Language | Libanon

Boundlessly queer

For the first time, ‘The Queer Arab Glossary’ is a compilation of Arabic slang from the scene - from affectionate to derogatory. A conversation with the editor

Marwan Kaabour with journalist Zuher Jazmati at the book launch of ‘The Queer Arab Glossary’ in Berlin, 2024

Interview by Zuher Jazmati

Marwan, I’m glad we could meet here in Berlin to discuss your book, The Queer Arab Glossary. How does Berlin’s large queer Arab community compare to London’s?

Berlin’s Arab diaspora, especially its queer creatives, is unique. This community actively contributes to the city’s cultural life and social causes, which makes it a significant cultural hub. Launching the book here felt important because Berlin’s queer Arab scene is both vibrant and historically rich. It was essential for me to connect directly with a community that’s visibly pushing boundaries while facing unique challenges.

Growing up in Beirut, what early influences shaped your identity and queerness?

I’m grateful for a household that encouraged self-expression. As a femme kid, I was allowed to be myself, and figures like Sherihan on TV or Koukou in El Denye Hek resonated with me, even though I didn’t fully understand why at the time. I always felt drawn to certain representations of queerness, which shaped my sense of identity. Later, my background in graphic design helped me process these feelings through storytelling, and this led to Takweer—a project where I could bridge my Arab and queer identities through art.

Can you explain what Takweer is?

Takweer began in 2019, but the concept came earlier when I saw graffiti in Beirut that read, “Queers were here.” Someone commented “Takbeer” in response—a celebratory phrase in Arabic—and “Takweer” formed in my mind, mixing queerness with an Arabic linguistic structure. In Arabic, it means “to create in a spherical form,” which poetically suggests a reimagined world from a queer perspective. Takweer is about examining Arab queer histories, blending personal and collective experiences, and offering visibility to a marginalized narrative.

Dūdakī, translated means ‘riddled with worms

“Water metaphors were common, often describing someone as fluid or loose”

In The Queer Arab Glossary, you cover terms that vary in meaning. How did you find this project?

It was enriching. I aimed to portray the entire linguistic landscape, capturing terms that are both respectful and derogatory. The goal wasn’t just to celebrate the positive or criticize the negative, but to understand how language shapes identity. I approached it with a sense of curiosity and respect, which helped me view even hurtful expressions through the lens of linguistic creativity. Arabic’s diversity is reflected in these terms, and I wanted to honor that complexity.

Were there particular patterns that you found compelling?

Yes, water metaphors were common, often describing someone as fluid or loose. Though sometimes meant derogatorily, water’s fluidity speaks to queerness’s boundless nature. Animal and natural metaphors were also frequent, using imagery like “butterfly” or “baby chick” to describe certain queer identities. These metaphors reveal cultural nuances that resonate deeply within the Arab world.

An illustration from the glossary showing pigeons as flying penises

I recall a term for “penis” used among young children, hamam.

Right, hamam or “pigeon” is a euphemism for penis, and in the Gulf, “pigeon keeper” (Mrabbe Al Hammam) is a sweet term for a man who loves other men. It’s affectionate and emphasizes a loving bond, not just physical attraction. It’s a poetic way of describing queer relationships that goes beyond stereotypes.

How did you approach researching these terms?

It was a four-year process. Initially, I gathered terms from Takweer followers and then conducted interviews with people across the Arab world to expand on the meanings. Their insights provided invaluable context, ensuring that each term was accurately represented. Collaborating with Suneela Mubayi, an Arabic language expert, added historical context that brought the glossary’s entries to life. Each phase revealed more layers, capturing the complexity of queer Arab identity.

“By using Arabic, we embrace our cultural heritage”

With rising visibility of queer Arab voices, do you see this glossary as complete, or is it part of a larger project?

This is just a beginning. Language and identity constantly evolve, and I believe this glossary will grow as more voices contribute. I also hope to expand Takweer to explore other intersections of queer Arab identity. My goal is to inspire others to build on this work, whether by adding to the glossary or using it as a foundation for their own projects. The glossary has laid a foundation, but there’s so much more to explore within our community’s stories.

Why is it so important for queer Arabs to express their identities in Arabic?

English feels detached and easier for many to use, but Arabic is deeply personal; it’s the language of family and heritage. By using Arabic, we embrace our cultural heritage. Some terms simply don’t translate into English and lose their nuance, while in Arabic, they carry cultural and emotional depth. I hope this glossary creates a space where queer Arabs feel empowered to discuss their identities authentically in their own language, fostering a sense of pride and authenticity.