The Queer Muslim Dilemma in Hijamat

Nader Saeivar’s drama, Hijamat, is an earnest but uneven exploration of queer identity within a traditional Turkish family living in Berlin. Iranian-Turkish director Jafar Panahi’s involvement as editor and producer adds another layer to this complex narrative.

The film’s central conflict revolves around Kerem, a young man whose family is shocked by his photographs with a German partner. His brother Murad tries to intervene but ultimately fails to protect Kerem from their patriarchal father Ibrahim. The family’s reaction is not just about traditional values but also about maintaining control and power within their community.

This dynamic raises questions about the intersection of queer identity with cultural and familial expectations. In many Muslim-majority countries, being openly gay can mean facing persecution, violence, or even imprisonment. But in a Western context like Berlin, where diversity is celebrated, what does it mean to be queer when your family expects you to conform? Kerem’s inner turmoil is all too relatable for those who have experienced similar struggles.

However, Hijamat falters in its execution, particularly in its handling of subplots. For example, the introduction of Margot (played by Nastassja Kinski), a friend of Murad’s late mother, feels tacked on and fails to integrate seamlessly with the main narrative. This subplot has potential but is underdeveloped.

The film’s attempt to tackle multiple issues at once – from queer identity to patriarchal control – results in an uneven pace and tone. The character development suffers, particularly when Murad’s own desires are awkwardly revealed. It’s a plot twist that feels like an afterthought rather than a natural progression of his story.

Panahi’s involvement adds to the mystery surrounding Saeivar’s work on Hijamat. Iranian filmmakers often face censorship and repression at home, leading them to adapt their stories for international audiences. This context may have influenced the film’s tone and narrative, but it also raises questions about cultural appropriation and representation.

Hijamat is part of a growing trend of films that explore queer identity within traditional communities. However, these narratives often rely on Western tropes and expectations, reinforcing the notion that queerness is a Western construct. The film’s portrayal of Margot’s past trauma highlights the long-term effects of violence on immigrant communities but also raises questions about cultural appropriation.

As we watch Hijamat, we’re reminded of the ongoing struggle for queer visibility and acceptance within traditional communities. While the film stumbles in its execution, its themes remain relevant and thought-provoking. The story of Kerem and his family serves as a poignant reminder that queerness is not just about individual identity but also about navigating complex cultural and societal expectations.

The legacy of Hijamat will be worth watching – for its portrayal of queer identity, its exploration of tradition, modernity, and representation.