“Egypt is a country where the Egyptians reign, English rule, and everybody does as he pleases”, two African American jazz musicians wrote in a letter of December 1923, published in the American newspaper The Chicago Defender. At the time, the Egyptian capital was coming into its golden age as part of the great international roaring twenties, and many African American artists were thriving in Cairo’s nightlife. A century and two revolutions later, the English have left, and Egyptians still do as they please. Cairo, Al-Qāhirah, is the second-largest metropolitan area in Africa and home to the oldest and largest film and music industries in the South West Asia and North Africa (SWANA) region. It has a population of over nine million, and an additional 9.5 million inhabitants live in its close proximity. Cairo is huge, loud, dusty, and endlessly enticing. An outwardly conservative city with a vibrant subculture of raves, nightclubs, boat parties and all-night weddings, Al-Qāhirah comes alive in the night time.
Sistermatic: An Ode to London's Long-Lost Pioneering Sound System and Collective Run by and for Black Queer Women
Dancing with the -isms
This year, Egyptians mourned the ten year anniversary of their lost revolution. Cairo’s energy turned cold for some time, as millennials realised that it had been a decade since they had taken to the streets in the hope of a better future. “Those were the best days of my life” was a sentence often said, “we had the best parties.” As a revolutionary spirit filled the country and people demanded their rights, creative expression flourished. Young people experimented with their visions for society and themselves, unlearning old patterns of being while celebrating new processes of becoming. This glorious time was short-lived. Soon, the military took over again and put a muffle on Cairo’s emerging magical worlds. Cracking down on anyone who dares to dream of freedom, ten years later, the city seems far removed from its progressive and hopeful self. Except if you look closely, Cairenes are still partying and “doing as they please”. Egyptians use humour as an antidote to despair, and they like to have a good time while doing so!
Egypt is ruled by class. Stratified entirely by access to wealth and education, the capital is becoming fragmented by compounds and gated communities, dividing the rich from the poor. Cairo’s mainstream nightlife is a mirror to this culture of segregation. In his article “What I Learned as a Door Selector at a High-End Bar in Cairo”, journalist Moustafa Daly writes, “classism, Islamophobia, and racism continue to be pillars of the Egyptian nightlife industry.” He recounts his boss’ instructions not to let anyone in who fails to speak English with a “flashy white accent” or is not visibly rich. A hot debate in Egypt is the ban of most hijabi women in clubs. Daly quotes his boss affirming, “this was a place where people went to party and disconnect from reality. No one wants to party alongside someone that might as well be the maid’s daughter.” In addition to these discriminatory door policies, most mainstream establishments simply do not play good music, let alone provide safety for women and other minorities.
JellyZone
A lack of security has pushed many into the privacy of their homes, but there are still some parties that aim to combat the classist and misogynistic culture of mainstream nightlife. Most prominently, JellyZone, a club night organised by Egyptian DJ A7ba-L-Jelly (the jelly bitch, as she translates it). JellyZone, which started as privately organised house parties that fed party-goers homemade liquor-infused jelly, offers a DIY alternative to swanky dress codes and cishet culture. Since launching as an official party in the summer of 2017, it has organised many events with DJs and artists pushing musical boundaries. Ticket prices are affordable, and door policies try to welcome a diverse crowd. Of course, doing big DIY parties comes at a price, with events not always running smoothly and authorities intervening. However, many party-goers take that risk because “stepping into the JellyZone is a bit like entering an alternative universe - a space devoid of elitism and sexism, where men and women can dress how they like, dance how they want and just be their weird, diverse selves.”
Afro Cairo
Black events are less underground but form part of an even more secluded subculture. Afro-music is uncharted territory in Egypt, but the few non-Black Egyptians who make it into this niche party world swear that those are the best parties in Cairo. Unfortunately, ridiculously expensive ticket prices at the doors of most mainstream establishments and electronic parties make these inaccessible for many Black migrants and locals alike. Thus, Afro-parties are a response to this inclusion. Typically free of charge, this will be the only time you’ll hear Afrobeats played in Egyptian clubs. They welcome a crowd from all over the continent and its diaspora, as well as those Egyptians who appreciate a more laid back atmosphere. In the country’s hostile, often unsafe environment, these events are an important celebration, affirming Blackness and African diasporic cultures.
Al-Qāhirah as a liberating force
Both Afro-parties and DIY underground events are for people who are made to feel like outsiders at the usual nightclub. Away from society’s judgemental gaze, Al-Qāhirah dances on Black and queer dancefloors, pronouncing her diversity, love for experimentation, and cherishing all that is still possible in the Egyptian capital.