[somber music playing]
[woman] "Beirut, my birthmark.
What came with you, Beirut,
Bullets before my mother's milk.
Beirut,
you are under my skin.
Split bit by bit, you melt into sunset on blistered rooftops.
It hurts to touch you, Beirut.
You are a lesson I'll never learn.
It hurts to love you, Beirut.
But I still knock at your door at 4:00 a.m.
when the neon lights in your neighborhood are dwindling,
when the political chants in your square are soothed,
I will stay outside your door.
I know you'll never open for me.
Beirut, I kissed your cracked sidewalks
and slept huddled against your bullet-ridden walls.
You and I, it's a love story for the books."
[theme music playing]
[bombs exploding]
[Amanpour] In 1975, civil war broke out in Lebanon.
[explosion]
Beirut, its capital, was split down the middle.
The war raged on for 15 years,
and more than a 100,000 people lost their lives.
While there's peace now,
religious tensions and war next door in Syria
make it fragile at best.
[explosion]
I spent decades covering conflicts in this part of the world,
but I never had the chance to ask,
"How do you live and love in a place like Beirut,
where you never know when the next bomb will drop
and where religion, so often the cause of war,
still affects every aspect of life?"
[exciting music playing]
♪ Sex, sex
♪ Sex, sex, sex ♪
[woman] Can you imagine that, in the Arab world,
most Googled world in Arabic is "sex"?
I mean, yeah,
everybody is Googling it,
everybody is trying to watch movies on Youporn.
Everybody is obsessed with it,
only because it's a taboo.
[Amanpour] Joumana Haddad is a Lebanese author and journalist,
who spent decades trying to understand
and change the culture of sexual repression in the Arab world.
You've written, you've said
that
to be a woman in the Arab world,
-or just to be an Arab means to be a hypocrite. -Yeah.
- What do you mean by that? - To a large extent,
either that or you are willing to pay the price
and the price could be anything.
It could be being ostracized,
being rejected by your family,
being criticized, being attacked,
even threatened.
But, many people choose hypocrisy,
which means putting on the mask
that would please the others,
please the society, please the religious men.
And then, do, in secret,
whatever you need to do as a human being,
and fulfill your own needs and longings.
Would I be right to think that in Lebanon, in Beirut,
a Christian woman is much more liberated than a Muslim woman?
Oh, my dear, I'm sorry, we have to disappoint you.
I mean, let me tell you about...
- I brought my cultural... - I've been raised...
I was raised as a Christian
in a very Catholic family.
My parents were way more conservative
than a friend of mine who was a Muslim.
People always think, especially in the West,
if she's Christian, she's liberated,
if she's a Muslim, she's, you know, oppressed,
and it's not like that.
It depends on the family, it depends on how much
traditions and religion matter in that family.
[Amanpour] When you say that everybody is Googling it and watching it,
is that healthy? Does that mean
that there's a burgeoning sexual liberation that we don't know about?
No, it's not this that leads to sexual liberation.
What leads to sexual liberation is owning your body,
and deciding for yourself what you want to do with it.
[Amanpour] Enter Jasad or "body" in Arabic,
Joumana's controversial magazine,
is a fusion of erotica and serious topics
involving sex and the body.
I thought I want to start my own magazine as a journalist
and I wanted to deal with something that we need
to talk about
and I thought about sexuality,
but not only about sexuality.
All the problems and taboos related to body in the Arab world.
Homosexuality, violence, marriage of underage girls,
you know, we tackled so many subjects.
And how was it received?
I mean, do people read it?
Everyone bought it.
No one admitted buying it. It was...
literally flying off the shelves.
And what reaction did you get from society,
- from religious here? - Oh, lots of...
critics. Many people tried to stop it.
Lots of threats.
- Even death threats. - Death threats?
- Yes. Of course. - Really?
Acid threats.
- Acid threats. - Rape threats.
I mean, I have
a folder in my email dedicated to those.
Were there many of those here when you started it?
- Many of who? - Those magazines.
No, it was the first.
Although I have to say that our heritage
in Arabic is full with amazing works.
Like "the Perfumed Garden"
that tackled erotica,
they would make you blush.
[dramatic music playing]
[woman narrating in Arabic] Do not unite with a woman
until you have been playful with her
and then the pleasure will be mutual.
You will bring excitement to her
by kissing her stomach and her thighs
Once you finish, do not neglect any part of her body.
Hold her tightly with tenderness.
[man] This is The Perfumed Garden.
This is the first book written,
I think, in universal literature
which would start
by a sexual orgasm
between a man and woman in the name of God.
[Amanpour] Antoine Abi-Heila and his wife Rita
have agreed to show me their private collection of rare books,
including this 15th century Muslim erotic text.
It is written by an Islamic Imam
in conformity
to the Islamic theology.
The current Islamic clerics...
I mean, sex is verboten, it's taboo. It's, "don't do it!"
Sexuality in Islam is a gift of God.
Sex is an act of procreation,
but also an act of pleasure
because if you don't have pleasure in doing it...
- What's the point of doing it? - Yeah.
[Amanpour] So, more than five centuries ago,
sex for pleasure was not only accepted, it was recommended.
Each chapter is related to recommendation.
One chapter for the woman, one chapter for the man.
To be... What you had to do,
the man to be attractive for the woman,
to give her satisfaction,
but what is really interesting, that is putting
both on the same level.
[Amanpour] Incredibly, in this book,
equal weight is placed on male and female enjoyment.
A surprisingly progressive idea for 15th century
Arab society.
-Was that surprising for you Rita? -Yes.
I am very surprised.
What it is like for women here today?
Men and women are not equal.
In the Middle East especially,
they are trying to teach us that Sex is bad.
So what do you think is the real significance, the importance of this text?
Well, I think that if everybody had access
and if we had published these books in Arabic countries,
a lot of things would have changed.
Politicians they would never publish these
because the Imams and our leaders,
they would no longer be able to hold power.
Because people would really want these things.
[Amanpour] Rita is suggesting that books granting equal rights to men and women,
in the bedroom at least,
could seriously challenge the power of the patriarchy
and that religious leaders would never let it happen.
And I see there the Prophet Muhammad's name.
- [Antoine] Yeah. - [Amanpour] In big writing.
So this is a sex manual that evokes his name?
Yeah, but I don't dare to because I can shock.
The people in darkness saying this in the name of God... you can shock.
Do you mean to say that you are reluctant to read it out loud right now?
In Arabic.
It's tough because it refers to God?
- Yeah. - And you don't dare say that?
Because he is mentioning the penis and the vagina of the woman.
This is very tough, even for enlightened people.
You cannot mix God with penis and vagina in the same page and
even if it has been written 500 years ago.
-You mean today you can't mix it? -Yeah.
The Perfumed Garden opens the door to a world
of sexual equality and playfulness, long since forgotten.
It seems almost unimaginable that The Perfumed Garden
could have been printed and published and used hundreds of years ago.
So how does that work? Why did it suddenly change from this
acceptable erotica, sort of sex manuals, suddenly it's taboo?
That's one of the biggest, most important questions of my life.
And there are different answers.
One of them would definitely be
the way religion has gained more space in people's lives.
It did because many systems in the Arab world,
many regimes and especially in the early 20th century
turned out to be corrupt,
turned out to be dictatorial.
And so people found their consolation, in a way, in religion.
And so religion gained more and more influence and liberalism lost.
[Dr. Ossmann in Arabic] I would like to know what basic information
you have about marital relationships.
Nothing... absolutely nothing.
This is the office of gynecologist and sexologist Dr. Caroline Ossman.
Julie is about to become a bride
and she's seeking advice about her upcoming wedding night.
[in Arabic] Do you know about the private parts?
What and where the erogenous zone are?
I know that the two body parts that women take care of,
the most, are essential to men.
-Which are? -The breasts and the other thing.
Which is?
[chuckles nervously]
You can't say it even if it's just the two of us?
Okay.
So you identified a real need here in Beirut
for women to learn the basics about sex.
There is something taboo about the sexology
even in our homes and in our society, in our school.
There is no sexual education neither in home, neither in school.
Like Julie, many women are going to their marriage beds blind,
but Dr. Ossman is trying to change that.
[in Arabic] So here is the clitoris...
And here is the G-Spot.
The hymen is this thin layer that tears and causes pain.
But what scares me is not the idea of being in pain.
I hate the idea of someone touching me.
Even if a scene with sex comes up on t.v.,
I leave the room.
Maybe it's because my parents are very conservative.
They've told me over and over again to be careful.
And so it's possible I developed a fear.
So this young girl, she's about to get married,
and she's worried about losing her virginity to her husband.
This culture so focused on hymen, on hymen, on hymen.
The hymen is very important for you.
And in one night you should lose it.
Really it becomes, wow, why...
you told me to take care of this all my life.
Now I should give it to him? Why?
[Amanpour] The doctor says that Julie's fear of sex
which has already caused her to break off two engagements
comes from growing up in a religious culture that fetishizes the hymen.
It's not easy letting go of something
you've been instructed to protect your whole life.
[in Arabic] Do you think your relationship can persist without intercourse?
I wish... but I know how important it is.
If you reject him, he won't be okay with it.
So if you don't lose your hymen,
you'll lose a lot of other things instead.
So the idea is to try to get over the fact that we are losing something.
On the contrary, you're gaining a supportive partner.
But what about the women who did have sex before marriage?
I have from all ages, even young women,
they ask for, sometimes for liberal woman,
they ask to repair their virginity.
What does that mean? Repair their... what?
Hymenoplasty.
So resew, re-stitch, reconstruct.
Reconstruction for the hymen.
- Is that common? - Yes, it's common.
Why do they want that?
Because our society obliges each girl to be a virgin before her marriage.
So I'm not helping her to...
talk lies to her partner, but as I...
- I mean, you are a little bit. - No, no.
Really, when you know our society, they are very tough, these girls.
There is no possibility to have family.
No one will accept her as his wife.
- If she's not a virgin. - Yes...
- If her hymen is not intact. - Yes.
Most of our culture, like that.
So if I helped her to be a virgin again,
I'm helping her to get a new life, to have a new family,
so I'm glad to do it.
[Amanpour] Lebanon officially recognizes 18 religious denominations,
each with the power to administer marriage,
divorce and custody matters to their faithful.
Each religious sect follows its own distinctive set of laws.
But all the laws, whether you're Christian, Muslim, Jewish or Druze,
have one thing in common,
if you're a woman, you have close to zero rights.
How old were you when you got married?
I was 18 and a half years old when I got married,
and I was 22 when I got my divorce.
[Amanpour] Nadyn, a Shia Muslim,
suddenly found herself with no protection
and no legal rights when she was facing divorce.
So, if a woman seeks a divorce,
do you get the right to financial compensation, sharing money?
No, actually in Shiite courts,
it's not allowed to woman to ask for divorce.
And what about a man? Could your husband ask for a divorce and get it?
Yes. In these courts, man can ask for divorce
and get it and man can divorce woman
even if they don't accept or if they don't show in the courts.
So just even without their wife even knowing, they can just...
- Yes. - Get a divorce?
He can send you the paper to the home
and then you're gonna look at the paper, "I'm divorced?" Okay, that's it.
So, when your husband wanted to divorce you,
what did the judge say? What did he say that you could have?
They all told me that you have to accept
the policies he's putting for you
or you would have to wait to see your son
for five or six years till a judge give you a decision.
I spent two months not seeing my son.
And this situation was driving me crazy,
because my son was only two and a half years old.
[Amanpour] The court decided in favor of her husband.
For the last five years, Nadyn has seen her son only one day a week.
For them, it's the law.
Man has the right to decide how many hours you have to see
your son. I had shock, psychological shock.
Just to be clear, a mom does not get custody of her child?
No. If it's a boy,
he can stay with his mom until he reaches the age of two.
And, if it was a girl,
she would stay with her mother
till she reaches the age of seven.
But he was determined to have the child?
Yes.
So how does that work with your boy then?
I mean you see him once a week for 24 hours.
I assume 12 of those hours, he's asleep.
Yes. So, it's basically 12 hours.
I spend most of the week missing him.
[somber music playing]
My thoughts all the time are, "What is he doing? Is he safe?
Is he good? Is he sick?"
Because I'm not allowed even to call him by phone
or I'm not allowed to ask about him in the school
- or visit him in the school. - Really?
No. Whenever I walk in the street
and I see children with their parents,
coming back from school, I start crying.
I see him every Friday afternoon until Saturday afternoon.
So I wake up from the morning,
today I'm gonna see him.
I prepare for him the food he loves the most.
Usually when he comes to me,
I spend most of the night awake,
just hugging him and smelling him and kissing him.
I have a role to play
in one day as a role another woman do in seven days,
so in this one day, I have to build a connection.
I have to make him safe.
I have to know everything and every detail about his school.
And I have only day
to prove for my son that I am a good mother
and to do all my duties for him.
What do you love most and miss most?
His laughs and giggles.
When he comes to the home, I feel like there's movement,
there's life. There's a child who, like, enters the room
and makes it lively and makes it joyful.
This is a drawing my son drew a year ago.
[laughing] Look at that! The heart-shaped eyes! That is beautiful.
Yes, this is him...
[Amanpour] Sitting on a chair.
Yes and waiting for me to come and take him.
[Amanpour] According to Sharia Law
followed by the Muslim community of Lebanon,
divorced women like Nadyn must wait until their child turns 14,
when they can choose to continue living with their father
or move in with their mother.
Are you looking forward to when he's 14 years old?
Yes. Looking forward, but I still find that it's a very long journey.
- It is. - Now, when he is 14 or 15,
or when he grows up, he might decide to stay with me.
And maybe for me this would be like a substitution,
a small substitution, on all the years that we were apart from each other.
All right. Who is my next love?
Hello, so... Real quick, where're you from?
[Amanpour] Masquerade speed dating.
In Beirut's battlefields of love, perhaps nothing demonstrates
the challenges faced by its women more than this event.
[lively music playing]
Here in this city, the male to female ratio vastly favors men,
candidates may not be as they claim,
and there's the constant pressure of a ticking clock.
So, finding love is far from easy.
Unfortunately, it has been mainly a sequence of disasters.
But I think you know I've literally reached the point
where I'd rather read a good book.
[laughing]
[playing the trumpet]
[Amanpour] Across town in another night spot,
I'm meeting three friends, Jasmina, Samah and Lara.
To talk about life in the trenches of singledom.
So how difficult is it to date in Beirut?
Growing up in, I think, an Arab household
from the get go, you're expected to get married.
That is your trajectory as a woman.
I get a lot of questions about "Oh, why are you still single?
You're strong. You have a career. You have a lot going for you.
Why haven't you met the right person yet?"
At least at my age, as a 38-year-old,
many 38-year-olds are not interested in a woman my age.
So, people start to kind of convince you
that "Maybe a guy in his 60s would be good for you."
Can you see that happening?
Definitely not, for me.
And do you think that being your own boss, being your own entrepreneur...
Is that a plus for a guy as you try to seek dating and marriage?
Or is that a minus in a society like Beirut?
I don't know.
You hear that these guys want the strong, independent,
hard working woman who can juggle everything.
You hear, they want these things.
But then they end up going for the other kind of girl.
We live in a society where gender roles have changed,
in the sense that women are working. All my friends are working.
They all are career-focused.
But at the same time, the gender role has not really changed for men.
So, the men go to work. But it's very rare to find men
who will help at home.
On the surface, we seem very liberal,
we seem very open,
yet deep down I think we're still quite traditional
and I think most guys want a more traditional woman to marry.
When it comes to like random dating,
they're very happy to have the girl who will happily have sex,
but when it comes to marriage, they want the girl who is...
- A virgin. - [Jasmina] A virgin,
- basically. - Basically.
-Yeah. -Which is pretty difficult. It's a real double standard.
- Definitely. - Yeah.
Have you ever thought about, "Well, actually. It might be easier
to have an arranged marriage or to have my parents see
if there's some nice man out there."
Has that ever crossed your mind?
Yeah, it has crossed my mind.
And there have been situations where my parents have suggested someone.
With friends of mine, they've now preferred their parents
to arrange their marriages because it's just much more convenient.
It's really difficult for woman to go out and meet men.
And parents these days tend to be far more networked in their communities.
Tinder doesn't work for everyone, see?
- Does it work for you? - No.
We've dated practically everyone in Beirut.
So, I guess the next question is,
given that you've dated everybody,
there isn't anybody left,
are you gonna have to leave the country to find another pool of men?
I think so. Definitely.
Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna find the right type of man for me in this city.
[Amanpour] With some liberal women
revisiting traditional ways of finding love,
I wonder how Beirut's conservative ladies are faring?
Dahye is a suburb with a large population of Shia Muslims
and it is controlled by the Islamist group, Hezbollah.
Lina and Rania live there.
How did you meet your husband?
[in Arabic] He has an internet cafe.
I would go there and play around on the net.
There's a difference between our ages.
People disapproved because of the age gap, but I told him, "I want you."
We fell in love and it worked pretty well.
What's the age gap?
[in Arabic] Almost 20 years.
Whoa! So, when you say he is a father figure...
- But he is handsome. - [laughing]
[in Arabic] He looks young and handsome. I love him the way he is.
Obviously, there are many different kinds of women in Beirut
and all over Lebanon. There are women who don't wear hijabs,
there are women who wear short skirts,
there are women who, you know, long hair and you know... sleeveless.
- Is that okay? - That's what they want.
They are happy? It's okay.
And how about you? Are you conservative?
[in Arabic] I didn't used to wear hijab.
I would go out late at night and drink and dance.
Only when I got married, I put on the hijab.
I said to myself, I have a family now.
I need to settle down. I changed my old habits.
So, your husband, who's 20 years older than you,
you fell in love with...
[in Arabic] No, no it's not him.
He's the reason you're wearing the hijab?
You stopped drinking, you stopped dancing?
[in Arabic] No, not at all. I got tired.
I had enough. I got bored. I had done everything I wanted to do.
What do you tell your girls and your boy
about love, about marriage, about relationships?
[in Arabic] I don't like to impose on them what to do.
I can't tell them who to love and how.
In your family, is your happiness important to your husband?
Not just emotional happiness, your physical happiness, your intimacy happiness?
Yes, of course. For me, it's very important.
I need to be happy otherwise he will not be happy.
- In bed? - [laughing]
If I was sad, he will be sad.
That's my right. It's not just his right. It's my right too.
[in Arabic] People have changed and society has changed.
It's true that we live in Dahye in Hezbollah area, but
we have the complete freedom to do whatever we want.
Can you imagine living outside of Lebanon as a woman?
[in Arabic] Of course not, of course not.
If I lived in Saudi Arabia, they would shoot me after 3 hours.
After three hours, they would shoot me.
[laughing]
I'm surprised by how progressive Lina and Rania seem
and I'm curious to know where they stand
on the all important issue of virginity.
Do you think it's important for women to stay virgins until they're married?
Like your daughter, for instance?
[in Arabic] Surely, it’s important that
the girl stays a virgin until she is married.
Ours condemns any sexual relationship that happens outside marriage.
This is why, I would want my daughter to be a virgin
to start her life right and continue that way.
Beirut has a reputation
of being home to some of the most beauty obsessed women in the world.
Everybody here is gorgeous.
- You're gorgeous... - Thank you.
Everybody is gorgeous. What is it about the obsession with looks here?
Women in Lebanon have always had this stylish outlook.
They've always cared about how they look, what they wear.
I do believe that some part of it is because
you were raised in a destroyed city.
And when you are raised in a beautiful city, that's been destroyed,
you really... it becomes like a mirror of the way you see yourself.
And you want to make it beautiful again
by making yourself beautiful again.
[Amanpour] Wealthy or not, young or mature, liberal or conservative,
going to the beauty salon here is part of daily life.
I feel like Sophia Loren.
Kholoud is one of this salon's most dedicated customers.
Do you do this, how often? The makeup and the hair.
The hair? I do that every day.
- Every day? - Yeah.
I've been doing this on daily basis, almost like for 17 years now.
- Here, in this salon? - Here, yes.
- And your face made up? - Yeah.
- Here? - Yeah.
They take care of me. And then I start my day with beauty and love.
Would you step out of the house,
would you face the day without being made up?
- I can't. - You can't.
I can't. And even my children, my husband,
they're used to seeing me like that, inside the house.
But, you know, my mom is like that.
I never saw her inside the house without her lipstick
and her high heels. Even though she's cleaning and doing stuff.
- Inside the house? - Inside the house.
[Amanpour] With the ever-present memory and threat-of war,
instant gratification has become the principle to live by.
Most Beiruti women would rather spend their money
on looking beautiful today than save it for the future.
We cannot plan. We don't have a vision for ten years or five years,
or two months. We never lived time of peace because of war.
We learn to live for today
and we want to make the most of our day
because we don't know when we're going to die.
They're always open, even during times of war,
I mean it's shelling outside and you would always see women coming here,
doing their highlights.
[laughing]
[Joumana] When you've been raised in war, you learn,
in order to survive, to just get away with whatever you can do.
It's about having fun
because maybe tomorrow you wouldn't be able to have fun
because something bad could happen, because when a war is going to start
there's always this idea in people's heads.
-And people still worry about that? -Of course, and it's real.
[whooshing]
[playful music playing]
[woman] In Lebanon, you have two lives.
You have the day life and you have the nightlife.
So you could have a person who's very, very correct
and very simple in his day life.
And then at night, they switch completely.
It's a way of letting go of whatever all the stress they have been containing,
[Amanpour] Laila and her business partner, Carma,
throw pop-up dance parties,
where everyone, no matter their race, religion, sexual orientation,
or economic status, is welcome and free to do whatever they want.
[rock music playing]
There are no rules and it's totally uncontrolled.
You just don't know what's going to happen.
And I think there is a lot of charm to this.
Maybe this stems from the war, this instinct
of living like it's the last day of your life.
So everything we do is done in a very intense way.
[Laila] Even during the war of 2006,
the nightlife was still kicking.
The nightlife was very essential
because this is what was needed where people would like drink,
release themselves and they just really let it out.
[somber music playing]
[Amanpour] These walls, these stairs, these corridors during the civil war,
they served as cover for snipers.
For men on the active front line between East and West Beirut,
death seemed imminent.
So why hold back your true feelings?
Amongst the blast scars and bullet-riddled walls,
there are some carefully, hand-painted words.
[Dima] I saw this line written on one of the walls
and it said, "If my love for Gilbert is a crime, then let history witness
that I'm a very dangerous criminal."
[Amanpour] The story goes that two men, snipers
fighting for the Christian militia,
were ensconced here for years, and during that time,
they fell in love.
The writing on the wall is Khartoul's declaration of love for Gilbert.
[Dima] This city, sometimes you wake up and you feel like it doesn't love you.
And so, sometimes I wake up at 5:00 a.m., I sit on my balcony,
and I have tears in my eyes thinking,
"Beirut, why don't you love me back?"
[Amanpour] Dima Mata is a writer and artist,
who hosts a monthly storytelling night that's LGBT-friendly.
Even in relatively liberal Beirut,
homosexuality is still criminalized,
just like around the rest of the Arab world.
[Dima] Before I came back to Lebanon,
one of my friend's friends said, "So, you're going back to Beirut?"
And I said, "Yes. I am."
And she's like, "You're not scared?"
And I said, "Yes, I am."
And she said, "But it's okay because then you get to fight the beast from within.""
[Amanpour] In May 2017, despite countless threats from religious groups,
Beirut held its inaugural Gay Pride Week, the first ever in the Arab world.
And Dima decided that she would host the first LGBT storytelling night.
[Dima] I thought nobody would show up.
And then, 400 people did.
And it's specifically gay stories, is it?
- Yes, all of them. - All of them.
Usually the open mic lasts for half an hour or 45 minutes.
And it went on, the entire event was about four hours long,
because people kept raising their hands and wanted to go up
and come out and share their coming out stories.
[Amanpour] While the storytelling night is a great outlet
for members of this community,
Dima and her friends Sinine, Shaden, Zayneb and Rami
struggle every day to navigate love and life in their complicated city.
What about the normal thing
of walking along the promenade, the seafront?
And wanting to hold hands with your partners? Wanting to kiss?
No, so on the seafront, no there is no way you could actually do this.
I cannot envision kissing my girlfriend,
let's say if I'm walking on the cornish, for example.
- Or anywhere. - Or anywhere.
We know which neighborhoods are relatively safe.
And we know which bars and restaurants are gay-friendly.
And we act accordingly.
You always run the risk, despite these locations being LGBTQ-friendly,
you always run the risk of being discriminated against.
Gender also plays a role. So, me as a lesbian,
for example, might not face the type of discrimination, let's say,
that a gay man might face only because whenever you're shaking
the concept of masculinity, people really don't like it.
- [Rami] Yeah. - They're more okay with,
let's say, two women being together.
So, you're the only man here. How difficult is it?
It depends because even the law they tend to discriminate more against,
if you're going to use the terms top and bottom,
they discriminate more against the person who's bottoming,
playing the woman's role as they call it.
They get more of the discrimination and more of the bullying.
A friend of mine and his date were in a car mostly talking,
maybe a kiss here and there.
And a police officer knocks at their window.
And a second police officer joins them.
They get out of the car
car and the first question is, "Who's the girl here? Who's getting fucked?"
And they say it with that terminology. That's why I use that word
just because it is so vulgar and it's so demeaning to the people right there.
They're two adults, they're having a conversation,
and yet they get treated this way.
And at the end, nothing happened.
But there's always that fear that something might happen.
You might end up in jail. You might end up being interrogated.
[Shaden] There's another thing that... the egg test.
[Rami] Oh, God. That is terrible.
- [Amanpour] The egg test? - Yeah.
[Amanpour] Standard police procedure in Beirut until only very recently
the egg test, which involved inserting an egg-shaped metal probe into the rectum
to prove that a man has had anal sex, and is therefore gay.
- It's barbaric. - [Amanpour] So barbaric.
-[Sanin] It's a form of torture. -[Rami] So demeaning as well.
The idea of getting arrested, those are the things that sort of frighten you
that maybe you'll get dragged down some corner and beaten up by someone.
What do you think it's like in the conservative communities...
[Rami] Hell, I can imagine.
For anybody who's gay in those communities?
You have to hide so much, and the stress that gives you,
and then you're forced into living a lifestyle that you don't want to live.
There's so many gay men who have married lesbians
and who have families now,
and each one of them has,
the guy will have a boyfriend, the girl will have a girlfriend,
and both of them are married also to other men and women,
and they're carrying on this thing to just have families,
just for the sake of appearance.
The Beirut Pride event succeeded with flying colors literally.
I do still believe that we have a lot of work to do.
Things are changing, and it's so hard to see because we're in it.
But if you just take one step back and we realize the progress
we've made over the past decade or so,
then we get reminded there's a little bit of hope, so we keep going.
- Can I ask you a question? - [Amanpour] Yeah.
Have you ever had a gay experience?
[all laughing]
And do you really think I'm going to answer you?
No, I'll be in trouble.
Yes, I'll be in trouble. I'll be uncool or cool, either way.
[Amanpour] Beirut is a mosaic of faiths, values, and convictions,
stuck between the wounds of the past and the uncertainty of the future.
Here religious fundamentalism
isn't just, in large part, what caused the wars,
it's also a response to them.
While many do find comfort in strict, religious practices,
other Lebanese women rebel against the idea
that religion should rule their lives and their bodies.
So they're willing to keep fighting for their right
to love who they want and how they want.