Additional Writer’s Note: this article will address genocide. I also censor the name of Isr*el because it makes me feel physically ill to read the name of that entity. Thank you for understanding.
After (barely) surviving my first few weeks of college, I was very much looking forward to coming home to rest for fall break. I had no more organic chemistry to worry about, at least for the time being. I could finally just relax and prepare for my next test in physics. I would get to see my dog after weeks of separation, and seeing him was a special privilege because of a health scare he had that he was recovering from. After dropping my bags on the floor and massaging the ones under my eyes, I plopped down on the couch to watch some YouTube. However, something was out of the ordinary- even for my eclectic recommended. As I clicked on the out-of-place video, the first thing I saw was hundreds of people, elementary-school age children included, parading through the streets of East Jerusalem and screaming “death to Arabs!” and “the only good Arab is a dead Arab!” Looks like fall break wouldn’t be too relaxing after all.
Marhaba to you all! I have been trying to write this article for a while now, but ironically, I have been too depressed because of the genocide in order to make real headway- this is because, for Arab students on KU campus such as myself, the genocide isn’t just a distant concept, but a very heavy, real constant. Each day, those of us unfortunate enough to have access to a web browser are assaulted by news of our people being slaughtered like livestock. The recent invasion of Lebanon hit me especially hard as a Lebanese woman- the first thing that I do every morning is check my phone to update myself on the most recent developments in Lebanon and Palestine. I think about the genocide when I wake up, while I’m in class, while I’m studying, and even while I am trying to sleep- I have stayed awake in bed so many nights worrying about the land of my people. The knowledge of the suffering that they face daily has made me feel not only mentally unwell, but physically ill as well, and that isn’t even the worst part. The constant, passive dehumanization that I face on campus is utterly soul-crushing. When I first enrolled in KU this past summer, being made to feel subhuman wasn’t what I was expecting my freshman year experience to be like, but now it seems almost laughable that I could have been so naive.
The university perpetuates this dehumanization of Arab students in two main ways; first, the university openly supports Isr*el through investment and endorsement of the club Students Stand with Isr*el (SSI), and second, the university censors Arab voices through its direct attacks on Students for Justice in Palestine and other anti-genocide voices. As far as SSI goes, they can drop the I, because for Arab students their existence is practically an SS club. Their official website claims that Isr*el does not commit acts of ethnic cleansing, and that saying that it does is blood libel. It claims that Arabs are not indigenous to Palestine–or anywhere outside of Arabia, for that matter–meaning that I, as a Lebanese woman, am not indigenous to Lebanon. Neither, then, are any Arabs outside of Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Oman, Bahrain, Qatar, or the UAE are indigenous to their land, according to their statement. However, they completely fail to acknowledge the existence of many nomadic Arabic-speaking peoples living in the Levant since the 1st century A.D, such as Lebanese Arabs (Lentin 171). Thus, not only is their claim false, but attempting to rob Levantine Arabs of their indigenous status. They make many more disgusting claims, but at the end of the day all I’m saying is that if your website has to have a file on it literally named “debunking_the_genocide_claim.pdf,” you should probably take a step back and do a little self-reflection. But why do I care what this one group on campus thinks? It’s simple, really- the university continues to fund this organization and endorse them, meaning that it proves with its money that it tolerates these ideas and sees them as okay. This means that, in the university’s eyes, I am subhuman. That’s it, plain and simple. This is especially apparent in their simultaneous suppression of Students for Justice in Palestine. The university has attempted to suppress SJP by attempting to place unwarranted sanctions on it for “violating campus policy” during the encampments despite the fact that it was given explicit permission from administrators to participate in all the activities that they did. SJP is a club that actively supports the rights of Arab students and anti-genocide voices, and any attack on it directly translates to an attack on my rights as well.
This dehumanization not only makes it hard to study, but also makes it hard simply to exist. I have spent several days not leaving my dorm except to eat solely because of the stress and fear that this entire situation causes me. I genuinely fear for my safety on campus. Other Arabs and anti-genocide activists have been called “terrorists” just for wearing traditional Bedouin (Levantine Arab such as Palestinian, Lebanese, and Syrian) clothing such as the Kufiya. I have always been incredibly proud of my curly hair, which is visibly very “Arab,” at least as we are stereotypically seen in the media, but my fear of being targeted on campus has made me seriously consider straightening it. I have always felt worried while passing by police, as I have been racially profiled multiple times in my life (usually by TSA agents), which is a horrifying experience, but now I find myself unable to breathe in the presence of an officer on campus. KU’s ignorant and dehumanizing policies towards Arabs directly force us into a position of being second-class students, and truly make it difficult just to be a person on campus. There are many things you can do to help, such as spreading awareness, getting involved with the SJP, and joining in protests when possible, but for a start, just try to comfort those around you. If you have an Arab friend or even just know an Arab person, especially if they are Palestinian or Lebanese, just let them know that you care. Let them know that they are human beings, that you love them, and that you respect them. You don’t know how much those little words mean in a time where our very humanity is being debated.
Yalla bye, Jade
Works Cited
Lentin, Jérôme (2018). "The Levant". In Holes, Clive (ed.). Arabic Historical Dialectology: Linguistic and Sociolinguistic Approaches. Oxford University Press. pp. 170–205.
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