A Life-long Commitment: Transgender Arab Realities
- Jan Amin
- Apr 1
- 5 min read
Trigger Warning: The following article contains mention of suicidal thoughts.
My name is Jan, and I am a 22-year-old transgender man from the Middle East. There are many people like me, and I am part of a larger community of transgender individuals who are rarely shed light on. I hold a mix of Arab identities, which adds an additional layer of challenges to my transition. I started hormone therapy two years ago and hope to continue my medical transition.
At the age of 14, during summer break, I stepped out of the shower and asked myself a very simple question: “If not now, when?” I hurried into my room, sat facing the mirror with a pair of scissors in hand and chopped my shoulder length hair off to my ears. It was a rather messy haircut, but I was thrilled! My mom walked in on me later that day and burst with laughter. This was the beginning of my social transition.
I always felt that there is a ball of energy and potential; a given image of myself as it was meant to be, present within, that needed to exteriorize into my reality.
My teenage years were marked with a child-like drive for adventure. After cutting my hair, I have only worn boys’ clothes and made sure that my appearance appeared as a boy. I was eager about the idea of going outside by myself, holding a sense of independence, and exploring my city. I had a big passion for walking, as I found my sense of autonomy in it. I had explored every single corner of my city, and became familiar with all lesser-known forms of public transport.
Buses here are locally run via numbered routes, and so information is only accessible by word of mouth. Traffic is rather chaotic and we do not have bus stops, and so all you need to do to get on a bus is to make eye-contact with the driver. I had a habit of hopping on such buses only to see where they would take me.
It was unconscious to me then, but I was preparing myself for the start of what I now know to be a journey marked by unknowns and uncertainty. I realize now that this habit, deeply represents the emotion of pursuing gender-affirming resources in a world that does not acknowledge transgender individuals.
In Lebanon, there are no laws about transgender people. At times, information is hardly available, and the journey is really marked by a sense of letting go and pursuing your identity regardless of the societal risks that come with it.
For quite some time, I thought that I was the only transgender person in my country. I could not possibly envision that there are others like me, who have the same experience.
By now, I have met more fellow trans people than I could ever dream of, and have made life-long friends of virtue from a wide variety of intersecting backgrounds, where our city is a common point. I found that there are local transgender people who are well into their fifties and sixties!
Queer people have a long history in our region that is less known. The older generations have faced immense difficulties, and in many ways, their fights have paved the way for us and made medical resources and specialized doctors more accessible. In 2016, the Lebanese Psychiatric Association made a statement refuting conversion therapy, which was a major push for the community.
There are some who hide their identity out of societal pressure. There are also many who have pursued transition regardless of the consequences. As empowering as having a community can be, the truth of the matter is that we are all facing challenges within our individual walks of life amidst a country in economic crises and uncertainty.
The year I started my transition, a crisis emerged with a nationwide shortage of vital medication, hormones included. Cisgender and queer people alike struggled for resources. The transgender community was heavily affected, and we only survived through mutual support networks.
My early transition spirit was quickly diminished by the harsh reality of daily misjudgment, prejudice, and lack of awareness. I was committed to the path of finding myself, but my gender identity was not well met in any sphere in my life, be it family, education, work, or social settings. This was especially heightened prior to hormonal therapy, as people were quick to disregard and misgender me.
I was constantly barraged with invasive questions relating to my personal life and sexuality; questions beyond my age, especially by those who held authority over me. As I grew up, I could no longer pass as a young boy, and strangers would constantly ask about my gender.
Over the years, this began to wreak havoc on my mental health. I began to experience a condition akin to the Male Gaze, as Huda illustrates so accurately in her article. Transgender people experience a sense of societal gaze; an accumulated sense of guilt over the harsh perceptions of others that burdens the psyche.
Every single trans person that I know has experienced a sense of heightened anxiety, even paranoid thoughts, stemming from recurrent stigma and threatening situations. Overtime, this leads to suicidal ideation, especially when coupled with isolation.
I have personally struggled with suicidal ideation well before I began my transition. The sense of being in a body that I am not wired for haunts me throughout my life. I countlessly found myself on the edge of suicide. The lingering uncertainty of my future in a struggling country, and the judgment and discrimination of others weighed heavy.
Pursuing my hormonal transition, regardless of its burdens, allowed me to cherish every day as my individual transformation unfolds month to month. It takes about 5 years for all the changes to settle in.
I managed to stay connected to my life through art. Whenever I felt suicidal, I would stay up and paint through the night. I made the decision to keep painting as a personal practice rather than a career. It is one hobby that I turn to when I need to enter a state of flow and mental solitude, allowing me to process my emotions.
Contrary to what others may think, I find that my transgender and Arab identities complete each other. I feel that all parts of my identity come together to form a whole that is shaped by my lived experience.
Despite all the negative experiences, there are many who have accepted me with innocent curiosity and respect. I find that the more content I am with myself, the easier it is to present my individual walk of life and bridge the gaps of understanding with others.
Sometimes, the only solace is to accept the situation as it is, and trust the process as it unfolds regardless of time. Years feel infinite as we experience them, but collapse on themselves to create a multi-faceted mosaic of transformation and change.
To be transgender is not only to live such a process, but to embody it wholly as it unravels. It is to embrace, accept, and let go of different parts of me as I continue to grow and exteriorize a sense of self that was latent within all along.