One thing in Lebanon that continues to interest me is the way in which sectarian identity pops up in the most unlikely of places. I went to the Ferry Corsten rave at BIEL (Beirut Exhibition and Leisure Center) last Friday, and was unsurprised to see quite a few folks sporting tattoos, including a number of Christian crosses. However, what did strike me as unique was the multiple times I spotted Druze stars on people’s backs (with the mixture of cramped quarters, brutally repetitive “music”, and liberal consumption of Ectasy seemingly encouraging people to take off their shirts). While the Druze have historically asserted their sectarian identity visibly through their traditional dress, it is likely the long black pants and white cap in this instance might be burdensome to a young Durzi trying to optimize his rave experience. But seriously, the Druze star is something that I have been noticing in Syria more often as well, seeing more taxi and service drivers sticking large stars on their rear windows on the route from Jaramana to Bab Tuma.
That is not to imply there are no Sunni or Shia Muslims partaking in Lebanese nightlife; on the contrary, indulging in the bacchanalian excess of the Beirut party scene is a passion shared by all sects (if highly limited by social class, since the entry costs are prohibitive for a majority of the country’s residents). However, it is true that traditional symbols of Sunni or Shia sectarian identity in Lebanon are not able to be applied in this context (although seeing chadors and salafist beards on Fashion TV’s unending “Beirut Nightlife” Sky Bar clips would be amusing to no end), and hence their sectarian identity is not as pronounced to the same degree as Christians wearing gold crosses, or seemingly, hip Muwahhidun brandishing Druze star tattoos.
