November 1, 2024

As people we naturally cling to those who look like us. We make friends based on similar interests and things we have in common. Growing up as an Arab, I’ve never really understood the importance of my heritage. Being Arab is not a secret. We talk about it, learn about it in our curriculums, and go to school with people who might or might not look like us. 

For a long time I’ve thought about what it means to be Arab and what it means to who I feel myself to be. I want to share a raw experience with you: the moment when I first realized I was a minority. 

Let me set the scene. 

I was sitting in fifth grade history class, flipping through my Ohio State Test, filling in my bubbles. I realized that my pencil had stopped when I reached the ethnicity question. They did not have mine listed. I was given the options of white, African-American, Asian/Pacific Islander, Hispanic and ‘other.’ 

But none of these are me I thought, as a lump formed in my throat. 

I called over my teacher, and with a voice cracked and confused, I said, “My race isn’t listed. I’m Arab”. 

I was told to choose white and I didn’t question it. 

There were many other encounters I had during the three years of my 7% minority middle school that shaped who I am as a person. But now, as a sister, former teacher, mentor, camp counselor and an Arab American, I look back on these experiences with newfound wisdom and knowledge. 

After doing my own research, I learned that by law Arab Americans have been required to choose ‘white’ by the U.S Census Bureau. Luckily this is one heartbreak that future generations won’t have to experience, because in 2024 Arab Americans will have their own new bracket: “Middle Eastern.” Before the inclusion of this category the U.S. Census Bureau estimated approximately 2.6-3.5 million Arab Americans. There are organizations, however, such as the Arab American Institute that have claimed that this number is badly underestimated due to the historical lack of a precise category. When accounting for the categorial underrepresentation, the population estimate rose to 3.7 million. 

When I allow myself to reflect, I think about the many times I was embarrassed about my heritage—and the times I even stated that I was something else. I realize that I’ve never fully embraced it. 

Being Arab isn’t just about being able to claim it on a census form, or on a state test. It is more than that. It’s the beautiful, rich and pure embrace of tradition, lineage and truth.