What do Queen Nefertiti and Amy Winehouse Have in Common? Lebanese-Egyptian Writer Zahra Hankir on The Power of Eyeliner…
In her hotly anticipated second book, Eyeliner: A Cultural History, the author traverses continents to explore the allure and cultural importance of kohl
“I use kajal every day,” says Zahra Hankir, holding up the ornate, brass kohl pot she uses daily – a gift from her mother, purchased in the souks of Sidon. The Lebanese-Egyptian journalist and writer is speaking to us from her New York apartment, ahead of the release of her second book, Eyeliner: A Cultural History. “It’s an inherent part of my identity.”
It wasn’t solely Zahra’s personal connection to eyeliner that inspired her to write the book, though it played a significant part. More than that, she wanted to celebrate the traditions of communities of colour, specifically those out of the East.
“Many of the chapters focus on Eastern culture and tradition, and amplify the voices of people from the regions,” she explains. In this sharing of stories, Eyeliner has something in common with Zahra’s first book, Our Women on the Ground – a collection of essays by Arab women journalists reporting on war and trauma – though admittedly, the subject matter is lighter. This is something Zahra acknowledges.
Prior to working on Eyeliner, she was reporting from Karantina in the aftermath of the Beirut blast, during which time the pandemic was also looming large.
“I had been toying with the idea [for Eyeliner] for a while,” she tells us. “But I struggled to settle on it. I felt that people might think it was superficial. And frivolous. And how could I be writing a book about this cosmetic when so much was unfolding around the Middle East?”
It was Zahra’s mother that gave her the push she needed. “She took me to the souks of Silon on my birthday, to the oldest kohl seller in my hometown. She said, ‘You really have to write this book. It’s such a beautiful idea and celebration.’”
Eyeliner is about so much more than make-up. Expansive and richly researched, the book not only charts the history of this ancient product, but also goes deep in exploring the role of eyeliner (or kajal, kohl, or sormeh) as a tool for rebellion and self-expression, and as a means of celebrating one’s cultural identity. In researching and writing it, Zahra spent time in six countries including Japan, India, and Chad, speaking with geisha, cholas, chicanas, dancers, and more.
How many interviews did she conduct?
“Hundreds,” she replies. “In Petra alone, it was upwards of 80, and for each chapter it was dozens, so together it would be hundreds.”
The project was ambitious, made even more so by pandemic-induced lockdown. In lieu of being able to travel at points during the book’s two-year genesis, Zahra read (prolifically), watched films, and did a vast amount of visual research. “I devoted two months of pure research for each chapter,” she recalls. “I immersed myself in each culture and reached out to people from within cultures [outside of my own] to assist me with some of the research because that’s what I would hope for if someone was writing about my region.”
One chapter is dedicated to Amy Winehouse, who was rarely seen without her theatrically winged eyeliner. While researching this part of the book, Zahra notes that life began to imitate art. “My wings were becoming bigger and bigger,” she laughs. “Random strangers would say, ‘Has anyone ever told you you look like Amy Winehouse?’” She even had a dream about the singer – a sign of Winehouse’s approval, according to the late star’s hairdresser, who Zahra also interviewed.
“The point is, that’s how immersed I was in each chapter. I really wanted to understand the characters, the cultures, and the communities.”
Zahra camped out for eight days in Chad’s savanna region to observe the Worso, the Wodaabe people’s annual beauty contest in which the women judge the men – a tradition that subverts the idea that beauty is the preserve of women. While she was there, she met 19-year-old Adam, who had travelled from the capital of N’Djamena to see the festival.
“I had such a special bond with him,” she says. “He really opened up to me about how he would like to study medicine in the west and then return to Chad. He talked with such pride about his eyeliner, which he wears both for cultural and medicinal reasons. Part of his desire to become a doctor was because he found it so fascinating that kohl had these medicinal properties.”
During her stay in the desert, Zahra ran out of her beloved eyeliner; luckily, Adam came to her rescue. “He brought me some of his,” she says, speaking to the wonderful connectedness kohl brings.
We chat about how eyeliner can be as much a tool for rebellion as self-expression, and sometimes both – something Hankir explores in rich detail in the book. In Iran, the conspicuity of one’s eye make-up can be the difference between life and death. “[There, women] balance their desire for self-expression against their assessment of risk,” Zahra notes.
Apart from that brief, kohl-less moment in Chad, Zahra is never without her own signature eyeliner; the aforementioned kajal traces her lower waterline and inner corner of her eye, while a dramatic wing, architected from NYX liquid eyeliner (her favourite kind), adorns her lid. For the writer, these ‘magical lines’ gave her confidence as a young girl with Levantine-Egyptian heritage living in Northern England (where her family had moved during the Lebanese Civil War), and continue to anchor her in many ways.
“[Eyeliner] connects me to so many different parts of my identity,” she says. “My grandmother, my mother, the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), Queen Nefertiti… I do not live in the Middle East anymore, and it connects me to that land. What is so powerful about eyeliner is that it can take you across oceans and across continents.”
Zahra has adored Queen Nerfetiti since she first laid eyes on an image of her in a 1961 issue of National Geographic, at the age of 14. She saw something of herself in the Egyptian queen – a refreshing change to the Eurocentric ideals presented in the teen magazines she’d leafed through before.
“I’d argue that she’s the original beauty influencer,” she insists.
For Zahra, part of the power of wearing eyeliner is paying homage to her enduring beauty icon, who she credits with popularising eyeliner.
“I actually have a picture of her in front of me right now,” she says with a smile, casting her (immaculately winged) eyes upwards of her computer screen, to a wall out of view. “Eyeliner makes me feel like I’m part of this constellation of beautiful, strong women – starting with Nefertiti. I could talk about Nefertiti for days.” And we could listen.
Photography by Fernando Gomez