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Fashion, Dazed MENA issue 03
Lost in Transit: How Jordan’s youth are negotiating what it means to belong
Text Mouna Madanat | Photography Nadia Bseisa

Nour wears jacket, sweater, skirt, bag, socks, shoes MIU MIU

Jude wears shirt, trousers, shoes MIU MIU

Salma wears jacket, shirt, skirt, boots, bag MIU MIU

Salma wears shirt, skirt, boots MIU MIU

Toleen wears shirt MIU MIU

Salma wears shirt, trousers, bag, scarf MIU MIU
Most Arabs are grappling with something within and, for Jordanians, it’s often the feeling of being caught in the middle. In comparison to its older neighbouring countries, where metropolises have been defined for centuries, Jordan previously existed as a historic passageway that was composed of Bedouin tribes until recent years. The national identity has since become an amalgamation of different heritages, a product of migratory movement, forged through the contorted borders of the Sykes-Picot Agreement. Owing to these complex roots, we become multifaceted peoples with great beauty and intricacies, yet always with an essence of turmoil within.
I’m not afraid to admit that I, too, have a complicated relationship with Jordan. This is a sentiment that we often sheepishly relay, whether diaspora or not, with young Jordanians in particular grappling with mixed feelings about the motherland. Sharing this feeling, actress and multidisciplinary artist Salma Malhas reveals, “At one point, I had a more conflicted relationship with Jordan, but I think that made my connection to it stronger. I felt as though I had to reconcile with it. Now, my relationship with Jordan feels like that of an old friend, one with whom I once had an argument, but I’ve since reached an understanding with.”
More broadly, despite the country’s young age structure (the median age is 24), its youth haven’t always felt there are spaces for them to inhabit. They’ve been caught in a difficult in-between space of knowing their country is misrepresented and undervalued for its hidden beauty and art, while able to find room to grow. However, slowly since the pandemic, young Jordanians have learnt how to take up space. With borders closed and locals staying put, artists were born and artistic communities expanded. Gen Z creatives in Amman, especially, began to take advantage of fostering their creativity through the internet, garnering greater attention from the rest of SWANA region in the process.
While still in its early stages, a very much-needed movement has emerged, the result of hungry young creatives with plenty to say. But those paving the way for Amman’s artistic success are not solely Jordanian themselves, and acknowledging this allows us to view Jordan as exactly what it is: a hub of diasporic citizens. This reality poses issues around identity, specifically for Palestinian-Jordanians as they attempt to navigate the liminality that they occupy. Living in a country that supposedly strives to protect them while witnessing the controversial decisions taken by its status quo is not an easy task. While Jordan exists as a supposed ‘safe space’ that welcomes all as family, one cannot ignore the actions taken in the name of neutrality while a genocide unfolds next door.

Toleen wears dress MIU MIU
Noor wears jacket, shirt MIU MIU
It’s these dynamics that ultimately affect their relationship with the land and thus informs the art they eventually create, correlating within the creative scene and in their own practices. Despite these tensions, maybe even in reaction to them, independent movements have gained traction over the last few years. Evidence of this is seen in new spaces such as Malakat Records, a women-focused independent record label and digital arts collective in Amman—and the first of its kind in the region. Through avenues like releasing music, hosting workshops, and other programmes for aspiring artists across the country, its ethos is to support the voices of experimental Arab female artists that wish to defy the industry’s boundaries.
Creating this gendered space, and such a previously unfamiliar concept in the centre of the country, pushes the movement to the forefront, demanding attention and a renewed attitude towards the scene. Similarly, Seven Hills, the skateboarder-run non-profit in Amman, is doing vital work in bringing recreational spaces to lower socioeconomic families and the displaced population in Jordan. In providing free public spaces for these groups, the grassroots organisation has decentralised the city’s wealthier class within its creative scene—a much-needed change.
Artist and emerging cultural catalyst Jude Samman touched on the importance of platforming Amman’s art scene to the masses, emphasising her hopes for the next generation to carry the scene forward. “The creative scene has real potential to inspire young people, whether to pursue art themselves or simply see it in a new light,” she says. “There’s still a gap between creators and audiences, partly because access to knowledge about art and creativity is limited. Many people don’t always fully engage with the work being made today.”
Improving the visibility of Amman’s talent and using it as a tool to represent Arab artists has positioned Jordan as a more accessible space. This, in turn, has influenced the new hubs that have debuted in the country, listening cafés and natural wine bars included. Yet, there is a lot to be said for the specific class of Jordanians to whom this art is available. Despite such spaces being a welcome addition, expensive tickets and overpriced coffee and cocktails mean that they are catering only to those who can afford it. A desire to meet the city’s demand for high-end culture is justified, but it’s futile if it’s exclusive. To find a balance is a must—and potentially the most authentic way to truly transform Jordan’s creative scene.

What’s more, we must be wary of incorporating themes of orientalism in this discussion, as putting Jordan’s progressive moves and the west on a pedestal is dangerous. While we can acknowledge that recognition of Amman’s talent by its neighbours and the Global North is helpful, we must also be prepared to address the challenges. As Malhas explains, “While representation can benefit marginalised communities in the west, what’s needed for our region is more than just recognition of Arab talent, especially when, nearby, a whole population is being viciously killed every day.”
In this way, bringing Jordan into the spotlight will bring about advantages as well as disadvantages. Arabs are no strangers to unwarranted attention and opinions, and platforming Jordan in particular will increase the space available for this criticism, from westerners and our neighbours alike. In their own way, artists across Amman are attempting to reframe Jordan as more than its label: a puppet of the west that is, too often, still stuck in tradition.
This is no small task, of course. Jordan has long existed as an in-between state and a middle ground. A temporary stopping point for most. Younger generations yearn to leave, and the diaspora yearns to return. With few exciting opportunities to stick around for, the youth of Amman jump at the chance to explore. What the pandemic did for Jordan was desperately needed, as it encouraged citizens and artists to find the beauty in their backyard, helping them fall back in love with all that makes Jordan unique.
At the end of the day, the country has a pull factor that cannot be denied, which fashion designer Tania George highlights. “Jordan is home,” she reflects. “I’ve lived in many places, but I choose to be here, and I love it. I feel safest here and, even when it gets frustrating, there’s no place like it. I’m deeply connected to this place. Jordan is where my humour makes sense, where my references come from, and where my work feels most honest.” Specifically, she points to the honesty and generosity of its people—even if you’re not Jordanian, you’ll feel welcomed regardless.

Jude wears shirt, skirt, socks, shoes MIU MIU
Tania wears shirt, bag MIU MIU
Similarly, Malhas underlines that there is a certain comfort to the city, of home as a place of creating, both individually and amongst a creative community that feels a shared responsibility of carving out space for one another. “Jordan’s creative scene has been a safe space to share my interests and aspirations,” she notes. “I’ve surrounded myself with people who support me, motivate me, and develop my passions. The opportunities I’ve gained through the scene have been essential to my growth.”
The question that remains is whether Jordan will merely remain a ‘stopping point’, despite all these changes to the art scene. One can only hope that its innate charm and distinctive atmosphere can continue to convince creatives to stay. To wholly invest in and commit to Amman’s creative scene is the only way to maintain visibility of the country and its talents. As Samman points out, we don’t need western recognition to validate us, as we already have strong institutions in the region that can support artists if we continue to strengthen our own community.
The rising recognition of Jordan’s artistic talent has been much anticipated and comes as the missing piece of the puzzle in Amman’s newest era. “I hope this recognition goes deeper,” asserts George. “Jordan might be small, but our talent is strong.”
Photographer: Nadia Bseiso
Styling: Tintein Studio
Hair and Makeup: Andre Habash
Producers: Jude Khalili & Ahmad Shamroukh
Creative Producers: Fatima Mourad
Photo Assistant: Mohammad Darwish
Assistant Stylist: Zydoon Bostami
Videographer: Jawan Aklouk
Talents:
Jude Samman
Tania George
Toleen Abdulhamid
Noor Al Naji
Salma Malhas
Special thanks Baraka Destinations
