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Treat Me Like Your Mother
Immortalizing the untold stories of Queer & Trans folks, from Beirut & beyond

Mohamad Abdouni is a photographer, creative director, and filmmaker based in Beirut, dedicated to shedding light on and celebrating the rich, yet often hidden or erased queer histories of the Arabic-speaking region through documentaries and photo stories. By retelling and showing these works, both archived and created, he is playing a key role in the art world to make sure queer SWANA voices are brought back to life. His work has been featured in publications such as A24, Telerama, Foam Magazine, Tetu, New Queer Photography, Kaleidoscope, i-D, Photoworks, The Guardian, Facebook, and more.
Since 2019, he has dedicated his time to what is arguably the first archive of trans histories in an Arab country, a project titled “Treat Me Like Your Mother: Trans Histories From Beirut’s Forgotten Past”. This collection is now safely housed at the Arab Image Foundation. Mohamad creates a powerful pairing, with timeless photos of the trans feminine experience and oral histories from Lebanon’s post war period. So far Mohamad has compiled over 300 photos in this ongoing project.
In Mohamads latest series, “Extended Archives,” the artist builds on this concept by expanding his current project and creating “pseudo-archives”. Drawing from personal photographs generously donated by the women, transcriptions of their oral histories, additional images from the Arab Image Foundation, and his own past photographic work.
Recently, Mohamad has been working on a long-term project exploring his hometown in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon, near the Syrian border. This project examines the ideals of masculinity he was expected to embody and the strains these expectations place on familial relationships.
Do you feel like there are some parts of Arab culture that are inherently Queer?
I think what’s even more interesting is how much queer folk have always had a strong influence on our culture as a whole. Whether it’s in art, entertainment, nightlife or even politics, figures that we consider as pillar exports of our Arab culture have always had massive queer influences that helped shape them, and so in turn are, and become, inherently queer.
Why is highlighting Queer/Trans SWANA experience important to you personally?
Because I grew up with much more questions than there were answers available. I mean it’s easier to find answers today, something to help you find some sort of belonging, but at the time there was a frustration to know more that stuck with me until today. The fact that it was harder for anyone to document their own life the way we do now, meant that many stories went unrecorded, and I find that to be a little tragic. I try to do my part in bridging whatever little I can of that gap, when I can.
How has your approach to your art shifted as you have grown as an artist?
It’s constantly ever-changing but I suppose that’s what keeps it exciting, at least for me. At times I’ve found more of an interest in documenting others, whereas lately I’m turning the lens back on myself playfully. At times I have something I deem important to express, and sometimes I just want to poke fun and make jokes. No one’s ever all serious, nor all frivolous, and I find there’s a beautiful world right there in the middle.
Beyond an orientation, what does Queerness mean to you?
‘Queerness’ is a fickle term; it has quickly become what it originally set out to exist against. Queerness can mean different things, but the definition I’ve personally found most comfort in is simply that of a life lived differently, unrestricted by normative societal expectations.

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{
"article":
{
"title" : "Treat Me Like Your Mother: Immortalizing the untold stories of Queer & Trans folks, from Beirut & beyond",
"author" : "Mohamad Abdouni, Yassa Almokhamad-Sarkisian",
"category" : "visual",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/treat-me-like-your-mother",
"date" : "2024-07-02 12:08:00 -0400",
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"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "Mohamad Abdouni is a photographer, creative director, and filmmaker based in Beirut, dedicated to shedding light on and celebrating the rich, yet often hidden or erased queer histories of the Arabic-speaking region through documentaries and photo stories. By retelling and showing these works, both archived and created, he is playing a key role in the art world to make sure queer SWANA voices are brought back to life. His work has been featured in publications such as A24, Telerama, Foam Magazine, Tetu, New Queer Photography, Kaleidoscope, i-D, Photoworks, The Guardian, Facebook, and more.Since 2019, he has dedicated his time to what is arguably the first archive of trans histories in an Arab country, a project titled “Treat Me Like Your Mother: Trans Histories From Beirut’s Forgotten Past”. This collection is now safely housed at the Arab Image Foundation. Mohamad creates a powerful pairing, with timeless photos of the trans feminine experience and oral histories from Lebanon’s post war period. So far Mohamad has compiled over 300 photos in this ongoing project.In Mohamads latest series, “Extended Archives,” the artist builds on this concept by expanding his current project and creating “pseudo-archives”. Drawing from personal photographs generously donated by the women, transcriptions of their oral histories, additional images from the Arab Image Foundation, and his own past photographic work.Recently, Mohamad has been working on a long-term project exploring his hometown in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon, near the Syrian border. This project examines the ideals of masculinity he was expected to embody and the strains these expectations place on familial relationships.Do you feel like there are some parts of Arab culture that are inherently Queer?I think what’s even more interesting is how much queer folk have always had a strong influence on our culture as a whole. Whether it’s in art, entertainment, nightlife or even politics, figures that we consider as pillar exports of our Arab culture have always had massive queer influences that helped shape them, and so in turn are, and become, inherently queer.Why is highlighting Queer/Trans SWANA experience important to you personally?Because I grew up with much more questions than there were answers available. I mean it’s easier to find answers today, something to help you find some sort of belonging, but at the time there was a frustration to know more that stuck with me until today. The fact that it was harder for anyone to document their own life the way we do now, meant that many stories went unrecorded, and I find that to be a little tragic. I try to do my part in bridging whatever little I can of that gap, when I can.How has your approach to your art shifted as you have grown as an artist?It’s constantly ever-changing but I suppose that’s what keeps it exciting, at least for me. At times I’ve found more of an interest in documenting others, whereas lately I’m turning the lens back on myself playfully. At times I have something I deem important to express, and sometimes I just want to poke fun and make jokes. No one’s ever all serious, nor all frivolous, and I find there’s a beautiful world right there in the middle.Beyond an orientation, what does Queerness mean to you?‘Queerness’ is a fickle term; it has quickly become what it originally set out to exist against. Queerness can mean different things, but the definition I’ve personally found most comfort in is simply that of a life lived differently, unrestricted by normative societal expectations."
}
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{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
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{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
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{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}