Mashrouʿ Leila — Glimpses of Hope within the Despair of Contemporary Arab Pop Culture

Mashrou‘ Leila performing in Lebanon in 2017. Jamal Saidi/Reuters
Mashrou‘ Leila performing in Lebanon in 2017. Jamal Saidi/Reuters

Art is a medium which materialises theories, conceptualises forms, and engages with the community in a way that is much more efficient than that of traditional forms of academic writing. I have recently written about two popular visual works (al-irhab wa al-kebab & Jocelyne Saab’s Beirut trilogy) in which they tempted to challenge the normative context of Arabic-speaking countries where collective memory is almost all written by formal politics and high-level diplomacy, whereas the subaltern is not even allowed to speak. Hence, this time I wanted to shed light on a voice that has successfully bothered the dominant understanding of cultural reckoning, which tempts never to allow knowledge to be created without reference to tradition, even if that tradition has been biased and imagined. Mashrou‘ Leila is that voice!

Mashrou‘ Leila does not only confuse the dominant gender-biased culture, it also attempts to theorise novel understandings and identities that use implicit and explicit means to open up spaces that address the core of religious and socio-political taboos. The band continues to shape the alternative medium of the Arab art scene through their attempts to change the trajectory of musical culture in the Arab World despite the endless number of times its members faced censorship. The uniqueness of the band’s members lies in how they tempted to remain entirely political in a sea of apolitical Arab pop art. Their lyrics, mixed with their choice of music, negotiate belonging and identity from positions of marginalisation. Their insistence on speaking up in Arabic provokes notions of Arab nationalism, post/colonialism, and the gendered nature of the Arabic language in itself. There have been multiple songs in which the members express non-heterosexual desires; something that forcibly normalises queer identities in the Arabic language and within the Arabic geographical context.

Muhammad Mounir’s “‘ali sotak” and Mahsou‘ Leila’s “Tayf”

The lyrics in Tayf (Ghost) — means shadow but can also mean rainbow — engage with the crackdown of the Lebanese government on Beiruti queer spaces. In an attempt to encourage a queer Arab person to defy oppressive societal challenges, Mashrou‘ Leila refers to a popular Arabic song by Muhammad Mounir, a Nubian Egyptian singer known for songs about national identities and belonging. Tayf ends with a chorus that says: “Sing with your highest heels on …. For now we still have songs,” referring to Mounir’s song titled “Raise Your Voice” from the film “The Destiny” (1997) in which Mounir challenges religious fanatics by singing: “Sing with your loudest voice … For now, we still have songs.” Mashrou‘ Leila plays with lyrics by comparing the high heels of a queer Arab man to the loud voice of justice that defies other forms of oppression.

In Bint Elkhandaq, Mashrou‘ Leila stands up with the struggle of another Arab-oppressed; women this time. The band refers to Abdel Halim Hafez’s song titled “Betray it” (in Arabic tekhonouh?) where Halim — mostly represented in Arab pop culture as an idol of masculinity — addresses his own broken heart. The original song says: “Betray it? It has never betrayed you … Done with it? It has never been done with you.” On the other hand, Mashrou‘ Leila stand up with the struggles of an Arab woman that is left in the dilemma of being oppressed both in her nation and outside it with a chorus that says: “Betray it? Yes, it has betrayed you your whole life … Done with it? It has been done with you your whole life.”

AbdelHalim Hafez’s Tekhonouh and Mashrou‘ Leila’s Bint Elkhandaq

Criticising language, nationalism, and all sorts of gender and non-gender biases have been a common characteristic of Mashrou‘ Leila. In some cases, the band entirely confuses the Arab listener by giving space to the genderless, something an Arab is raised not even to imagine. In Kalam, for instance, a dialogue between Hamed, the lead singer, and another person of a non-binary gender takes place in a bar. In an attempt to challenge the language as well as notions of fanatical nationalism, Hamed addresses the non-binary person by articulating feminine and masculine conjugations, something that breaks all rules of the gendered language of Arabic. Mashrou‘ Leila here attempts to conceptualise the fluidity of sex and apply it to the rigidity of language.

Mashrou‘ Leila’s Kalam

Overall, Mashrou‘ Leila has succeeded in criticising the rigid forms of societal identities in the Arab World. Its members decipher the majority and then start injecting this majority with forms of presentation and re-presentation of the disempowered. Unfortunately, Mashrou‘ Leila has been banned in many Arab countries, including its own home, Lebanon. The band has stopped voicing the subaltern since 2019 as the wave of the crackdown has broken several souls that could not survive living in the shadow of an absolute patriarchal and oppressive environment.