Strike's 4th Issue: Am I Arab Enough + Shoot Synopses

Photography by Will Chapman

Am I Arab Enough?

Editorial published as part of Strike Magazine's 4th issue, Primal Instincts. This piece followed the theme of Showing off.

We’ve all encountered that one person– the one who has turned their home country, language, cuisine and ethnicity into a mere personality trait. If you’ve met me, I am that individual. My Arab identity isn’t just a facet of who I am, it’s a defining factor in how I present myself, seek others’ validation and navigate all realms of living.  

For those of us with roots in distant lands, there’s an unspoken pressure to act as a walking advertisement for our home country and heritage. While it’s not explicitly imposed, we are nurtured by our traditions and language, fostering a deep appreciation for our cultural identity. This prompts a critical question.

 Why do we feel compelled to showcase our cultural identities so prominently? 

The media perpetuates a misconstrued image of what an Arab looks like. It has painted us as monolithic. Olive skin, lifted cheeks, long black hair, long nose. My skin is as pale as Snow White, my hair mirrors the hues of Little Red Riding Hood and my English slips naturally off of my tongue.

When you look at me, can you easily discern my Arab genes? Do my curls, the bridge of my nose, or the shape of my eyes signal I’m Arab? 

Now that my accent has faded, I grapple with my inner thoughts– the ones convincing me that no external trait of mine seems “Arab enough.” This internal struggle has birthed a desire to embrace and emphasize my Arab identity in every way possible. 

I vividly recall my nine-year-old self, newly arrived in America, befriending a girl who was intrigued by my Arabic-infused English. She excitedly called her friends over to hear my accent. I remember loathing every moment of this experience. Frankly, I just wanted to blend in and be one with the Americans. Today, I envy my mother’s accent, wishing my English carried the roll of the ‘R’ and the distinct articulation of the letter ‘T’. 

I praise my grandmother’s culinary talents —her unmatched seasoning. I serenade my loved ones with the music that molded my childhood. The mention of my country weaves its way into every conversation. Nostalgia guides me as I attempt to relive moments of my childhood, searching for each intricate detail and consumed by a yearning for everyone to recognize my Arab identity. This desire is one I’ve attempted to absolve by curating a collection of aspirations that orbits around this seemingly lost part of my identity. 

I adorn my body with pieces of gold symbols. These are not merely pieces of pretty jewelry but are reminders of my connection to my homeland. My name, scripted in Arabic, rests on my neck, and underneath it sits a map of my country. On my index finger, a delicate map of my country sits beside the Palestinian national flower. 

My thoughts and nightly dreams are interwoven in my mother tongue. While I articulate my opinions in English, they are essentially translated expressions from the language I inherently understand the most – Arabic. 11 years into my immigration, my proficiency in the English language has surpassed my Arabic skills. While I’m speaking in English, Arabic continues to influence the cadence of my everyday expressions. I continue to pause mid-sentence, emphasize certain syllables and parts of words, and use hand movements as if they were spoken words. 

The desire to show off my cultural identity is undeniable. My love for my country is unshakable and my yearning to seem “Arab enough” is noticeable. I have molded myself to be a display of Arab culture. I wear my identity pridefully and smile at the recognition I receive. As I’ve pridefully indulged in celebrating my identity, some may see it as flaunting. Is it possible for both to exist–  attempts to both heal an insecurity and express my Arab pride? 

I recall this intense display of my Arab identity came about at the peak of my homesickness. The strategies utilized to explore and showcase my Arab self have evolved since then. Initially driven by a yearning to reclaim what I left behind, it has gradually evolved into mere self-expression. Today, I understand that my Arab identity is a facet of my existence that I cannot ignore. 

My Arab pride transcends mere showcasing. It’s an endeavor to carve out a space where my loved ones can see me, in my most authentic form, leaving no room for misinterpretation. It’s not just a display of culture, it’s an attempt to delve deeper, go beyond our surface understanding of each other, and allow our genetics, ancestry and language to be embraced in their fullest form.

Synopses for Each Shoot 

'Blurbs' introducing the themed shoots featured in Strike Magazine's 4th Issue, Primal Instincts

                                                           To Show Off

      We crave attention, adorning ourselves with jewels and patiently waiting for the light to hit each and every detail of our embellishments. An attempt to become a work of art admired and adored by all who see us.  Humans possess an innate desire to stand out, seizing the opportunity to flaunt their uniqueness. In the human world, the act of ‘peacocking’ serves as a visual language, a reminder of one’s status, attractiveness or sheer confidence. When we fully give in to self-expression, we must ask ourselves.  Is our yearning to be understood genuine? Or, is it a performative act where the self forever takes precedence in the place of those around us?

                                               To Own

    Young love. Intense and magnetic — a force drawing hearts together with a craving of an infinite togetherness. The whispered promises of “forever and always” serve as vows, covenants for eternal love. This is not just a share of affection and attraction, but a ravenous tendency to gatekeep one another. We adorn ourselves with tattoos and jewelry, as a mark of who we belong to and who belongs to us. What extremes are we willing to reach to safeguard our ownership of one another? We are driven by jealousy and greed. We pursue permanence in each other, and in these pursuits, we learn of the inevitable impermanence of people, objects, and moments. Our response? a never-ending pursuit to mark our territory.

                                                     To Hide

     Our interactions with one another resemble a masquerade ball. The masks placed around our eyes and atop our cheek bones represent the constant efforts to assimilate into a social tapestry. We desperately attempt to Camouflage the parts of us that set us apart from the rest, attempting to fly under the radar. We engage with one another in our concealed identities in the hopes of staying hidden. While we may succeed in this quest of secrecy, perpetually trapped in the shadows, the masquerade ball we’re born into is a relentless game of hide and seek — there is never a truly secure hiding place. Always on the inevitable verge of being found.