"You can report me but how long will they imprison me? One day, two days, a month? Two months? a year? I will come out and kill you”. These were words Malak, 43, heard over and over from her abusive husband even while pregnant.

I felt fabulous. I was fabulous. The music was perfect, the mood was perfect. But suddenly and in the blink of an eye, all that vanished into thin air. Furious police officers barged in, and the music was replaced by their enraged voices screaming at us from the top of their lungs. For a moment there, I had forgotten I was in Syria and that just being there was illegal. All I can remember after that is being on the floor with men in official suits beating me up. Next, I’m in prison. 

Jack is a 32-year-old Iraqi trans man. A few months back he decided to leave Iraq and move to Lebanon to do his top surgery and spare himself and his family the social quarrels with the conservative tribal entourage, he wouldn’t find the tolerance and acceptance that would let him live comfortably with his body. He reminisces about his childhood, he remembers how he used to look different from his siblings, he always had facial hair despite the feminizing hormones prescribed by the doctor, whom he was forced to visit by his father, without considering Jack’s preference. While in Iraq, he was introduced to the queer community through social media, he maintained virtual friendships with people from Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, Morocco, Algeria and other places from the world, he couldn’t recognize members of the community where he lived due to social difficulties. He remembers one guy who was beaten to death by a bunch of fanatics who considered him “pervert” for having long hair. Jack says that the phenomenon of physical attacks on people with tattoos and long hair for being considered as “perverts” is quiet spread.  

Farah was born in Beirut in 1995, to a Lebanese mother and a Syrian father. Her mother used to obtain student residence permit for her and her 3 sisters on an annual basis. Back then, the information issued by the general security regarding Lebanese mothers and their children were very ambiguous, so Farah’s mother used to ask for these annual permits, until she discovered by coincidence that she could ask for the infamous courtesy residency permit.

Between peace and violence, Tema describes to us the transition phase she is going through; she throws behind her back the abuse of her “kafeel”, the abuse of her ex-husband, and all the racism and discrimination she has to endure on a daily basis. She looks forward to hearing the children laughing and playing, and she shares with us the project she started after gaining her independence.

The father was waiting eagerly for his crown prince to be born. But after 9 months, his wife gave birth to yet a third baby girl. Having been disappointed twice before that, Green's father did not accept this shocking outcome and he did everything in his power to convince himself that this baby girl is indeed the boy he has been waiting for. And as "his boy", he would take her with him when he goes to hang out with his male friends, he would pick up her boyish outfits himself, and he would even talk to her like one of his buddies to the extent of sending her pictures of hot girls.  

Nicole began exploring her sexuality at a young age. By the time she was twelve, she had her first kiss with her best friend, but decided to ignore her feelings and deny them. At that time, awareness was not available, so nothing related to that kiss felt normal. She eventually decided to move on and forget that incident. 

Maya tried to kill her maternal uncle who was raping her since she was nine years old. “I thought if I kill him, I will put an end to my nightmare and my justice will be served. Instead, I was sentenced to six years in prison. The worst part is that I was being raped by dozens in prison, while outside of prison, I was only being raped by one person.” 

Georgina was sixteen years old when she opened up to her parents about her identity, but her father told her to stay away from such “things”. When she replied that it is her character since she was little and it was beyond her control, he took her to a psychologist to get treatment. The doctor told them that her female hormones are dominant and cannot be treated.  

On a Sunday morning, Flora met her older sister Maria, and her friends Rita, Patricia, and Agnes among other women coming from Kenya, Sierra Leone, Ethiopia and Nigeria to the church in Burj Hammoud. They spend their time together singing, laughing, praying and discussing different topics, from racism to work, religion and their lives as migrant women working and living in Lebanon. 

Sari (Sarktelu) was born in 1995 in Ethiopia. In 2011, she came to Lebanon to visit her sister who was already working in a household. When she entered the country, she had to sign a contract she could not understand or even read as it was written in Arabic. In fact, she had no clue she was coming to work. After only 15 days and against her will, she ended up working in the house of her sister’s employer's daughter as a migrant domestic worker and therefore was trapped into the Kafala system.  

When I stood in front of the mirror, I was not only facing my body, but also “Miss Spoon” and other sarcastic names I was called for having short stature. It felt as if I was finally letting those labels off my shoulders, and I felt lighter. I always felt targeted; and that’s why I chose to stay at home, hiding from people as I was unable to expect what they could possibly call me.

I was always invited to audition for acting in soap operas and films in Lebanon. However, once the directors noticed my leg and the device that I use, they would become evasive. I have one leg shorter than the other as I was born with a condition called “Limb Length Discrepancy”. Two years ago, I started suffering from osteoporosis, and became unable to use the device, thus, I started using a wheelchair.