Growing up in Saudi Arabia as a black child was a study in contrasts. My father served as a diplomat, and I attended a French school alongside other students who were mostly either Arab or European. And it’s safe to say that during my time there, I was exposed to the myriad of ways racism and colorism come into play in the Kingdom.
The first thing that comes to my mind regarding this topic? The slew of derogatory terms I faced such as “takrounia,” as well as other slurs based on nationalities, such as “Sudaniya” or “Somaliya”. At upscale restaurants and hotels, I remember Arabs often casting disdainful glances at my family and I, questioning our presence as if Africans didn’t belong there or couldn’t afford to be. And despite carrying some level of privilege due to my father’s status, we were still black no matter what. This reality was highlighted when a Saudi man insulted my mother, calling her a slave in traffic simply because my brother wasn’t driving to his liking.
In school, slavery was presented as a historical artifact, something barbaric and uncivilized, but I struggled to understand why lower-income African migrant workers still faced abuses akin to those described in my textbooks. I recall a house employee who would visibly flinch at the sight of men in our family, haunted by her past experiences of abuse, including being thrown on a dumpster by previous employers.
The story of Bilal Al Habashi, a black slave who was the first to call for prayer during the time of Prophet Muhammad, is often invoked in discussions about racism amongst Arab and Muslim communities. His legacy is used as a rebuttal argument against those who denounce racism, as if his existence could nullify the structural biases black people have faced and still face. For instance, slavery was not abolished until the 1970s in both Saudi Arabia and Yemen, while it only ended in 1981 in Mauritania. With or without Bilal in the equation, his legacy doesn’t erase the fact that black people continue to be exploited and suffer from deep-rooted racism in the Arab World.
Today, anti-blackness in the Middle East manifests itself in various forms, including through stereotypes and practices like blackface. To give you an idea of the disconnect, in a not-so-long-ago past, some celebrities used blackfaces to express solidarity with the black Lives Matter movement, seemingly unaware of the anti-black sentiments they might reflect or the offense associated with such acts. Most also seem clueless to the fact that oppressive structures targeting black people exist within their own respective countries, notably through the Kafala system for example, which is often described as modern-day slavery.
Over time, it seems as if the contentious history between Arab and black communities has bred a sentiment of vengeful divestment for the latter group. Many black individuals, particularly non-Arabs, tend to withdraw solidarity from oppressed Arab populations during conflicts, feeling that such support is not reciprocated when they themselves face exploitation, discrimination and marginalization. In the French black diaspora, incidents of anti-blackness frequently occur in multiracial spaces, including mosques and schools. The hashtag #FreresMaisPasBeauxFreres (brothers, but not brothers-in-law) wants to mirror a trend where Arabs may accept their black counterparts as brothers but will never have them as part of their own families. Controversies have emerged when black pro-Palestinians faced backlash from their peers for supporting Arab causes, an issue that can mainly be noticed amongst African-Americans, where there seems to be a belief that Arab causes receive a disproportionate amount of attention compared to the struggles faced by black nations. Many believe that conflicts and crises in countries like Sudan, Congo, Mali, Niger, and Haiti are often overshadowed and never receive the same level of global solidarity, media coverage, or advocacy, leading to frustration and a feeling of neglect within the black community.
The erasure of the Sudanese cause is evident in specific instances, such as when rapper Macklemore canceled a recent concert in support of Sudan. This action was misreported by news outlets as being in solidarity with Gaza, overshadowing the efforts of Sudanese activists. Nuss, a feminist activist raising funds for families in both Gaza and Sudan, has reported receiving messages urging her to prioritize Gazans over Sudanese refugees as they would allegedly already have aid. Yet, testimonies from Sudanese refugees in Egypt tell a different story; they face racism and even cluster in specific areas to avoid racial-based violence.
More recently, reports surfaced claiming that a fair number of Lebanese families had abandoned their African migrant workers during Israeli airstrikes, igniting controversy online. The UN estimates there are 170,000 migrant workers in Lebanon, where the Kafala or sponsorship system gives employers near-total control over their workers’ freedoms and personal life. Following the airstrikes, African domestic workers shared heartbreaking videos where you can clearly hear the bombs in the background, pleading for help after being left behind. Some organizations mobilized to shelter these workers, yet in one instance, they were expelled from a shelter just 12 hours after being welcomed. Activists, including @tastefullysaucy on X (formerly Twitter), initiated fundraising campaigns to support this displaced group of people that is being overlooked, almost forgotten.
These occurrences have reignited discussions about solidarity between black and Arab communities. Many black individuals advocate for withdrawing support from Arab causes, while some Arabs either denounce alleged generalizations or claim that these critiques stem from Zionist propaganda.
To me, it is undeniable that anti-blackness not only exists, but most importantly, persists amongst Arab societies, often exacerbated during times of conflict. Nonetheless, Palestinians have historically supported black causes, especially during the Civil Rights Movement and Black Lives Matter protests, just as black anti-colonial activists have lent their own support over to Arab causes facing Western imperialism.
While it is crucial to advocate for oppressed populations in the Middle East and beyond, we must also ensure that black and African voices confronting anti-blackness and discrimination in Arab communities are not silenced. Supporting Palestine and Lebanon does not exclude the need to address and challenge anti-blackness within these regions and their diasporas.
And while we continue working toward that goal, below, a few fundraising campaigns to consider supporting, aimed at helping marginalized communities and addressing the urgent needs of those impacted by systemic racism. If you wish to assist Sudanese refugees, consider contributing to campaigns amplified by @nnnnnnxox on X. To support African migrant workers in Lebanon, you can donate to the fundraising campaign initiated by @tastefullysaucy through this link.