TRANSLATING KUIR MAGAZINE

This text is part of a video-art piece created by one of the panelists of Translating Kuir. Raphael
poetically considers memory, queer culture and public space.
I live in the center of Cairo, in the only pedestrian area available. Almost all of the shops
and cafés in the pedestrian area are closed. A few months ago, the zone wonderfully came
back to life with the adolescents that used to come here to skate or ride their bikes. In
an Arab region where we live without hope and without public space, it was lovely to see.
The adolescents, who come from all over Cairo, having fun. Girls and young women freely
finding joy in their own bodies. Kids together, teaching each other how to skate and do
tricks. Kids interacting in non-toxic ways. Making something out of nothing.
When the scene became a bit too joyful, a security guard arrived to chase them away.
The angry man with the gun, the uniform and the walkie talking ordered them to leave!
He told them that they were “causing a headache.” They even put up cement barricades
and chains to keep them out. The boardwalk once again became lifeless. I was devastated.
These kids gave us life in a daily context that would’ve made Pinochet jealous.
Not too long ago, I heard some young queer people whispering about the pedestrian area
where I live. Incredulously, they were telling each other about how ten years ago, right
after the revolution, it used to be full of queer cafés where lgbt people would hang out and
be completely extravagant. Cairo was a different place back then, with legendary queer
parties. I could also hardly image my own neighborhood full of queer bars. It really is a
completely different place now.
Many lgbt people of older generations have stopped going to the center because the
memories hurt too much. All of their old gathering places are closed. The cafés and the
liveliness are gone. Their friends have left the country or are in prison or died or are
clinically depressed.
I often think about how one of the first things that the Nazis infamously burned in Berlin
was Magnus Hischfeld Institute’s research and books. The institute was an innovative
center that supported queer and trans people. The founder himself, Magnus Hirschfeld,
was queer and worked extremely hard to change Germany’s homophobic laws. The
institute helped trans people reassign their sex to align with their gender identities. They
made it so officially affirming your gender was easier than it is now. There were more
than 100 lgbt bars, many of which were exclusively trans bars. There isn’t even a trans
bar in Berlin any more.
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