Seven years ago, Soura began with a simple belief: that our stories deserve a space of their own. A space where queer individuals from the SWANA region could see themselves on screen without having to explain, translate or simplify who they are. Where our stories could be tender, political, sexual, joyful, angry, vulnerable
and complicated all at once. Because we are all of these things, and more.

Seven years later, we are still here.

I don’t say this lightly. This edition almost didn’t happen. Like many independent queer cultural spaces, Soura is operating with fewer resources, less funding and an increasingly uncertain future. This year, that reality is visible: fewer guests, no panels and a smaller programme around the films. We even turned to our community through crowdfunding to help make this edition possible. The reality is harsh, but we would rather be transparent about that than pretend otherwise. Keeping a festival like Soura alive today is extremely difficult. And yet, perhaps its reason for existing has never felt clearer.

We are living through brutal war, displacement, censorship and the silencing of communities across our region. At the centre of this reality is the ongoing Palestinian struggle, and the immense violence, dispossession and erasure Palestinians continue to endure. Palestine has always been part of the cultural and political landscape from which Soura emerged, and this year three films in our programme engage with Palestinian lives, memory and resistance. Their presence is not incidental. At a time when these voices are being deliberately and violently silenced, censored and spoken for, creating space for Palestinians to tell their own stories is very essential.

Perhaps our 2026 selection reflects this moment of rupture. But we did not want the programme to be defined by trauma or victimhood. There also had to be room for beauty, desire, humour and fun. Alongside films confronting violence and oppression, you will find coming-of-age stories about young people pushing against convention, loving tributes to Egyptian cinema, irreverent comedy, body horror and blood-soaked revenge. Joy belongs here as much as anger does. That desire to look beyond what is expected also runs through the films from Iran in this year’s programme, including Mohammad Shirvani’s Caesarean Weekend, a formally daring portrait of young Iranians finding freedom through intimacy, friendship and the possibility of living outside the roles handed down to them.

We are also especially happy to welcome scholar and filmmaker Raed Rafei as our special guest. Five years after we screened his film The Ruins (Al-Atlal), we return to his work with two very different films: Tripoli: A Tale of Three Cities, a deeply personal reflection on homecoming, memory and queer belonging, and We Will Haunt Your Archive, an experimental work that asks how history is recorded, preserved and reclaimed.

Cinema, after all, had the power to preserve what others try to erase. It carries memory across borders and generations, and reminds us that queerness has always been here. Soura would not exist without the people who continue to believe in it. We are deeply grateful to our dedicated team, filmmakers and artists, partners, funders, collaborators, designers, volunteers, donors and everyone who helped us shape this edition.

And to our audience: thank you for continuing to show up, watching these films, talking about them, questioning them and carrying them beyond the cinema. Our stories are here. They always have been. And for as long as we can, we will keep making space for them.

Welcome to the 7th Soura Film Festival.

Robert Moussa
Festival Director

Soura Team