Despite genocide and hate, Arab Americans will celebrate our heritage

In 1962, Dr Alixa Naff pioneered the field of Arab American studies by researching immigration from Syria and Lebanon to the United States.

She observed that this area had received little scholarly attention and began interviewing Arab American immigrants to record their stories.

In 1984, Naff donated her collection - which included oral histories, archival materials and artefacts - to the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History. 

Today, the collection is open to the public and can be explored online.

Over time, states such as Arkansas, Hawaii, Michigan, New York, North Carolina, and Virginia began recognising Arab American heritage in April - a month selected for its symbolism of hope and renewal and because it does not overlap with other heritage commemorations.

In 2021, Joe Biden became the first American president to officially recognise Arab American Heritage Month at the federal level.

Roots and belonging

Contrary to popular belief, Arab Americans are not newcomers to this nation. 

Our story began in the early 1800s, when Arabs - mostly Christians - fled oppression under the Ottoman Empire. This region includes present-day Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Palestine and Israel. 

Today, according to the Arab American Institute, "The majority of Arab Americans [which counts three to four million people] are native-born, and 85 percent of Arabs in the US are citizens."

For many of us, what was once a joyful celebration of our heritage now feels overshadowed by the weight of mass killings and political betrayal

This annual commemoration matters on many levels. It affirms our place in the US and acknowledges our contributions to its greatness in countless fields. It also allows us to educate the public and challenge the racist stereotype that all Arabs are terrorists and uncivilised.

However, since October 2023, Israel's war on Gaza - now in its 18th month - has laid bare how little regard this country has for Arab lives and voices. 

For many of us, what was once a joyful celebration of our heritage now feels overshadowed by the weight of mass killings and political betrayal.

International organisations such as the United Nations and Amnesty International have reported that Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinian people. Yet these reports did not deter Biden's support for Israel, as he approved an $8bn arms shipment - making clear that we are disposable in the eyes of US power, a reality now compounded by Donald Trump's return to office.

Disposable lives

American foreign policy towards the Arab world has long been driven by racism or self-interest. 

The Nationality Act of 1790 limited citizenship to white immigrants, forcing thousands of Arab Americans to identify as white on federal forms.

The Immigration Act of 1924 (The Johnson-Reed Act) established quotas to reduce immigration from Asia. Syrians and Lebanese were deemed racially inferior and unfit to migrate to the US.

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In the aftermath of 9/11, the US government cast Arabs and Muslims as a national security threat and subjected them to surveillance in violation of their constitutional rights. 

In 2002, all Arab and Muslim men were required to register with the government. Among those who applauded this policy was political commentator Michael Smerconish, who, in his book Flying Blind: How Political Correctness Continues to Compromise Airline Safety Post 9/11, openly called for the strict screening of all Arabs. 

Today, Smerconish remains a respected CNN host - a reminder that those who promote brazenly racist views about Arabs are not cast out of public life, but embraced by the American mainstream.

In 2011, President Obama suspended the programme, but continued to uphold the racist status quo. 

Of course, this targeting did not begin with surveillance and registration - it had already taken a far more violent form abroad.

In March 2003, the US invaded Iraq, vowing to eliminate alleged weapons of mass destruction and end Saddam Hussein's dictatorship. In his memoir Decision Points, former president George W Bush admitted the war was wrong and acknowledged the flawed intelligence.

The consequences of that war were devastating: thousands of Iraqi civilians were killed, many more displaced, and an entire country left in ruins. Despite serious allegations of US war crimes in Iraq, calls for reparations, and broad admission that the invasion was a mistake, the US government has never apologised.

Normalised hate

American foreign policy is the engine of Arabophobia in this country. 

In 2017, President Trump unsurprisingly issued the infamous "Muslim ban", restricting travel from seven Muslim-majority countries to the US. Today, we are witnessing the possible revival of this policy, with restrictions on 43 countries.

There was a glimmer of hope with former vice president Kamala Harris, who became the Democratic presidential nominee in August 2024. But she quickly alienated the Arab American community when she explicitly stated that she would not break from Biden's policy on Israel and Gaza.

Politics is not the only realm infected by Arabophobia; the media is equally complicit. 

How many films cast the villain as a brown man in a keffiyeh? How many crime series depict Arabs as eternal terrorists? And how often do newspapers report on Gaza's death toll without naming the perpetrators?

There is no doubt that Arabophobia is a systemic, lucrative policy in the US - one that has seeped into every sector and become almost normalised.

Arab American Heritage Month arrives as Trump wages war on Arab Americans, particularly those who support Palestine.

Yet despite it all, we Arab Americans will celebrate our heritage. 

We will sing, dance, and embrace life. We will remember our dead and carry them in our hearts. We will say their names - especially the children's names - for they were never just numbers.

And the world may see us however it wishes, through its orientalist, racist lens. We wait for no one's approval. We will chuckle as we think of the late Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish's words:

I don't beg at your door
I don't cower on your threshold
So does this make you rage?
Write it down!

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.