SANDRA MELHEM: A MOTHER OF DRAG QUEENS, A TRAILBLAZER OF HER TIME
*image courtesy of Tarek Moukaddem found on @sandra_melhem*
Just by looking at Sandra Melhem, 35, an unassuming young woman in a buzz haircut, black beanie, and sweatpants, it is hard to see the trailblazing club owner or an outspoken activist for the LGBTQ+ crowd. Melhem has put her money where her mouth is, and then some.
Even by Lebanese standards, the most liberal in the Arab world, when it comes to gay rights, Melhem stands a head above the crowd as a pioneer in her community. She is the founder and owner of Ego, a flamboyant and extravagant queer venue for drag shows and balls. After a two-year hiatus, the club has resumed hosting queer-centric parties each Friday and Saturday.
Growing up in Beirut and studying at International College, one of Beirut’s sought-after schools, Melhem spent most of her youth in denial of who she was. After majoring in psychology, she delved into social work in Lebanon’s refugee camps and prisons. For seven years, she frequented a man who wanted to get married. Deep down, she knew this was not what she wanted, and ended it eventually.
She partied hard when Lebanon was recovering from years of war with a vengeance to make up for lost time with revelry and merriment. Then at 24, she fell madly in love with a girl, her first amorous liaison with someone of the same gender. Melhem had to face up to her sexual orientation and decided to be true to herself. Her mother guessed and understood. Her father does not speak to her, still.
Until that revelation, the first twenty-some years of her life were a blur; her parents’ divorce when she was 16, her sister’s untimely death when she was 22, and other milestones.
At 25, just one year after coming out, Ego, the club, was born. What started as a summer project is now part of her central mission in life. Uncomfortable in other queer gathering spots she frequented, Melhem and her friends rented out their own space in the trendy Beirut Mar Mikhail district. Mixing drinks, obtaining licenses, and promoting their new space, they ventured into areas they knew nothing about. She knew one thing, people like her needed a gathering spot where they could be themselves.
In a family of well-trained physicians and straight professionals, her vocation stood out like a sore thumb. She explains that it was only in recent years that her extended family accepted who she is and what she does.
Watching the documentary Paris Is Burning about the underground drag scene in New York introduced her to trans and queer culture. She then started following Rupaul’s Drag Race, to which she was hooked. After many venue changes, closings, and Melhem’s resolve to never open Ego again, her love for drag made her relaunch the club. This time, she made it her goal to introduce and maintain a drag scene in Lebanon. She scouted the country for drag queens eight years ago and only found two. About forty of them now frequent her club, and a handful being part of her “Haus” (drag family) and brand.
Melhem recalls that guests at her debut drag shows were “disgusted”. Eventually, some of them became drag queens themselves. Weekend parties picked up at a quick pace and she sealed international connections. “At some (sic) (up to a certain) point, I was under the impression that Ego was a small baby of mine; until I realized it's way bigger,” she said. Photos of A-list drag queens, such as Rupaul’s Drag Race winners and world-renowned drag artists who attended her events in Lebanon, are now on her Instagram account.
Today, Ego is celebrating its sixth year at its current venue with shows and surprises for attendees. However, Melhem’s journey of advocating and pushing for queer visibility in Lebanon was not always a happy one. When it comes to her personal life, she explains that work became her main priority, affecting her recently-ended relationship.
The 2020 Beirut-Port explosion was the final straw that made “strong-headed” Melhem hit rock bottom. Depressed and downcast to the point of feeling suicidal, she still managed to set up the Queer Relief Fund. In a bid to provide aid for marginalized queer communities, Melhem and like-minded activists set up the NGO. “If we’re gonna be doing this, we have to do it right,” she explained. They created a registered NGO with an online presence, a budget, and a stream of donations. It is still assisting people affected by the blast to this day.
Melhem’s unconditional love for her community is what keeps her in Beirut, regardless of some of the pain it has brought her. She makes it clear that she “doesn't plan on leaving the country”, stating that she is part of a community that’s helping “build a queer Lebanese culture.”
Watching Melhem prepare for the 2022 Grand Ball, there is no doubt she is in charge. She projected: “I know this night will bring back my mojo.” Although mostly quiet and observant, she deals with dozens of messages, assigns jobs, and chain-smokes. In a space buzzing with industry creatives, photographers, DJ’s, drag queens, and security guards, they all come to her with questions and concerns.
Two young performers new to the scene voiced their admiration though they have yet to meet her. “She’s a trailblazer in our community! Her strong energy and drive inspires all of us.”
Nadim Saadeh, student at the American University of Beirut, who Melhem had assigned to usher performers and drag queens during the event, said: “I’ve known her as an icon who cares so much for the community. She has her way of working which some people may not understand, but you need to know that her work entails a lot of complexity. I would love to see anyone doing anything remotely close to the community as much as she is.”
Though Melhem had to assert herself in a male dominated environment, she shuns commercialism. “I’m a super gay woman in a male-dominated industry, so I had to prove myself not to be a small player.” What she does is not simply for monetary gains, she claimed “once Ego turns into a business tool, I will shut its doors and forget all about its existence.”
For Melhem, inclusivity is key. Ego is a space for anyone who attends, even non-queer allies who are “just as important for the community” she emphasized. Yet, she remains modest and dismissive of praise that she brushes away as a source of unwanted stress. Hoedy Saad, a performer and Melhem’s “right-hand man”, explains that “although she’s very tough with everyone, she’s like a mother figure to all of us.”
What stands important for the pioneer is the community she helped create in the city, her chosen family, as well her drive in continuing to showcase queer excellence and rights in the country. “I thank God that I am gay” Melhem expresses in Arabic. What was once her biggest consternation in life has now become a substantial and ongoing purpose for her. Today Melhem continues to work alongside her “drag children”, and creatives in the community, on grandeur projects and events for the Lebanese queer-and-ally crowd.
