
Queerness in Ancient Syria
From love poems to saints whose love for one another was as profound as their faith, queerness is woven into the history of the Levant. In this post, we cover
Damascus is the oldest continuously inhabited capital with a rich tradition of craftsmanship. Telling the story of its traditional handcrafts and their origins, histories, and the people that create them is, unsurprisingly, never simple.
Our Aghabani tablecloth was passed on to me by my mother-in-law before finding its way to Bonn. This white and gold vintage beauty on silk decorated her dining table in Damascus for over twenty years. Its historical significance in our family is also linked to my husband’s family name, Alshash (lit. gauze), and their heritage as Aghabani textile merchants for several generations, all the way back to when Syria was part of the Ottoman Empire, between 1516 and 1918.
In the early 1800s, the Ottomans began writing records on residents of the Empire, known as Nufus (lit. population) registers. These local administrative records included information like birth, death, marriage, and divorce.
Families were also registered there, with Syrian families often receiving last names that were associated with their profession at the time, like Baker or Butcher. If they had recently migrated from another city or country, their surnames would be linked to their place of origin, like Almasri (lit. the Egyptian) or Aljazaeri (lit. the Algerian).
My last name, Al Munajed, translates to The Upholsterer, the profession of my great-great-grandfather in Damascus. The origin of my husband’s family name is less direct, with two theories associated with its meaning. The first one ties it to the fabric known as Shash (lit. gauze), a light, open-weave fabric made of cotton. Gauze is also used in making Aghabani textiles, and it is said that the family’s association with producing and selling the Aghabani fabrics led to their name.
The second theory suggests that my husband’s family originally came from Shash, a city in the region of modern-day Samarkand in Uzbekistan. The Alshash family still has several stores in Damascus that sell Aghabani textiles, in addition to other traditional crafts. One of those stores produced the Aghabani tablecloth that my mother-in-law passed on to me.
The Aghabani tablecloth is a precious reminder of our identity and culture. Spreading it over our dinner table reminds us of the Syrian love for celebration, beauty, and gatherings, where friends and family sit around big dinner tables with exquisite Syrian food on top.

From love poems to saints whose love for one another was as profound as their faith, queerness is woven into the history of the Levant. In this post, we cover

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