The Brooklyn Rail

I was a classic, textbook case of “gay child,” growing up in post-war Beirut. At the time I thought that my theatricality was the result of being brought up in a household with two artists for parents. I wasn’t like the other boys, clearly. I didn’t question my otherness, and neither did my family—the outside world saw it differently. I am privileged, however. I got to live my childhood (almost) free from being made to feel ashamed about myself. Neither my mother nor my father were religious or conservative. My father was a musician and my mother a painter, and their liberal attitudes were somewhat of an anomaly in the socially charged and conservative climate of post-war Lebanon. It’s naïve to assume that my upbringing meant that growing up queer was simple—it never is. But it did allow me space to view my queerness with curiosity, rather than festering shame. As I became more conscious of the way the world perceives me, I began to apply that same curiosity to the labels and insults used against me. What did it all mean? Why did those words have such an impact?

The Queer Arab Glossary constitutes an extensive snapshot of the linguistic landscape of queerness in the Arabic-speaking region. The entries reach out into the ancient as well as the recent past, but predominantly survey the language of today. They encapsulate the lexicon of the queer Arab community in all of its differences, particularities, and quirks.

When the language we inherit does not equip us with the tools to speak about ourselves, we create our own. Queer slang is a way to identify other members of our community; it is an expression of social recognition and a form of protest. Slang allows us to say things conventional words and phrases are incapable of expressing; it fills the gaps. As our understanding of our queerness develops, alongside cultural and socio-political changes that will ultimately ensue, queers will innovate new slang on the daily. As exciting as the prospect of new queer slang is, it is imperative to document and conserve slang of today and whatever we can salvage from the past.

We must conserve memory. It is evidence of our existence, but also knowledge for later generations to learn from. It is no surprise that archives and memory are constantly under attack. In 2023 alone, Lebanon’s National News Agency’s photo archive was stolen by unknown assailants, while the Israeli Zionist occupation forces destroyed Gaza’s “Central Archives,” which contained thousands of historical documents dating back more than 150 years. Insidious attacks on memory allow those who control the narrative to not only shape the socio-political discourse of today, but to rewrite and reshape the past as well.

In the face of continuous marginalization and silencing—as well as looming challenges by artificial intelligence, which might further blur the line between fact and fiction—it is imperative we conserve our stories, images, culture, and language.

As queer elders pass, a great wealth of knowledge and wisdom passes too. For young queers, it might be a lifelong challenge to navigate the murky and treacherous waters of understanding not only themselves, but how they exist within a community and society. That challenge may sometimes be all-encompassing, and even lethal. Perhaps a project like this book might help pass on the knowledge and facilitate understanding. It allows for young queer people to have a footing firmly fixed in the ancestral past, a more nuanced understanding of today and the tools to help navigate the uncertain future.

1. Ḥabbāba (Lebanon)

   Derived from ḥubb (love), but used more to denote someone sweet or nice (“likeable”) in local slang; term used amongst women in Tripoli (north Lebanon) as code for a woman who has intimate relations with other women; more widely used in the first half of the 20th century. A ḥabbāba could be identified by other ḥabbābāt by wearing a neck scarf knotted on the side.

2. Khawal (predominantly Egypt)
   The khawal was a traditional native male dancer in Egypt cross-dressed in feminine attire and was popular up until the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The word is now used like “faggot,” to refer offensively to anyone suspected of being effeminate and/or gay. Mostly used in Egypt but also in other Arabic-speaking countries.
3. ʿAqraba (Lebanon, Syria)
   Arabic for “scorpion”—refers to a (cisgender or trans) woman who tries to “steal” a gay man’s partner.
4. Mzanibra (Palestine)
   From the colloquial word for clitoris, zanbūr, and refers to a “strong” girl, who is so sexually active that her clitoris has morphed into a penis, i.e. is now manly.
5. Naʿnūʿ / Naʿnaʿ / Mnaʿnaʿ (Lebanon, Syria)
   “Loose,” “swaying”; refers to effeminate men and boys. Might have originated from the name of the protagonist of Naʿnūʿ al-Dallūʿ (Na’nou’ the spoiled), the Arabic version of the American animated series My Pet Monster.
6. Dunbug Al-ʿīr (Iraq)
   “Cock drum”; the dunbug is the goblet drum or darbuka in Iraqi dialect; refers to someone who craves cock and can keep taking cocks one after another, just like a drum receiving beats from the drummer.
7. Bājī (Iraq)
   Turkish for “big sister,” used as a term of respect for any older woman, equivalent to “auntie” but also used among lesbians, where the younger woman addresses her older partner with this. Sometimes used among gay men to tease those older among them, the way ukhtī (sis) is used in other dialects.
8. Boya, pl. Boyāt (Bahrain, Kuwait, Qatar, Oman, Saudi Arabia)
   Arabization and feminization of the word “boy,” refers to a masculine-presenting woman (queer or not), on the presumption that all queer women are masculine. Most commonly used in the Gulf region.
9. Khor (Kuwait, Oman)
   “Creek” in reference to the anus; used among gay men to refer to a “bottom,” and particularly a promiscuous one who is assumed to be constantly wet with fluids.
10. Ṣafʿūn (UAE, Kuwait, Oman)
    Colloquial term used by gay men to refer to someone who is hot or attractive in “the market.” May originate in the phenomenon of the ṣafāʿina (literally means “slapped around”) in the Abbasid era, who were young men at the court of the caliph al-Muqtadir who were paid by those present to get slapped on their behinds as a form of entertainment.
11. Kāhina (Oman)
    “High priestess”; an established, older gay “mother” who enjoys respect and stature in the community. Mostly used among lesbians but also sometimes by gay men.
12. Māl al-Ḥūṭa (Bahrain)
    The ḥūṭa (pl. ḥuwaṭ) is a barn where horses and other animals are kept in the villages. It is assumed that youth and men who hang around those areas engage in same-sex practices. In Bahraini dialect (and other Gulf and Iraqi dialects), māl is added before a word as a possessive article or to indicate association, so the term means “someone who hangs around the barn.”
13. Yrabbī Ḥamām (Bahrain)
    “Pigeon keeper”; ḥamām (pigeon) is a common euphemism for penis; the term refers to someone who engages in gay sex.
14. Allāhumma Iḥfaẓnā (Saudi Arabia)
    “God help us”; used derogatively to refer to queer people as if they were a scourge.
15. Biskilitta (Egypt)
    Arabisation of bicyclette (bicycle) in French; gets “ridden” a lot; normally a “bottom”; used for shaming someone promiscuous; has a lot of casual sex.
16. Awlād Mīkī (Sudan)
    “Mickey-Mouse kids”; used to refer to men who do not conform to traditional masculine norms of gender presentation or behavior, including effeminate or gay men, on the presumption this is out of a desire to emulate Western culture.
17. Shawwāya (Morocco, Tunisia)
    “Grill rack”; refers to versatile gay men who flip over during sex, like meat on a grill.
18. ʿInayba (Morocco)
    “Little grape” in colloquial language. Refers to men who don’t display normative masculine behaviour; effeminate; gay. A gentler term compared to the highly offensive zāmil.
19. Qardāsha (Tunisia)
    Traditional wooden tool used to filter wool to turn it into balls of yarn, composed of two parts that rub against each other. Used to refer to two gay men who are both bottoms and tops during sex; may also be used for lesbians.
20. Miyya w Sitta / Cent-six (Algeria)
    The number 106 in French and Arabic; refers to an Algerian film Les Vacances de l’inspecteur Tahar, from 1973. In a scene that takes place in a hotel, the inspector’s deputy disguises himself as a woman housekeeper as they’re going to room 106. As they are walking, the inspector asks him to walk in a more feminine way, and he takes a very feminine walk and yells with a feminine voice, in Arabic, “106!” And, ever since, “106” has become a slur that refers to gay, effeminate men.