Treat us like dogs and we'll bite back
Email Print Normal font Large font December 13, 2005
Young Lebanese Australians now feel they are second-class citizens, writes Roland Haddad.
How complicated things have become! It used to be that the only thing we had to think about when going out for the night with my mates was the destination.
But now, being Lebanese has changed that; a night out involves planning, preparation and strategy. My friends, cousins and I have to consider location, numbers, male-female ratio and grooming.
It is well known that there are clubs and bars in Sydney that do their best to keep Middle Easterners (specifically Lebs) out. There are justified reasons to keep out certain individuals because of their behaviour, but not an entire ethnic group.
Reasons for refusal can range from the understandable, such as the group being too big, to the utterly ridiculous, such as having an unacceptable haircut.
A friend, Angela, told me yesterday: "We were in a racially mixed group of six people and tried entering this club, and the only one refused was our Lebanese friend. The reason given was he had an unacceptable haircut, the same haircut as the other guys in the group."
When I was in my teens, race meant nothing. I had mates from all sorts of backgrounds - Lebanese, Australian, Greek, Italian, Indian, South American - and the only things that mattered were shared interests such as football and movies. It was a time of appreciation, like the day I discovered sausage sizzles. As we grew older, we discovered girls.
How things have changed! I am now in my mid 20s and we are witnessing some of the country's worst race riots.
It didn't happen overnight; these tensions have been simmering for years. It is impossible to pinpoint exactly when things changed but the Bilal Skaf gang rapes in 2000 surely fuelled the fire.
I was at university at the time. Being the only Middle Easterner on my course, I was already feeling uneasy. After the gang rapes I became a pariah.
Many of my classmates - Anglo-Saxon mostly - became stand-offish. It only made me feel more uneasy. It was around this time I began to notice the change in attitude at hotels and clubs. Young Lebanese men were no longer welcome.
Last Saturday night, after our staff Christmas party, some friends and I met for a few more drinks. It was still early - about midnight - and a group of 10 (five males, five females) was turned away from at least four venues.
The reasons were varied - they were closing soon; a guest list only, due to Christmas parties; too many guys; not enough females. With every refusal it was obvious to us that the real reason was we were Lebanese. I am not being paranoid, because it has happened many times before. We could see it in the faces of the bouncers. It leaves a foul taste in your mouth. It is no wonder that people feel bitter, resentful and angry. "We're dogs in this country," one of my mates said.
I agree. It makes you feel like a second-class citizen, and that is why the tension exists.
Although they are partly responsible for the perception society has of them, my generation of Middle Eastern people feel they have something to prove. I don't always agree with their methods but I certainly understand the motive.
http://www.smh.com.au/news/national...-well-bite-back/2005/12/12/1134236005929.html
