Breaking the Silence: What AUB Students Really Think about Sex
Roseanne Saad Khalaf
When I informed my creative writing classes that a number of our seminars would focus on the topic of sex, the initial reaction was silence followed by utter disbelief. âWow!â exclaimed one enthusiastic male student. âJust what every guy dreams of but canât talk about openly.â Next a rather amusing incident occurred when two animated young women attempted to speak at the same time but managed only to produce strange, inaudible sounds. Unfortunately the laughter and commotion that ensued made it impossible for me to rescue them from this embarrassing situation. Later that afternoon, in the quiet calm of my office, Layla let drop the white veil that covered her mouth while Samar adjusted her tongue rings. As they engaged in articulate conversation I marvelled at how two female students, one traditional, the other postmodern, had eagerly attempted to express their views only to be hindered by contrasting differences in attire and adornment that ultimately rendered them silent.
Ironically, both have been âdeformedâ and made speechless by the very values they adhere to. In a most visible sense, they also epitomize the dissonant normative expectations and lifestyles that continue to polarize certain segments of Lebanese society. That both are seeking an âAmericanâ liberal education and happen to be in the same creative writing seminar makes the setting all the more compelling. The outwardly timid and reserved veiled student, along with her dauntless and liberated cohort, who flaunts the rings on her tongue and other parts of her sparsely dressed body as âemblems of honourâ and daring, represent extreme modes of adaptation which are manifest elsewhere in the Arab world.
Contrived as it may seem, a classroom setting devoted to creative writing offers a unique and discerning opportunity to explore sensitive issues related to sexuality, and allows a better understanding of how a group of intelligent students are groping to forge a meaningful and coherent sexual ideology. However, working critically with the writerâs personal experience to relocate it to the classroom in a way that allows for a more meaningful engagement with experience can be immensely challenging.1 In my study, the task became even more daunting because the topic of sex requires venturing into sensitive, often forbidden territory. To craft sexual narratives, students had to enter unmapped terrain as well as stretch language beyond neutral communication in order to express ideas and inhabit spaces not normally explored in the classroom. Delving into highly private realms of experience often required the use of sexually explicit language that ran the risk of exceeding the comfort zone of certain students and testing their threshold of tolerance. At times we even faced a âlinguistic voidâ, ostensibly because students have not yet developed a comfortable or adequate way of expressing their views, nor have they found acceptable language to use in a classroom setting. Initially, it was somewhat difficult to generate natural rapport since language had to be carefully negotiated. Luckily students were quick to overcome the barriers and, to my delight, out of the closet tumbled amazing stories. Fortunately the rush of tales moved beyond the local and segmental allegiances to assume wider significance.
Not surprisingly, the questionnaire I administered in the early stages of this experimental study (see Appendix) revealed the majority of students to be multilingual, multicultural, highly mobile and diverse. Many are border crossers by virtue of having lived, together with their families, in a number of countries to escape the atrocities of the Lebanese civil war that ravaged the country for nearly two decades. Today, students struggle to reconcile the romantic and nostalgic Lebanese narratives told to them by their parents with the realities of a postwar society. What they are witnessing instead is a country in limbo populated with self-serving politicians and a dysfunctional government that remains, for various reasons, incapable of addressing any of the underlying issues and tensions that instigated the war in the first place. Predictably, whatever reserves of optimism and determination students possess are quickly depleted in the wake of countless daily obstacles they encounter. Unless they have the good fortune of joining a family business, decent jobs remain scarce, salaries low and the future highly uncertain thanks to regional political instability. Given this dire situation, it is little wonder that students are attracted to rampant consumer culture and quick fixes inevitably ushered in by the trappings of globalism. Postwar Lebanese society has instilled an insatiable desire to make up for lost time. This impetuous hankering for the âgood lifeâ, to enjoy the moment and not look back, is a desperate attempt to erase all traces of a violent past. As one perceptive student remarked, âIt seems that war and violence are never far away.â When peaceful times are perceived as nothing more than brief interludes, it is easy to comprehend why my students behave the way they do.
Creating a space where issues regarding sex can be openly debated, discussed and written about freely offered students an opportunity to give voice to their views on sexuality. By delving into such seemingly private zones of personal autonomy, they acquired an expansive sense of control and empowerment. As a result, students began to assume some of the enabling attributes of a diminutive âpublic sphereâ and/or âthird spacesâ.2
This was only possible because our contact zone remained protected from the threatening outside gaze by the safety net of a classroom setting where critical exchanges that deal with difference served primarily to broaden awareness. The transformative power of discourse and personal writing was evident right from the beginning when repeatedly students expressed their desire to be change agents with regard to matters of sex. Yet they were acutely aware that the acceptance of diversity in our created âthird spaceâ was a distant cry from their real and lived environment. Here there was no posturing for they were not being judged in any way. Whatever diverse practices and attitudes they revealed were welcome in our shared arena and, perhaps even more important, the information remained entirely within their control. The ability to engage in text creation under a safety net served to increase and heighten awareness, to unsettle and transform fixed, often rigid ways of seeing. In the end, the acceptance of difference gave new shape and meaning to their initial views on sexuality that developed into a sense, real or imagined, of emp...