Source: Amnesty International –
Accessing information and resources on gender and sexuality across the Middle East can still prove challenging for a variety of reasons – a combination of restrictive laws, narrow school and university curricula, limited availability of LGBTIQ+ content in Arabic, and the perception that such topics can be culturally sensitive.
It leaves many without the tools they need for self-affirmation, education or advocacy. This is why activists in Beirut, Lebanon, recently opened Helem’s Community Library, a space for “access, reflection, and community rooted in the belief that knowledge should be shared, not hidden or restricted”.
Margot K has been a community organizer with Helem for six years. This is her story.
Growing up in Lebanon as an LGBTIQ+ person was like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded or reading a book in a language I didn’t understand.
Around the age of 12, I realized I didn’t fit the usual expectations around sexuality and identity, but I didn’t even have the words for what I was feeling. I kept questioning myself for years, wondering if I was attracted to the same sex, or if I was something else entirely, though I didn’t know what “trans” meant back then. The confusion was overwhelming, hurtful and there were moments when I considered ending my life. It was a struggle not just for me but also for my loved ones and the people I experimented with back then. This process of trying to understand who I am lasted well into early adulthood.
I became an activist out of both necessity and wanting to make room for other people’s experiences.
Margot K
I became an activist out of both necessity and wanting to make room for other people’s experiences. Since childhood, I’ve had to navigate the world as both a woman and a queer person in a society that often erases, punishes and silences both. My early experiences of alienation and resistance taught me that systems of oppression are deeply interconnected, and that change doesn’t happen unless we speak up – in whatever way we can – and care for one another.
Collective action creates change
My activism started informally: listening to friends, holding space for others, showing up in moments of crisis or celebration, and questioning what was expected of me. Over time, this grew into more organized work: joining Helem first as a volunteer in 2016 and then as staff in 2019, becoming part of grassroots groups and collectives, and taking part in protests, for example. What solidified my commitment was witnessing how collective action, even when imperfect or small, can create real, tangible shifts in people’s lives.
Helem is one of the first organizations in the Arab world, founded in 2001 with a mission to support the struggle for the liberation of LGBTIQ+ and other people with non-conforming sexualities and gender identities in the region.
Helem’s Library was born out of grassroots passion and a clear community need. From the moment our centre came to life, it became evident that access to affirming stories and critical information had been a missing piece of the puzzle. While community members and allies began donating books, there was a deeper need to grow the collection purposefully, curating knowledge not only on gender and sexuality, but also on broader human rights issues, liberation movements, and intersecting struggles.
We worked on this library to become an accessible, intentional space for students, educators and academics, book lovers, researchers, journalists, grassroots groups, and anyone curious or in need of such knowledge. What began as a modest bookshelf has now grown into a full room with over 400 titles. It’s sectioned into categories and genres including but not limited to psychology, philosophy, politics, religion and spirituality, history, social sciences, business and economy, literary criticism, arts, biography, fiction, non-fiction, mythology, and fantasy. Novels, comic books, guides, and self-help books are also available!
Today, Helem’s Library is a physical space only – warm, welcoming and intentionally uncommercial. The lighting shifts with the mood: sometimes blue, sometimes pink, sometimes yellow. It’s still modest in look, made with upcycled wood, a few couches and different kinds of tables that invite comfort rather than formality. There’s also a shared desktop available for browsing our collection, working on personal projects, or simply accessing the internet. Recently, we launched a borrowing system so that folks can take books outside, extending the comfort and reflection this space offers into their everyday lives. Soon, with the help of our Literary Club, we will be working toward building a digital library too!
Love, pride and gratitude
In May 2025, we officially launched the library and people spoke about it with love, pride, and gratitude. Many people worked on this project, not just staff, but also many community members volunteered by donating their time, books, ideas and care. The process of building it was communal from the start, and that’s what has made it so meaningful.
I can’t help but think that if libraries with LGBTIQ+ stories or resources tackling sexuality in its diversity had been available to me when I was younger, it could have saved me a lot of bewilderment, pain and mistakes. It would have given me a way to navigate my feelings and some certainty that I wasn’t alone. Maybe it would’ve also given my parents some clarity and guidance on how to support and raise me. That kind of visibility can truly change lives and, sometimes, save them.
If libraries with LGBTIQ+ stories had been available to me when I was younger, it could have saved me a lot of pain.
Margot K
Community resistance and solidarity means that our liberation is bound up with each other’s. When one part of the community, or when one population is oppressed, marginalized, or silenced, it affects us all. That’s why solidarity and collective resistance matter: freedom isn’t individual, it’s shared. We fight not just for ourselves, but for everyone who is pushed down or denied their rights.
My message to other people who want to become activists is that activism isn’t about “one-size-fits-all”. There’s no single path, and no one right way to do it. What matters is showing up however we can and refusing to let injustice feel normal. That being said, it often demands deep introspection: questioning what we’ve internalized and reflecting on how we sometimes tend to reproduce what we are fighting against. We need your voice, your questions, your doubts, your skills, your energy, and your belief that a better world is possible. But we also need you whole. It’s important to push limits, yes, but also to know our own, and to be kind to ourselves.
To me, activism isn’t about being everything all at once; it’s about trying and trusting that even small acts can ripple outward.