How ‘The Queer Arab Glossary’ Challenges Stereotypes About Arab Homophobia
Author prioritized a Michigan stop on his upcoming book tour — a book he calls a 'love letter' to his community
With Lebanon experiencing its deadliest day in nearly 20 years this month — not to mention the ongoing conflict in Gaza that has left more than 40,000 Palestinians dead — Marwan Kaabour says he has struggled with how to navigate the release of his debut book, “The Queer Arab Glossary,” especially when these issues hit close to home.
“We find ourselves living in an incredibly dangerous and precarious world. It just felt worthless,” says Kaabour, who is from Beirut, Lebanon and lives in London.
But the book, which Kaabour says highlights the historical and linguistic roots of the slang that different Arab dialects speak and relate to, “aims to be a record of information or knowledge that might die out,” he says.
“I'm trying to have a record of a history of a people who might otherwise not have their existence acknowledged by the world, and to try and have ownership over this knowledge. We are clearly seeing a very concentrated effort to try and wipe out the histories and the cultures that are under attack. So it shows the importance of not allowing aggressors to have control over the narrative.”
The narrative that Kaabour wants people to know about in “The Queer Arab Glossary” is that its purpose is to make people feel a sense of belonging, and that anyone can find something in it that resonates, regardless of their identity, sexuality or religious beliefs.
“It is, first and foremost, though, a love letter to my community,” he says.
“My understanding of my identity as an Arab person is formed in a specific way. And I have come to understand the difference between our identities as someone who grew up in the region versus someone who grew up in the diaspora.”
They often feel split between two spaces, Kaabour says, which is why he hopes through the glossary and his global tour following its release, his in-person discussions “further embolden those bridges of solidarity that we must need to have between us, not just queers, but also just the Arabs in general.”
Which is why when he was planning this tour, Kaabour says the one place he pushed to visit wasn’t Berlin, Paris or even New York City — though he was excited for those, too.
“Out of all of the stops for the tour, Michigan was the one I was persistent on making happen. It was important for me to come to the heartland of the Arab community in the United States,” he says.
Michigan is the state with the highest percentage of Arab Americans in the US (2.1%), with about 190,000 Arabic speakers living in Metro Detroit — or about 13% of all Arabic speakers in the U.S.
Kaabour will hold a book discussion at the University of Michigan on Oct. 11. He says he is “shocked” by the reception the book has received and the turnout at these events so far has been “mind-blowing.” “It just shows there's such a thirst for the conversation,” he says.
Kaabour grew up the son of a musician and actor father and a painter mother. Creativity was always sprinkled into his endeavors, from being a child actor back home in Lebanon to garnering himself a successful career in graphic design. He has designed over 20 books, including the “Rihanna” book by Phaidon Press.
In 2019, Kaabour shifted gears and founded Takweer, an online archive of queer narratives in Arab history and popular culture. Growing up before the internet age, Kaabour had little access to information about queer Arab people, as the discourse that was present for him was dominated by Eurocentric notions of what queerness is.
“You see this diva, this music video, this character in the movie that you relate to. You don't understand why you relate to that, but there's something unsaid that happens. And then as you get older, and as you come to define your sexuality or your gender identity, you start to make connections in your head, but you almost have to do all of that labor from scratch on your own,” he says. He hopes that thanks to Takweer and “The Queer Arab Glossary,” “every queer Arab kid won’t have to start from zero,” much like he had to.
Kaabour says his work also aims to strike down the stereotype that Arab people are homophobic and unwilling to embrace queerness in their communities.
“We need to stop making these big, broad strokes of judgments, and just have a more nuanced understanding of each other and the way we think,” he says. “I call bullshit on that, and I have the book to prove it.”
Kaabour enlisted the help of actors, poets, activists, musicians and more to contribute to the glossary to not only show the historical and linguistic roots of their dialect, but also to help readers understand the value of language, slang, dialect and queerness in today’s world.
“I think anyone can take that knowledge and learn more about their own contexts as a result,” says Kaabour, who also says the glossary might help people who weren’t born in an Arab region feel connected to their roots.
Queer people, Arab people and queer Arab people alike have been pigeonholed into rigid boxes, he says, and he hopes these conversations alter that perception.
“I thought the whole point of queer discourse was to destroy the binary," says Kaabour, "so I'm planning on just getting rid of the box altogether."