Rajiv Lalla
The Eye Abroad
at the crossroads
PrintI live next to Amman’s Third Circle: my humble apartment sits in a neighborhood of primarily affluent physicians , flanked by two of Amman’s finest hotels, and adjacent to one of the foremost women’s health clinics in the world: not exactly a bad neighborhood.
So last week, when I was walking the quarter-kilometer from Third Circle back to my apartment, I was neither surprised nor nervous when the guard (in Arabic, haras) of a neighboring building invited me in for coffee. Typical Arab hospitality, I thought. I accepted his offer, entered the building, and followed the guard downstairs into the kitchen. Later, as we sipped our coffee, the guard told me a little about himself: Egyptian, had two children, and returning to see his family in Egypt in two days.
Soon, he started using vocabulary I didn’t understand. Unwilling to forgo my dignity as an Arabic speaker and admit that I didn’t understand something, I resorted to making a deep, guttural, almost grunting sound (the universal symbol for affirmation in Jordanian Arabic). He then gestured to his crotch, and, in broken English, began asking me my thoughts on sex, presumably with him. I knew this was my cue to leave-- after me first asking, then forcefully telling (and threateningly gesturing), he unlocked the door and let me out.
This may sound like the beginning of a horror movie (or porno), but being thus solicited is not an uncommon experience for an American living in Jordan. A friend of mine was riding a taxi and had a cab driver grab his hand, and put it on the cab driver’s crotch. Another friend was asked if he was American, then shown gay pornography on a cell phone. All of these are somewhat symptomatic: Gays suffer a sort of limbo-like status here in Jordan. This behavior may seem odd to an outsider to the Middle East, or even to an average Jordanian. However, being an American, one gains a unique perspective on the status of gays in Jordan-- otherwise closeted individuals see, because of common perceptions and media portrayals of America, a potential ally. Unable to express their sexual preference to fellow Jordanians, they do so around individuals who they think will be more open to it-- of course, their perception of such individuals is characterized by Friends, Baywatch, and Will and Grace.
While being gay isn’t in itself illegal in Jordan, the few bars and restaurants known as gay hang-outs are routinely shut down for such violations as public displays of affection. Even though Jordan is known as probably the most pro-Western country in the Middle East, initiatives such as gay marriage-- accepted in Europe and controversial in the US, aren’t even on the radar here.
A conversation with one of the most prominent individuals in Amman’s gay community was revealing: when it comes to gays and lesbians in Jordan, it is the small victories that count: finding a place for a single gay child, disowned by their family, to live, or, on a grander scale, stopping the tribal honor killings committed against openly gay individuals.
The experience of gays in Jordan represents a sort of microcosm in the clash between modernity and antiquity shaping both Jordan and the wider region. While it is easy for individuals in government and civil society organizations to espouse political and social reforms, one must also remember that customs in the region are rooted in thousands of years of tradition (in comparison to the 200 and change years of the United States). The same tribes, with the same customs and decision-making processes, exist now as existed five hundred years ago.
As such, espousing radical (albeit necessary) reform can be both politically difficult and socially intractable. Especially given the prevalence of both Islamists and tribal leaders in government, reformers face a significant challenge in passing measures that significantly alter the status quo. As an American in Jordan, at the crossroads of revolution and tradition, it is easy to experience the effects of these cultural phenomena, as well as government policies, in action. It would be much harder to live through some of them.
Rajiv Lalla is a Columbia College junior studying abroad in Jordan.
9 April 2009
vol. 6, issue 9
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