By LANA DAHER and DALILA BARKACHE

“Ajram Beach opened in the 1950s, initially as a mixed beach, in Ain el Mreisseh – an area hugely popular with tourists at the time, and home to some of Beirut’s grandest hotels. After the war broke out, in the early 1980s, the district came under severe crossfire. Refugees whose homes had been destroyed in the north and south headed towards Ain el Mreisseh for its huge abandoned commercial spaces and hotels. This was when Ajram became an all women’s beach, mostly so women could bathe while men could go out to try to find work, and feel safe about the whereabouts of their wives.

Women’s beaches are relatively new to Beirut – after the Civil War, people became increasingly conservative and a demand for them grew. What really distinguishes them, though, is 1) they have more of a variety of social classes than other beaches, and 2) they hide more secrets, and they hide them better. Working men have been known to drop their wives off at the pool in the morning and pick them up in the evening so as not to worry about them flirting with other men. But apparently some women will simply enter the grounds, change out of hijab, and get into a car with another man, coming back before the pool closes and their husbands pick them up. The pool administration ended up interfering by charging another fee to re-enter the pool. It was also be a space for lesbian women from conservative families with few other outlets for their sexuality.

As we had no sponsors and little means, our intervention was pretty DIY. The goal was just to get everyone dancing, to bring together a mix of people from completely different backgrounds – something we feel does not really exist in Beirut. So it was a highlight when, during Omar Souleyman’s two-hour set, the Syrian workers who live in an unstable building adjoining the space joined the party and danced their hearts out.”