men have anal
sex with each other due to sexual deprivation and then walk out and put it behind them once they’re out. This does not stop the
military from being a generally patriarchal,
moment they set foot outside their homes till ready for a counter-attack when an attack
happens. So being part of this community has made me a better person. Sometimes I feel I am lucky for not being a conforming
heterosexual*. I wouldn’t have had all the
support and the backup system that I have
now had I been one. We may not have a big
impact on the society, but we know we have got each other.
misogynistic environment. We were
addressed as women as a form of casual
insult, for example. It was a horrible place but a priceless experience.
In a perfect world, I would like to work on
LGBTQIA+ issues with the United Nations. I
would like for all discrimination and stigma to end. I would like to meet someone, have a
house and a car and enjoy them together. At the moment, there is no hope for this to
happen in Egypt. This may happen outside but not here. Till I leave, I will work on making this a better place, but I know it won’t be good enough for my generation.
The everyday suffering that an LGBTQIA+ individual faces makes them naturally
stronger and more flexible. It makes them more patient and have more tolerance for
hard times. It makes them quick on their feet
* Heterosexuality is romantic attraction, sexual attraction or sexual behavior between persons of the opposite sex or gender.
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My Appearance, My Identity
-Nady
I only recently started identifying as non-binary. I was raised in the slums. I am not trying to be classist, I am just calling a spade a spade. This has affected my appearance and demeanor in
general. I have to make sure, when I am in my neighborhood, that I am using the correct ”lingo”. Most of it is just politically incorrect euphemisms or plain slurs. But I can govern myself not to sound the same when I am outside.
In my neighborhood, you dress in a certain way, you talk in a certain way and you even get high off of certain drugs. Patriarchy and misogyny are the rules of the land. I can’t say that men and women are equal when I am there, for example. In such an environment, it’s very difficult to contemplate gender roles and identities* and such. All I knew was the discomfort I felt
whenever someone tried to flatter me by saying how manly I am. I couldn’t wrap my head around the source of my discomfort, I knew that even if their words are deeply rooted in misogyny, I knew I wasn’t misogynistic. But still.
My need to conform to my surrounding has led me to always look like a cis man. Although on
the inside, I am far from being such. I am never comfortable to try and express my queerness in my physical appearance.
Sex was the exact opposite; it almost felt like I am taking off my gender identity as well as my
clothes. I never feel the need to pretend to be a man, unlike in my neighborhood. In bed, I am comfortable enough to put on a body piercing or an anklet. I am comfortable being soft and unmanly. I am reminded by this with a scene at the end of the Joker movie;
when he decided to accept his true self and took off his mask. You see his true face; the conventional joker face with makeup, which is an allegory to him being his true self.
* Gender identity is the personal sense of one's own gender.
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Sadly enough, even with our community,
gender, I realized that this is the most suitable
versa. It’s the traces left inside us of our
streets with my identity in the sheets. I can be
being a cis looking man is revered, and vice bigger, less tolerant society. The patriarchy is
embedded within our subconscious so deeply that even after recognizing that we don’t conform to it, we still look up to it.
People who know about my gender identity are a select few; my best friend and my
activist friends. The reason why I don’t divulge this to more people is because I tried it before and it failed miserably. I had a friend who I thought was open-minded enough to
understand such things. He replied “But Nady, non-binary what, you’re a top”, I wondered
what the relationship between those 2 pieces of information was, on account of one being a
term for me. It reconciles my identity in the
whatever I am, I can jump rope with gender. It reconciles my femininity in bed with my macho look among people.
My best friend is the only one I am completely myself around, he addresses me with
feminine pronouns. I personally don’t mind either types of pronouns, I only mind using
the feminine pronouns in a derogatory way. Surprisingly, this is common inside our community. So in order to be safe, I
exclusively use the masculine pronouns to
avoid any chance of being the newest victim of peer bullying and chastising.
gender identity and the other a sexual
I had an awful experience with maybe some
don’t fuck.” He said. Realizing how much of a
used to use feminine pronouns constantly and
preference. “Non-binary gets fucked, they
dead-end this conversation was, I decided to change the subject.
There is a certain type of stigma already
attached to certain sexual orientations, not to mention gender identities. While I as a person care so much about being respected and valued. So in order to avoid demeaning
remarks and conversations, in order to avoid
bullying and keep my dignity, I decided to keep my gender identity undisclosed as much as I can.
When I understood the idea of non-binary
of the worst people in our community. They exclusively for cracking jokes and hurling
insults at people. A few years back, I was dating one of the community’s “Table
Bosses”; these are people who are basically so popular that they ‘own’ the table and the outing. In a get-together, they have to
approve and personally like everyone at the table, if not, then this is their new victim.
They’d start insulting and everyone would start cheering. This guy used to lean over
someone and whisper “It’s this guy”, which
means that it’s the poor guys turn to receive a humiliation of a lifetime. All was done under the façade of cracking jokes and having fun,
25
but you could always tell that deep down, it
whether he’d leave me or mock me or tell me
I used to also get my fair share of bullying
reality, he was more accepting that I thought
was serious and it really hurt all the victims. from his friends. The only one who used to step up and have my back was my current
best friend. Despite him standing up for me, I developed some kind of complex of being
referred to with feminine pronouns, as a result of all their jokes and mockery. Yet I never
objected to them using those pronouns with me. Why? I think it was a discrepancy in the
power balance. I felt I couldn’t return the insult so I had to take it. When I had enough, I had a fight with all of them, and as a result my
boyfriend broke up with me. He then inflicted on me the exact same verbal violence his
friends used to practice on me. Everything he said about me behind my back found its way
to me in the end. In the end, I learned never to let on my preference with pronouns. I am a he and a he only. This put miles between me and the feminine pronoun. Every now and then I used to check myself; am I being
misogynistic? No, I am only trying to avoid the psychological trauma of being the constant butt of people’s jokes.
It took me a long time till I figured out that
there are people who take the whole pronoun thing seriously and use it respectfully. I am still battling with the aftermath of the
that I am neither a man nor a woman. Yet in he would. He told me he loved me anyway I
was, and that he was happy I opened up and
that led us to become closer and truer to each other. His reaction encouraged me to be a
little more open about myself among people, just a little. It made me realize how valuable
acceptance and support are. It made me see
what it means to be accepted and valued, and
how that can raise you up, and how the lack of
which can bring you down. I think that the root of our issues is stigma; if people started to
second-guess their actions, if they identified their own stigmatizing behavior, we- as a
community- will be in a much better place,
mentally and physically. I have many friends of non-conforming gender identities and sexual
orientations, and they all go through the exact suffering that I went through. I know what it
means to feel weak and alone. But I know that it is also fueled my own resolution to fight back. Not only to make our world a better
place for our community, but to also get back at those who hurt or belittled me. I became
determined to raise the younger generation’s awareness of what to do and what not to do, so that we can avoid making the same mistakes again.
previous incidents, step by step. And I recently
We are currently trying to induce a miracle.
been worried about his reaction. I wondered
Based on the narratives of other countries,
came out to my partner as non-binary, I had
You could argue it’s hard or even impossible.
26
there will be a time when things will get better for us, gradually. It all depends on continuous effort, from one generation to the other, and building up on each other’s work. In a perfect
world, or in a Western country during The Pride*, I wouldn’t look cis, I’d wear makeup, I’d put on earrings, I’d be topless and I’d put on lipstick with a dark color. As for my hair, I’d dye it blonde
and change my hairdo. As a matter of fact, I’d like to try having curly hair in the future. I have had the same haircut since my early teenage years, as a person who’s afraid of change, I am
reluctant to take any drastic steps changing my appearance and then ending up being unhappy about it.
* Pride parades are outdoor events celebrating lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer social and self acceptance, achievements, legal rights, and pride.
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