discussion of sexuality to move to different ground, away from salaciousness and sermonizing to a sober discussion of scientific facts. Kinsey made talking about sex respectable. Although his findings and conclusions met with considerable resistance, his research paved the way for an eventual shift in attitudes. As one of his colleagues remarked, “The times were changing anyway, but I think he helped to change the times.” 4
In Egypt today, there are plenty of researchers willing to catalyze such a shift. But it has been hard for them to find formal training and to get approval from universities or government departments to undertake large-scale studies; and even when they have the green light, results have often been hidden away. This culture of concealment—and not just on sexual matters—has been compounded by a reluctance of individuals and organizations to cooperate and collaborate, arguably a by-product of the general climate of suspicion and distrust and the every-family-for-itself mentality engendered by decades of political repression. As a result, researchers and activists are busy reinventing the wheel, unaware of the excellent work being done across the region, or even across town.
Promoting research, and the open exchange of information, is key to new thinking. It begins with words—reclaiming Arabic as a language of sexuality, as many of the writers and educators in this book are trying to do. It is not enough for Egypt and its Arab neighbors to walk out of U.N. meetings, or to rail against Western values or deny their problems back home. “Just say no” is not the way forward. What is desperately needed in the Arab region is a coherent, positive intellectual framework for sexuality. Arab thinkers once had a worldview of sex that accommodated both religion and science and that fit their age, but there is no going back; their twenty-first-century successors urgently need to develop their own, one that makes sense for our time.
Such a framework would allow a more systematic approach to addressing sexuality. At the moment, the only time sex gets a public hearing is when tragedy strikes or scandal unfolds. The medicalization of sex, through disease or dysfunction, is providing a respectable cover for public discussion, but it is also limiting, leaving out a vast range of issues and groups that a broader conception of sexuality would allow. The challenge here is to turn sex from a problem that needs to be solved to a source of pleasure and creativity.
Key to changing attitudes on gender and sexuality on the ground is a vibrant and independent civil society, with both the freedom to act and the support of government and communities. There are plenty of pioneering initiatives across the Arab region, a few of which are highlighted in these pages. The trouble is in scaling up these projects so they can have the impact they deserve. While better networking is important, steady and substantial funding is key. Times are tough, however: Western governments and philanthropic bodies are cutting back on funding in many fields—HIV and family planning, for instance—putting many excellent projects in the region at risk.
Matters have not been helped by aspects of so-called “aid conditionality,” in which donors, such as America and Britain, link their funding to domestic reform on policies or practices toward LGBT populations, and other sexual rights. Unfortunately, such a stance serves to reinforce the prejudice that these initiatives are foreign implants. New local sources of funding are desperately needed to sustain and expand the excellent work already under way. Wealthy Gulf states certainly have deep pockets, but they also have their own agendas. Getting them and others to fund programs in, say, sexuality may seem a little optimistic, but it is not inconceivable; as we’ve seen in the cases of sexual harassment and sexual education, for example, it is possible to package even the most awkward issue with a