The event raised many questions in my head – and in the heads of many in the audience who posed things like: “Where do we go from here?” “What now?” “What have we really achieved in the past decade?” Examining the faces of the 80-something people in the audience, I recognized many as either activists or familiar faces from the LGBT community. And I see we have fallen yet again into the same cycle of preaching to the converted.

And yet, I believe that IDAHO is not a reflection of the queer movement in Lebanon at all and while I understand the feeling that our biggest annual gay event should in a way punctuate, summarize, or demonstrate how our movement has progressed in the past year, it is clearly failing to do so. Perhaps we should stop expecting it to. I did, however, promise to write up some suggested strategies of how to push our queer movement forward, so here are as many as I can think of over the next 10 minutes:

1. The queer movement in Lebanon has grown remarkably in the past 5 years with tens of initiatives sprouting across the country. We, the more established activists, should wholeheartedly endorse and support such initiatives, especially those that are outside of Helem or Meem. Often times organizations or structured groups limit potentials of people rather than empower them. We should also respect all initiatives as having equal ownership of the movement. A group of young gay men have started a discussion group in Beirut. A group of LGBTs in the South are meeting on a monthly basis. LGBT students in a university in Keserwan are working on a film project. Our movement can only grow if we not only allow it to sprout but encourage it to sprout.
2. Our movement needs a regeneration of leadership. With all due respect to the activists on the panel yesterday, but I have heard the opinions of Nadine Moawad, Rasha Moumneh, and Ghassan Makarem many times now. How about a panel that hosted a new wave of activists, for example? Even if what they have to say is not informed with many years of experience, it would be guaranteed to offer fresh new perspectives.
3. Perhaps the activists need an event that is solely dedicated to discussing the movement. Often we find ourselves in activities or retreats to discuss our organizations or committees. While that is important, it is microscopic. Let us instead organize a day where activists from different groups and of different strategies meet to discuss how we see the movement going. That way we can map out our strengths, stakeholders, alliances, developments, successes, failures, etc.. and move forward strategically. Indeed the smartest strategies are the ones we discuss confidentially.
4. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, our biggest strength is in our numbers. How are we harnessing that power? Why are the numbers of attendees at IDAHO decreasing every year? Often we think that people’s inhibitions prevent them from coming out to public LGBT events. I think that is false reasoning. It is the events themselves that need to be tailored to our community, and by that I don’t mean that we should be organizing parties or social gatherings. How many of our community really understand what it means to be queer? Or have overcome all the fears of stating: “Eh, ana shaz.” Not many. And we cannot move forward without our community. We really can’t, in my opinion. Even if that means slowing down, or getting less media coverage, or taking the time to invest in a larger range of people rather than expect them to follow the few who are out and vocal and dressed up in rainbows.
5. Someone in the audience yesterday said we must do more research. Of course. We must write more, publish more, and then write more. The reason we started Bekhsoos is to encourage everyone to write more. I, for one, believe there is nothing more powerful than storytelling.
6. Scratch IDAHO. How about instead we celebrate September 29 when back in 1999 someone registered GayLebanon.com? Maybe that will help us think more creatively & more locally about an annual event. Better yet, let us replace IDAHO with what my good friend named EDAHO (Every Day Against Homophobia).

And most importantly, let us continue to debate the strategies.

In explaining about how collective living is organized, Leil said that every member of an anarchist house has her share of responsibilities and chores, which usually rotate. So every day, there is someone who has to clean, someone who has to cook, someone who has to go get the food, etc. All the responsibilities of maintaining the house are distributed equally among its inhabitants. And to this, expectedly, someone in the audience poses the question: How do you make sure that people aren’t going to slack off if they are all volunteers? What obliges them to do the dishes or cook the food? What keeps them motivated?

To this, Leil replied: Yes, that is a good question, of course household chores are tiring and boring, so we try to come up with creative ways for people to enjoy doing them. But the bottom line is this: If it’s your turn to cook lunch today and you fail to do so, you’re going to have 15 hungry people show up in your room during lunchtime. And, trust me, you really don’t want to be in that situation, so you prefer to get your cooking done on time.

It clicked in my head that that’s how we get Bekhsoos published every week as well! Whenever we are late in doing the final publishing, and it doesn’t come out on a Monday morning, we get text messages, wall posts, chats, and emails (even phone calls) from people asking us where Bekhsoos is. And I know that our 990 fans on Facebook are also waiting for the articles. We’ve gotten to a stage where our readers expect their issue every week, and that’s what keeps us motivated. It’s very powerful – far more powerful than if we were, say, getting paid or in some sort of competition to win something. It’s even more powerful than our “LGBT” cause in abstraction. Knowing people are out there – hundreds of them – waiting for Bekhsoos is all the motivation we need.

So give us a motivation boost, invite some of your friends to “Like” Bekhsoos

April 2008 Conference in Marrakech

Exactly two years ago today, April 19, I went to a meeting in Morocco around resource mobilization for women’s rights in the Middle East and North Africa. Over 100 of the region’s top women’s rights advocates were there and it was the first time I meet them. I was extremely nervous about being an out Arab lesbian in their midst, knowing that most of them saw me as diseased or abnormal, and certainly that all of them believed I didn’t belong in a conference like theirs. My experience at that meeting, however,  was life-changing on a personal level, and an important catalyst in what we, at Meem, like to call the queering of our region’s feminist movement.

As soon as I got back from that meeting, I wrote an article for the then-quarterly Bekhsoos entitled “Bringing Vaginas to the Arab Feminist Dialogue.” It was about a speech I gave at that conference, inviting my fellow women’s rights advocates to open up our region’s movement to matters related to sexuality:

“I said that the war against women’s rights is a war against our bodies and it is with our bodies that we must fight. I said that Arab women’s rights activists should talk about vaginas. […] I talked about feminism not being feminism without the inclusion of all issues related to sexuality. I talked about deconstructing virginity, legalizing abortion, fighting rape, incest and sexual harassment, and celebrating female sexuality.”

My speech at the time was very popular, and, despite a few harsh and continuous attacks, I became known as the young feminist who pushed taboo topics related to sex at these conferences. Only a handful of people knew I was a member of Meem though – or that I was queer. I would use other organizational affiliations I had in order to get invited and/or to get my point across. Sometimes I would just invent organizations.

Fast forward two years later, I am at a similar meeting, only with fewer participants. It’s 2010 and this time we’re in Amman, Jordan. Again, I am part of a panel designed to discuss taboos in the Arab feminist movement. Again, I have a speech prepared about how we must include women’s bodies and sexualities in our Arab feminist discourses and agendas. But this time, and almost like I had planned it as a marker of our progress over two years, my speech takes a different turn. I find myself blurting out: “What’s the big deal in me being a lesbian?” Sixteen thoughts race through my head in the two-second breath between that sentence and the one I say next:

1. Oh, shit.
2. Did I just come out?
3. Maybe they didn’t notice.
4. Crap.
5. Damn it, Nadz, you always get carried away!
6. It’s ok.. I can just say I meant.. “what’s the big deal about [one] being a lesbian?”
7. They’re not going to buy that.
8. Oh, shit.
9. It’s ok.. they should have guessed by now anyway.
10. Is there anyone in this room I really shouldn’t come out to?
11. Shit, I’m in Amman.
12. Oh, crap, did all those male interpreters understand what I said? How did they translate it to Arabic?
13. Is everyone going to look at me weird now?
14. Are they going to stop liking me?
15. Fuck!
16. Fuck it. It’s about time.

“What’s the deal with me loving another woman?” I say. And I go on to explain that the big deal lies in the dangers that lesbians (and other queers) pose to heteronormativity, upon which a lot of the oppressive systems are built. But forget that part. Let’s move on to the questions and answers that followed.

A Jordanian psychologist sitting in the back of the room says: Homosexuals are sick and they become so because of sexual violence they experience as children. It is a condition that must be treated.

Most of the faces in the room turn sour as they turn to look at the psychologist murmuring things like: “that’s not true” or “shame on you for saying this.” A prominent Iraqi women’s rights activist stands up and replies: I used to believe that too.. 15 years ago.. and then I educated myself on the matter and now I understand that gay rights are human rights. A prominent activist from Mauritania, probably in her 60s, replies: To me, it is enough that lesbians are women and that they are oppressed for all of us to make room for them in our feminist movement. A legendary feminist from Palestine says: I want to learn more about how to incorporate sexual rights into our work; what are some things we can do?

Overwhelming support from the audience, compassion, protection, respect. In reply to the psychologist, I say two things:

1. It is not true that homosexuals are mentally ill. I challenge you to find any decent medical or psychiatric book published after 1982 that says so. You are simply mistaken.
2. I have experienced a “treating” of homosexuality, as you call it, and it is cruel and inhumane and I think all of us should together start a campaign that puts every psychologist that practices such a “treatment” in jail.

To that, everybody applauds, women from Jordan, Iraq, Yemen, Algeria, Morocco, Egypt, Palestine, Mauritania, Turkey – all over. They applaud and agree and I spend the rest of the conference talking more to them about lesbian issues and how we can work together to achieve gender equality for all women. In the taxi on my way to the airport coming back to Beirut, I try to comprehend the magnitude of what had happened: a lesbian welcomed and celebrated among leaders of the Arab women’s movement. Two years ago, I would have said: no way, not in this decade.

If we were to trace our steps over those two years from the Marrakech conference to the Amman meeting, we would be able to map out Meem’s strategy in pushing Arab women’s organizations to become safe spaces for lesbians, transgenders, and people of alternative sexualities. Although this topic merits many volumes of research and analysis, I wanted to end this article with some quick highlights of the strategies that brought us to where we are today, lest others like us find them useful:

1. We were always kind and patient with homophobic Arab feminists. We knew most of them weren’t homophobic out of malice but out of ignorance. Never underestimate the power of kindness in the face of hatred.
2. We built relationships with key allies to get into strategic meetings and panels.
3. Whenever we could, we went to meetings in large numbers. There is an amazing power in numbers.
4. At every single meeting we went to, we would raise a hand and ask a question about lesbians or transgenders – even if it was out of context.
5. Wherever we could, we would volunteer with women’s organizations.
6. We let prominent feminists know we appreciated everything they’ve done for Arab women.
7. We went into meetings with our own, sincere personalities, and while our sexualities remained hidden to most people, we never pretended to be other than ourselves.
8. We educated each other on women’s issues other than sexuality and trained our members on gender equality.
9. We placed lesbian and trans people’s issues within a broader framework of sexual and bodily rights.
10. We showed respect to everyone, even when our opinions and beliefs were disrespected, and, in doing so, gained the respect of our fellow activists.
11. We gave them copies of Bareed Mista3jil and links to Bekhsoos.
12. We celebrated every progress (like this one), no matter how small, and kept our eyes on the long-term goals.

And, finally, we made friends with amazing Arab feminists from all over the region, but that wasn’t a strategy. It was a bonus we gained along the way.

Photo of our protest during Ban Ki Moon's speech - Gear Up Now is the slogan of the campaign calling for a gender architectural reform in the United Nations. The "A" is me.

In short, one can summarize the meeting as one that avoided women’s rights all together. The war around sexuality was a literal war: two camps (progressives vs. opposition), strategies, battles throughout the two weeks, secret meetings, spies, attacks, confrontations… it was all there. I quickly joined forces with the progressive ranks (only to later discover, they weren’t radical enough for me) and I was screened carefully. They debriefed me with a folder that contained our arguments and strategies, as well as the names and photos of all the people in the opposition so that I could look out for them in the panels. As I moved from one panel to the next, I learned to identify them: blond, young, preppy, hair tied back neatly, young men in expensive suits, polite, and well-spoken. At first, I fell for their seemingly innocent questions: “Where in the international law does it say that abortion is a human right?” “It doesn’t,” I replied. “Then it isn’t a human right.” D’oh! I should have answered differently.

Anyway, my eye, as usual, was on the lesbians. And the lesbians were, as usual, sidelined from the discussions as if they were an appendix to women’s human rights and not one and the same. One official side event was titled LBT women specifically but touched very little on lesbian or trans issues in particular. Led by the Dutch, Belgian, and Portuguese governments, the panel merely presented what each of these governments had done to promote LGBT rights. They made little links between that and the CSW or lesbian issues and feminism. And two of the four presenters were men. I enjoyed it mostly because almost every lesbian who happened to be at the CSW was there, so I got to see some of my friends. But then my fellow activists from Namibia and Turkey asked the panelists what we, in our countries, can learn from the European experience. “You can’t learn anything from them,” I wanted to answer. “You can learn more from each other.” But I didn’t. I wanted to raise my hand and ask the Dutch, Belgian, and Portuguese gay-people-in-suits what they were doing about racism and Islamophobia in their LGBT communities and in their communities at large. I wanted to stand up and yell at everybody to take off the silly Obamanian “Export HOPE not homophobia” stickers off their shirts, stickers that IGLHRC had distributed to everyone. How about “Don’t export anything; fix your own hypocrisy” instead as a lobbying message to the American government?

But this time, I shut up. I think I am getting too old to waste my energy on queers who just don’t get it. No wonder we are losing ground. The United States cannot export nothing but homophobia because it is dominated by the imperialist right. One of the more intelligent things I heard at the CSW NGO panels was an analysis by Jodi Jacobson, editor of RH Reality Check, who gave the example of growing conservatism in her so-called liberal county in Maryland where now ex-gay flyers and anti-sex education campaigns are mushrooming in schools. She said the Republicans have been systematically infiltrating at local levels, where the most powerful battles are fought, as one lobbyist put it: “we would rather have 1000 school board members than one president.”

It angers me, this topic. It angers me so much that even two weeks later, I cannot write a coherent article about the CSW, although there are at least a dozen things I have to say about what it taught me. Wake up, queers. Wake up and rage. We need rage not assimilation. The colonizers will not liberate you.

The article cites a number of quotes by young women complaining of being approached and harassed by lesbians in universities and schools. It is hard to side-step the blatant ignorance of most of the “expert” opinion in the article. Dr Alia Ebrahim, educational consultant in Sharjah, blames a range of things – including gender identity disorder – for same-sex relationships. We expect more from a doctor than to mix up gender identity with homosexuality. Also, “Dubai-based Islamic scholar Shaikh Ahmad Al Qubaisi, speaking on the issue of lesbianism noted that while it is forbidden (haram), there is no specific punishment as per Sharia law.” He recommends that families “treat” their daughters’ homosexuality discreetly. I find it interesting that most of this GCC obsession is with lesbianism more than male homosexuality. Could one perhaps guess why? On top of the hateful quotations, the reporter Salam Al Amir adds his own ridiculous analysis of lesbian types:

The Boya: The first type is the girl who turns to sexual delinquency and plays the boy’s role.

The Tomboy: The second type is a girl who is not sexually delinquent.

The Weaker girl: The third type is the weaker, beautiful girl who gets lured by the first type.

We’ve written to the Gulf Times expressing our disappointment in their factually incorrect reporting and biased views. We urge you to do the same by filling in a comment under the article or by contacting the editor. We must make it clear that we will not stand for discrimination against lesbians and transgenders in our region.

This week and next, we’ll be looking back at a decade of LGBT activism in Lebanon, counting down our favorite moments and analyzing our greatest accomplishments. As we turn a new page of a new year, we must also acknowledge all the work it took to get us here. We start with the Top 10 Lebanese LGBT publications that came out over the past 10 years. I cannot but stand in awe of the amazing feat accomplished collectively by individuals and organizations working for LGBT justice in Lebanon. Here they are in chronological order:

1. Raynbow.org’s Human Rights and Health Monitor is a fantastic archive of media clippings dating back to 1998 and throughout which one can trace the public face of the LGBT movement in Lebanon. Hundreds of links to press articles and stories are documented in this commendable effort by Raynbow.
2. Barra Magazine is the mother of all Arab gay magazines still sought out today by LGBTs who were inpired by the courage of the Barra editorial team  headed by Munir Abdallah back in 2005. Three issues, the last of which came out in May 2006, were published by Helem and thousands of copies were distributed by volunteers in Beirut streets and bookstores. Download issues zero, one, and two.
3. Rouhab Al-Mithliyya: Mawaqef wa Ara’ (Homophobia: Positions and Opinions) is probably the most under-publicized piece of historic work to ever come out on homosexuality in Lebanon. The brainchild of Mazen Khaled and published by Helem & La CD-Theque in May 2006, Rouhab Al Mithliyya is a collection of essays  from prominent Lebanese writers and thinkers such as Rabih Alameddine, Hanan Al-Sheikh, Omar Nashabe, Marie-Rose Zalzal and others. The essays critically discuss homophobia from sociological, literary, legal, psychological, and human rights perspectives. At the time of its publication, the book broke all publishing taboos and placed local voices for LGBT justice on Arabic bookshelves for the first time in our region. You can buy it online here.
4. Souhaq is the smallest of our featured publications and only came out in two issues, its first only 4 pages – barely 1000 words in total. But it led, irreversibly, to dangerous awakenings: the lesbians had found a voice of their own. The zine called for the formation of Helem Girls in September 2006, a women-only group inside Helem, and spread like a virus across what was then an invisible network of lesbians. Download Issue 1 here.
5. Koutayyib Mish Aan AnNabat (2007) is the most creatively laid-out booklet in our collection (see excerpts here) on the topic of sexual health for LGBTs. Covering not only HIV and STDs but also mental health, it was the first manual of its kind to approach same sex relations from a positive and affirmative angle. Contact Helem for free copies.
6. Ouhibouhoum… Wa Lakin (I Love Them… But) is a parental guide to understanding homosexuality, a publication ahead of its time for Lebanese families. Launched by Helem and SIDC in a press conference last September, the booklet walks parents through different answers to questions of denial, anger, and rejection to reach acceptance through understanding the facts about human sexuality. Contact Helem for free copies.
7. Bareed Mista3jil (Mail in a Hurry) was the ground-breaking book of 41 true stories from Lebanon’s queer women and transgender communities, published by Meem in May 2009. Hundreds attended the first reading in Beirut and other readings have been staged in Amman, Ramallah, Amsterdam, New York, San Francisco, and Brussels. A best-seller at Virgin Megastores and Antoine Libraries across Lebanon, Bareed Mista3ijl has sold over 3,000 copies to date.
8. Bekhsoos.com (that’s us!) came in on September 7, 2009 to introduce a new dimension to our LGBT publication timeline, publishing weekly with news, reviews, columns, opinion pieces, creative work, reports, features, comics, and much more, covering not only Lebanon but many Arab countries as well. Read over 60,000 times to date, Bekhsoos.com positioned itself as a viable and consistent news source and archive on Arab queerness. Read some of our 2009 statistics here.
9. Homosexualities and Bisexualities: Myths and Facts very recently came out by Dr. Maha Rabbath, a psychotherapist who works with the LGBT community at Helem. As the title indicates, the booklet aims to de-mystify misconceptions and prejudgments on human sexuality, setting the record straight scientifically, pscyhologically, and socially. Contact Helem for free copies.
10. Al Ilaqat Al Mithliyya Fee Qanoun Al Ouqoubat (Homosexual Relations in Criminal Law) prepared by Maitre Nizar Saghieh, long-time defender of human rights in Lebanon just came out at the very end of 2009 and adds a much-needed comprehensive legal study to our list of publications. We just covered the launch of booklet in our last Bekhsoos issue and Helem just made the study downloadable online here.

There you have it, 10 must-read publications for your reading list in 2010.

Actually, I’m glad you asked. Today is the international day of action for sexual and bodily rights across Muslim societies: “One Day, One Struggle.” To mark the occasion, I’ve changed my sex on Facebook to raise awareness around challenges facing transgender people everywhere in the world. And I’m going to keep it that way till November 20, the Transgender Day of Remembrance. My message is simple:

1. I want you to know what “transgender” means. It is a term used to identify the many people who do not fit into society’s strict gender roles of “male” and “female.” The term represents a variety of identities that include cross-dresser, transvestite, androgynes, genderqueer, people who live cross-gender, drag kings and drag queens, and, frequently, transsexual. Please take the time to click on these links to learn more about different gender identities and expressions.
2. I want you to know that transgenders and transsexuals exist among us – no matter where we are in the world. They have the same rights as everyone else to express their gender the way they see fit. If a person is born with a female body, for example, but identifies as a male, he has the full right to do so and you have the full obligation to address him as such.
3. I want you to know that transgenders face a lot of crap from everyone: their families, their colleagues, the people on the street, the police, the public, the state – everyone! Transgender identity is still considered a mental illness, and, most of the time, transgenders face severe violence and discrimination just for not conforming to the strict gender roles, although they are not doing anything to hurt anybody.

My friends, there is a lot of awareness we need to raise about transgender issues. We need to break the silences and the misconceptions – starting from the ones in our own selves.

So I ask you to join me by doing the same on your Facebook. If you feel too scared about what people will say, then you can understand – if only for some fleeting seconds – what transgenders have to go through their entire lives. So please, take the bold step and stand up for a community who continue to suffer among us every day. Here’s what you can do to make a difference:

1. Change your sex on your Facebook account by going to Info -> Edit Information. Make sure you check the box: “Show my sex in my profile.”
2. Post a link in your profile to this page, and ask your friends to visit to learn more about your virtual sex change.
3. Join the Operation: Sex Change group on Facebook so we can keep track of who’s joined the campaign.
4. Talk to your friends about transgender identity and ask them to join this campaign. Figure out what local groups are doing to mark the Transgender Day of Remembrance and join them.
   

This is a grassroots online campaign started by a couple of Meem activists in Beirut. For more information, please interact with the group on Facebook.

And by LGBT, it meant upper-class, older, worldly gay men.

According to interviewees in the article, Lebanon’s gay community orders more expensive wine and leaves bigger tips than its heterosexual counterparts. And it does so because gay people don’t have children to spend their money on, they travel more so they are better at gastronomy and the finer things in life, and they are obsessed with their appearances so they must spend money on their looks.

Predictably, many gay activists were quick to express their disgust and outrage at the article, describing it as narrow-sighted and shallow. And they are right, it is elitist and classist and an oversimplification of economics.

But it also strikes a chord that we – as the LGBT community – should not continue ignore: our purchasing power. I will call it “The Purple Lira,” to distinguish it from the “pink dollar” referred to in the article. By “The Purple Lira,” I mean the collective purchasing power of certain, diverse groups within the queer community in Lebanon – from the ultra rich gay man to the lesbian student on financial aid, from the working class transgender woman to the bisexual middle class entrepreneur. Yes, we cover as vast an array of social class as we do of sexuality, gender ethnicity, education, and religion. And yet, if we are choosing to organize as a community around a certain identity – in our case sexual orientation / gender identity – we must acknowledge that we have stronger financial power in numbers.

While the Pink Dollars article overgeneralizes the community, it does point to a visible, vibrant niche of consumers who are indeed out there in Beirut. And then there’s the rest of us. But we spend money too. One need only take a glance at the growing list of gay places in Beirut (and Sin El Fil) to see that the growing demand is leading to a growing supply. Back when I was in college, I remember we only had Sheikh Man2oush and Acid nightclub. And I remember gay male friends constantly asking me to cover them for $5 or $10 so they can make the $20 Acid entrance fee. Today, there are dozens of places spread over the city – and not all of them expensive. As we become more organized and more socially aware in our different queer communities, new opportunities present themselves. The equation is simple: we have stronger purchasing power collectively – no matter what our individual capacities are.

The real question we should be asking ourselves is: where is our Purple Lira going?

Is it going to bars and pubs that are owned by homophobic people? Is it going to coffeeshops that are owned by collectives of people rather than a handful of shareholders? Is it going to healthy, drug-free spaces? Is it going to corporate pockets with no social responsibility or giving back to the community? Is it going to places that ban transgenders from entering? Is it going to lesbian-friendly places not just places that favor gay men? Is it going to youth-friendly places for LGBTs under 18? Is it going to a place that has an affirmative policy of employing transsexuals? Is it investing in something rather than just consuming? Is it aware of the problems with consumption? Does it try to recycle before it buys? When it buys, does it buy green, eco-friendly products? Is it going to any business that involves something other than partying, drinking, and smoking? Is it donating something to Helem or Meem or other queer initiatives? Or is it only out paying for the sash of Mr. Bear Arabia?

Unfortunately, unless we mobilize economically, we are all contributing to the culture of the gay community and its extravagant gourmet dining.

What progressive environmentalists are pushing for at the COP-15 Copenhagen Climate Conference this coming December is a treaty that is fair, ambitious, and binding. And they want the world’s leaders to sign it. Through this deal (apparently the only one that can save the planet from disastrous climate effects over the next 40 years), the governments of the world would be forced to work together and share their resources. At the heart of the proposed deal is the idea that every human being must get equal access to the remaining energy resources on earth. It is also, in effect, a campaign against consumerism. To me, the idea that governments of the world would actually sign this (even if they had guns to their heads) seems absurd. I don’t know which planet environmentalists are living on to dream of humanity accomplishing such a feat. And yet, the eternal optimist in me has to admit: if there was ever a time in our human history (except for the sci-fi alien invasion scenarios) where we could all unite, this could very much be it. People don’t understand what’s at stake here: our species. Humanity. Human beings. We, people, would become extinct unless we all stand together and treat each other equally. What stronger argument do we need? I have always envied environmentalists for their straightforward argument: “or else we’re all going to die.” I wish we, LGBT activists, could lobby for our rights by saying “treat LGBTs equally or else we’re all going to die.”

The reason we’re in this big mess to begin with is that people have had the right to have more than others, to take from others, to enslave others, and to oppress others. What activists are calling for from COP-15 is an entire shift in the way we understand economics and politics. They are calling for a world that is fair. My concern is that the analysis of what is fair has not entirely encompassed issues of all oppressed factions of society. Recent studies (such as this one by UNFPA) have shown that gender equality can reduce vulnerability to climate change impacts and that women are uniquely positioned to help curb the harmful consequences. Feminists have picked up on their strong linkage to climate change activism and last week, the F-Word published 9 inspiring examples of women’s climate activism. What remains to be fleshed out, however, is the relation of heteronormativity (enemy of the queers) to climate change. And that’s not in order for us to ride the wave of activist popularity today. It is because we know that true change in power dynamics on a global scale (which is what is needed for our human survival) cannot be achieved if we do not tackle inequity at its roots. And we, as queers, know that heteronormativity and gender normativity sit right there on the same bench as sexism, patriarchy, classism, racism, colonialism, occupation, militarism, fundamentalism, corporatism, and consumerism. We know that all of these ills are interconnected and that they will either fall together or stand strong together. We know that sexual rights of people – women and youth especially – are oppressed by religious and capitalist institutions that depend on the picture-perfect idea of a heteronormative family. We know that we have to radically change the way people understand and think about their power struggles, rather than change a particular manifestation of this struggle, such as grant a certain legal right or raise a certain minimum wage. We need to go beyond the simplistic argument that LGBT activists like Peter Tatchell are using: “There is not much point campaigning for LGBT human rights unless we have a habitable planet on which to enjoy these rights.” Duh. That is not the point. The point is that we have to make it clear that we will not be de-prioritized or left out of the political agenda. Environmentalists are fighting for a healthy and equitable planet. We need to voice clearly what equality means to us.

Otherwise, with or without a fair, ambitious, binding treaty in COP-15, climate change will become the next weapon of terror used by the people in power to manipulate, frighten, impoverish, and eradicate us, as they have done for so long. When climate change is used as a security threat to privatize more of the earth’s resources and energy production, the already-marginalized will be first in line to get knocked off the planet. So if (and hopefully when) this December marks the beginning of a green revolution, let it be a queer green revolution. And let us figure out what a queer green revolution would entail.