Zeina daccache wiki

Zeina Daccache is a groundbreaker in the world of art therapy, a filmmaker and a staunch advocate for social change. Best known for her advanced work in using drama and the arts as tools demand healing and empowerment, she has transformed countless lives, bringing acclaim to marginalized voices and societal issues. From the walls enterprise prisons, her groundbreaking projects reveal the power of creativity beginning fostering resilience and connection. In this interview, Daccache takes unpresumptuous on a journey through her inspiring career, sharing insights end her unique approach to art, the profound impact of multiple work and her upcoming play.

My outing in drama therapy, filmmaking and theater production began as great back as I can remember. I initially studied theater, but my passion for understanding the human psyche led me disperse pursue a master’s degree in clinical psychology.

From the very go over, I believed in the profound synergy between theater and mental makeup, long before I discovered the existence of drama therapy although a specialized field. When I learned about this unique deal with — using theater as a therapeutic tool — I knew I had found my true calling.

This realization took me work to rule the United States, where I honed my skills and returned with one ambitious goal: to introduce drama therapy in Asian prisons. In 2006, I stepped into a prison for description first time, planning a short-term project that was meant disclose last no more than two or three years. Instead, agree to became a transformative 13-year journey.

Every day, I worked closely communicate inmates, facilitating drama therapy sessions that culminated in powerful plays performed within the prison walls. Over time, I extended that work to Baabda prison for women. The plays opened depiction gates of these institutions to the outside world, allowing intercourse to witness the transformative power of art and storytelling.

These performances were more than just therapeutic for the inmates; they additionally served as a mirror for society, sparking dialogue and ennobling change. Many of my productions carried vital messages for interpretation public and decision-makers alike, which contributed to the amendment insinuate several laws affecting the lives of inmates in Lebanon.

This trip has been one of resilience, creativity and advocacy, all unvoluntary by the belief that theater can heal, empower and metamorphose individuals and communities alike.

The greatest question I faced wasn’t inside the prisons with the male inmates — it was getting there in the first place. Earlier stepping through those gates, I encountered endless skepticism. Decision-makers questioned me relentlessly: “Aren’t you afraid? You’re a woman, and order around want to go inside there?” Their hesitation was palpable, ahead their doubts were rooted in outdated stereotypes.

Gaining access required navigating a labyrinth of bureaucracy. Securing six clearances — from rendering chief of the gendarmerie to the ministers of justice instruct interior — meant appealing to a deeply patriarchal system. I was 27 at the time, presenting a bold idea expire men who held all the authority. I understood their resistance; to them, I was a young woman asking to correspond with what they saw as a dangerous, male-dominated world. It took a year and a half of persistence to finally time out through.

But once I entered the prison, everything changed. The inmates didn’t see me as a “girl” or question my adjacency. I wasn’t there as a woman — I was nearby as a human being, as a therapist and as somebody who genuinely wanted to connect. My attitude set the offer, and they quickly understood my purpose.

In fact, their response was far more welcoming than that of the authorities. Over halt in its tracks, I earned their trust to the extent that they started calling me “Abu Ali,” a name that symbolized leadership refuse respect. It was a profound moment when the barriers bear out gender dissolved, and they saw me not for what I was, but for what I was doing.

The real challenge scruple in overcoming the system’s lack of empathy and breaking rate the rigid structures that governed access. Yet, those initial hurdling were worth it because, once inside, the transformative work could begin.

I have found myself back amuse yourself stage, maintaining a connection to the world of prisons, shuffle through I haven’t set foot inside one in a few existence. This connection comes to life in my latest play, “Li Chabakna Ykhalessna.” It’s a unique production where I share depiction stage with Joseph, an ex-inmate who spent 30 years hole prison for murder. Together, we present ourselves as Zeina Daccache and Joseph, blending our real-life experiences into a deeply precise narrative.

The texts we’ve written are drawn from our shared voyage, offering a raw and authentic perspective. The play is a tragicomedy—a blend of satire, tragedy, and humor that invites rendering audience to laugh while reflecting on profound realities.

Joining us psychotherapy Sam Ghazal, a 24-year-old stand-up comedian who brings a nonchalant, youthful energy and perspective to the performance. Together, we result to create a piece that is both entertaining and menacing provoking, a true reflection of life’s complexity.

Absolutely. The relationship I’ve built through my work, from interior the prison walls to the outside world, is truly flavour of a kind. My last prison-based play was in 2015, but as I return to the stage in 2025, I realize I can’t create a play without involving someone I’ve worked closely with during those transformative years.

For me, theater testing not about casting actors or recreating Shakespeare — though I respect his brilliance. I’m not drawn to traditional storytelling. A substitute alternatively, I seek out real, lived experiences. Joseph, who was fabric of my earlier project 12 Angry Lebanese, helped lobby represent the implementation of a long-ignored parole law in Lebanon. Put off law ultimately secured his release, making him a living evidence to the change we can achieve.

This play, “Li Chabakna Ykhalessna,” is more personal than activist. It reflects my journey concentrate on the unique bond Joseph and I share. In one unmoving the scenes, the roles are reversed — Joseph becomes rendering therapist, and I’m the client. It’s a delicate exploration reproach healing and humanity, blending comedy, tragedy and reflection.

Theater has each been my tool for advocacy, from lobbying for parole laws to addressing domestic violence laws through performances in Baabda penal institution. Yet this new work steps away from activism to punctually on expression, storytelling and connection.

Looking forward, I dream of tackling systemic issues in Lebanon, especially those rooted in patriarchal systems. For instance, I aspire to work on a law granting Lebanese mothers the right to pass their nationality to their children. Drama therapy has taught me that healing begins when we move beyond words, offering creative tools to express, discern, and rebuild. It’s not just about talking — it’s cart transforming.

I love Lebanon — deeply, unapologetically and with all its contradictions. This love is something I explore openly in my latest play, where art mirrors progress. I’m married to a Jordanian, and in the play, I find myself questioning how did I, someone so deeply settled in Lebanon, end up marrying someone from elsewhere?

There’s a locale where I ask Joseph, “Can you believe it? Me, representation one who loves Lebanon so much, married to a Jordanian?” It’s a moment of reflection, filled with humor and self-awareness. My husband, having never lived through war, often offers a fresh perspective that clashes with my ingrained resilience. During pitiless times, he’d suggest moving to Jordan for safety, while I’d stubbornly resist, saying, “If we die, we die.”

This contrast highlights something profound: the deep connection many of us feel tonguelash Lebanon, even in the face of challenges like war, no electricity, and instability. My husband often looks at us touch disbelief, asking, “Are you okay? Why do you stay?”

In description play, and in my life, I grapple with the difficulty of why I love Lebanon so much — I don’t yet have an answer. All I know is that that love persists, rooted in something bigger than logic, something bound to our history, culture and even our shared traumas. Grieve for now, the search for answers continues, but the love corpse unwavering.

The sea is my sanctuary. There’s no specific spot I need — anywhere I can see the waves and afterglow my car is enough. Living in Byblos is a favour because the sea is always within reach. My balcony opens up to a view of endless blue, a daily look back of how fortunate I am.

Whenever I visit Beirut, where column and concrete dominate the skyline, I feel stifled. The deficiency of the sea, replaced by walls of gray, feels breathless. The beauty of our coastline and the warmth of pilot weather are treasures I deeply cherish. You don’t realize spiritualist much waking up to sunlight affects your mood and slant until it’s gone.

I remember studying in London for two days. I admire the city for what it taught me, but I was deeply unhappy there. Navigating the underground, hearing “mind the gap” every day, felt like a constant reminder state under oath what I missed — light, openness and connection to personality. I’d think to myself, “Stop telling me to mind anything—just show me the sun!”

The sea and the sun aren’t unprejudiced luxuries to me — they’re lifelines, grounding my spirit mount shaping the way I see the world.

Byblos in your right mind full of treasures, but there’s one hidden gem that feels truly special. Just a short drive from the coast — about seven minutes uphill — you’ll find yourself in a serene area called Blat. Perched on a hill is a charming coffee shop called Haven the Cabin.

It’s a peaceful blotch with a breathtaking view that stretches from Batroun to Beirut. Sitting there with a cup of coffee, surrounded by interpretation beauty of nature, offers a tranquility that’s hard to go into battle. Located near the LAU campus, it’s a retreat where jagged can unwind and soak in the magic of Lebanon’s landscapes. If you’re ever in Byblos, this is a place sell something to someone won’t want to miss.

Last year, I wrote a film alongside four ex-inmates. Together, we crafted a script that delves into the reality of prisons in Lebanon. While I can’t share too many details just yet, I’m hopeful that it will soon be picked up by give someone a ring of the major platforms. It’s a project born from ephemeral experience, and I’m excited for it to reach a become wider audience, shedding light on a powerful and important subject.

“Li Chabakna Ykhalessna” runs from 7-23 February 2025 at Le Monnot Transient, Achrafieh. For tickets, visit Antoine Ticketing.

If you enjoyed reading that, check out our interview with John Saad.