Language, Survival, and the Jaw as a Counter-Society within Syrian LGBTQI+ History

Al-Mutamashīt is a secret language that emerged from the social interactions of certain groups within the Syrian LGBTQI+ community. This study aims to examine the structure of this language—often referred to as the Syrian “jaw language”—in order to identify some of its defining features and the social environments in which it developed.
The most distinctive characteristics of al-Mutamashīt likely spread during the decline of the French Mandate in Syria and alongside the rise of Egyptian cinema and theatre. It is important to note that al-Mutamashīt is not a fixed linguistic system, but rather a composite that has accumulated and evolved over time. Therefore, when discussing its origins, the focus should be placed on the origins of its constituent elements and the historical moments in which these elements flourished.
Individuals develop their understanding of the world through interactions within their social circles. Those who share similar social conditions are likely to develop comparable habits and communicative practices. In this context, this study focuses on al-Mutamashīt and the jaw community as active tools used within the Syrian LGBTQI+ community, rather than on tracing each lexical unit back to its source language or reconstructing the precise social circumstances that led to the formation of these groups.
Al-Mutamashīt is primarily built upon Syrian “white” colloquial Arabic. However, it functions as a lexical variant in which standard word meanings are altered, and roots derived from other languages and dialects are incorporated. Within the jaw community, al-Mutamashīt is also known as Istaloghi. It contains specialized vocabulary related to sexual encounters, body parts, makeup, money, police, potentially dangerous or volatile figures to watch out for, as well as terms used to classify individuals inside and outside the jaw community.
One of the approximately forty words in al-Mutamashīt that can be relatively easily dated is “dota”, derived from Hebrew, where it refers to the dowry paid by a prospective groom to the bride’s family. In al-Mutamashīt, the term is used to refer to a client who pays for sexual services. This suggests that al-Mutamashīt may trace back to a period in which the first sex-work venue associated with the LGBTQI+ community was established by a Syrian Jewish individual. Nevertheless, it remains difficult to determine a precise historical moment marking the emergence of al-Mutamashīt as a secret language within the jaw prior to the 1980s.
Following the occupation of Palestine, the number of Syrian Jews declined gradually due to migration. With the rise of the Ba‘ath Party and the events of the 1980s, pressure on minorities—including LGBTQI+ individuals—intensified, leading to major waves of Syrian migration. This context may have significantly accelerated the development of al-Mutamashīt during that period.
The linguistic structure of al-Mutamashīt is neither stable nor uniform and remains open to multiple interpretations. Some constructions draw from Turkish syntax by shifting the verb toward the end of the sentence, while others incorporate suffixes from the languages of religious and ethnic minorities in Syria, such as Armenian and Syriac. Hebrew suffixes are also present, particularly those used to feminize verb roots or indicate possession. For example, “shilo” (“his”) and “shili” (“mine”) are Hebrew possessive pronouns that are also used within al-Mutamashīt. French linguistic elements are likewise evident, with repurposed words such as patrona and anfona.
Although al-Mutamashīt is a semi-secret language and much of its vocabulary is linked to sex work and sexual life, it is also consistently used as a tool for affirming identity. For example, the term “ikhti” (“my sister”) is used to affirm femininity when referring to women, but it is also used for non-binary individuals, trans women, and even individuals who seek access to masculine privilege and dominant masculine social positioning outside the jaw community.
Al-Mutamashīt does not simply refer to gay men, lesbians, or trans individuals. Rather, those who belong to the jaw are individuals who live outside the normative reality of Syrian society. The jaw signifies a queer mode of living that deviates from social norms, highlighting the importance of al-Mutamashīt in personal relationships—particularly in affirming gender identities that may not receive recognition in broader social contexts.
Familial terms such as “my mother,” “my daughter,” and “my sister” exceed their literal meanings within al-Mutamashīt. When I address a trans woman friend as “ya ikhti,” I am affirming her gender in ways that strangers on the street may refuse to do linguistically. At the same time, I am asserting a chosen familial bond.
The language also contains explicit terminology related to police surveillance, evasion, and danger. For instance, “Mama Janet” is used to refer to police patrols. Narratives surrounding this term vary—some trace it back to the French Mandate era, while others attribute it to more recent contexts.
Al-Mutamashīt is a counter-language in that it departs from dominant norms embedded in colloquial Syrian Arabic. The jaw itself constitutes an alternative social formation, structured around a matriarchal rather than patriarchal hierarchy. This inversion is evident linguistically: while the dominant society uses “ya akhi” (“my brother”) regardless of gender, al-Mutamashīt employs “ya ukhti” (“my sister”) for all genders.
The jaw possesses its own social hierarchy, maintained and reinforced through language. Those who occupy marginalized positions within normative Syrian society often become the most powerful within the jaw. In this context, trans women sex workers sit at the top of the jaw’s social hierarchy, and being a trans woman engaged in sex work is considered honorable and socially valued.
Consider a scenario in which someone enters a restaurant and is greeted with “ahlan ya sharmuta.” In dominant society, this would provoke hostility. Within al-Mutamashīt and the jaw, however, the term functions affectionately—akin to saying “my love.” This illustrates how al-Mutamashīt normalizes sex work and reassigns dignity and respect to stigmatized identities.
Al-Mutamashīt functions as a counter-language because it becomes the primary language of individuals within the counter-society. One must belong to the jaw for one’s reality to shift and for the language to be fully internalized. Not every queer person knows al-Mutamashīt, but through social engagement with the jaw, individuals gradually acquire it. Activism within the jaw and the use of al-Mutamashīt are deeply intertwined, as the language embodies gender performance, queer identity, and communal belonging.
A mother tongue refers to the original language of a community member and is essential for daily communication. A counter-language, by contrast, is not anyone’s original language. It emerges within counter-societies—subcultures that resist and oppose dominant norms. Membership in the counter-society—in this case, the jaw—is essential for learning the counter-language. One must first become part of the jaw or self-identify as such. This process reshapes an individual’s reality and relationship to identity through participation in shared practices and collective experiences.
Although al-Mutamashīt was primarily present in Damascus—particularly in areas such as Abu Rummaneh and the Old City—it could also be encountered elsewhere in Syria. Its presence diminished further north and east, not only due to cultural isolation but because queer individuals often migrated toward major cities to escape social pressure in less populated areas. The language also circulated through parties held in cities such as Homs and Aleppo prior to the Syrian war.
While al-Mutamashīt can be studied as a lens through which to examine queer identity in Syria and the region, some argue that its wider circulation may contribute to its disappearance—similar to the fate of Polari in Britain by the late twentieth century. However, linguistic evolution does not necessarily imply extinction.
Several factors may lead to the disappearance of secret languages: increased social acceptance and legal reform reducing the need for secrecy; media exposure and linguistic assimilation; generational shifts in which younger individuals adopt different vocabularies; and migration, diaspora, and integration into broader social groups.
It is difficult to confirm whether al-Mutamashīt is still actively used today, given limited access to communities that may continue to employ or adapt it. Heightened security repression has eroded trust, making research more challenging. Nevertheless, continued study of the past and present of al-Mutamashīt remains essential for understanding a foundational aspect of Syrian queer history.
“Istaraslit labatrishit istalogho hafizshit, marja‘an ahkishit.