Queer Representation in Unusual Dynamics
Below is the text I gave as part of a talk in the event One Plus One Plus One exploring visual representation in context of change social and political dynamics.
As it is partly my fault, for not having replied earlier to Helen and Lilibeth's invitation, I ask your forgiveness to what might sound like a disjointed unravelling of ideas that pertain or that endeavour to appear as a coherent thought process. I thank both of them, for asking me to speak today and I am grateful for them for giving me the space to share with you these ideas and observations.
I have not seen Godard's film and due to a cultural bias towards absurd theatre and film, I would normally refrain from engaging too much with 1960s existentialist filmmaking. Since for the longest time, absurd theater remained at the forefront of theater making in Egypt and it still does.
The same way I would also normally refrain from any artistic process that uses the word, "revolution" or "analyzing the revolution" or "understanding the revolution". The moment the 'revolution' becomes an object of inquiry and analysis and its eventness ceases to exist, it becomes a monument and to me I still feel that it is not a monument and it should not be treated as such.
Having said that, after reading the proposal of 111, I was intrigued by the parallel between the perfomativity of Glam Rock and the underlined political and social changes that are taking place at the moment.
In a sense what I found interesting is how the film perceived radical Glam Rock as an analogy of the social and political dynamics that are happening as we speak. For me I would find more truth, and more genuine expression of dissent in Glam Rock than academic or institutional analysis of a phenomenon as complex as the revolution.
And when Helen and Lilibeth kindly showed interest in my writing and asked me to contribute with a text, I started thinking, what am I busy with at the moment? What, in the context of being an Egyptian living in Cairo, am I thinking about?
And like any trained social science student, I start considering my own subjectivity. And I ask you yet again to pardon me, for I am going to indulge in little autobiographical mapping of ideas, to explain more, how I reached this point.
As an undergraduate I was a feminist and my interest in feminist theory and propositions, had to do with the notion of 'writing', 'wiring' as inscribing, 'writing' as opening a space to articulate a language that goes beyond the 'law of the father', the patriarchal system to quote some of what Cixous, Kristeva or Irigaray were talking about. And the question of how does 'writing' become a transgressive act that de-stabilizes the power dynamics of language and discourse formation. Who is the subject and how is it inflected?
The linguistic marker of the feminine was not just a phonemic devise, it was an identity marker, it was a status and a clear position to and from certain power relations.
But what if 'writing' and reading 'discourse' also en-gendered certain performative acts that reinforce those 'scripts', the 'words inscribed', and that in itself 'present' a specific normative identity, i.e. masculine, heterosexual....etc? What if other performances of 'identity' 'represented' non-hegemonic representation of such constructs, of such 'scripts'? Can these alternative representations truly capture the ongoing change? Do they reflect this change? Are they part of this change? Or are they just reiterations of those ‘scripts’, of this discourse, performed and acted out by the very same people who oppress?
Let's take a medium like cinema, the same way Godard did with his practice, and let’s try to uncover how one particular film about gender representations and performativity in this particular moment, what does it reveal about our perception of ‘gendered acts’? Did it change? Can we trace a certain historical continuity that refuses to give in to those ‘sweeping changes’? or are the ‘queer representations’ don’t go beyond the fictitious and the banal?
For that I thought what might be interesting to share is a film that was released earlier this year, named Banat Al-3am, meaning, Female Cousins.
It is not surprise that most filmmaking projects were postponed, delayed or halted altogether since last year. And as usual there was a lot of talk about how the next 'wave' of films should 'incorporate' elements of the 'revolution'. However, in reality almost none of the released films had anything to do with political change or transformation, added to that, that the films released were quite few.
However, Female Cousins, pushed things even further. It is not political, it is not a thriller, it is not a social drama, its an absurd parody. The premise of the story is that three female cousins who are to inherit an old mansion, refuse to recognize that it is cursed and continue to go ahead with selling it, only to wake up one day to find themselves turned into 'men'.
The film is directed by Ahmed Samir Farag in his second long feature film as a director. He is the son of DOP Samir Farag.
The script was written by Shico, who is also the mastermind behind such parodies like Samir, wu Shahir wu Bahir and Ragal la Ta3ref el Mosta7eel, which is a parody on the Action films, along the way parodying the Egyptian army, even before the revoltion. The acting ensemble is more or less the same from the mentioned parodies.
The film follows in the tradition of absurd plot twists that "force" the characters to assume women's roles or vice-versa. One can think of such films like Sukkar Hanem (Produced 1960 and directed by Al-Sayed Bedeir and script written by Abou El-Saud Al-Ibyary), which is based on the play 'Charley's Aunt' by Brandon Thomas)
and the cult classic, Al-Anasah Hanafy (produced 1954, script written by Galeel al Bendary and directed by Fateen Abdel Wahab)....etc where under "normal" circumstances such gender-bending would not be considered acceptable and only in a comic mode of composition can such a transformation take place, since our moral and ethical sense of judgement is suspended in the overarching surreal plot. One would never normally cross-dress, but if one is under a "curse", then the transformation to a woman, or to a man, becomes a meta-ontological state that is constituted by this extraordinary event.
One need not go so far to gauge people's response to such "queering" of the dramatis personae, in one forum where members can download pirated copies of the film, one key comment on the film poster, was: "we are proud to upload normal screen-shots not the perverted ones that have been going around".
What are those perverted screen-shots?
If they are stills from the film, then the entire film is perverted. Yet people are still in shock if such gender reconfiguration is visually slapped in their faces as it is, without the element of the absurd and the paranormal.
Only in an alternative reality can we accept that men and women can exchange roles. Not only roles but bodies and the very performance that goes with those gendered bodies.
The film offers social commentary on such diverse topics, as fashion, body-image problems, marriage, the perception of women in society, the expected role of women and so on.
The film however is unusual that is completely free of any political undertones or preoccupation with the political reality.
An interesting observation is the same circumstances surrounded the cult classic Ms. Hanfy, which was produced in 1954; two years after the 1952 Coup and at the height of the power struggle between Abdel Nasser and Muhammad Naguib, on the hand, and the disputes within the RCC (Revolution Command Council) itself on the other.
Yet we do not see that all in the film. There is nothing about the promise of a progressive social reality. There is nothing about how the role of women is being re-envisioned because of all those changes, there is not even a critique of the change whether it will affect the cultural edifice of the patriarchy.
If one did not know Modern History of Egypt, one would think the film was even made before 1952 (that is what I thought when I was young).
Banat Al 3am can be summarized as three women, who become three effeminate men and are forced to reconcile themselves with their new found identity through discovering a 'man's world'.
The striking feature of the film remains its extensive use of gay speak, and camp, however, it is used in such a way that borderlines the grotesque. The script does not take into account the creative potential of camp or gay-speak, it only uses the clichés and the banal phrasing that is bound to elicit easy laughs and cheap thrills.
This was not a representation to question the assumptions and perceptions society has about 'queer' identity or 'queerness', it was rather reinforcing, through comedy and elements of the absurd that the en-gendered acts/performance for each sex, should not be changed, unless of course you are cursed.
The other visual representation I am going to talk about is a graffiti.
A quick word about the choice of this medium, that it has become the most immediate and responsive medium since the outbreak of the revolution in 2011. Of course it can be argued that even before the revolution there were attempts at was termed back then ‘Street Art’ (I think Thames & Hudson released a monograph, on what is termed “street graphics” back in 2003) and even right before the revolution there was a film called Microphone, made about underground graffiti artists, Hip Hop, and Girl Rock bands in Alexandria! It was directed by Ahmed Abdallah and the script was written by him as well.
But in the aftermath of the first mass public protest on such scale, one can think of how public space was being rediscovered and reclaimed in a way, and the need for more exposure outside institutionalized art spaces became imperative. In a way, it is perceived as something that would connect with the people in a more direct way, without the usual policing of the state.
Funnily enough there was an exhibition at Townhouse Gallery, called ‘This is Not Graffiti’, where several Graffiti artists were commissioned to paint the walls of the gallery, in a way defeating the entire purpose of graffiti. My favourite was one where the artist sprayed “Townwhores Gallery” instead of Townhosue Gallery. Anyway.
The graffiti, as it shows, depicts two figures, both men, engaging in what can be perceived as same-sex intimacy. They are kissing and there is expression of longing and rather a dreamy look, on their faces. And underneath is written, 'The Brothers and the Army are Khawalat', which is a curious term that has a colourful historical legacy and not so colourful contemporary connotation (the khwalat were entertainers and performers who replaced women in bars and taverns, when the Ottoman Sultan issued an edict barring women from performing in public sometime around 1850s I think. And for some reason they were a smashing success and the tradition endured in one way or another. Although etymologically speaking I think the term comes from root of friendship or companionship but now the term is laden with the idea of an emasculated man who engages in same-sex acts, mostly involving penetration. Penetration here being the ultimate taboo. And accepting that position hence becoming the true embodiment of the total destruction of patriarchy as we know it).
I tried to find the picture on Facebook, to try to show some of the comments that were circulated around it, but I, unfortunately, was not very successful. But an interesting comment that I saw again and again was 'Forbidden Love'. Which ironically enough is the name of a famous Turkish TV show, whose star is rumoured to be gay himself.
Aside from the current nation-wide fascination with everything Turkish, especially Turkish dramas and the long-held fetish people here have of the exotic Ottoman beauty and hyper-developed Turkish state, that everyone believes we should emulate (I could go on but that is another talk)
What I personally find, highly unusual about this graffiti, is its lack of vulgarity or the usual graphic sexual innuendos that would go with a 'queer' analogy.
If one does not the sentence underneath, it almost looks pretty.
But I think that is precisely what makes it so sinister. Almost poisonous.
It is not an appreciation of same-sex intimacy or 'queer' sexuality or an alternative representation of a social minority.
It is actually highlighting how 'evil' is the logic that constitutes queer sexuality.
The Army and the Brothers are in love, and sexually involved, the same way gay people are. The parallels selected are the worst possible pairing to draw an analogy from. Not only has this 'illicit union' resulted in the death of thousands and the slow, systematic erosion of any potential this country might have and the frustration of the hopes and aspirations of millions, but it also undermined two of most important elements of this transition. The army, long regarded as the pride and joy of Egypt, and main machine behind its modernization and development and the Brothers, long hailed as the true opposition to the system for the past 80 years, are khawalat.
The Army and the Brothers are in love, and sexually involved, the same way gay people are. The parallels selected are the worst possible pairing to draw an analogy from. Not only has this 'illicit union' resulted in the death of thousands and the slow, systematic erosion of any potential this country might have and the frustration of the hopes and aspirations of millions, but it also undermined two of most important elements of this transition. The army, long regarded as the pride and joy of Egypt, and main machine behind its modernization and development and the Brothers, long hailed as the true opposition to the system for the past 80 years, are khawalat.
Not only are they engaging in a 'heinous crime' against humanity, but they themselves are wicked and corrupt, and they have earned the evil, treacherous, and malignant status of a ‘queer’.
The image has so much information.
The linguistic legacy of Khawalat, the endurance of patriarchy and heteronormative identity, the absurd political reality of how the oppressed is 'kissing' the oppressor.' The Ikhwan were imprisoned and tortured for years by the regime, one would think that once they were allowed to participate in the political field that would be the last group to create alliances with their 'oppressor', hence how one of the men is wearing a police cap, hinting at the S&M aspect of this relationship as well.
The Ikhwan like it rough, and they like it rough from the Army.
It is definitely metaphor, but rather than expressing social unrest or dynamics of change, it shows that we have become visually progressive (we employ queer imagery) but the moral ‘scripts’ of patriarchy still linger on.
References consulted:
http://www.elcinema.com/work/wk1173494/
http://www.elcinema.com/person/pr1100133/
http://www.elcinema.com/work/wk1732116/
http://www.elcinema.com/work/wk1010139/
http://www.elcinema.com/work/wk1000401/
http://www.elcinema.com/person/pr1031659/news
Garay Menicucci, Unlocking the Arab Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in Egyptian Film quick view, Middle East Report, No. 206, Power and Sexuality in the Middle East (Spring, 1998), pp. 32-36
Ashley Woodward, Jean-François Lyotard (1924—1998), Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, 28.04.12
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charley%27s_Aunt
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gamal_Abdel_Nasser#Revolution_of_1952
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