How to Trans in Raqqa

In an early essay, you wrote that one of the more remarkable Syrian refugees you interviewed in Beirut was Hiyam, a trans woman who had arrived from Raqqa with her mother. By the time you met her, she had been in Lebanon for a couple of years. She worked as a receptionist and grant writer for one of the queer rights organizations in the capital. You said that you had not realized how firm some of your preconceptions were, marble hard, and as you talked to her, as each minute passed, fissures and cracks appeared in the stone.

A transgender person from Raqqa?

Well, yes.

How did she get access to hormones?

Pregnancy pills, she said. One makes do.

A trans woman wearing a hijab?

She wore one as soon as she could.

Still wearing one in Beirut?

Well, yes, as you can obviously see.

A million and a half Syrian refugees in the country, and yet she, who barely finished eighth grade, found a stable job writing grants?

Well, she was one of a kind, she sure was.

When she first reached Beirut, she was a sex worker. She had to survive and she had to take care of her mother, who couldn’t work. Yes, she wore her hijab in public and took it off when in the bedroom with a client. You asked questions that were much too personal, but she didn’t mind, she said. She was a free woman, an open chest of drawers, nothing hidden.

A Lebanese trans woman explained to Hiyam that she could get assistance from gay rights organizations, everything from housing to classes to stipends. If she was a queer refugee, she qualified, and she most certainly was. She received aid, and in gratitude she began to volunteer at the organization. She sat at the reception desk and welcomed the gay refugees. If someone was desperate enough to claim that they were gay, then they needed help. She admitted that she tended to believe any refugee who maintained that they were queer. It wasn’t as if Hiyam was going to ask when was the last time a boy gave a blowjob. She wasn’t as curious or as inquisitive as you. The Dutch government and various gay organizations in Europe were offering grants. The NGOs were mostly based in Holland, a few in Scandinavia, one or two in Germany, but of course not a single one in the United States. She started helping with grant writing, with research at first, presenting cases, but as her language skills improved, she wrote a bit. She was hired full time. She prided herself on being able to get many boys and girls off the shady streets.

What was her life like before all this? How did she manage being trans in Raqqa? Very well, thank you. Most people left her alone, her mother was loving, Hiyam had a job, and yes, she had a boyfriend who loved her. They had been together for two years. Her troubles began when the first so-called Islamic militia overran the town. Don’t you nod your head as if you know, she chided. You know nothing. The militiamen did not have a problem with her. They did not bother her much. It seemed they did not believe trans women to be apostates. They did have a problem with her boyfriend. Whether it was because they considered him gay or an adulterer, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was they beheaded him. She left with her mother as soon as she heard. She could not bear living in that hell.

Yes, she was dating a man in Beirut. It had only been a month or so. But no, he was not her boyfriend. She was still mourning.