Original subtitles

[ Stirring music plays ]

MATTA: 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 will 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 will 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.

[ Upbeat music plays ]

[ Stirring music plays ]

[ Explosions ]

[ Explosions ]

AMANPOUR: In 1975, civil war broke out in Lebanon.

[ Explosions ]

Beirut, its capital, was split down the middle.

[ Jet thunders, explosions ]

The war raged on for 15 years,

and more than 100,000 people lost their lives.

While there's peace now,

religious tensions and war next door in Syria

make it fragile at best.

[ Weapon blasts ]

I spent decades covering conflict

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.

[ Electronic dance music plays ]

-♪ Sex ♪ -♪ Sex ♪

-♪ Sex ♪ -♪ Sex ♪

♪ Sex, sex, sex ♪

HADDAD: Can you imagine that in the Arab world,

the most Googled word in Arabic is "sex"?

-AMANPOUR: Is it? -HADDAD: I mean, yeah.

Everybody's Googling it.

Everybody's trying to watch movies on YouPorn.

Everybody's 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 and you've said

that to be a woman in the Arab world,

just -- just to be an Arab means to be a hypocrite.

-Yeah. To a large extent. -What do you mean by that?

Either that or you are willing to pay the price.

And the price could be many things.

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.

I mean, fulfill your own needs and -- and longings.

Would I be right to think that in Lebanon, in Beirut,

a Christian woman is much more liberated than a Muslim woman?

No, my dear, I'm sorry.

-[ Laughs ] -I have to disappoint you.

I mean, let me tell you about me.

I brought my cultural baggage.

I was raised as a Christian

in a Greek Catholic family.

My parents were way more conservative

than a friend of mine who was a Muslim.

People always think, especially in the West,

that 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 everybody's Googling it

and watching it, is that healthy?

Does that mean there's a sort of 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.

[ Jazz music plays ]

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 want to deal with something

that we need to talk about.

And I thought about, you know, sexuality.

But not only sexuality.

All the problems and taboos related to the body

in the Arab world -- homosexuality, violence,

marriage of underage girls.

You know, we tackled so many subjects.

And how is 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 the religious here?

Lots of critiques. Many people tried to stop it.

Lots of threats, even death threats.

-Death threats? -Yes, of course.

-Acid threats. -Acid threats?

Rape threats.

I mean, I have a folder in my e-mail dedicated to those.

Were there many of those here when you started it?

-Many of who? -Those magazines.

No, it was the first. [ Laughs ]

Although, I have to say that our heritage, in Arabic,

is full with amazing works,

like "The Perfumed Garden," that tackle erotica.

They would make you blush.

[ Ominous music plays ]

WOMAN: 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.

ANTOINE: This is "The Perfumed Garden."

This is the first book written

I think in universal literature

in which the book starts by sexual orgasm

between man and woman in the name of God.

AMANPOUR: Antoine Abi Haila 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 a 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."

In that time, sexuality in Islam, it's 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 --

-What's the point of doing it? -Voilà.

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 she had to do.

The man, to be attractive for a woman.

To give her satisfaction.

But what is really interesting,

that it's 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 surprising.

What is it 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 this real significance,

the importance of this text?

Well, I think that if everybody had access

and if we had published these books in Arab countries,

a lot of things would have changed.

Politicians would never publish these

because the imam 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 -- to --

Because I can shock people in darkness,

saying this in the name of God.

You can shock.

AMANPOUR: 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?

ANTOINE: Yeah.

AMANPOUR: 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 the --

Even if it has been written 500 years ago.

You mean today you can't mix it?

-Yeah. -[ Ominous Arabic music plays ]

AMANPOUR: "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've 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, uh,

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.

[ Ominous music plays ]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

OSMAN: I would like to know what basic information

you have about marital relations.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

AMANPOUR: This is the office of gynecologist and sexologist

Dr. Caroline Osman.

Julie is about to become a bride.

And she's seeking advice about her upcoming wedding night.

Do you know about the private parts?

What and where the erogenous zones 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?

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.

AMANPOUR: Like Julie, many women

are going to their marriage beds blind.

But Dr. Osman is trying to change that.

So here is the clitoris.

And here is the G-spot.

The hymen is this thin layer that tears and causes pain.

JULIE: 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 TV

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 focusing on the 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

that you've been instructed to protect your whole life.

Do you think your relationship

can persist without intercourse?

I wish...

But I know how important it is.

OSMAN: 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.

AMANPOUR: But what about the women

who did have sex before marriage?

I heard from all ages, even young women,

they ask for -- sometimes, for liberal women,

they ask to, uh, repair their virginity.

What does that mean?

-Repair their -- What? -Hymenoplasty.

So re-sew, re-stitch, re-construct.

Reconstruction for the hymen.

-AMANPOUR: Is that common? -Uh, yes, it's common.

Why do they want that?

Because our society obliges each girl

to be virgin before her marriage.

So...

I'm not helping her to, uh, talk lies to her partner.

-But, uh... -I mean, you are a little bit.

-No, no, no, no. -[ Laughs ]

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 the hymen is not intact.

Yes, most of our culture like that.

So if I helped her to be virgin again,

I'm helping her to get a new life,

to have a new family, so I'm glad to do it.

[ Ominous music plays ]

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 1/2 years old when I got married.

And I was 22 when I got my divorce.

AMANPOUR: Nadeen, 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 court,

it's not allowed to a 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 got 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 get a divorce. -Yes.

He can send you the paper to the home,

and then you're gonna look at the paper,

"Oh, 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 2 1/2 years old.

AMANPOUR: The court decided in favor of her husband.

For the last five years, Nadeen has seen her son

only one day a week.

NADEEN: For them, it's the law.

Man has the right to decide how many hours

you have to see your son.

I had this 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 till he reach the age of 2.

And if it was a girl, she would stay with her mother

till she reaches the age of 7.

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.

NADEEN: Yes, so it's basically 12 hours.

I spend most of the week missing him.

[ Solemn music plays ]

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 him -- 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 till Saturday afternoon.

So I wake up from the morning, "Ah, 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.

I have only one day to prove for my son

that I am a good mother

and to do all my duties for -- for him.

What do you love most and miss most?

His laughs and giggles.

When he comes home, I feel like there's movement,

there's life, there's -- there's a child who, like,

enters the room and makes it lifeful

and makes it joyful.

This is a drawing...

my son drew a year ago.

AMANPOUR: [ Laughs ] Look at that.

The heart-shaped eyes. That is beautiful.

NADEEN: This is him.

-Uh, well -- -AMANPOUR: Sitting on a chair?

NADEEN: 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 Nadeen

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. -And how when he's 14 or 15,

on where 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 are 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.

[ Salsa music plays ]

Here in this city,

the male-female ratio vastly favors the men.

Candidates may not be as they claim.

And there's the constant pressure of the ticking clock.

So finding love is far from easy.

Unfortunately, it has been mainly a sequence of disasters.

-[ Laughs ] -YASMINA: Um, but, um...

I think, you know, I've literally reached the point

where I'd rather read a good book.

[ Laughs ]

AMANPOUR: Across town, in another night spot,

I'm meeting three friends -- Yasmina, Samma, 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, uh,

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?"

YASMINA: 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 --

maybe a guy in his 60s would be good for you.

-Can you see that happening? -Definitely not for me.

AMANPOUR: 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?

So, I don't know.

You hear that these guys want this strong, independent,

hardworking 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. -...a virgin, basically.

-Basically? -Yeah.

Which is pretty difficult. It's a real double standard.

-Oh, definitely. -Oh, yeah.

AMANPOUR: 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.

SAMMA: With friends of mine, they've now preferred

their parents to arrange their marriages,

because it is much more convenient.

It's really difficult for women 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?

-AMANPOUR: Does it work for you? -No. [ Laughs ]

We've dated practically everyone in Beirut.

[ Laughter ]

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.

♪ You never met a girl like me ♪

AMANPOUR: With some liberal women

revisiting traditional ways of finding love,

I wonder how Beirut's conservative ladies

are faring.

Dahieh is a suburb

with a large population of Shia Muslims.

And it's controlled by the Islamist group Hezbollah.

Lina and Rania live there.

How did you meet your husband?

He has an Internet café.

I would go there to 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.

And what's the age gap?

Almost 20 years.

Whoa!

So when you say it's a father figure...

WOMAN: But he's handsome.

[ Laughter ]

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?

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,

-who you fell in love with... -No, no. It's not him.

AMANPOUR: ...he's the reason you're wearing the hijab?

You stopped drinking. You stopped dancing.

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?

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. Uh...

Otherwise, he will not be happy.

In bed?

[ Laughs ]

[ Romantic music plays ]

If I was sad, he will be sad.

It's my right. It's not just his right.

It's my right, too.

People have changed and society has changed.

It's true that we live in Dahye in a Hezbollah area but

we have the complete freedom to do whatever we want.

Can you imagine living outside of Lebanon as a woman?

Of course not, of course not.

If I lived in Saudi Arabia, they would shoot me after 3 hours.

After three hours, they will shoot me.

[ Laughter ]

AMANPOUR: 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.

Surely it's important that

the girl stays a virgin until she is married.

Our society 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.

[ Electronic music plays ]

AMANPOUR: 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.

-Everybody's gorgeous. -Thank you.

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.

[ Laughs ]

-I feel like Sophia Loren. -MAN: Yeah, of course.

AMANPOUR: Waloud is one of this salon's

most dedicated customers.

You do this how often, the makeup and the hair?

Uh, the hair? I do that every day.

-AMANPOUR: Every day? -Yeah.

I've been doing this on daily basis

almost like for 17 years now.

-AMANPOUR: Here in this salon? -Here, yes.

-And your face made up? -Yes, yeah.

-Here? -Here.

They take care of me.

And then I start my day with beauty and love.

Would you step out of the house -- would you --

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 see 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 if she's cleaning and doing stuff.

-AMANPOUR: Inside the house? -Inside the house.

[ Electronic music plays ]

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.

WALOUD: We cannot plan.

We don't have a vision for 10 years or 5 years or 2 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 are 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.

[ Laughs ]

HADDAD: When you've been raised in war,

you learn, in order to survive,

to just get away with whatever you can -- 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 your war is going to start.

There's always this idea in people's heads.

-People still worry about that? -Of course, and it's real.

[ Jet thunders ]

[ Electronic dance music plays ]

LAYLA: In Lebanon, you have two lives.

You have the day life, and you have the night life.

So you could have, um,

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, uh, letting go

of whatever all the stress they have been containing.

AMANPOUR: Layla and her business partner, Kamma,

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 plays ]

KAMMA: There are no rules, and it's totally uncontrolled.

You just don't know what's gonna happen.

And I think there's 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.

LAYLA: Even during the war of 2006,

I mean, 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.

[ Ominous music plays ]

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.

MATTA: 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 am 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 walls is Katol's declaration of love

for Gilbert.

[ Solemn music plays ]

MATTA: 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 Matta is a writer and an 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.

MATTA: 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,

'cause then you get to fight the beast from within."

[ Electronic music plays ]

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.

MATTA: I thought nobody would show up.

And then 400 people did.

AMANPOUR: 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.

[ Calm piano music plays ]

AMANPOUR: While the storytelling night is a great outlet

for members of this community,

Dima and her friends --

Saneen, Shaden, Zaynab, and Rahmi --

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?

SANEEN: 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 Corniche, for example.

-Or anywhere in public. -SANEEN: 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 types 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.

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,

um, and a police officer knocks at their window.

And a second police officer joins them.

They get out of the 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 'cause it is so vulgar.

And it's so demeaning to the people.

Right, they're there. They're two adults.

They're having a conversation,

And yet they get treated this way.

And at the end, nothing happened,

but it's -- there's always that fear

that something might happen.

You might end up, um, in jail.

You might end up being interrogated.

WOMAN: There's another thing that, uh -- the egg test.

RAHMI: Oh, God, that was 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. -So barbaric.

-It's a form of torture. -It's so demeaning, as well.

The idea of getting arrested,

those are the things that sort of frighten you

that maybe you'll get dragged into -- down some corner

and beaten up by someone.

What do you think it's like

in the conservative communities?

- Hell, I can imagine.

- For anybody who's gay in those communities?

We 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.

SANEEN: The Beirut Pride event, you know,

succeeded with flying colors, literally.

But I do still believe that we have a lot of work to do.

Things are changing, and it's so hard to see

'cause we're in it.

But if we 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?

[ Laughter ]

And do you really think I'm gonna answer you?

"No," I'll be in trouble. "Yes," I'll be in trouble.

I'll be uncool or cool either way.

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.