IRRPP ArabAmericansInChicagolandReport 13Feb2023-Compressed
IRRPP ArabAmericansInChicagolandReport 13Feb2023-Compressed
Communities in Chicagoland
Authored by Nadine Naber, Nicole Nguyen, Chris D. Poulos, Iván Arenas, Louise Cainkar,
Nazek Sankari, Amanda E. Lewis, Nina Shoman-Dajani, and Zeina Zaatari.
Institute for Research on Race and Public Policy (IRRPP)
University of Illinois at Chicago
Beyond Erasure and Profiling: Cultivating Strong and Vibrant Arab American Communities in Chicagoland
is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We want to thank all of the units at the University of Illinois Chicago who supported the
development of this report including the Arab American Cultural Center, the College
of Education, Gender and Women’s Studies, the Office of the Vice Chancellor for
Research, and Global Asian Studies. We are also grateful to the external supporters
whose funding support made this report possible including the the John D. and
Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, the Field Foundation, the Kayal Foundation, a
UIC Award for Creative Activity, UIC’s College of Education, and UIC’s Institute for
Policy and Social Engagement.
This report would not have been possible without the tireless labor and support of
these individuals to whom we are grateful: Camilia Odeh, Lena Odeh, Faith Kares,
Tarik Kishawi, Othman Al Ani, Nareman Taha, Itedal Shalabi, Maya Atassi, Miriam
Mohamed, Suzanne Akhras Sahloul, Nina Shoman-Dajani, Zeina Zaatari, Muhammad
Sankari, Hatem Abudayyeh, Matthew Shenoda, Nesreen Hassan, Nadiah Alyafai,
Maysoon Abu Gharbieh, Muna Hammad, Fatmah Tabally, Fatima Abueid, Aber
Abueid, and Souzan Naser.
We also want to do a special thanks to our key collaborators and co-authors on the
report who engaged in multiple ways over the last few years to make this report
possible. These include Louise Cainkar, Nicole Nguyen, Nazek Sankari, Nina Shoman-
Dajani, and Zeina Zaatari.
Our appreciation as well to Sanad Hamdouna for providing us with the drawing of
the olive tree used in the front cover and at the end of the report.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Arab American Action Network (AAAN)
The Arab American Action Network is a grassroots, non-profit organization that serves
to strengthen Arab American communities through organizing, advocacy, education
and by providing social services. Established in 1995 out of the Arab Community
Center, the AAAN has continued the legacy of providing social services and serving
as a hub for the Palestinian and Arab American communities within Chicago. Based
in the West Lawn neighborhood of Chicago and a satellite office in Palos Hills, AAAN
offers a wide range of services to primarily low-income and working-class Arab
immigrant and Arab American communities. Services include case management,
youth organizing and programming, adult education, an Arab Women’s committee,
housing advocacy, and referrals.
Founded in 2009 as The Iraqi Mutual Aid Society, the Middle Eastern Immigrant and
Refugee Alliance was established by newly arrived Iraqi refugees in the Chicagoland
area to address obstacles the Iraqi community faced establishing their new lives in
the United States. Located in the West Ridge neighborhood of Chicago, the primary
clientele served includes refugees, immigrants, asylees, and Special Immigrant Visa
holders. Since their founding, MIRA has served linguistically and culturally diverse
Sanad Social Services is a social service agency that supports and addresses the
issues and concerns of the Arab American community. The Sanad “Pay It Forward”
Center is built around one very simple, yet very powerful idea: one by one, we can
all change lives. SANAD provides a wide range of services for diverse, low-income
individuals and families by offering assistance and empowerment through outreach
programs, educational seminars, and training classes. SANAD social services is
especially renowned for its food pantry.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MAP OF MIDDLE EAST AND NORTH AFRICAN COUNTRIES
TURKEY
TUNISIA SYRIA
LEBANON IRAN
WESTERN MOROCCO IRAQ
PALESTINE
SAHARA
JORDAN KUWAIT
ALGERIA LIBYA BAHRAIN
EGYPT
SAUDI U.A.E
ARABIA
QATAR
MAURITANIA OMAN
SUDAN YEMEN
DJIBOUTI
SOMALIA
1 Introduction
7 Summary of the Report
TABLE OF CONTENTS
85 Differences Among Arab American Respondents
87 What Does the Survey Tell Us?
145 Conclusion
147 MENA Category
149 Bad Science, Bad Policies
150 Invisibility vs Hypervisibility
151 Resources and Distribution
153 What have Arab Americans done about it?
154 In Summary
162 Endnotes
In this report, we examine the state of racial justice for Arab Americans who live in the
Chicago Metropolitan Statistical Area, which we refer to colloquially as Chicagoland.
Despite their myriad differences, some of which we will attend to in the report, there
are important continuities in the conditions and experiences of Arab Americans in
Chicago. Arab Americans come to the United States from the Arab countries of the
Middle East and North Africa, countries that are themselves comprised of many
racial and ethnic communities that have distinct histories and cultures. While not
everyone in the Arab region identifies as “Arab,” we use the term Arab American as
a shorthand to refer to the diverse immigrants, refugees, and their descendants who
have come to the United States from Arab countries since the turn of the 20th century.
Understanding Arab American experiences and the status of racial justice for Arab
Americans in Chicagoland requires that we confront the dual problems of invisibility
and hypervisibility. The field of Arab American Studies uses the term “Arab
American invisibility” to name our society’s limited knowledge of Arab American
communities, of Middle East and North African history, and of the realities of anti-
Arab/anti-Muslim racism and its implications more specifically.1 The problem of
invisibility for Arab Americans stems, in part, from the fact that the U.S. government
and Census Bureau currently categorize Arab Americans as “white/Caucasian.” The
inclusion of Arab Americans in the white racial category has caused them to be
historically excluded from mainstream conversations about racism and also makes
it very difficult to identify, much less measure quantitatively, the distinct patterns in
experiences and outcomes for this group, rendering their lives and needs invisible.
For instance, in the next section of the report we will analyze the current conditions
of the approximately 108,000 Arab Americans who live in Chicagoland whom we can
identify in the American Community Survey (see appendix for additional information).
However, we recognize this number to likely be a significant undercount. The field
of Arab American Studies has long necessarily drawn on census data as the best
INTRODUCTION 1
At my local gym, this guy who works for the Cook County supply
chain management came by me and just cussed me out on the
floor, and he says, “F-ing Arab.” I couldn’t believe what I’d
heard. It’s a place where people work out. I confronted him
after he left. He said the [F] word to me as he went on his way.
I followed him, and he went on this tantrum about how Arabs
are taking over the southwest suburbs and how mosques could
be [places] where terrorists hide or spread their ideology. I
reported it at the gym but they never did anything.
Although not all Arabs are Muslim and not all Muslims are Arabs, U.S. government
and media discourses conflate the categories “Arab” and “Muslim.” We use the term
anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism throughout the report to signal how the form of racism
we address in this report often conflates Arab and Muslim communities. While we
focus on how anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism impacts Arab Americans, it also impacts
any individual or community who the U.S. state or media portrays as Arab and/or
Muslim, or who is perceived as Arab and/or Muslim, albeit in different ways and to
different degrees.
Another contributing factor to the lack of awareness about, and potential invisibility,
of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism is the fact that many Arab Americans do not have
a conceptual language of race or racism. Recent migrants are themselves coming
to understand and recognize how race and racism work in the United States as
they navigate how these categories and associated meaning systems are projected
onto their bodies (along with those of others). The boundaries and rules of racial
categorization as well as the logics of race and patterns of racism vary dramatically
INTRODUCTION 3
across the world. Although this dynamic is shifting, historically race has not been a
dominant framework of identity, social organization, or analysis in the Arab region.
Instead, people have tended to identify primarily by religious sect, village, or family
of origin, and later, by national identity and analysts studying social inequality or
social problems have primarily focused on the intersections of these identities (e.g.,
nationality) and issues of social class, gender, solidarity, and power. Because race
has not operated as a salient social category in the Arab region, Arab Americans
immigrants do not come to the United States with a clear understanding of racial
dynamics. For example, Aya, an Egyptian American Coptic woman, reflected a
generalized sentiment that we heard in many of our interviews and focus groups
when she told us, “[My family members] don’t have any kind of framework through
which to understand themselves, particularly when it comes to race. The conversation
on race within the Coptic Church is so limited in America.” Lacking a framework
and language to discuss racialized dynamics, recent Arab American immigrants and
refugees also have difficulty naming their own experiences with racial discrimination
or recognizing parallels with other minoritized communities.
These pervasive experiences of racial profiling point to the second major theme
of this report, what the field of Arab American Studies calls “Arab American
hypervisibility.”3 This refers to the fact that, while widespread knowledge about the
histories and cultures of Arab Americans is limited, an entire industry has circulated
From journalism and academic texts to portrayals in popular culture and art galleries,
dominant narratives about Arab Americans rely upon a narrow set of fictional
categories and established stereotypes. The pervasive portrait of Arab Americans
in U.S. society — whether in corporate media or in U.S. state discourses — tends to
not only conflate Arab, Middle Eastern, and Muslim identities together but also to
label Arab people as irredeemably foreign, “other,” or as an “enemy of the U.S.” The
hypervisibility of Arab Americans includes not just a perception of them as outsiders
but also includes the consequential perception of Arab Americans, Arabs, Muslims,
and people from the Middle East and North Africa as likely to be enemies of the U.S.
nation-state (e.g., “terrorists”).
Not all Arabs are Muslim, not all Middle Easterners are Arab or Muslim, and not all
Muslims are Arab (in fact the majority are not); however, the long history of conflating
these communities and of using the categories “Arab” and “Muslim” interchangeably
or of using “Muslim” as a catch-all phrase to refer to anyone from the Middle East
and North Africa means that we lose sight of what “Arab” means specifically and of
the distinct and diverse experiences of Arab Americans.
INTRODUCTION 5
I grew up very strongly in a Coptic community that was very clear that
we weren’t Arab, and I happen to adhere to that. Not in an adversarial
manner, but […] in terms of how I identify myself, I very squarely
consider myself African. I think it’s a very important position to take
because, just like I think Arab identity, in many ways, African identity
has also been homogenized in various ways, but I think it shifts. I think
there’s a recognition there that an Africanness is also quite diverse. It’s
not singular in any manner. […]. Almost every Egyptian I know, on
some level, code-switches between being an Arab and being an
African, depending on particular contexts, and I think that’s fair.
According to official U.S. Census data, over 100,000 Arab Americans reside in
Chicagoland, constituting about 90% of all Arab Americans in Illinois. As explained
previously, many scholars and community leaders believe that this number is a
significant undercount.5 Since Arab Americans do not have a racial category of their
own and instead are subsumed under the white racial category, Arabs can only be
identified in the Census using the ancestry question, which was only asked of a sample
of the U.S. population in past Decennial Censuses. Currently, the question is asked
by the American Community Survey, which is based on a small sample of the U.S.
population. The Arab American Institute and others have argued that these sampling
and category issues have led to a sizable undercount of Arab Americans. The Arab
American Institute, for example, estimates that the U.S. Census undercounts Arab
Americans by 1.6 million and recommends multiplying Census population numbers
by 1.5.
While Census data may undercount how many Arab Americans are in the U.S., they
do provide reliable measures of demographic trends and socio-economic patterns
and is important for what it tells us about differences between and across groups.
For instance, census data reveal concerning socio-economic characteristics of
Chicagoland Arab Americans including lower household median incomes, higher
rates of unemployment, and higher rates of being housing-cost-burdened compared
to Chicagoland residents overall. These data also remind us, however, of the diversity
within Arab Americans. For instance, there is significant economic inequality within
Arab American communities by ancestry group. Egyptians and Lebanese people,
for example, have a much higher median household income relative to other Arab
Americans, such as Yemenis.
INTRODUCTION 7
since the commencement of the long U.S.-led war on terror in the aftermath of the
Cold War and how instances of racism that Arab Americans experience are part and
parcel of this war on terror.
In part three of the report, we present findings from two different data collection efforts
we conducted to better understand the social conditions and everyday experiences
of Arab Americans in Chicagoland. While we used U.S. Census data in part one to
offer a picture of some of the broad demographic and socio-economic patterns that
characterize Arab Americans, due to the data limitations discussed earlier concerning
how Arab Americans are counted and categorized, we collected new data on the
Chicagoland Arab American community via two additional methodologies. We
used survey research to access the perspectives, conditions, and experiences of
community members across the metro area. For this, we partnered with community
organizations to develop accessible strategies for reaching their constituents.
We also conducted twelve focus groups with diverse Arab American residents to
qualitatively explore how they understand and make sense of their experiences.6
The focus group data collection effort helped us to address possible limitations
in other sources of data. As we addressed earlier, in these conversations we were
able to explore participants’ experiences with a wide-range of microaggressions,
profiling, discrimination, and other forms of interpersonal or institutional hostility
that might not show up in a typical survey question about racial discrimination given
participants different familiarity with “race” as a category. These conversations were
also especially useful as immigrants tend to be more comfortable with oral narrative
practices than written practices because of a collective sense of fear related to filling
out forms and surveys in the U.S. due to the high level of (unwarranted) government
surveillance of these communities. During the focus groups, participants told story
after story of being marked as racially other; discriminated against in daily life; and
having to navigate forms of surveillance, violence, and hostility. Part three thus outlines
how anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism hinders possibilities for civic participation among
Arab Americans and limits their capacity to live with safety, dignity, and belonging
in Chicagoland.
In part four, we conclude by advocating for the importance of the creation and
implementation of a MENA category in order not only to obtain accurate data about
Although we made every attempt to uncover and analyze as many data sources as
possible, the information in this report presents only a partial picture of the lives of
Arab Americans in Chicagoland. There are many areas of social and economic life
we lack data on or were unable to investigate in our focus groups and surveys. In
addition to policy recommendations, part four is therefore also a call to academics,
journalists, and media makers for greater research and attention to the rich and
diverse lived experiences of Arab Americans in the U.S.
INTRODUCTION 9
PART ONE: ARAB AMERICAN DEMOGRAPHICS, DIVERSITY, & IDENTITY
We use the term Arab American as a shorthand to refer to the immigrants who have
come to the U.S. and their descendants from the Arabic-speaking countries of the
Middle East and North Africa. Arab American ethnic groups in Chicago originate
from over 20 different countries, each with their own internal dynamics and important
differences that have shaped the experiences of immigrants and their descendants
in the U.S. Although we use Arab American as shorthand throughout the report, it is
important to recognize that the term “Arab” is a nationalist term and, if taken at face
value, can erase the diversity within Arab American communities.
Coptic Egyptians provide just one example of why it is so important to take the diversity
of Arab Americans seriously. Coptic Egyptians do not always identify as Arabs and
often insist upon being seen and understood in terms of their distinct histories as
indigenous people of Egypt whose culture and identity emerged long before the rise
and spread of Islam in Egypt in the 7th century, which shaped the conditions through
which Egypt emerged as an Arab nation-state in the late 20th century. The stories
Egyptian interviewees shared affirm that no identity, Arab American or otherwise, is
fixed and that not everyone from the countries internationally recognized as “Arab”
identifies themselves as Arab. Arabs have a wide range of religious faiths and there
are significant cultural, racial, ethnic, economic, educational, and employment
differences among people from the Arab region living in the U.S.
This report uses the term “Arab American” whether or not everyone included within
that shorthand self-identifies as “Arab.” We use the term Arab American to capture
patterns people from the Arab region face with the intention of simultaneously
affirming, rather than erasing, the diversity of these communities.
Fr. Morcos Daoud Rizk served as a Priest at St. George Coptic Orthodox Church, Sporting, in
Alexandria, Egypt, for 15 years before serving in the same role for 9 years at St. Mary’s Coptic
Orthodox Church in Palatine, Illinois. During that time, he earned an MA in Theological Studies
from Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. One of the main emphases during his studies was on
how cultural diversity (mainly Coptic/Egyptian/Arabic/American) can impact the pastoral ministry
of several generations of Copts who emigrated to the U.S. Fr. Morcos moved back to serve at his
former church in Alexandria, Egypt.
Matthew Shenoda is a writer, professor, and author and editor of several books. His debut collection
of poems, Somewhere Else (Coffee House Press) was named one of 2005’s debut books of the
year by Poets & Writers Magazine and was winner of a 2006 American Book Award. He began his
teaching career in the College of Ethnic Studies at San Francisco State University where he taught
for nearly a decade and is currently Professor and Chair of the Department of Literary Arts at Brown
University.
The Coptic community in Chicago emerged in the 1960s, with members viewing the church as a
safe haven from the religious persecution they faced back home in Egypt. Many Copts migrated
to Chicago and elsewhere to escape the religious discrimination they were subjected to in their
homeland. In addition to Chicago, large Coptic communities have also emerged in coastal states
such as Florida, California, New York, and New Jersey. While similar in their origins, most of
Chicago’s Coptic community has become more assimilated to mainstream American culture than
their coastal counterparts. Several structural factors have contributed to this pattern, including slow
rates of population growth and the lack of an established enclave with Copt-owned businesses in
the city. Moreover, many first-generation Copts have worked in professional, white-collar settings
where English is the only language used.
Of course, there are working-class Copts in Chicagoland whose experiences differ from their
middle-and upper-class counterparts. Socio-economic differences, for example, influence whether
and to what extent Coptic Egyptians identify with white middle-class culture. However, despite the
immersion of many Copts in Chicago into mainstream U.S. culture, Copts in Chicago — like Copts all
over the U.S. — struggle in understanding and identifying with the concept of race in the U.S.
The notion of race is virtually absent in Egypt. Egyptians encompass a variety of phenotypic
characteristics, but overall are considered “Egyptians.” Egyptians are not systemically categorized
based on their skin color and other phenotypic characteristics. Instead, class and religion are the
primary identity markers. Christianity and Islam are the country’s most widely practiced religions.
This conflation between Islam and Egyptian identity is complicated for Copts, especially because of
the ways contemporary political crises in Egypt have led to increased tensions between Copts and
particular Muslim political movements that have, in some cases, led to anti-Coptic discrimination
and violence. These tensions are also complicated, especially since they have been fueled by
U.S. interventions in Egypt and the ways various Egyptian regimes have fueled Christian-Muslim
divisions for their own purposes. For many Copts, the conflation between Islam and Egyptian identity
demonstrates an ignorance in the U.S. about the presence of Christianity in Arab countries. This
ignorance writ large, then, often puts Copts in a very defensive position when they are mistaken for
Muslims or when people are surprised to know that Egyptian Christians exist. Copts tend to share a
common understanding that their identity as Christians is unknown to and disregarded by others.
Being Christian is a major component of their identity, yet it is virtually nonexistent in the minds
of others. Later Coptic generations, however, tend to share a commitment to challenging Coptic-
Muslim tensions and divisions and to being in solidarity with Muslims in relation to anti-Muslim
racism in the U.S.
Similar to other immigrant groups in the U.S., there are significant differences in the experiences,
attitudes, values, and beliefs of first and later Coptic generations. Second- and third-generation
Copts in Chicago have been born and raised in American society. They have not been exposed to the
realities of the persecution targeting Copts in Egypt. Younger generations have been educated and
socialized to understand the experience of Muslims through a Eurocentric lens wherein Islam is the
subordinate and persecuted religion. Because of this, Coptic youth tend to misinterpret their elders’
defensiveness as racism/Islamophobia, rather than a resistance to being conflated with a group that
has, and continues to, contribute to their oppression. Such differences in the lived experiences of
older and younger generations of Copts has also led to a tension in which older generations seek to
retain their Coptic identity, values, and beliefs as newer generations become more assimilated into
various strands of U.S. culture.
Another internal conflict within the Coptic community is the complicated relationship between
Arab identity and Arabic language use. Many older generation Copts that left Egypt do not identify
as Arab. Despite Arabic being their native language, older Copts often view the label “Arab” as
a monolithic identity that merges all Middle Eastern and North African ethnic groups together,
minimizing both their religious identity and their diverse linguistic roots as they were forced to
adopt the Arabic language through colonization centuries ago. It is for this reason that many Coptic
churches maintain some use of the Coptic language as a link to their pre-Arabized identity. Some
second- and third-generation Copts, however, have become open to embracing a pan-Arab identity
as younger generations become more socially and politically conscious about how U.S. identity is
framed. Young Copts are learning and incorporating the Arabic language into their everyday lives
and developing more of a global consciousness about their Egyptian identity as they navigate U.S.
institutions.
While younger generations have developed a global perspective, first-generation Copts have lived
experiences navigating between the U.S. and Egypt. Egypt itself is a complicated context to navigate
for Copts. Back home, they are subjected to direct and often violent religious persecution fueled
by interventions in the region by the U.S. and some Gulf states. In the U.S., they are subjected to
a different type of discrimination, which tends to be more covert and less life-threatening. Despite
being more accustomed to mainstream American culture, Copts in Chicago continue to be deeply
attached to and influenced by their homeland. Many internally struggle with wishing to return to
Egypt to live but knowing that they cannot do so unless true changes come about. Compared to
Egypt, the discrimination Copts are subjected to in the U.S. is not as direct nor severe. Copts know
that they will experience discrimination no matter where they go, so they take the lesser of two evils
and navigate the complexities of Coptic life in the U.S.
The experiences of Arab immigrants coming to the United States have varied
significantly before and after World War II. Shifting immigration policies and global
engagements led to distinct demographics trends. Especially post-1965, changes
in U.S. immigration policies and post-Cold War U.S. military, economic, and political
intervention in the Arab region profoundly changed Arab migration patterns and
demographics.
The first large influx of Arab immigrants included predominantly Christian groups
from Mount Lebanon at the turn of the twentieth century. They came to the U.S.
from what was considered Greater Syria (present-day Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and
Palestine).7 These immigrants tended to leave their homelands out of economic
necessity and for personal advancement. Their existing ties with European Christian
missionaries and/or business networks enabled their emigration. Arab Muslim
immigrants, while smaller in number, often took alternate routes since the U.S.
restricted their immigration more than Arab Christians. Some for example, journeyed
through Mexico and crossed over the U.S. southern border.8
Immediately after World War II, a majority of the Arabs who moved to the U.S. were
Palestinian refugees displaced following the creation of the state of Israel in 1948.9
The 1965 Immigration and Naturalization Act opened borders in new ways and
made it possible for a wider array of migrants. From the late 1960s to the present,
growing economic instability in the region alongside U.S.-led oil wars and military
interventions resulted in the movement of broader sectors of Arab societies to the
United States. New migrants came from nearly every Arabic-speaking country and
included nearly equal numbers of Muslims and Christians.10
More recently, U.S.-led wars, internal armed conflicts, and popular uprisings during
the first two decades of the 21st century brought large numbers of displaced people
and refugees to the United States. Examples include the U.S.’ war on Iraq (2003-
2011); popular uprisings such as the second Palestinian Intifada (Uprising) (2000
to 2005); the Arab Spring revolutions that began in 2011; the protracted civil war
and armed conflicts in Sudan and Somalia that have ensued since the 1980s; and
Syria’s ongoing civil war. These and other realities have all driven large numbers of
displaced and refugee Arabs to the United States.11
Rising unemployment as a result of global economic forces over the past two
decades has also caused people from the Arab region to seek employment and
educational opportunities in the U.S.12 Tunisian migration, for instance, increased by
8 percent between 2002 and 2012.13 Recent Tunisian migration has included more
high-skilled workers and university graduates than before. Student migration also
has increased because of the post-revolution crises in Tunisia and the 2008 global
economic crisis. Saudi Arabia represents a unique context since the population of
Saudis in the U.S. came primarily out of opportunities for Saudi students to study
in the U.S. and obtain a university education.14 While the number of Saudi students
studying in the U.S. ebbs and flows in relation to government policies, including
conservative Saudi efforts to obstruct Saudi students from studying in non-Muslim
nations,15 the post-2010 period saw a spike in Saudi student migration, making them
the fastest growing group of international university students, even ahead of China.16
Over the past 30 years, the Arab American population in the United States has
grown both in number and diversity. Data from the U.S. Census suggest that there
are approximately 2.4 million Arab Americans living in the U.S. with family roots
from more than two dozen countries in the Middle East and North Africa. (See the
Methodological Appendix for a detailed table of Arab Americans included in this
report.) While Arab Americans make up only around 1% of the total U.S. population,
the Arab American population has almost tripled since the 1990s, increasing by
nearly 1.5 million residents. And, as noted in the introduction, population estimates
from the U.S. Census are likely underestimates of Arab Americans living in the U.S.
The Arab American Institute Foundation calculated the total 2017 Arab American
population at 3.7 million, nearly 1.6 million more than the 2017 Census population
estimate.
In the beginning of the 21st century, more and more immigrants have come to the
U.S. from contexts further devastated by global economic neoliberalism and war. At
A South Carolina court case exemplifies the ambiguous racial position of Arab
Americans in the early 20th century. As author Helen Samhan documents, in this court
case a judge ruled that “Syrians might be free white persons, [but] not that particular
By World War II, the U.S. Census officially classified Arabs as white. However, as in
the past, that classification was tenuous, did not translate into full inclusion within the
American polity, and eventually served to erase or make invisible the many ways that
Arab Americans were treated as a distinctly racial “Other.” U.S. government policies
surveilling and repressing Arab activists and corporate media discourses increasingly
treated Arabs abroad and at home as non-white enemies of the nation.25 This was
especially pronounced in the aftermath of the Arab-Israeli war of 1967, when the U.S.
solidified its alliance with Israel and was expanding its interests in the Arab region.
Arab migration to Chicago echoes the national Arab American migration story. The
first substantial number of Arab migrants to Chicago came between 1899 and 1921.
The early Arab migrant communities mainly arrived from present day Lebanon,
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Palestine, and Syria. Most were Syrian-Lebanese Christians, Palestinian Muslims, and
a smaller number of Palestinian Christians. Syrian-Lebanese Christians frequently
brought their families to the U.S. The first-generation born here often married and had
children with persons from white ethnic groups. Unlike Syrian-Lebanese Christians,
Palestinian Muslims were comprised almost entirely of men who tended to stay in the
U.S. temporarily. Hailing predominantly from Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Ramallah,
they often worked to send savings back home to their wives and family, hoping to
return to their homelands. They stuck to their own language, cultural, and Islamic
practices, and thus did not aspire to assimilate.
In the aftermath of World War II, Palestinian migration to the U.S. escalated with a
significant portion being women joining their husbands. The establishment of Israel
on Palestinian lands and Israeli forced removal and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians
also contributed to the increase in new arrivals, including of Palestinian Christians.
Assyrian, Iraqi, and Jordanian migrants also arrived during this time, settling on the
north side of Chicago. Unlike many other Arab groups, Egyptian migration to the U.S.
started in the 1950s. Egyptians tended to come from more affluent and educated
families and arrived on high-skill visas. With the exception of Jordanians and most
Palestinians, all of these groups settled on the north side of Chicago.
When the Immigration Act of 1965 removed specific immigration quotas, Chicago
witnessed a surge in Arab immigration, especially of Palestinians and Jordanians
(many of whom were Palestinian). Many arrived under family reunification visas.
The steady influx of Palestinians into Chicago continued through the 1980s due to
discriminatory Israeli policies, illegal land grabs, and the continuing occupation of
Palestinian lands. Palestinians would eventually become the largest Arab group in
metropolitan Chicago, and Chicagoland would become home to one of the most
concentrated Palestinian communities in the U.S. During this era, activists in Chicago
and other urban communities began creating pan-Arab community centers and
academic and community-based organizations partnered to challenge widespread
racist portrayals of Arabs and the Middle East.
Palestinian families eventually moved into neighborhoods west of Chicago’s Black Belt
that were being deserted by white flight from the city. By the 1970s, they reached the
Gage Park and Chicago Lawn neighborhoods where they were joined by additional
Palestinian families along with Black families and immigrants from Poland, Mexico,
and Jordan. As for north side communities, Arabs and Assyrians lived in Albany Park
and West Rogers Park neighborhoods. The Arab and Assyrian commercial business
hub in Albany Park was, and still is, located on Kedzie Avenue between Montrose and
north of Lawrence Avenue, along with Assyrian businesses in the near north suburbs.
work in their shops. These positions included long hours with minimal training,
and individuals often learned English on the job. Many men, in turn, eventually
became business owners or held higher positions as employees and employed
newer arrivals, providing a cyclical and inexpensive labor force for shopkeepers.
By the 1970s, although Arabs were only about 1 percent, or 30,000 of Chicago’s
population, they owned nearly 20 percent of all small grocery and liquor stores
in Chicago, mostly in Black neighborhoods. These Arab-owned establishments
filled the gaps that were left by merchant divestment in Black communities and the
unwillingness of professional lenders to provide business loans to Black investors
in these neighborhoods. Arab business owners accessed personal loans through
family or community members and had a cheap labor force willing to work long
hours without benefits. A smaller number of Arab immigrants also worked in local
factories, finding positions that did not require mastery of the English language or
specific job skills but had low wages, no health care benefits, and often involved
lengthy hours and dangerous working conditions.
The vast majority (75%) of Arab Americans in Chicagoland reside in Cook County.
However, since the 1990s, the Arab American population residing in the Cook
COOK
COUNTY
Percent Residing in 50% 35% 27% 28% DEKALB KANE
Chicago compared to COUNTY COUNTY DUPAGE CHICAGO
Chicagoland -22% COUNTY
KENDALL
Percent Residing in 32% 43% 48% 46% COUNTY
WILL LAKE PORTER
Cook County Suburbs COUNTY COUNTY COUNTY
JASPER
Percent Residing in 18% 21% 26% 25% COUNTY
Chicagoland outside
of Cook County +8% NEWTON
COUNTY
INDIANA
ILLINOIS
COOK
Arab Americans 52% 52% 51% COUNTY
Non-Arab Americans 17% 19% 19% DEKALB
COUNTY
KANE
COUNTY DUPAGE CHICAGO
COUNTY
INDIANA
ILLINOIS
Born Outside of U.S. 2000 2010 2020 Born in the U.S. 2000 2010 2020
Arab Americans 36 40 43 Arab Americans 12 15 18
Non-Arab Americans 36 41 45 Non-Arab Americans 32 33 34
Dr. Nina Shoman-Dajani is Assistant Dean of Learning Enrichment and College Readiness at
Moraine Valley Community College where she oversees the Adult Education program serving
students from forty-five countries. She completed her Doctor of Education degree at Benedictine
University in Higher Education and Organizational Change. Her doctoral research focused on the
racial identity construction of Arab American college students. She is a member of the National
Advisory Council for the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity in Higher Education, a board
member for the Arab American Studies Association, and a board member for the Syrian Community
Network, a refugee resettlement agency in Chicago.
Preface
The Iraqi community is not new to Chicago. Communities who trace their heritage back to the
geographic area known as modern day Iraq, such as the robust Assyrian community, settled in
Chicago’s north side more than a century ago and have long contributed to the diverse tapestry
of Chicago’s MENA population. The influx of Iraqis to Chicago in the last two decades was mainly
prompted by the U.S. wars waged on their country. The Iraqi community in Chicago is by no means
monolithic and reflects some of the same traits as other MENA sub-populations in the region: varied
faith-based groups, multi-generational, and representing a range of socio-economic, professional,
and educational backgrounds.
Othman works with clients and builds a support system for them regardless of age, religion, or
background. As a supervisor, he also continues to develop programming with his colleagues to
meet the range of needs of new arrivals. The organization provides a variety of services, including
case management, vocational empowerment programs, immigration legal services, and community
empowerment programs.
The conversation focused heavily on the need to revamp U.S. policy towards refugees. Based on his
firsthand experience with the Iraqi refugee community, as well as refugees from other countries,
he has found that many refugees do not feel protected within the current system. With little or
no knowledge about how to adapt to U.S. financial systems, the housing system, or navigate the
job market, refugees experience vulnerability and are prime targets for scams. For example, as
refugees are unaware of how the bureaucratic financial systems of the U.S. work and mainly come
from nations heavily dependent on cash systems, a misunderstanding of credit cards and banking
can cause much confusion.
We discussed the challenges of well-educated Iraqi refugees and their struggle to use their degrees
and professional experience once they arrived. Othman shared a story about an Iraqi judge who
came to the U.S. and soon found himself working at McDonalds: “He has very young kids, and
he was like, I, I just want to feed my kids, the financial system also […] it’s pushing the people
to do stuff they don’t love.” Othman elaborated that while the U.S. is a “dreamland” for some, for
Iraqi refugees who left their homeland and loved ones behind, who may have watched their family
members die and faced immense trauma, it takes time to adjust.
Most of the Iraqi refugees were unable to use their higher education and professional degrees and
found themselves working as dishwashers, a common job for new arrivals, according to Othman. As
an administrator who oversees the Adult Education program at Moraine Valley Community College,
and as a board member for the Syrian Community Network, I understood and connected with the
Like other immigrant communities, Iraqi refugees are struggling with a new identity in the U.S.
They left their country to settle in the U.S.; a country that waged not one, but two wars on their land,
which resulted in incredible damage and will take generations to rebuild. Some embrace their new
home and attempt to leave the past behind, including their memories of Iraq, and others continue
to struggle with the suppressed trauma they will live with forever.
Despite the challenges he has witnessed, Othman’s commitment to refugee services stays the same.
He would like to see more Arab Americans in elected positions that can advocate for communities
like those of Iraqi refugees. He stressed how important it was to have representation within decision
making entities that make policy. Othman will continue to cultivate support and engagement as the
refugee community continues to grow on Chicago’s north side.
Housing in Chicagoland
NUMBERS THAT COUNT
Housing Tenure
Chicagoland Home Ownership and Rental
Comparison by Arab Ancestry, 2015 Arab American households are
more likely to be renters and
Home Owners Renters
less likely to be homeowners
Assyrian/Chaldean 69% 31%
/Syriac compared to the Chicagoland
Lebanese 67% 33% population overall and to white
Egyptian 58% 42% households in particular. One
Palestinian 58% 42% in every two Arab American
Syrian 57% 43%
households (50%) rent as
Jordanian 54% 46%
Arab/Arabic 52% 48%
compared to about one third
Yemeni 48% 52% of all Chicagoland households
Middle Eastern 46% 54% and about one quarter of white
Moroccan 43% 57% households (36% and 26%,
Algerian 36% 64% respectively). Conversely, one
Iraqi 26% 74%
in every two Arab American
Sudanese 6% 94%
Saudi Arabian 3% 97% households own their homes
Chicagoland versus about three in every
Average 45% 55% four white households. These
statistics vary by foreign-born
Source: US Census, American Community Survey 5-Year 2011-2015;
and IPUMS American Community Survey 5-Year sample 2011-2015 status and class. Arab American
households headed by
immigrants rent at higher rates
than those headed by Arab Americans born in the U.S. Arab American households
in the top 20% of the income distribution, unsurprisingly, have much higher rates of
homeownership (3 in every 4 households) than Arab American households in the
bottom 20% (about 2 in every 10 households). Interestingly though, Arab American
households in the top 20% of the income distribution rent at more than twice the
rate of white households (24% versus 11% respectively).
The median home value of Arab American homeowners is $295,000. Arab Americans
have the second highest amount of property wealth in Chicagoland. This is slightly
more than white homeowners and almost twice that of Black homeowners. This
remains true across the income distribution and between U.S.-born versus foreign-
born Arab Americans. However, while median property values are high among Arab
American homeowners, those homeowners are also more housing-cost-burdened
than owners from other racial groups.
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
White 30 %
11 % 45 %
Black
59 %
19 % 81 %
Latinx
45 %
17 % 70 %
Asian
36 %
16 % 64 %
Arab
53 %
24 % 78 %
American
Indian / 78 %
Alaska
Native 44 % 64 %
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
These numbers become alarmingly high when we look at the lower-end of Arab
American working-class households. For Arab American households in the bottom
20% of the income distribution, 92% that own and 94% that rent are severely housing-
cost-burdened.
$1,070
$990 $972
49%
51%
41% 34% 46%
31%
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
To put this another way, for nine of every ten low-income Arab American households,
half or more of their monthly earned income (income earned through working)
is going towards the passive income (income acquired through ownership of an
asset) of landlords, banks, and utility companies. This stymies the possibility of these
households to accumulate their own assets or to create savings and increases their
likelihood of suffering from material hardships.
Dr. Nina Shoman-Dajani is Assistant Dean of Learning Enrichment and College Readiness at
Moraine Valley Community College where she oversees the Adult Education program serving
students from forty-five countries. She completed her Doctor of Education degree at Benedictine
University in Higher Education and Organizational Change. Her doctoral research focused on the
racial identity construction of Arab American college students. She is a member of the National
Advisory Council for the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity in Higher Education, a board
member for the Arab American Studies Association, and a board member for the Syrian Community
Network, a refugee resettlement agency in Chicago.
Maya Atassi has been with the Syrian Community Network (SCN) since its earliest days and has
growing into her current role as Director of Operations. As a first generation Syrian American, she
was inspired to join SCN after feeling helpless by the turmoil in her parents’ home country and
wanted a way to give back to her community. As part of her role, Maya oversees daily operations
at SCN and is also responsible for managing SCN’s programmatic offerings — reporting to grant
program managers, providing technical assistance to staff, and ensuring community members
and staff alike feel supported.
Syrians in Chicagoland
Historically, the Syrian American community in Chicagoland is known as a highly educated
community that helped build important faith-based, educational and community-based institutions
in the Arab and Muslim community in the southwest and western suburbs. They are represented in
all professional fields but are well-known for a large contingency in the medical field. Many of the
Syrians who came to Chicago in the 1970s and 1980s arrived with the intention of continuing their
education — many of them focused on completing their medical training — and today serve as some
of the most acclaimed doctors (with various specializations) in Chicagoland.
In 1978, for example, Amead Atassi came to the U.S. to pursue and complete additional medical
training. He had studied general medicine in Syria, completed his obligatory military service and
then decided to pursue surgical training. His plan was to complete his surgical residency and return
to Syria to live and work. In a conversation with us, Atassi reminisced on the fact that, “post the
turmoil in the late 1970s and the massacre in Hama in 1982, his father told him not to plan on
coming back” but to start considering the possibility of building a life in the U.S. This was a turning
point not just for Atassi but for many Syrians, whether because they had family members who
identified with groups who opposed the Syrian regime or because families decided that the future
in Syria seemed slightly less certain than before; if opportunity presented itself elsewhere, it was
time to take advantage of that opportunity. Atassi arrived single to the U.S. but eventually married
and his three children were U.S. born.
This was also the case with other members of the Atassi family and many others who came to the
U.S. from Syria in the 1970s and 1980s, established roots in Chicagoland and built families while
pursuing their careers. This generation of the Syrian community demonstrates a classic example
of chain migration. Many individuals, many from Homs, pursued the same path. Their journey, in
contrast to that of the Syrian refugees who have arrived in the last decade, was voluntary and not
based on traumatic forced displacement. The difference between the chain migration that followed
individuals pursuing higher degrees and the displacement of entire families of refugees by the
2011 Syrian revolution is pronounced and has been a jarring contrast for the well-established
Syrian American community that has thrived in Chicagoland for decades.
When assessing the changes and challenges the Syrian community in the Chicago region has faced
over the last decade, there may be an assumption that the arrival of refugees transformed the
community at large. The Syrian Community Network (SCN), the first refugee serving community-
based organization to be founded by a Syrian American, Suzanne Akhras, has worked closely with
both the Syrian refugee community and the Syrian diaspora community since day one. Garnering
support from both faith-based organizations and diverse Chicagoans who wanted to support the
newly displaced community, SCN has established a broad coalition of support. There have been
challenges and moments of triumph. Many Syrian Americans who had the privilege and means
to assist the new arrivals did so with pride and responded to the need to prepare to receive and
welcome Syrian refugee families. There was initially a high level of excitement from the local diaspora
community — they wanted to feel connected to what the people of Syria were going through, and
now it was manifesting with a local presence. They wanted to offer support, both financial and
otherwise. As the level of new arrivals has waned and as the Syrian crisis has dragged on, creating
greater frustration, the diaspora has become less engaged.
The challenges Syrian refugee families face are many. The language barrier tends to be amongst
the biggest issues, as many institutions do not provide translated documents, especially in Arabic.
Interpretation is even harder to come by — and if it is offered, there are often several steps to take
before one can connect with an interpreter. The built-in bureaucracy that manifests itself in many
The SCN assists with the cumbersome task of navigating the various systems refugees are faced
with and offers support in three main service areas: case management (public benefits, medical
and administrative case management), immigration services (adjustment of status, naturalization,
and asylum) and education services (in person and virtual youth programming, education case
management, and English as a Second Language (ESL), citizenship/civics preparation). Most of the
SCN staff speak Arabic and provide direct service in the language that is familiar to the families
being served. Many Syrian refugees have been displaced multiple times before being resettled
in Chicago. Yet, they can contact SCN to simply ask a question and access services for a need that
they have, all in a language they know. That accessibility helps families feel less guarded and more
comfortable. The organization strives to provide services to the whole family, providing a safe and
welcoming space.
Like staff at other non-profits that serve a community with such a broad range of needs and who carry
immense trauma, SCN staff also experience compassion fatigue and feel overwhelmed with the
requests they encounter. Organizations like SCN depend highly on grant funding and the capacity
and capability of the services provided are shaped by that funding. There are many generous
private donors but maintaining the funding long-term is challenging. The services provided by SCN
continue to grow as they establish new programs to meet the needs of the growing and expanded
needs of the clients they serve. As other refugee communities are welcomed and resettled in
Chicago and the resettlement of Syrian refugees resumes anew under a new administration, SCN
strives to assist as much as possible.
Attitudes towards, and perceptions of, Ukrainians escaping their homes in contrast to immigrants
and refugees from the Middle East and Africa not only impacts the immigration policies and
immigration trajectories of migrants and refugees from these communities, but it also impacts
the way these communities view themselves. According to Lamis Abdelatty, professor of political
science at Syracuse University, “This discrimination toward vulnerable people fleeing a dangerous
conflict at home can have a long-lasting and damaging impact on refugees, from how they view
their self-worth to the services they receive and their ability to cope with and move on from the
trauma in their lives.”37 Unlike Syrians, Ukrainian and Afghan nationals (who qualified) were given
a direct pipeline to come to the U.S. and while they may not have the refugee designation and a
formal path to direct residency and citizenship, they are able to use the benefits that refugees have
in terms of accessing public benefits and all the services provided upon resettlement.
However, there have also been contradictions in the way Afghan and Ukrainian refugees have been
treated by the Biden administration. As NPR has reported, “In the weeks after Russia’s invasion
of Ukraine, the Biden administration announced plans to accept 100,000 refugees from the war.
But the move has raised questions about a possible double standard. When the Taliban took over
Afghanistan last August, the United States evacuated about 79,000 Afghans. But most who made it
to the U.S. still have no clear way to stay. And back in Afghanistan, thousands who were promised U.S.
visas are still stuck.”38 Refugee settlement agencies like SCN continue to grapple with everchanging
and inconsistent U.S. policies towards refugee resettlement. Navigating the varied policies and
procedures that have been assigned to different populations by the federal government is one of
the challenges for agencies that service migrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. The shift in policy
from the Trump administration to the Biden administration prompted agencies to increase their
capacity in time to meet the needs of refugees whose cases had been put on hold and were now
going to be resettled — while additionally attempting to meet the demand of prioritizing specific
populations in such large numbers. This impacts all refugees — not just Syrians.
Arab Americans have the second highest uninsured rates in Chicagoland, roughly
the same uninsured rate as Latinx residents. Consistent with other trends, these
numbers are pronounced when looking at foreign-born residents and low-
income residents. About 20% of Arab American immigrants and roughly the same
proportion of low-income Arab Americans are uninsured, which is well above the
overall Chicagoland uninsured rate. And, similar to housing-cost burdens, racial
disparities in uninsured rates are greatly reduced among the top 20% of the income
distribution.
American Indian/
White Black Latinx Asian Arab Alaska Native
3.91% Uninsured 8.18% Uninsured 15.99% Uninsured 6.16% Uninsured 15.35% Uninsured 8.28% Uninsured
96.09% Insured 91.82% Insured 84.01% Insured 93.84% Insured 84.65% Insured 91.72% Insured
Of those Insured
14.20% Publicly 44.12% Publicly 35.63% Publicly 18.57% Publicly 40.41% Publicly 27.87% Publicly
Insured Insured Insured Insured Insured Insured
*
72.33% 59.49% 75.31% 58.53%
Privately 46.69% Privately Privately Privately 54.81% Privately Privately
Insured Insured Insured Insured Insured Insured
*14.20% Public & *9.19% Public & *4.88% Public & *6.12% Public & *4.78% Public & *13.60% Public &
Privately Insured Privately Insured Privately Insured Privately Insured Privately Insured Privately Insured
16.68% Purchased 12.58% Purchased 10.29% Purchased 16.09% Purchased 19.71% Purchased 18.92% Purchased
Outside of Outside of Outside of Outside of Outside of Outside of
Employment Employment Employment Employment Employment Employment
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
Sarah Abboud, PhD, RN, is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Human Development
Nursing Science at the University of Illinois Chicago and a Visiting Faculty Fellow at the Center for
Research on AIDS at Yale University’s School of Public Health. Her program of research is grounded
in social justice and health and equity frameworks and its goal is to reduce health disparities
by developing programs that improve health outcomes among Arab immigrants and sexual and
gender minority individuals.
Ms. Itedal Shalabi earned her Bachelor’s and Master’s Degrees from the Jane Adams College of
Social Work at the University of Illinois Chicago. In 2001, she co-founded Arab American Family
Services (AAFS). AAFS is among the first leading social service organizations in the southwest
suburbs established to serve and advocate for Arab Americans within the Chicagoland area. Located
strategically in Worth, Illinois, AAFS’s mission to change and impact the quality of life by serving
and building stronger and healthier generations of Arab Americans in our communities has
created a profound impact on the lives of thousands of individuals and families.
The COVID-19 pandemic has disproportionately affected racial and ethnic minority groups, with
high rates of death in African American, Native American, and Latinx communities. The sources/
causes of these disparities can be largely attributed to different social determinants of health (safe
housing and transportation; racism, discrimination and violence; education, job opportunities, and
income; nutritious food and physical activity; clean air and water; and language and literacy skills).
Minority groups are disproportionately affected by chronic medical conditions, have lower access
to healthcare, and are more likely to experience living and working conditions that can worsen
COVID-19 outcomes.39 The foundations of these disparities are long-standing structural and societal
factors that the COVID-19 pandemic has exposed.
Within Arab communities in the U.S., we don’t have official data on the impact of the pandemic on
this minority group because the U.S. Census classifies Arabs as racially white, which contributes to
making their health disparities invisible. According to health experts, Arab Americans in Chicago
and across the U.S. are likely at increased risk of COVID-19 infection and complications that will not
be captured in any healthcare databases. Anecdotally, community-based organizations in Chicago
have reported that high rates of COVID-19-related infections and deaths devastated the community
at the height of the pandemic. Public data documenting COVID-19 deaths and their locations from
the Cook County Medical Examiner’s Office indicates that Bridgeview, Palos Heights, and Summit,
three Chicago suburbs with majority Arab American communities, were among the top 10% of all
locations in Illinois in terms of COVID-19 cases. However, because local and federal governments
The COVID-19 response team at AAFS included seven staff members, some of whom were recruited
specifically after the start of the pandemic to address community needs. The team initially assessed
the needs of the community by calling community members and asking them what specific services
they needed, a challenging task given the number of people they had to call. Through AAFS, the
team organized and provided food drives, personal protective equipment (PPEs; e.g., masks, hand
sanitizers), educational resources including fliers and information sessions in English, Spanish, and
Arabic, assistance in accessing testing and vaccination, and assistance filing for unemployment.
When asked about the impact of COVID-19 on Arab communities, AAFS team member Aysheh
described that, generally speaking: “at first, we were super careful, super prepared, and then as
time progressed, we kind of lost that. At first people washed their groceries, even the bags and
everything, and then at the end of it [summer 2021], there was very little wearing masks or not
wearing it properly.” Over time, people grew tired of the lockdown and social distancing. Khaled,
another AAFS team member, said: “over the past year and a half, people got fatigued, you know,
quarantine fatigued, they got fatigued from all the protocols and people were just tired.”
The most significant impact was seen at the economic level. AAFS witnessed an increase in the
number of individuals filing for unemployment. For many, the economic impact of COVID-19 was
on top of their already exiting financial struggles. This impacted their ability to pay for rent, secure
food, and access transportation and healthcare services.
Despite having bilingual staff, educational materials, and testing and vaccine resources and being
well-prepared to address the community’s needs, the AAFS team faced several challenges. Some
challenges were related to fear and the spread of misinformation about COVID-19, testing, and
vaccine hesitancy. AAFS team member Zahira said that “most people were very scared of even
When asked about the number of COVID-19 cases or deaths within Arab American communities,
the team agreed that it was, and still is, a challenge to get accurate data. AAFS team member
Bahaa described that, because Arabs are counted as white in hospital and clinic registries, “the
numbers are probably skewed, so we don’t know how affected the Arab community was. I don’t
think we can get an actual confirmation of how the Arab Community was affected, other than from
what we’ve seen. Early on, someone said we had to call people every day saying ‘go get tested to
see if you have COVID,’ so unless we do something like that — it’ll be hard to see how affected the
Arab community exactly was.”
The team described that they were still witnessing a significant economic impact, as well
as a need for funding and additional unemployment, educational, and pandemic benefits.
They discussed the continued need for tailored information about COVID-19 from credible sources
within Arab communities. The work of community-based organizations such as AAFS, shows the
magnitude of the impact of COVID-19 on Arab communities and the importance of supporting such
organizations as they are best positioned to understand and address community needs.
17.5% 17.69%
17.13%
15.67%
15.0% 14.68% 14.70%
13.68%
12.5% 12.54%
10.89% 11.07%
10.62%
10.0% 9.74%
9.37%
8.71% 8.91%
8.30%
7.78%
7.5% 7.16%
6.44% 6.48% 6.28%
6.02% 5.77%
5.0% 4.72% 4.81%
4.46%
4.12% 4.10%
3.72% 3.79% 3.59%
2.5%
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, 1980 5% state sample, 1990 5% state
sample, 2000 5% sample, American Community Survey 2006-2010 & 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
$98,800
$100,000 $90,719
$80,000
$59,900 $60,749
$60,000 $49,619
$43,294
$40,000
$20,000
$20,063
$19,218
$18,532 $18,487
$17,259
$15,931
$15,030 $14,432 $14,681 $15,030
$13,915
$12,926
2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020
White Black Latinx Asian Arab American
Indian /
Alaska
Native
2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020 2000 2020
White Black Latinx Asian Arab American
Indian /
Alaska
Native
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, 1980 5% state sample
and American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
As we have noted, Arab Americans are a diverse group ethnically. They are also a
diverse group economically. One way to understand this is by looking at the income
distribution within the ethnic groups that comprise Arab Americans. Arab American
households in the top 20% of the income distribution take in about half of all income
among Arab Americans, whereas those in the bottom 20% take in only 4% of the
share of all Arab American income. This is in part because income growth since
2000 has occurred in the top 20% while growth has slowed and income has declined
among the bottom 20%.41
Occupation
The growing economic divide among Arab Americans can be understood, in part,
by looking at the share of occupations among racial/ethnic groups. Arab Americans
are concentrated in both high- and low-paying occupations.
100%
13.76% 8.96% 9.14%
90% 17.85% 17.79% 14.76%
6.29% 24.60%
1.66%
% of Production, Transportation, and Material Moving Occupations % of Sales and Office Occupations
% of Natural Resources, Construction, and Maintenance Occupations % of Service Occupations
% of Management, Business, Science, and Arts Occupations
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
100%
$16.06 $19.29 $16.24
90% $16.25 $14.87 $15.42
$27.82 $14.60
$24.04
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
According to our estimates, Arab Americans earn 10% less than similarly situated
white workers. In other words, after accounting for immigration status, gender,
education, age, family, and work characteristics, Arab Americans early $2.75 less an
hour than white workers with similar characteristics. Over the course of a week — at
the average hours worked per week in Chicagoland (41) — that amounts to a wage
penalty of about $110 dollars. Over the course of a year — at the average of 49 weeks
of work per year in Chicagoland — the wage penalty for Arab American workers
relative to white workers amounts to about $5,273.
Moreover, our analysis shows that the Arab American-white wage gap has grown
since 2000. According to our estimates, the wage gap declined in the 2000s and
American
Indian /
Black Latinx Asian* Arab Alaska Native
Hourly Weekly Monthly Hourly Weekly Monthly Hourly Weekly Monthly Hourly Weekly Monthly Hourly Weekly Monthly
$0
-$4.44 -$3.24 -$0.12 -$4.89 -$2.76 -$3.76
-$19.55
$50
$100
-$110.25
$150 -$129.62
-$150.32
$200 -$177.55
$250
$300
$350
$400
$450 -$440.99
$500
-$518.49
$550
$600
-$601.28
$650
$700
-$710.21
Yearly
Wage $8,522.50 $6,221.93 $234.57 $5,291.86 $7,215.41
Gap
* Note: The Asian American - White wage gap was not statistically significant.
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2011-2015 & 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
* Note: The Asian American - White wage gap was not statistically significant. In other words, for
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, 2000 5% sample, Arab Americans, being
American Community Survey 2011-2015 & 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
foreign-born carries
a larger relative wage
penalty than it does for other groups. In contrast to this, for all other racial groups, a
lack of English proficiency has a larger, negative effect on wages than being foreign-
born. For example, a white worker who is not proficient in English earns 23% less
than a white worker who is proficient in English, whereas, a foreign-born white
worker earns 4% less than a U.S.-born white worker. The wage gap for Arab American
workers who are proficient in English versus those who are not is 17% whereas a
foreign-born Arab American earns 23% less than a U.S.-born Arab American worker.
When we standardize these estimates, which is a statistical method that allows us to
compare various characteristics with one another, such as English proficiency and
foreign-born status, what we find is that foreign-born Arab American workers pay
the largest wage penalty relative to other racial groups. This wage penalty is about 2
times larger than that of Latinx workers and 4 times larger than that of Asian workers.
If you take 2020 as a starting point, Arab Americans seem to fare well with regard to
educational attainment relative to other Chicagoland residents. About 45% of Arab
Americans (25 years and older) have a bachelor’s degree or higher, which is slightly
below the rate for white residents and slightly above the Chicagoland median. About
one in three Arab Americans have a high school diploma or less.
Educational attainment, similar to other topics we’ve discussed, varies among Arab
Americans. Foreign-born Arab Americans have lower levels of educational attainment
relative to U.S.-born Arab Americans.
Since the 1980s, educational attainment for Arab Americans has increased. However,
while this is the case, the educational attainment gap between white residents and
Arab American residents in Chicagoland has increased at least since the 2000s.
Likely because of immigration patterns, the overall percentage of Arab Americans
with a high school diploma (or equivalent) and a college degree has not kept pace
with that of white residents.
8.99%
2.69%
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Sample
White 3.01%
Black 8.96%
Less Than a High Latinx 27.17%
School Diploma Asian 7.05%
Arab 11.93%
AIAN 10.55%
White 27.64%
Black 37.00%
High School Latinx 39.33%
Diploma Asian 14.45%
Arab 22.66%
AIAN 32.58%
White 19.53%
Black 29.63%
Some Latinx 17.96%
College Asian 11.89%
Arab 20.52%
AIAN 26.73%
White 29.99%
Black 14.66%
Bachelor’s Latinx 10.72%
Degree Asian 37.81%
Arab 28.27%
AIAN 17.48%
White 19.84%
Black 9.75%
Graduate Latinx 4.83%
Degree Asian 28.80%
Arab 16.62%
AIAN 12.66%
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Sample
100% 4.83%
9.75% 12.66%
90% 16.01% 19.84% 10.72% 16.62%
14.66% 28.80%
80% 17.48%
17.96%
70% 24.46% 28.27%
29.99%
60% 29.63%
26.73%
50% 37.81%
20.32% 39.33% 20.52%
40% 19.53%
30% 37.00% 11.89%
30.22% 32.58%
22.66%
20%
27.64% 14.45%
27.17%
10%
8.99% 8.96% 7.05% 11.93% 10.55%
3.01%
Total White Black Latinx Asian Arab American
Indian /
Alaska Native
Less Than a High High School Diploma Some College Bachelor’s Degree Graduate Degree
School Diploma
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, American Community Survey 2016-2020 5-Year Samples
1980 34.69%
2000 35.35%
High School 2020 27.64%
Diploma 1980 27.23%
2000 31.43%
2020 22.66%
1980 20.92%
2000 36.22%
College 2020 49.83%
Degree 1980 26.64%
2000 34.38%
2020 44.88%
White Arab
Source: IPUMS USA, University of Minnesota, www.ipums.org, 1980 5% state sample, 2000 5% sample, American Community Survey
2016-2020 5-Year Sample
Nadiah Alyafai is a Yemeni American born and raised in the southwest suburbs of Illinois. She
is a full-time student at the University of Illinois Chicago and is employed at the Arab American
Cultural Center, one of the first and only Arab American Cultural Centers in the nation. In 2018,
after the election of Donald Trump, she joined the Arab American Action Network’s youth organizing
program to be more involved with her community. Her role at the Arab American Action Network is
to politically educate youth 14-18 and help develop leadership skills and organizing skills within
Arab and Muslim communities.
Nadiah Alyafai was invited to write about the Chicagoland Yemeni community through
the lens of her and her family’s life experiences and their Yemeni community network.
My Family
My mother was born in 1980 in Brooklyn, New York. My grandma, Mama Noor, immigrated to
the United States to achieve the American Dream with her husband. After the tragic death of my
grandfather, my mother and Mama Noor migrated back to Yemen where my mother met my father,
a Yemeni citizen. After my parents married, they moved from Yemen to Burbank, Illinois where my
father worked as a gas station attendant at 63rd and Kedzie in Chicago, Illinois.
I was born in 2002, during the era of heightened national security and counterterrorism policies in
the United States. Although we lived in Palos Hills away from our Yemeni community, my mother
made sure I grew up with her side of the family made up of over 20 families. When we congregated,
women would come together to gain support and share stories while their husbands were at work
and the children played.
Although many Yemeni immigrants settle/d in New York and California, community elders shared
with me that the first Yemeni migrants came to Chicago in the 1960s. Most of them were from South
Yemen, specifically from Yafa, where I am from. Many of those early migrants were Yemeni men
who were said to only be in “transit,” meaning they planned to stay in the U.S. for a short period,
gain wealth, and then return home. Their jobs tended to be low-paying service jobs — from liquor
stores to factories — many of which were located around Kedzie, Pulaski, Lawrence, and Ridgeway.
They resided in apartment complexes in areas where necessities like transportation, grocery stores,
and other Arab populations were easily accessible. Then, along with many Palestinians, the Yemeni
community gradually moved to the suburbs of Chicago, such as Bridgeview, Burbank, and Hickory
Hills.
Another place Yemeni people gather is the Aden Center, a nonprofit center, founded around 2015
in Bridgeview, Illinois. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, the center – run by women from a number of
Arab communities – offered much-needed services, classes, and events to the Yemeni community.
Some services provided are a Saturday School where children learn Arabic, Quran, and some Islamic
studies. They hold classes on healthy relationships and family ties as well as stress management.
Aden Center also partnered with Moraine Valley Community College and Dr. Nina Shoman-Dajani
to provide Yemeni women with ESL classes and, hopefully in the future, will bring beginners level
Arabic classes to the many young and adult women who are not literate in Arabic. Additionally,
Aden Center plans to introduce computer classes for women, citizenship classes, civics classes, and
GED classes to supplement their current programs on financial aid, career nights, and college fairs
to increase access to education. The Center also partners with MUHSEN, an Islamic organization
that brings awareness about people with disabilities to break down stigmas and create a place of
inclusion and acceptance for people with disabilities and their family members.
Racism
There are three main types of racism that Yemenis face: Yemeni-Yemeni Racism, Arab-Yemeni
Racism, and Institutional Racism. Although each type of racism is distinct, the Yemeni community
as a whole faces racism on micro (i.e., from how others perceive the food that we consume, how we
tend to dress, or how we live our daily lives) and macro (institutionalized racial profiling) levels.
Yemeni-Yemeni Racism — Due to Yemen being separated into different cities and tribes as well as
the division of North Yemen from South Yemen, these differences can get amplified in the U.S.
when we are living in closer proximity to each other.
Arab-Yemeni Racism — What separates Yemenis from other Arab Countries most of the time revolves
around the history of colonization. Where many of the Arab countries were fully colonized by
European and later U.S. forces, Yemen was never fully colonized. Aden, which is located on the
southern tip of Yemen near the Gulf of Arabia and the Red Sea, has been the major target point for
Western colonizers such as Great Britain and the former USSR. While these nations have been able
to conquer Aden, they never expanded into the other territories (tribal areas would not allow it; the
mountainous regions made it difficult; and the ports were the Western colonizers’ main target).
As a result, Yemeni cultures and traditions were less impacted by Western cultures and are closely
tied to those our ancestors practiced. Yemeni’s experience a distinctive “othering” from other Arab
communities leading to difficulty in integration between other Arabs and Yemenis.
Yemenis tend to be less formally educated and Yemen is known for being one of the poorer
countries. These realities tend to lead other Arabs to perceive Yemenis in a negative light and look
down upon us.
Institutional Racism — Because of the difference in customs and traditions that distinguish Yemenis,
U.S. society has a hard time classifying us as a racial or ethnic group. U.S. society often perceives
Yemeni as uncivilized and classifies us as “tribal” and therefore backward or savage.
The institutional racism stems from how many of our community members have darker complexion
with African hair texture. Many other Arabs can pass as white but that is not an option for us. Many
Yemenis agree that the U.S. treats us in ways similar to the Black community.
Fear
Although in Yemen politics are a topic of conversation at nearly every meal, many in the community
in the United States avoid politics. This stigma is slowly diminishing since Yemeni migrants are
aware that the United States plays a significant role in politics back home. The Yemeni community
overall remains hesitant to participate in civil society because we are afraid of deportation, of getting
attacked through hate crimes, of facing harassment, and of being placed under surveillance. We
understand that having an opinion is not free in America and we want to be completely under the
radar because of the constant fear of deportation and immigration problems.
The Yemeni Community, compared to other Arab nations, has a low formally educated population.
Women oftentimes do not receive an education. Those that do have an education often live in cities.
There are few teachers who are willing to travel or live in remote areas. To be sure, many women are
educated and have masters, bachelor’s, and PhDs. However, there is a great need to increase the
number of women with education.
Men also often do not receive education. Once they reach a certain age, they are expected to work
and assist in any financial obligations not only within the house but within the community.
Many women do not have their own means of transportation nor do they have a license to drive.
This feeds into the education barriers as they are unable to seek out classes that might assist in their
language proficiency. Oftentimes, patriarchy obstructs women’s language access and proficiency.
Yemen has been facing conflict and war for many years. This impacts Yemenis in Chicagoland
because many have family members in Yemen. Overwhelmingly, migrant Yemenis hold very close
ties to Yemen due to ancestral ties to their land and their love for their country. Yemeni people have
a sense of duty and responsibility to their extended family. Tribal thinking dictates that it is not every
person for themselves but a communal duty to make sure tribe members and village members
are able to receive basic necessities. Widows and orphans are taken care of by the entire village,
where everyone who is financially or agriculturally capable steps in. Immigration to a country that
values individualism creates distress for Yemeni migrant families, especially those with little to no
community around them.
Intergenerational trauma from war, racism, and attacks on our community (such as hate crimes or
government surveillance) go undiscussed in the U.S. or within the Yemeni migrant community.
There is a stigma among Yemeni and Arab migrant communities to avoid acknowledging mental
health challenges such as the trauma produced by war and racism. Especially within the Muslim
community, Yemeni families tend to overshadow mental health with religion. The stigma of having
depression and anxiety and going to a therapist is that you are seen as “weak” and “unstable.” The
community tends to label women with mental health disabilities as “unfit” to be married. Men who
have mental health issues or who publicly express emotions are seen to be “weak” or “unmanly.” Yet
many community members need healing from trauma and, with the stigma and lack of knowledge
around mental health, they are reproducing a harmful cycle.
The Yemeni community is a very private community. Many factors play into this. Yemen is a country
located in the southern part of the Arabian Peninsula. Its history is ancient and rich, consisting of
over thousands of years of tribes whose differences resulted in conflicts with each other. When the
time of the Imams (people that ruled the northern part of Yemen) came, they were very xenophobic
and used their power and control to make sure Yemen and its people stayed cut off from the entire
world (the mountainous regions helped). The establishment of the closed-off region allowed the
preservation of ancient Yemeni cultures and traditions as well as the unique dialects in comparison
with other Arab countries.
Culture Clash
One of the main cultural clashes that occurs within the Yemeni immigrant community is attire. In
Yemen, it is common for women to wear the black abaya and Khuna or burqu (face veil). For men,
it is common to wear the Futah (skirt) with a jambiya as well as a mashada (male head scarf). The
attire back home emphasizes modesty. When Yemeni migrants come to the U.S., they typically
wear the attire they wear back home. The clash that comes from differences related to dress and the
individualistic culture of the U.S. can be challenging.
There are many factors that play into the struggles that Yemeni youth face, especially in schools.
The first is racism. Yemeni students have a difficult time assimilating because of the significant
differences between them, other Arabs, and white middle-class cultures. This creates isolation
among the Yemeni students.
Students also struggle due to the barriers and challenges related to parents lacking formal
education and the capacity to provide educational assistance to their children. Also, within many
homes, education is not heavily valued.
Students within the school system face challenges due to their distinct dialect. Many schools do not
have proper ESL classes for Yemeni students. The Yemeni dialect is very different than other Arabic
dialects. Many schools do not have the resources to assist the Yemeni student body which impacts
their access to education.
Teachers and administrators in schools rarely understand Yemeni cultural practices and are unable
to support or include Yemeni children or their families in ways necessary for educational success.
The war on terror “abroad” and “racial profiling” of Arab Americans “at home” are
interconnected. Given the centrality of the war on terror in U.S. culture and institutions,
solutions calling for civil rights or inclusion and tolerance under the law are limited
when it comes to challenging anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism. For Arab Americans, the
U.S.-led war on terror and racism are not separate. In fact, while civil rights efforts
PART TWO: HISTORY & DIMENSIONS OF ANTI-ARAB RACISM (A LANGUAGE AND FRAMEWORK) 63
such as calls for religious tolerance of Muslims or the inclusion of Arab Americans
in government positions are useful, they can also have the effect of covering up the
ongoing impacts of the war on terror, as we will outline below.
Racism directed at Arabs and Muslims is not merely a recent problem resulting from
the contemporary context of post-Cold War U.S. global engagements. Scholar Junaid
Rana explains that the demonization of Muslims specifically emerged out of the 15th
century context during a time when Europeans classified religious difference through
ideas about biological difference, when Catholics forcibly removed and converted
Muslims and Jews in Spain, and when the concept of race was born. Rana argues
that these violent histories found their way into how European explorers viewed the
indigenous people of the New World, claiming they were like “the Moors of the Old
World” — in addition to the many ways they dehumanized indigenous people.42
The 1967 Arab-Israeli war specifically marked a turning point in the ways U.S.-led
imperialism in the Arab region had a ripple effect in the lives of Arab Americans.
During this period, the U.S. government confirmed its unconditional alliance with the
Israeli colonization of Palestinian land and relied on anti-Arab/anti-Muslim corporate
media representations, anti-Arab/anti-Muslim state policies, and anti-Arab/anti-
Muslim racist discrimination and harassment to mark Arabs, especially Palestinians,
as potentially violent terrorist enemies. These anti-Arab/anti-Muslim policies and
practices explain why Arab American scholars and activists refer to 1967 as the moment
that galvanized anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism in the United States across domains
(e.g., employment, housing, politics), including the generalized dehumanization of
Arabs in the printed media, cartoons, the workplace, neighborhoods, and more.46
The 1967 Arab-Israeli war was a watershed moment for the racialization of Arab
Americans, consolidating longstanding Orientalist assumptions, discriminatory
legislation, deleterious policies, and racist media representations of Arabs as a
menace to U.S. society.
Federal policies since the 1970s have been marked by the intimidation, surveillance,
and harassment of Arabs with U.S. citizenship, of resident aliens, and of individuals of
Arab descent, and Arab students and activists in particular.47 For example, President
Richard Nixon’s 1972 Operation Boulder cited the threat of domestic terrorism to
grant the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) the power to harass individuals for
“special investigations,” including phone calls and visits without evidence of criminal
activity with the specific purpose of intimidation, harassment, and to discourage
their activism on issues relating to the Middle East.48
The United States has a longstanding pattern of criminalizing, arresting, and deporting
Arab Americans as a way to intimidate Arab American activists and perceived
supporters of Arab liberation movements. For example, in 1987, the U.S. government
PART TWO: HISTORY & DIMENSIONS OF ANTI-ARAB RACISM (A LANGUAGE AND FRAMEWORK) 65
arrested eight Palestinian and one Kenyan student activist in Los Angeles County on
the grounds that they allegedly had raised money for a leftist Palestinian political
party (the PFLP) which the U.S. considered a terrorist organization. The federal
government admitted that none of the “L.A. 8” had committed a criminal or terrorist
act. The L.A. 8 court proceedings revealed a Justice Department contingency plan
that provided a blueprint for the mass arrest of 10,000 alien terrorists and undesirable
Arabs within the U.S.; the contingency plan also detailed provisions for detention
camps in Louisiana where Arabs and Iranians would be held.
These realities help explain why Arab American scholars and activists have insisted
that anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism is a global and not simply a domestic problem.
There is a direct correlation between anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism in U.S. policy,
media, and everyday life and the U.S.’ mission to grow its empire in the Arab region
and North Africa — including its support of Israeli colonization and its post-Cold War
military and economic domination of the region.49
The Gulf War in the 1990’s brought an increase in profiling by airport employees
of individuals who fit a “terrorist profile” (including individuals with Arab or Muslim
names and/or individuals traveling to certain Arab and/or Muslim countries). In 1995,
Arabs and Arab Americans were scapegoated as perpetrators of the Oklahoma City
Bombing, inspiring more and more cases of violence and harassment.50 The Clinton
administration leveraged this to advance a legislative effort allowing the government
The post-Cold war context set the stage for the “terrorism framework” that was
institutionalized especially after 9/11 through interconnected domestic and global
policies and corporate media rhetoric.53 This framework defines all Arabs as Muslims
and all Muslims as potential terrorists. The immediate aftermath of 9/11 brought a
heavy U.S. state focus on Arabs and Muslims in the U.S., rationalizing an expansion
of policing and surveillance activities against them. The U.S. expanded its framing
of the “Arab-Middle Eastern-Muslim terrorist enemy” to anyone and everyone who
could be perceived to be Muslim, including South Asians.
The USA PATRIOT Act added new justifications for surveilling Arab immigrants,
especially Muslims, denying entry and deporting citizens, and expanding the power
of the attorney general in certifying an immigrant as a “terrorist” and holding him/
her in indefinite detention. It also gave the FBI authority to investigate citizens
without probable cause and expanded the ability of law enforcement officers to
conduct secret searches and surveillance. Government policies such as the Deputy
General’s Memo (or Alien Absconder Initiative)57 and The Domestic Security
PART TWO: HISTORY & DIMENSIONS OF ANTI-ARAB RACISM (A LANGUAGE AND FRAMEWORK) 67
Enhancement Act58 targeting Arab Americans included detention and deportation
without due legal process, closed immigration hearings, the use of secret evidence,
special registration, and government interviews of thousands of immigrants without
evidence of criminal activity.59
Many other policies have supported the racial profiling of Arab Americans, including
laws that permitted the arrest and brief detention of “material witnesses” who have
“important information” about a crime, which allowed the Justice Department to hold
70 men — all but one of whom were Muslim. Nearly half of them were never brought
before a grand jury or court to testify. Many were not informed of the reason for their
arrest and denied immediate access to a lawyer and knowledge of the evidence
used against them. Their court proceedings were conducted behind closed doors,
and all of the court documents were sealed. Witnesses were typically arrested at
gunpoint, held around the clock in solitary confinement, and subjected to the harsh
and degrading high-security conditions usually reserved for prisoners accused or
convicted of the most dangerous crimes. Corrections staff verbally harassed the
detainees and, in some cases, physically abused them.60
The post 9/11 moment has only expanded the surveillance, containment, and
criminalization of Arab Americans. As scholar Deepa Kumar explains, “A nation at
war typically turns against those it sees as domestic representations of the ‘foreign
enemy.’ […] Today, the events of 9/11 have been used to ratchet up attacks on Muslim
citizens and residents.”61 In her study of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism after 9/11,
scholar Louise Cainkar argues that at least 100,000 Arabs and Muslims living in the
United States have personally experienced one of these racial profiling measures.62
Moreover, Cainkar documents that, of thirty-seven known U.S. government security
measures implemented since the September 11th attacks, twenty-five either explicitly
or implicitly target Arabs and Muslims in the United States.63
The racial profiling of people perceived to be Arab, Muslim, and/or South Asian
culminated in the Trump Administration’s Executive Order 13769 (known as the
Muslim Ban), which “banned all travelers from Iran, Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria,
and Yemen for at least 90 days, including U.S. permanent residents. It also suspended
the United States Refugee Admissions Program and related refugee settlement for
120 days.” Tens of thousands of would be migrants were denied entry to the United
States due to the Muslim Ban, and the migration of Syrian refugees was stopped. It
also helped intensify racist fear, suspicion, surveillance, and the criminalization of
Arab and Muslim immigrants. These post-9/11 policies are part and parcel of the
global war on terror in the Middle East, South Asia, and North Africa.
Many anti-racist advocates have celebrated the Biden administration for its plan to
partner with Arab Americans. However, the handful of Arab American consultants
in his administration are heavily outnumbered by the many passionate anti-Arab
advocates of Israel in the top ranks of his administration, Congress, and the Democratic
Party machine. Moreover, the anti-Arab/anti-Muslim war on terror continues to be
central to administration policies.64 Nicole Nguyen, an expert analyst of domestic
counter-terrorism policies explains that, “Despite Biden’s promise to end the Trump
administration’s Targeted Violence and Terrorism Prevention Program (TVTP), given
its targeting of Arab and Muslim communities, he announced plans to expand
funding for TVTP. TVTP relies on the concept of ‘radicalization,’ which tends to conflate
particular strands of Islam with the turn to violence and terrorism.”65 Surveillance and
policing strategies from Operation Boulder in the 1970s to TVTP, the Nationwide
Suspicious Activity Reporting (SAR) Initiative, and Countering Violent Extremism
(CVE) programs of today all help sustain the racial profiling of Arab Americans.
PART TWO: HISTORY & DIMENSIONS OF ANTI-ARAB RACISM (A LANGUAGE AND FRAMEWORK) 69
Just as it has at the federal level, institutionalized anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism has
shown up in Chicagoland in many ways. FBI surveillance of Arab American Muslim
homes, schools, and mosques have a long history in Chicagoland dating at least to
the 1980’s.66 We also see institutionalized racism in the Chicago Police Department,
especially as revealed in the 2017 Department of Justice report that made public
social media posts by police officers that are heavily anti-Muslim. One Chicago Police
Department officer posted a photo of a dead Muslim soldier in a pool of his own blood
with the caption: “The only good Muslim is a (expletive) dead one.”67 Writing about
Muslims in a Facebook post, the Chicago police union chief asserted, “Savages, they
all deserve a bullet.”68
The effect of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim policies and racism extends beyond the specific
individuals who they target. Advocates agree that the U.S.’ politically motivated
deportation of 70-year-old community leader Rasmea Odeh in 2017 was meant to
repress Arab American activists.69 Next, we turn to the everyday effects of this racism
for Arab Americans in the region as they contend with racism in airports, at school,
in healthcare, in the workplace, and in their encounters with police.
• A tool of racialized surveillance. Over half of all SARs that include markers of racial identity listed
the suspects as Arab, Middle Eastern, Muslim, or “olive skinned” (53.6% at CPIC and 49.4% at
STIC), and even more are identified as people of color (76.8% at CPIC and 63.9% at STIC).
• Used to criminalize dissent and suppress political critique.
• Used to reinforce racial stereotypes that treat Arabs and Muslims as “terrorists.”
• Used to criminalize a wide range of behaviors when carried out by people of color, including
photography, work activities, mental health crises, and protected speech.
• Used to target Black people, especially in association with Islam.
• Used in ways that reinforce white supremacy.71
Given the history of marking Arab communities as national security threats through public policy
and popular media, the deputization of local residents as terrorist watchdogs has facilitated the
expansion of racialized surveillance of Arab, Muslim, and “olive skinned” people; criminalized Arab-
led political organizing; and reinforced white supremacy. In this way, the Nationwide Suspicious
Activity Reports Initiative empowers and encourages the vigilante policing, surveillance, and
harassment of Arab Americans as terrorist threats.
PART TWO: HISTORY & DIMENSIONS OF ANTI-ARAB RACISM (A LANGUAGE AND FRAMEWORK) 71
Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) Programs
Countering violent extremism is a federal anti-terrorism program that encourages community
members, social service providers, and religious leaders to participate in the national security
apparatus. In effect, CVE programs deputize community members and social service providers as
terrorist watchdogs who identify and report individuals vulnerable to or who they perceive are in
the process of terrorist radicalization.72 In Chicagoland, CVE emerged through the Illinois Criminal
Justice Information Authority’s (ICJIA) Targeted Violence Prevention Program (TVPP), which received
a 2016 Department of Homeland Security grant to train 150 community leaders and members to
“help off-ramp individuals who exhibit warning signs of radicalization to violence as well as those
who exhibit behaviors signifying they may be in the early stages of planning an act of ideologically
inspired targeted violence.”73 ICJIA also developed training curriculum to “provide community
members tools to prevent violence and community health and resiliency” so they can serve as
“engaged bystanders” equipped to “intervene before, during, or after a situation when they see
behaviors that promote violence.”
Although ICJIA insisted that its anti-terrorism approach offered an alternative to law enforcement-
led interdictions, investigative journalists Alex Ruppenthal and Asraa Mustufa revealed consistent
collaboration with law enforcement, including the Chicago Police Department and Federal
Bureau of Investigation.74 Ruppenthal also found that ICJIA struggled to secure, and sometimes
misrepresented the status of, community partners, and that many community members opposed
the program given its explicit targeting of Arab and Muslim communities as uniquely susceptible to
terrorist radicalization.75 These findings align with reports from the American Civil Liberties Union and
Brennan Center for Justice that CVE programs hinge on faulty social science, repress political dissent,
and treat Arab and Muslim communities as terrorist incubators.76 The narratives organizing ICJIA’s
Targeted Violence Prevention Program — that community members must vigilantly report potential
terrorists and that Arabs and Muslims pose an enduring security threat — justify and even encourage
everyday forms of harassment, discrimination, and bullying. It is to these everyday experiences that
we next turn.
Muhammad Sankari is the Lead Organizer for the Arab American Action Network (AAAN). The son
of Arab immigrants, he grew up in Wisconsin and joined the AAAN in 2010. Since then, he has
worked primarily with young people helping to develop the youth-led Campaign to End Racial
Profiling. He was part of a research team composed of other AAAN members and UIC’s Policing
in Chicago Research Group that wrote the May 2022 report The Suppression of Dissent and the
Criminalization of Arabs and Muslims in Illinois.
When asked about the surveillance, criminalization, or repression of Arabs in the U.S., many people
often mark September 11th and its immediate aftermath as the beginning point, but that is a
common misconception. The surveillance of Arabs on a national level, and in Chicagoland (Chicago
proper and all its adjoining suburbs) specifically, is a decades-long issue that extends as far back
as the early 1970s and exists at the intersection of U.S. foreign policy goals, changing domestic
politics, and the growing national security apparatus. This commentary addresses the impact of
surveillance on Arab Americans in Chicagoland, with a focus on the contemporary policies of racial
profiling and the targeting of Arabs and an exploration of the communities’ political and historical
roots.
The initial surveillance of Arabs in Chicagoland coincided with the arrival of large numbers of
Palestinians who immigrated in the late 1960s and early 1970s after Israel illegally occupied the
West Bank, Gaza, and Jerusalem in historical Palestine, plus other Arab territories. A number of
these Palestinians were activists in Palestine and members of the Palestine Liberation Organization.
This made them targets of U.S. law enforcement, which was already engaged in domestic counter-
intelligence operations against the Black liberation, Chicano liberation, Puerto Rican independence,
and other social movements. Arabs were subjected to the same FBI spying and infiltration tactics
that were employed against other groups, and Arab activists were threatened with deportation. This
period laid the foundation for the continued and expanded surveillance and targeting of Arabs in
following decades.
Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, as U.S. foreign policy shifted in the Middle East, so too did
the surveillance and targeting of Arab communities in the U.S. In 1995, President Bill Clinton
signed Executive Order 12947, “Prohibiting Transactions with Terrorists Who Threaten to Disrupt
the Middle East Peace Process,” criminalizing support for almost every political party in Palestine.
In Chicagoland, while the influence and strength of Arab organizations continued to grow in
Following the attacks of September 11th, the federal government enacted a new era of mass
surveillance and repression against Arabs and Muslims across the U.S. With the passage of laws
and policies ranging from the USA PATRIOT Act and the National Security Entry-Exit Registration
System (NSEERS) to mass arrests and FBI interviews, as well as the creation of the Department of
Homeland Security (DHS), the national security state was born into existence. NSEERS ushered
in this new era by forcing non-permanent resident immigrant males ages 16 and up who were
nationals of 25 countries (24 of which have majority Arab or Muslim populations) to register with
the then-Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS).
The Arab American Action Network (AAAN) led the organizing against NSEERS in Chicagoland,
working with legal and community allies to provide education and identify attorneys for the men
targeted by the program and to alert their families in case they were detained. According to the
DHS, over 83,000 foreign nationals participated in the domestic portion of the program, with
over 13,000 being placed in deportation proceedings, most for minor, technical violations of their
visa statuses. Not one of the 13,000 placed in deportation proceedings was ever convicted of any
crime related to terrorism. NSEERS continued into the Obama administration, when it was finally
rescinded, as the increase of technological capabilities by U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services
and U.S. Customs and Border Protection made the program obsolete.
Here in Chicagoland, also following September 11th, the government launched a vicious attack
against community leaders Abdelhaleem Ashqar and Muhammad Salah. Salah was a resident of
the Chicagoland area and both were well known community members who were targeted by the
Department of Justice for their Palestine activism. The trial of Ashqar and Salah became a public
test case of the new post-9/11 counter-terrorism laws and included testimony by a government
informant who had infiltrated the largest Arab mosque in Illinois, the Mosque Foundation of
Bridgeview, a suburb of Chicago.
While Ashqar and Salah were both acquitted of all serious terrorism charges, their case marked a shift
in the strategies employed by the U.S. government in the targeting of Arab communities — from this
point on, confidential informants would become the cornerstone of the surveillance, entrapment,
and harassment of Arab communities in the U.S. In fact, in a 2008 FBI budget authorization request,
the FBI mentions having 15,000 informants on its payroll.77
The Illinois Criminal Justice Information Authority’s (ICJIA’s) Targeted Violence Prevention Program
(TVPP) received $187,877 through the DHS’ 2016 inaugural grant program. For years, TVPP failed
to make inroads into Arab and Muslim communities due to successful organizing led by AAAN,
American Friends Service Committee, and other allies, which prevented CVE from taking root. After
a sustained two-year organizing campaign by the Stop CVE Coalition, the director of TVPP resigned
and ICJIA announced it would not re-staff his position — securing an important victory for Arab
communities.
Law enforcement also surveils Arab and Muslim communities through massive data collection and
processing as part of “preventative” counter-terrorism measures, mainly using Suspicious Activity
Reports (SARs) and fusion centers.
Fusion centers are physical data warehouses created post-September 11th to provide a space for local,
state, and federal law enforcement to coordinate and share data. On a practical level, this means
that data gathered (potentially based on the biases of local police) from everyday activities can have
deep consequences for people. For example, a SAR could be filed on a person and then forwarded
to a fusion center, which is then mandated to share the information with U.S. Immigration and
Customs Enforcement (ICE), the FBI, and a myriad of other law enforcement agencies. All of this is
done without an individual ever being charged with a crime. This is the cutting edge of the national
security state, the ability for a single officer — with a mere suspicion — to set in motion a series of
events involving local, state, and federal law enforcement.
The Arab communities of Chicagoland, like Arab communities nationally, have been racialized,
criminalized, and surveilled by law enforcement for decades as the domestic face of the “enemy
abroad.” With the post-9/11 expansion of surveillance, these communities are now even more in the
crosshairs. This reality has been met with community resistance, as Arabs in Chicagoland continue
to organize and mobilize for their rights to live full lives without being marked as enemies.
This is the first survey of its kind in Chicagoland. With the help of our Arab American
serving community partners who administered the survey, we were able to complete
496 surveys between December 2020 and September 2021.
Overall, the survey provides additional local insight on the broad patterns we see
generally in scholarship on Arab Americans. On the one hand, respondents report
experiencing that their families’ and communities’ needs are not being addressed
— a kind of invisibility that often results from organizations and institutional actors
not recognizing or understanding the community or its needs. On the other hand,
respondents also document how their everyday life is framed by fear and threat due
to hypervisibility — where they are treated with suspicion and hostility due to being
seen through the lens of stereotypes.
Organizational Assessment
About one in four respondents noted that organizations such as religious
organizations, businesses, service organizations, government offices, and schools
are “not at all effective” in meeting the needs of Arab Americans while one in three
reported these organizations as “very effective.” The differences in views towards
organizations in conjunction with participant’s written responses help draw out
some important insights.
Written responses suggest that this favorable view may have to do with the fact
that these are organizations that understand and attend specifically to the needs
of Arab Americans. As one respondent explained, “I just don’t think Arab folks are
often thought about in any of these spaces unless it’s specifically an Arab/Muslim
only space, like mosques and Arab churches.” Or, as another respondent put it, the
mosque was the only institution in their community with services catering specifically
to Arab Americans. Similarly, other respondents highlighted the importance
of organizations that are led or staffed by Arab Americans. As one respondent
succinctly stated, “If an organization is staffed with Arab Americans, they will be
effective in serving the needs of Arabs.”
The paucity of knowledge about Arab Americans and lack of Arab American staff in
organizations leads to negative experiences with organizations. As another survey
respondent stated: “The lack of representation in a lot of these spaces leads to
inadvertent alienation and a lack of understanding [of] the needs of Arab Americans.”
This may be the reason that local businesses were also viewed favorably by
respondents. Sixty percent of respondents reported local business as being
“somewhat” or “very effective” in meeting the needs of Arab Americans, while 30%
of respondents viewed them as “not at all effective.” A written response pointed
to the importance of dense networks of culturally competent businesses and
organizations as critical to these being able to support Arab Americans and address
the diverse needs of Arab American communities: “I live in an area with a plethora
of local Arab owned businesses. These range from grocery stores to restaurants, to
healthcare providers and therapists. Additionally, non-profit agencies such as Arab
American Family Services are effective in helping immigrants in the community.
U.S.-born Arabs have different needs than immigrant Arabs.”
Most [organizations] don’t recognize our individual needs so it’s hard for
them to meet the specific needs of our community. For example, we have
unique healthcare needs but we do not have a box in healthcare spaces
to identify our race. My university is an effective space because there is an
Arab American Cultural Center which provides us with culturally relevant
resources we need to thrive such as community events which provide us
with connection to other Arabs.
Spaces in which Arab Americans are represented and their cultural needs are
recognized were generally viewed more favorably among respondents.
Organizations more removed from the community including the workplace and
government (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS), the police, and local
government offices) were viewed far less favorably. Around 30% of respondents
indicated that USCIS, local government, and the workplace were “not at all effective”
in meeting the needs of Arab Americans and over one in three respondents viewed
police this way.
Those who viewed workplace and government organizations as “not at all effective”
in meeting the needs of Arab Americans mentioned that they felt this way due to
being constantly surveilled, criminalized, or stereotyped as forever foreign. There
was a sense, in other words, of being singled out for being Arab American. The
following survey respondent summed up this, stating,
In fact, contrary to the parent who held their child’s school in high regard for having
English as a second language (ESL) classes, another respondent noted that “Public
schools, for example, will put Arab children in ESL when they clearly don’t need it.
I have friends that were put in those classes that barely knew Arabic. I don’t know
if this is just to get more funding for these programs or just blatant racism, but I do
know people that were wrongly placed in these programs faced long term effects
in their academic careers.”
Views towards the police provide a pointed understanding of what it’s like to
live at the extreme ends of being invisible to organizations or hypervisible but
criminalized. Roughly equal numbers of respondents (about a third in each case)
viewed police as “very effective” and “not at all effective” in meeting the needs of
Arab Americans. Written responses that viewed the police as effective were virtually
all succinct, most often writing something like “police were helpful.” There were
equally succinct unfavorable written responses, such as, the “police are racist”
or “they are late when called,” but, perhaps understandably, those with negative
experiences were also those who elaborated on their disapproval in detail. They
emphasized that police “harassed” Arab Americans “seeing them as terrorists” and
that “police and immigration services [were] hostile towards members of […the
Arab American] community and treat them with suspicion.”
A mother of 5 and educator stated, “Palos Park Police have been horrendous on
multiple occasions. Horrible. Discriminatory and outright violent.” She recalled a
story of being pulled over in her minivan for an expired license sticker and was told
The lack of everyday knowledge about Arabs, Muslims, and the Middle East, alongside
the hypervisibility of pervasive negative stereotyped depictions of Arabs and Arab
Americans in popular media, make for fraught encounters and experiences for
Arab Americans. Survey respondents expressed annoyance and exhaustion about
continually being treated as cultural oddities or ambassadors for all Arab Americans
and the Arab world. As one respondent expressed, “I get asked where I am from
every time I go out into the community […]. I question whether or not to be honest so
as to avoid the barrage of comments and questions.” Another respondent explicitly
stated that they are treated as the spokesperson for Arabs:
Discrimination
Following the 2003 Detroit Arab American Survey,79 our Chicagoland survey asked
respondents about their experiences with a range of specific types of discrimination:
verbal assault, threats, vandalism, physical attack, and loss of employment due to
being Arab American. Survey respondents reported experiencing discrimination
due to their race/ethnicity as follows: 39% reported experiencing threating words
or gestures, 38% reported experiencing verbal insults or abuse, 20% reported
Verbal assaults and threats were the most common types of discrimination for our
respondents. Around one in five respondents stated that this happened “often” or
“sometimes.” Although physical attacks, vandalism, and loss of employment were
not everyday occurrences for our survey respondents, the rate of occurrences for
these types of discrimination were nonetheless high.
Respondents wrote that they have been called racial slurs, been harassed by
Transportation Security Administration (TSA) workers, been attacked by fireworks,
had their car windows broken, been denied promotion, and been forced to quit
their job all due to being Arab. In the case of the broken car window, the respondent
believed it had to do with their bumper sticker; in other cases these acts were due to
the perceived race and ethnicity of the respondent. One respondent who worked in
retail said they were called slurs and received complaints because of their ethnicity.
Another respondent stated that they took off their hijab post 9/11 “due to the public
reaction […]. This included people yelling ‘Go back to Afghanistan,’ giving the middle
finger, and stares in public that were too much for me to handle at 15.”
In sum, verbal assault, threats, stereotyping, and prejudice are very much a part of
everyday life for Arab Americans in Chicagoland. Our survey respondents described
many examples of strangers, bosses, police, patients, and government and elected
officials participating in this behavior, producing a general atmosphere of discomfort,
exhaustion, annoyance, fear, and physical harm among many.
As with other questions, politics and racial animus went hand in hand and were a
persistent theme in survey participant’s explanations for their worry and concern
about participating in various activities, especially in response to experiences with
surveillance and doxing, where someone has their personal and sensitive information
revealed online without their consent. As one survey respondent wrote,
Another respondent explained that they no longer use their full name on documents
or job applications after being doxed on Canary Mission (a pro-Zionist website
designed to discredit, harass, and intimidate Arab organizers). As they wrote, “I know
that [Canary Mission] is losing credibility, but it still scares me and I sometimes feel
alone in this even though I know several other people on canary mission that have
tried to give me some relief. I google myself everyday to see if it’s still there.”
In our survey, there were important differences in how foreign-born and economically
precarious respondents navigated everyday life and related to anti-Arab/anti-
Muslim racism compared to U.S.-born respondents with higher socio-economic
standing. In our sample, socio-economic characteristics (income, education levels,
and employment) were meaningfully associated with foreign-born status such that
foreign-born respondents were more likely to live in households earning below the
Chicagoland median household income and were more likely to be unemployed
and hold less than a bachelor’s degree.80
This pattern was particularly pronounced with regards to health care providers
and non-profit service organizations. Foreign-born and economically precarious
respondents are more likely to rely on and to use non-profit services than those with
a higher socio-economic status. This likely accounts for why they held more acute
and articulated views on the effectiveness of these services. Likewise, whereas those
with more money and full-time employment have more flexibility in shopping around
for better healthcare in the private market or are provided health care through their
employer, the majority of our sample were very likely to be reliant on public insurance
or private health insurance of a lower quality, if they were insured at all.
Views on the police, local government offices, and USCIS provide an interesting
variation on this trend in which less precarious Arab Americans had markedly lower
rates of approval.
The 18- to 24-year-old cohort, who were more likely to be U.S.-born and hold a
bachelor’s degree or higher, reported higher levels of stereotyping, prejudice,
discrimination, and worry about participating in activities compared to respondents
who were 25 or older. This is important because age was generally not meaningfully
associated with views on an organizations’ ability to meet the needs of Arab
Americans with the important exception of police and local government offices. The
18- to 24-year-old cohort was more likely to hold strong negative views and less
likely to hold strong positive views of these organizations. Age was also meaningfully
associated with more explicit experiences of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism. Young
people, for example, were 2 times more likely to be asked uncomfortable questions
by the police and 2.5 times more likely to worry about calling the police compared
to those 25 and older. And they were almost 2 times more likely to express worry
about engaging in political acts.
Our survey asked respondents how they self-identified ethnoracially and how others
perceived them. A majority of respondents (67%) identified themselves as non-white.
The vast majority (77%) of the self-identified non-white respondents reported their
race as Arab. Similarly, almost two thirds of respondents reported their perceived
race as non-white. Unsurprisingly, self-identified non-white respondents were over
10 times more likely to also report their perceived race as non-white.
Written responses in the survey, for instance, revealed a lack of services able to
accommodate the needs of Arab Americans, especially immigrants, who tend to
occupy lower socio-economic positions in Chicagoland and thus be more reliant
on non-profit and public services. The lack of ample resources to meet the needs
of foreign-born and economically precarious Arab Americans is connected to their
invisibility.
Our survey also helps us to better understand complex and important considerations
regarding the addition of a Middle Eastern/North African, or MENA, category onto
the census and other administrative forms. This includes documenting community
needs, detailing experiences with discrimination or other forms of racism, assessing
community experiences, etc. It is critical to be able to identify and track Arab Americans
conditions and experiences and also to disaggregate them in order to capture the
important variance for groups who are, for example, recently arrived refugees as
compared to those who are 2nd or 3rd generation residents. Being classified as Arab-
American is meaningful for understanding all of these groups but not always with the
same effect. It is important to have disaggregated, or specific data that documents
the differences across Arab American communities and between different class and
educational markers. Documenting and understanding Arab Americans as a diverse
group with wide-ranging various histories, geographies, and migration patterns is
important to delivering social justice and not homogenizing and silencing the most
vulnerable Arab Americans.
In this section, we present data collected in a dozen focus groups with Arab American
Chicagoans. We worked with community organizations (e.g., Arab American Action
Network, Arab American Family Services, Yemeni Community Group) and local
educational institutions (Moraine Valley Community College, University of Illinois
Chicago) to bring together small groups of Arab American Chicagoans to discuss
their experiences. Questions mirrored those asked in the survey (e.g., experiences
with local organizations and in different institutional settings, assessment of
community needs, experiences with profiling) so that we could explore respondents’
experiences and understandings in more depth. Focus groups were held either both
in Arabic or English.
Although Arab Americans are subject to generalized patterns of racism, in this part
of the report we focus on the prominence of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism in Arab
Cultural racism has its roots in the centuries-old framing of those from Arab countries
as uncivilized, culturally inferior, or “backwards” that we detailed earlier in the report.
Even though framed as “cultural” differences, they are often understood to be
inherent, fundamental, and insurmountable. This is how, for example, assumptions
about Islam as an extremist religion are interwoven with ideas about a deep racial
inferiority. Cultural racism takes a wide range of forms from exclusion, othering,
violence, and racial hatred stemming from the idea that those in the targeted
“culture or religion” are not merely inherently backwards or inferior but potentially
threatening to Western/white European or American civilization.
This happened
right after 9/11, about
two years after 9/11. She
was taking her kids to school,
and as she was walking, it was
during the winter, and someone
pulled her hijab off and ran. It
was a teenager. It was a
teenager, so if teenagers
have this in their mind, I
don’t know.
As anthropologist of education, Thea Abu El-Haj, describes, Arab and Arab American
students are confronted not only with physical and verbal threats directed at them,
they are also having to make sense of “notions of patriotism (held by both students
and teachers) that limit empathetic connection” and define them as “outside the
boundaries of concern.”85 As expressions of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism, this
pervasive bullying marks Arab American young people as fundamental outsiders.
The killing of bin Laden intensified anti-Arab/anti-Muslim bullying. Here, we can see
how the terms “Arab” and “Muslim” became increasingly conflated into the idea of
an “Arab-Muslim enemy” in the years after September 11, 2011. Related research on
Arab American college students in Chicagoland found that the post 9/11 backlash
had a great impact on students’ everyday life experiences. Shoman-Dajani writes,
“Like many Arab Americans living in the U.S., they felt stereotyped […] and often felt
like they had to explain that Arabs and Muslims are not bad. This is weight that has
been carried around since they were children.”86
Arab American youth reported that “their peers hurled hurtful or racist words or
comments against them, such as ‘terrorist’, ‘boarder’, ‘go back to your country’, ‘violent
and animals’, and ‘towel heads’.”87 For example, Omar, a Palestinian American man
described how, as the only Arab and only Muslim student in his school, he “got name
called a lot” and experienced “just a lot of Islamophobic, racist comments towards
me. Often, I felt like I was seen different or treated different. Yeah. A lot of times it
was just people having a conversation with me and through the middle of it, they put
a random insult towards me, like terrorist or something […].” Nawal, the Palestinian
American woman we introduced earlier, recalled:
I remember one time in high school, in the hallways, this guy that I went to
school with since we were in kindergarten asked me why I hated America
so much. I just remember in that moment, I laughed. I was like, ‘I don’t hate
America.’ […] I just was so shocked at the question. I didn’t know how to
properly respond at that time.
I just remember having this backpack that I loved so much. […] I remember
this one day I had left my bag down outside the school. I don’t even
remember what I was doing. I just remember leaving my bag. I walked away,
and I come back, and my bag is empty. Then on it, you just see ‘terrorist’
Mustafa’s experiences
It was very hard
from elementary going to school in a pre-
school to college dominantly non-Arab community,
as a Yemeni having kids just constantly get on
me. Even teachers at times. It’d be very
American Man difficult. As […] a first generation Arab
American in the U.S., my parents were not
well educated. I had to go home with no
resources. No one to help me. None of that.
I would get criticized at school by the
teachers on why I’m not trying hard
enough, or etcetera. They wouldn’t
I was on the
reach out. I felt very alienated. There
football team.
was only two other Arabs in the
I ended up leaving
schools. I didn’t even speak
because kids would pick fights
to them.
with me about 9/11 every
freaking day. I would be sitting
there, someone would make a
It’s every — it’s the stereotypical white kid
joke about 9/11, and I would
that’s, “Oh, the college experience. It’s just full
chuckle. Then they would get
of just parties and having fun […]. It’s just an
up and like, “What are you
amazing atmosphere” when it’s not. I don’t
laughing at?” This and that. I
like walking through [University campus],
remember coaches seeing
especially at night. I don’t feel comfortable at
this, and coaches promoting
all being brown, having a long beard,
this kind of thing. It’s fine with
especially with [University] police. That kind
them. They have security on
of thing scares me. I don’t like it at all. During
the top floor because that’s
the day, I get to my class, and I get out. Some
where most of the Arabs’
of the kids are cool and friendly. […] I don’t like
lockers are. They called it the
the fact that people will stop and stare. That
camel corner, like the desert,
just makes me very uncomfortable. […]. [The]
or whatever. They had really
college experience for me is more or less get
racist nicknames for that
your degree, and just get out. You’re not here
hallway. You just had security
to enjoy this. Because it’s not enjoyable.
posted left and right.
Perhaps most insidiously, some participants expressed how bullying was a never-
ending experience. Omar, the Palestinian American man we quoted earlier reported,
“I would say probably starting from middle school is when I really started experiencing
[bullying] and it just continued on throughout high school.”
Racialized bullying also targeted specific aspects of Arab and Muslim students’
cultural and religious identities, such as the hijab, which created what Ghenwa,
a mother in one of our focus groups described as “hard times in school” for her
daughter as “people at school have a hard time accepting girls wearing hijab.”
Salma, a Palestinian American woman echoed similar comments to others that we
heard when she reported hearing comments like, “Oh, you wear your hijab; you
look prettier without the hijab.” Zahra, a Palestinian American woman recounted
often hearing comments such as, “Why don’t you just take off the hijab. You guys
have beautiful hair. You guys should take it off and have fun, enjoy it. You guys are
young. It’s not like you’re married or with kids or anything.” In some cases, youth
used the hijab as a pretext to bully Muslim students. Abeer, a Yemeni immigrant
woman, for example, reported that a group of boys “threw things” at her niece and
called her a “towelhead.” Continuing to recount her daughter’s experience, Ghenwa
described how a “girl pulled the hijab away from [her] daughter’s friend’s head.” In
response, “all the Arabs and Muslim students revolted against what had happened
in the schoolyard.”
Focus group participants reported that teachers and school staff also perpetuated
and participated in anti-Muslim racism against students. They noted that students
and staff “mocked” and “made fun of” participants who wore the hijab. As Abeer
stated, “I remember, one time, my other sister, believe it or not, her teacher would
joke, and was telling her, ‘I wanna see your hair. I wanna see your hair’.” Fayrouz, a
Yemeni immigrant woman recalled that her high school gym teacher harassed her
constantly about wanting to dress in an outfit that would cover her full body, stating:
“I remember the gym teacher coming up to me. She was like, ‘Oh, you can’t wear
[She] was playing on the [school] playground, playing just with random
people, and she told a girl, ‘Pass the ball to me,’ and the girl goes, ‘No. I
don’t like you because you have black skin.’ […]. She also took the ball and
she rammed it into my daughter’s stomach.
Nawal, whom we introduced earlier reported “being bullied” because she “had hair
on [her] arms.” She explained:
The boys would say I was hairier than them, or girls would question and
make fun of me for having hair on my upper lip. They called me a man. In
those moments, I definitely remember then what hair color I had, or what
the color of my skin was. It wasn’t really until high school that I started to
become really aware of the things that people would say, and the passive-
aggressive tones in which they were insinuating to me.
These examples illustrate how Arab youth often experienced schools as sites of anti-
Arab/anti-Muslim bullying, harassment, and discrimination.
Arab youth also faced harassment in after-school activities, especially sports. Mustafa,
who played on his local little league football team explained:
As the previous examples indicate, teachers, coaches, and other school staff also
participated in anti-Arab/anti-Muslim bullying and harassment. In fact, research
has shown that Arab students have experienced “being bullied and discriminated
against by their teachers” and that “teachers blamed the victims for being bullied.”90
Amani further described how, when participating in a sports competition:
[…] if I felt like someone was just staring longer than they needed to
or longer than just oh, passing by, looking at the competition, I just felt
nervous, like ‘Why are they – it’s just like why are they staring at me?’ I was
just kind of nervous like are they gonna come up to me and say something
Those adults […] don’t travel for school on teams, so they would never,
especially in an area does not have large MENA population, they would
never see or be exposed to MENA students or Arab students [and they
saw] that clearly I was wearing a hijab, so they were obviously like “Oh, she’s
different than everyone else.” The adults, I would say the adult spectators
would stare more for sure.
Souzan Naser is a Professor and Counselor at Moraine Valley Community College in Palos Hills,
Illinois where she has won awards for her work increasing diversity on campus. She is a Licensed
Clinical Social Worker with a Master’s degree in Social Work from the University of Michigan -
Ann Arbor, and a Doctor of Education in Educational Stewardship, Leadership & Learning from the
University of St. Francis. Her doctoral dissertation addressed the paucity of Arab American cultural
competency training available for counseling professionals.
As conversations related to diversity, equity, and inclusion continue to dominate the national
landscape on college campuses, there is one group in particular, Arab Americans, who continue to
remain invisible in these conversations. Instead of receiving support, an extraordinary amount of
negative attention is placed on Arab American students who are championing moral causes, like
the Palestinian struggle for freedom and actively working to change the discourse on Palestine
on their respective campuses. Rather than empowering their Arab American students by offering
them solidarity and centering their political and social needs, institutions of higher education are
responding with hostility. The repression these students are experiencing in the form of being
silenced, scrutinized, and criminalized for their activism takes a toll on their mental health.
Since 2015, I have been working with and examining the experiences of Chicagoland Arab American
college students. In this work, I have facilitated focus groups to capture the mental health needs
of Arab American college students enrolled at my institution, Moraine Valley Community College
(MVCC), located about twenty-five miles southwest of Chicago. My research found that although
MVCC sits in a congressional district that has one of the largest concentrations of Palestinians in
the United States, students feel misunderstood and misrecognized. In student focus groups we
conducted, participants reported they were concerned about the hostile political climate and where
counselors get their information about Arab American students.
“Are they getting [it] from media outlets?” asked one student. If so, “how does this impact the way
counselors work with us?”
“Every counselor should have a basic understanding of Arab culture and information on Islam,”
another student said.
Another student added, “If they do not understand us, then they are going to believe what they see
in the media.”
MENTAL HEALTH 99
As these students are suggesting, supporting the mental health needs of Arab Americans requires
a basic understanding of the historical and current oppressions encountered by this population. It
means taking a deep dive into their lived experiences of racism and exclusion that exist in many
forms. These are students who are impacted by U.S. imperialism and who are living, studying, and
working in a country that has devastated the regions they come from or have ancestral ties to. They
are post-9/11 students who are under surveillance and are scrutinized in their neighborhoods and
communities, at school, and in other public places. They are victims of racial profiling programs
promoted under the “countering violence extremism” framework, which unfairly targets members
of their community and aims to identify “radicalized” people by connecting community and
religious leaders with local law enforcement, and asks health professionals, teachers, and social
service employees to report on students. They are students recovering from Donald Trump who
assaulted their communities with executive orders like the Muslim Travel Ban, and attacked them
with disparaging comments such as when he asked “why do we want all these people from shithole
countries coming here?”
Some Chicagoland Arab American college students were directly impacted by the Muslim Travel Ban
and indicated that the hostile political climate magnified their insecurity and left them questioning
their place in the United States. Students said they feared deportation and worried they might
not see their families again, acknowledging that the stress had affected them academically and
psychologically. “The Muslim ban was very traumatizing,” said one student in a focus group, “not
just to me, but to people who could not come back to the States when they left for vacation.”
As a counselor at MVCC and a community organizer with the Chicago based chapter of US
Palestinian Community Network (USPCN), I have repeatedly witnessed how the hostile and divisive
political climate compromises the psychological, social, and academic well-being of Arab American
students across the Chicagoland area. Their experiences on college campuses are a microcosm of
the challenges they face outside of their campus community, and responding with compassion is
not enough. Instead, mental health professionals need to look beyond individual expressions of
distress and explore the impact of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim and Islamophobic foreign and domestic
policies to better understand their worldview. In other words, we must identify the relationship of
these existing programs and policies and how they can contribute to the development of mental
health issues or exacerbate already-existing psychological disorders. We also need to consider how
an over reliance on interventions rooted in Euro-North American counseling theory and technique
may not be suitable when counseling Arab American students.
As a counselor and community organizer I have witnessed how Arab American college students
must contend with the double burden of being academically successfully while challenging
discrimination, oppression, and inequity on campus and in other public domains. Arab American
students who are actively countering the effects of institutional betrayal and discrimination in their
communities are in a constant state of exhaustion and mental fatigue. They shared these concerns
in the focus groups I facilitated:
“I feel like we are not being given a chance due to the current political climate.”
“After Trump got elected things have been pretty rough. I’ve seen a lot of change. People
are noticing me more now than ever. They look at me differently and of course I stand
out because I wear the hijab.”
“We need to know our rights considering the political climate we are living in. It would
be helpful to meet with a counselor who understands us if we feel like we are being
singled out because of who we are.”
Not only are institutions often ignoring Arab American students’ mental health needs, but they
are also making the situation worse through their repressive measures. Across the Chicagoland
area, Arab American students’ efforts to dismantle oppressive structures and programs are tragically
thwarted by the repressive measures of their own institutions that drain Arab American students
of their capacity to organize. Students and faculty who have engaged in Palestine activism across
campuses in the Chicagoland area have faced oppression including the suspension of student led
clubs like Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), the disrupting or canceling of student sponsored
activities, the censuring of social media activism, and in the most extreme cases, the expulsion
of students from the university or firing of faculty members from their position. These punitive
Arab American students are in pain. I know because I work with them. Their student activism is as
much about effecting change as it is a form of collective care. From a wellness perspective, when
students come together in protest to assert their demands and critique their institutions for not
taking an ethical stance on Palestine, they are in essence also prioritizing their mental health. They
come together in recognition of their collective trauma, grief, anger, and fear. They are powered by
love and justice and find community with one another when everyone around them is attempting
to dismiss who they are and invalidate what they stand for.
So, yes, when Arab Americans use student activism as their vehicle to both affect change and
manage their psychological distress, it is incumbent upon institutions of higher education to offer
them solidarity, not to respond with resistance. Institutional responsibility means encouraging
these agents of change by taking their grievances seriously and offering concrete resources and
solutions in support of their demands.
Research has demonstrated how Arab youth “find little room to voice dissenting
opinions about contemporary Middle East politics and U.S. foreign policy” and
“find themselves confronting negative and monolithic images of their cultural or
religious practices.”91 Chicagoland participants emphasized that the repression
of their political opinions in school often took the form of anti-Palestinian racism,
whereby teachers and other school staff policed, monitored, and silenced critical
discussions of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. For example, Dalia, a Palestinian
American woman, “distinctly remembered” a fifth grade “cultural heritage unit” in
which students were asked to “make flags of our place of origin out of construction
paper.” As she explained:
Obviously, I knew what the Palestinian flag looked like, but I was a kid, I
was so excited. “Oh, I wanna see the Palestinian flag in a book,” stuff like
that. When I looked in it, the flag wasn’t there. I looked through all of them.
It wasn’t there. Just remember feeling so, so angry, and so frustrated that
everyone else in my class had their flag in the book, and there’s absolutely
nothing [on Palestine], but, of course, Israel is in there. That moment made
me feel like. I don’t know, super angry about it. It made me, I think, really
learn, “Oh, I have to represent this.” Even a book is not gonna do that for
me.
More generally, Dalia reported that, “I’ve had teachers, if I were to say something
about Palestine, try and rebut me with a Zionist point of view.” Nawal reported that
they applied to work at the U.S. Embassy in Uzbekistan through an opportunity
offered through a university, which required a security clearance. When the student
asked why their security clearance process stalled, they were asked, “Where are your
parents from?” When she responded, “Well, my dad’s Palestinian. My mom is Uzbek
but born in Azerbaijan,” they were told, “That’s probably why.” The painful erasure of
Palestine and Palestinians, the harmful repetition of “a Zionist point of view,” and the
denial of educational opportunities resonated with participants across our interviews
and focus groups.
Dima Khalidi is a Chicago-raised Palestinian American lawyer and advocate. She founded and
directs Palestine Legal, a non-profit organization that engages in legal and advocacy work to protect
people speaking out for Palestinian freedom from attacks on their civil and constitutional rights.
She has a JD from DePaul University College of Law, an MA in International and Comparative Legal
Studies from the University of London – SOAS, and a BA in History and Near Eastern Studies from
the University of Michigan.
In this essay, Dima Khalidi addresses a specific form of racism that Palestinian
Americans, and other Arab Americans who support Palestinian struggles for justice
and liberation, experience.
Even as their experience overlaps and is intertwined with those of other Arab and Muslim-American
communities of which they are a part, Palestinian Americans have a distinct history and set of
experiences in the U.S. — stemming in large part from the distinct political repression that they have
faced, which interplays with anti-Muslim and anti-Arab bigotry both pre- and especially post-9/11.
Specifically, anti-Palestinian racism and discrimination have become a feature of the current
landscape of social and political repression that Arab and Muslim communities face. Given
Palestinians’ experience of dispossession and criminalization at the hands of Israel, Palestinians
are disproportionately targeted by forms of racism that rationalize Israel’s colonization of Palestine.
The Zionist project of creating a Jewish state by displacing and supplanting Palestinians in
Palestine with Jewish people from all over the world has engendered various tactics of erasure and
criminalization which require a fundamental dehumanization of Palestinians and a delegitimization
of their narratives, their histories, and their experiences. For over seven decades, this settler-colonial
project in Palestine has relied upon the promotion of racist ideas about Palestinians as uncivilized,
hateful, and violent to continue to dispossess Palestinians of their land — thereby increasing the
Palestinian refugee and diaspora population, and to oppress the millions of Palestinians who live
under military occupation or are second-class citizens in their own homeland.
These racist stereotypes and tactics have extended across the globe as Israel has attempted to stop
a growing grassroots movement calling for Palestinian freedom. And they have permeated U.S.
mainstream perceptions of Palestinians, as well as Arab and Muslim communities with which they
are associated, dovetailing with broader anti-Arab and anti-Muslim narratives, especially post 9/11.
Chicago’s large Palestinian community has a long history of vibrant political activity around the
Palestinian struggle for freedom from Israel’s occupation and apartheid regime. Chicago-based
organizing is part of a nation-wide movement for Palestinian rights that has expanded over the last
two decades, led by Palestinian American youth.
The following Chicago-focused narrative provides examples of the ways that these tactics of
repression have played out locally, affecting not just Palestinian individuals but the Palestinian
American and solidarity communities writ large. Overall, they have had an enormous chilling effect,
creating fear for individuals and the community here and back home in Palestine. At the same
time, a strong resistance to repression has emerged from within the Palestinian community in
Chicagoland, which has reverberated in a solidarity movement nationally as Chicago communities
have stood up against this repression. Chicago-based organizing has thus served as an example of
resistance and resilience for other communities and movements under attack.
In the early 2000s, with the expansion of the “War on Terror,” there was a federal government focus
on criminal prosecutions, especially of Palestinians, for sending humanitarian support to Palestine.
These prosecutions had in common Israel-driven narratives painting Palestinians as threatening,
as “terrorists” motivated by hatred and violence, and the willful erasure of any context about
Palestinian lived experiences of oppression, occupation, and dispossession.
Salah’s trial laid bare the close collaboration between U.S. prosecutors and the Israeli government.
The vast majority of “evidence” was provided by Israel, and the court acceded to the U.S. Government’s
argument that it should remain classified based on Israel’s classification, and thus not accessible to
the defendant to refute. Israeli intelligence agents were allowed to testify anonymously, in disguise,
to a closed courtroom, preventing the defense its constitutional right to confront witnesses against
Salah.94
The highly politicized trial illustrated the extent to which the prosecution of the “War on Terror” was
exploited by Israel against Palestinians in order to showcase U.S. “success” in prosecuting “terrorists.”
Salah was ultimately acquitted of the main charges against him but was convicted of “obstruction
of justice” for his refusal to testify in another case. He served a sentence of 11 months in prison.
Salah’s case exemplifies the way community members are targeted and prosecuted in the U.S.,
often at Israel’s behest, and the ways that such prosecutions create fear and intimidation in Arab
American communities.95
This case also exemplifies, however, the importance of community support in attempts to
criminalize community members. The Chicago Palestinian community and allies rallied to Salah’s
defense. They packed the courtroom during his entire trial and engaged in advocacy on his behalf,
giving a powerful signal that Salah had a community behind him that would not be intimidated
by his dehumanization and unjust prosecution, which supporters believed influenced the result
of the trial.
Similar community organizing was central in two other cases that illustrate both the trend to
criminalize Palestinians and their political organizing for Palestinian freedom, and the power of
solidarity.
In September 2010, the FBI served grand jury subpoenas on 23 activists in Minneapolis and
Chicago (the “Midwest 23”) to testify to a grand jury.96 Agents procured the search warrants to
gather “evidence related to ‘providing, attempting, and conspiring to provide material support’”
The united refusal to testify and the active organizing around the case in Chicago, including the
Palestinian American community, were a formidable show of defiance against coercive subpoenas
that were a fishing expedition against leftist activists working on Palestine and other internationalist
justice issues.
The Midwest 23 investigation appears to have led to the indictment of Rasmea Odeh, a colleague
of a Palestinian American target of the raids working at the community organization Arab American
Action Network (AAAN).99
In October 2013, the Department of Homeland Security arrested Rasmea, a Chicago-based civil
rights advocate and widely respected organizer in the Arab American community. She was indicted
for the highly discretionary and rarely prosecuted offense of lying on a naturalization form — in this
case for failing to indicate on her naturalization form a decade prior that an Israeli military court had
convicted her in 1970 of an offense she maintains she did not commit and only confessed to under
severe torture in an Israeli prison.100
In November 2014, a jury convicted her after a judge barred her from referencing her torture at the
hands of Israeli agents and the trauma it produced during her naturalization process, even though
the prosecution relied on Israeli military court documents and repeatedly referred to the crime the
documents alleged she had committed.101
In March 2015, she received a sentence of eighteen months in prison, denaturalization, and
deportation, but she appealed the conviction and the sentence. In February 2016, the U.S. Court
of Appeals overturned the conviction and ordered a retrial, ruling that the district judge erred in
denying Rasmea and a torture expert the opportunity to testify about her PTSD.102
Because the new indictment that prosecutors issued against Rasmea in December 2016, which
included added charges that she was engaged in “terrorist activity” and was associated with a
“designated terrorist organization,” Rasmea pled guilty to the original charge against her. Her
attorney, Michael Deutsch explained, “the government took a run of the mill immigration violation
case and they made it into a terrorism case […]. We knew that [...] given all the things the government
Throughout Rasmea’s case, Chicago’s Palestinian community led a national defense committee that
organized protests, packed the court during her trial and other court appearances, brought her case
to the media, and rallied people nationwide in her defense. The committee’s website chronicled
the case and the mobilization around it, including the critical framing of the case as a political
prosecution that was part and parcel of government repression in concert with the Israeli state,
designed to intimidate the community.105 The organizing around the case thwarted this agenda,
and Rasmea became a symbol of resistance to unjust prosecutions, of Palestinian insistence on
narrating their own history and experience, and of resilience in the face of harsh realities throughout
her life, including surviving the Nakba of 1948, when her family fled Zionist terror that ethnically
cleansed three quarters of a million Palestinians to create Israel.
Chicago activists have been the targets of campaigns in several instances, illustrating the range of
tactics Israel-affiliated groups use to thwart the movement, and the ways that racist anti-Palestinian
narratives are attached to Palestinian efforts to assert their identities and advocate politically for their
people’s freedom. Campuses have been a primary target of such efforts given the significant growth
of student activism on Palestine, as well as an increase in scholarship, teaching, and organizing
around Palestine by academics.
According to Students for Justice in Palestine DePaul’s press release, “This victory did not come
without immense outside interference by pro-Israel lobbyist group StandWithUs, whose paid staff
frequently presented themselves as individuals affiliated with DePaul University [and] canvassed
the student body in a counter campaign to DePaul Divest.” Opponents sought to undermine the
referendum by labeling it “anti-Semitic” and falsely accusing the coalition of seeking to cut funding
for Jewish student groups.109
Students also reported that the Israeli consul general organized against the referendum, going as
far as to canvass students personally on campus on the final day of voting, while members of his
entourage photographed pro-divestment student campaigners as they spoke with other students
and leafleted.110 Such surveillance presented a serious threat to Palestinian students who feared
consequences for them and their families, given Israel’s documented practice of denying Palestinian
Americans entry into Israel and the West Bank and harassing them at borders.111
Complaints of bias and discrimination against student activists have also been a common tactic
by pro-Israel groups, leading to undue scrutiny, investigations, and chilling of student activism on
Palestine. Also, at Loyola in 2014, when students saw that there was a table advertising Birthright
Israel, a program that takes Jewish youth from around the world on free trips to Israel on the
premise that all Jews have a right to the land, Palestinian students lined up at the table to attempt
to register for a Birthright trip in order to highlight the discriminatory nature of the program. About
fifteen students quietly lined up at the Birthright table and calmly raised questions about why they
could not register for Birthright, even though their ancestral villages are located in what is now
known as Israel.113 As the students later explained, “Any Jewish student worldwide can register for
the program, while indigenous non-Jewish Palestinians are not only ineligible for the program, but
often are denied the right to live in or even visit their homeland freely.”
After receiving complaints from students affiliated with Hillel who were involved with the tabling,
the administration opened an investigation. Within days, the administration suspended Loyola
University Chicago Students for Justice in Palestine while the investigation remained open.114
After a four-hour hearing, Loyola University Chicago sustained only one of the six charges
against Loyola University Chicago Students for Justice in Palestine — failing to register the
“demonstration.”116 It also sustained a similar charge against Hillel but the university meted out
strikingly disproportionate sanctions to the two groups.
These kinds of taxing investigations based on false accusations made by pro-Israel groups,
sometimes in the form of civil rights complaints, have been a primary tool of repression against
Palestine organizers and academics on campuses. The paradoxical use of anti-discrimination
laws against Palestinians who are calling out the discrimination that they face is enabled by the
same characterization of Palestinians that has driven criminalization efforts, namely that they are
threatening, motivated by hatred and violence rather than by a desire for justice and human rights.
It also ignores pro-Israel motivations to distract from and whitewash Israel’s crimes by undermining
protests against them.
Harassment of individual students has also been a common tactic that creates a chilling effect for
others who don’t want to be subjected to doxing and harassment for publicly speaking out for
Palestinian rights.
In Fall of 2015, members of Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) and Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP)
at the University of Chicago faced harassment on campus and online. Much of the harassment
targeted students based on their perceived sexual orientation, gender, and gender identity.
Students’ posters were torn down or vandalized with Islamophobic and anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
messages. SJP and JVP members faced online harassment that included homophobic, disparaging
comments and fake social media profiles targeting students’ sexual orientation. Nearly a year later,
in October 2016, a number of defamatory, hateful posters made by the euphemistically-named
David Horowitz Freedom Center were found around campus naming and targeting individual
students due to their support for Palestinian rights.117 That year, students were also profiled on an
anonymous website, Canary Mission, that blacklists students and other activists, falsely claiming
their advocacy for Palestinian rights makes them anti-Semitic and supporters of terrorism.118
More recently, at the University of Illinois Chicago, students have been individually targeted by
Canary Mission and other pro-Israel groups following their attendance at a virtual event by the
In Summary
These examples illustrate the distinct repression that Palestinian Americans in Chicago have faced
over the past decade, mirroring rising repression across the country. This repression is fueled by Israel
and allied domestic groups that spearhead and bankroll harassment and lawfare campaigns,121 and
that also push for government repression through legislation and criminal prosecution, aided by
a racist, anti-Palestinian narrative which plays into already deep-seated anti-Arab and anti-Muslim
racism in the U.S.
Chicago’s vibrant Palestinian community and strong solidarity movement have helped to blunt the
chilling effect of these repressive efforts through concerted organizing that ensures that targeted
groups and individuals aren’t isolated, illustrating that there is strength and protection in solidarity.
While the government investigations and trials against Muhammad Salah, the Midwest 23, and
Rasmea Odeh resulted in negative consequences for the individuals targeted, the incredible
organizing around them played a big role in achieving significant legal victories and in building
the strength of Palestinian communities and the movement for Palestinian rights.
This current history of repression of the Palestinian community and movement in Chicago is, for
one, a warning sign of the threat to all of our fundamental rights to organize, to speak out for justice,
and to advocate for a more just future when forces align to repress a community and movements.
But it’s also an example of the ways that targeted communities can overcome these threats.
Legalistic approaches — strong criminal defenses and anti-discrimination laws, for example — can
only go so far in protecting against anti-Palestinian racism that permeates government and private
institutions. As is the case with anti-Black and anti-Brown racisms that systemically define every
aspect of U.S. institutions, we have to understand that the law is often created and manipulated
by powerful interests to enable or continue systemic injustices. Palestinian American organizing
against repression in Chicago has shown that community and grassroots movements can begin
to effectively shift racist discourses and build power to assert Palestinian humanity and visions for
justice and freedom from the ground up.
Farida, an Egyptian immigrant woman, reported that after a theft in her neighborhood,
police officers refused to help her husband when he called to report the theft once
they learned that his name was Mohammed. However, when their neighbor David
called about a similar theft the very next night, the same police officers and more
flooded the area, making Mohammed want to change his name to Michael. For
Arab Americans, their contact with law enforcement has been rife with harassment,
discrimination, and sometimes outright abuse.
These experiences mirror the Department of Justice’s (DOJ) 2017 findings that the
Chicago Police Department largely refused to respond to anti-Muslim hate crimes
and unjustly targeted Muslim and Arab residents. A Chicago Police Department
(CPD) sergeant even told the DOJ, “If you’re Muslim, and 18 to 24, and wearing
white, yeah, I’m going to stop you. It’s not called racial profiling, it’s called being pro-
active.”122 In fact, the DOJ also reported:
Several participants reported calling the police to no avail. Sabah, an Iraqi immigrant
man, for example, explained that his brother worked for Uber and “used to call the
police whenever he face[d] any trouble at his work during the night.” One night,
the police “told him they knew his name and [the] next time he calls, they’re not
responding to him. They also told him to save this emergency button for himself
and drive on your way acting as if you don’t see or hear anything.” In Sabah’s view,
“This is against our ethics and culture; we’re raised to help if somebody needs help.
Unfortunately, this is the type of issues we see and suffer from.” Farida summarized
that, because of her experiences with police and what she has seen and heard from
other Arab Americans, “I see the people at police stations like a bunch of gangs that
protect its members only.” These examples echo the Department of Justice’s finding
that Arab American experiences with the police often “offend and humiliate people
and diminish residents’ willingness to work with law enforcement.125
Given their individual and collective experiences with the police refusing to respond
to their calls, multiple participants reported that they “just don’t trust the police.”
Ismael, a Lebanese American man, described wanting to help an elderly woman
file a police report after an incident at a rally when someone threatened them and
claimed they had a gun. The elderly woman expressed to him that “you know what,
they are not going to do anything about it, why should I file a police report? […]. I
don’t have faith that they’re going to do anything.” And so, they decided against
filing a report with the officers on the scene because, as the elderly woman surmised,
“I don’t trust the police are going to follow up on it.” Nawal similarly explained:
I don’t think I would call the police if not for a traffic stop or something
like that. If I saw a car in an accident or something like that. In terms of
things happening, I just don’t trust the police would actually protect me, or
anyone else, if not actually hurting someone else.
The times I’ve gotten pulled over, I’ve been asked like, “Where you from?
What are you doing here?” I’ve been asked, “What are you doing here?” I’m
like, “This is my neighborhood. I don’t know what you want me to respond
with. I live here.” Yeah. I will never call the police. I remember once I called —
my siblings accidentally called the police ‘cause my mom fainted from stress.
I was there by her side. I was able to help her out. She was fine. They ended
up showing up. They were really aggressive. I was like, “Oh, it’s fine, this and
that. I’m sorry. It was an accident.” They’re like, “No. We wanna come in the
house. We wanna see this. We wanna see that.” I’m like, “Hey, there’s nothing
here. You could come in. It’s fine. I’m telling you everything’s okay.” That
alone just brings extra stress and fear. I’ve seen what police do to people of
color, especially Black Americans. I can only imagine. I’ve dealt with racist
police. Police that are just straight up Islamophobic. They don’t even — they
just don’t even have — they assume right off the bat that I’m Muslim. They
don’t even have to ask. I remember this one cop. His name was [omitted]. I
remember my sister asked “how did you get that [nickname]?” He was like, “I
was crushing skulls in Iraq,” or something like that. I was like, “What the
fuck?” I was like, “Are you serious?” That was the — that was a wake-up call.
I was like, “Holy crap. This guy is insane.” Yeah. No, no police for me. I’m
literally afraid of the police.
I was driving a new car. I got followed by this cop for almost three miles.
I make the turn. I get into my house. I get pulled over. My heart drops.
He asks for my license. I asked, “Why did you stop me?” He gets really
aggressive, and he’s like, “Give me your license.” Well, he takes it. I hear on
his radio that the plates come back clean. The car is not stolen. He gives
‘em back to me. I’m like, “Why did you stop me?” He was like, “Your blinker
is not on.” I was going straight for three miles. The first time I get in any kind
of vehicle that’s brand new I get stopped because “it’s stolen.” A brown kid
with a long beard, instantly. It was in the middle of the night. He had to be
looking. That’s what really pressed me. That guy was like — he really had to
focus on who was in that car. His racism really gave him that extra vision.
For me, that’s just then. There have been so many more experiences.
“We get stopped for hours at a time”: Anti-Arab/anti-Muslim Surveillance at the Airport
When I was younger, when we would travel, I just remember that my dad
and my brother would always have to go and get checked by security
when coming back to Chicago. Me and my mother wouldn’t have to, but
every single time it was always my dad and my brother. So, I just always
remember my pattern. Unfortunately, they go by the name “Mohammed.”
We’d get stopped. It would be so blatantly obvious that it was us. This was
2008, so this was seven years after 9/11. […]. Everyone would be going
through. Then there’s this specific little section. They would take us out,
and then move us there. I had to take off my pants. I had to take off my
belt. I had to take off my socks. That’s what blew me. “My socks?” Like,
“Why would I have to do that? I’m an eight-year-old kid. You’re making
me take off my pants in a public airport.” That’s just the amount of getting
through is almost impossible. We get stopped for hours at times. It’s so
frustrating. I hate flying. I genuinely hate flying. I don’t like it just — I think
the micro-aggressions are not even micro. They’re very macro. They’re
out there. They’re just in your face. They tell you straight up if they could,
they’d call me a terrorist to my face. Yeah. I remember asking a TSA agent,
“Why do I get stopped?” “You match a person in our database.” What is
that supposed to mean? I look Arab? Everyone looks like me. What is it? I’m
gonna get stopped every time? That’s my biggest issue.
These examples illustrate how participant interactions with police officers and airport
security feel “tense,” “demeaning,” and “condescending,” such that they “never want
to ever call the police.” The Oak Lawn police beating of Hadi Abuatelah in July 2022
exacerbated this sentiment, especially since the beating went viral on social media.
The 17-year-old suffered a broken nose, bruises on his face, arm and back and
internal bleeding near his brain and forehead.128
someone’s back.” Although that person called the police to file a complaint, the
police “called them back and [… said], ‘Essentially you have no evidence. This is
nothing, and so we are not going to bother following up on it’.” The overwhelming
sentiment from our focus groups participants as a result of the anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
racism they experienced in police encounters was that the person who was supposed
to protect them was the one they felt afraid of.
It’s not only a matter of [ignorance of] Islam […] because people here
do not know that Iraqi Christians are different. […]. They don’t know, for
example, […] that Saudi Arabia is different than Iraq, Egypt. […]. Many of
them ask about the reason for allowing men to marry four women, wearing
hijab, or prohibition of eating pork.
The effects of these interactions were compounded by the fact that, in some of these
encounters, participants in our study often could not discern if their experiences
were driven by racism or ignorance or both. As Sabah explained, he “could not say
that there is racism behind such [a] conversation, but from their body language I
assume that their question [is] due to ignorance and in a way that they’re not satisfied
with these things.”
They had not expected this response from the cashier and left in shock, understanding
then that “he was clearly eyeballing me waiting for me to go to the cashier.”
Experiences of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism and of being “eyeballed” and surveilled
were commonplace for our respondents whether as clients at a store, traveling
through an airport, or working as taxi drivers or nurses. Participants in our focus
groups expressed being continually shocked when experiencing these instances of
racism even as they all noted their commonplace occurrence.
[She] was in the breakroom with a bunch of people she thought were
friends, colleagues and friends, and she heard, overheard, a couple people
[say…] “We need [to] carpet bomb Iraq and Afghanistan and Palestine and
all of them!” Right in front of her! She said she had never felt that kind of
distress before. She ended up going to the bathroom and bawling her
For Arab workers, the threat of discrimination and harassment always lurked,
particularly given how closely they worked with others.
I used to work for a family business, [a] family-owned business. And they
were super nice. […]. The son got his own firm and hired me […]. I accepted
the job, and I wasn’t wearing hijab at that time. But then I decided to cover
up while I was working after a few months, and he started changing. He
started changing. Talking to me different. And one time I had done a small
mistake on one of the designs and he yelled at me really, really bad.
After this incident, she assumed she had been “let go” from the job because she
“left there because he yelled at me and couldn’t handle it.” The store owner’s
mother, however, told her that her son had said to her that he “let you go because
you started wearing the scarf.” In relation to wearing a hijab, an owner of a dental
practice similarly advised Zahra, a Palestinian American Muslim woman in our study,
“in a friendly way like, ‘Oh, but you’re in America now, the rules are easier’, meaning
she could not be “forced” to wear a hijab, ultimately misunderstanding how it “was a
decision [she] made.” Eventually, the owner’s questioning and everyday demeanor
towards her got “very, very touchy” and she quit.
Hajar, a Palestinian American Muslim woman, similarly described how they had a
great phone interview for a job with a bowling alley that the family of one of her best
friends owned. However, when she showed up in person to begin her training, and
they saw that she was a Muslim Arab American, their tone changed. It began with the
supervisor asking: “Oh, do you wear — are you gonna have that on your head?” When
Hajar replied that she was going to wear a hijab, they replied, “Well, you can’t wear
Another thing that I just don’t like is the fact that I have to say I’m white for
job interviews. I’ve had times where I’ve showed up to the job interviews
and have been told to leave. I remember waiting, I was 17, applied for a
job at Buffalo Wild Wings. I sat there in my Sam’s Club shirt, and my Costco
shoes that I just got for this interview six hours waiting for the manager.
They ended up coming out and told me, “Well, hey, we really appreciate
you waiting. It doesn’t look like it’s gonna work out.” They just expected me
to leave […]. That’s my biggest frustration. It’s I say I’m white, but you see
the name, Mustafa, you know I’m not white.
A Muslim woman of Saudi Arabian descent, Fozyia Huri, similarly sued her Chicago
employer for religious discrimination after she reported numerous complaints of
religious discrimination from her supervisor over seven years, without any resultant
action. Her supervisor regularly referred to herself and other employees as “good
Christians,” while calling Huri “evil” and forcing her to participate in non-Muslim
religious activities, such as praying out loud in the name of Jesus Christ.131
Muslim Iranian Ramtin Sabet filed a formal lawsuit against the North Chicago Police
Department, alleging that he was fired after making both formal and informal
complaints regarding the “severe and pervasive” discrimination and harassment
he was subjected to while working for the department. While the department
argued that it fired Sabet for violating its rules and regulations, Sabet noted that
he was terminated after making a formal complaint to the Equal Employment
Opportunity Commission, reporting that his supervisors and coworkers mocked
his religion, culture, and food, treated him less favorably than his coworkers, and
denied him training opportunities and resources that would have made him eligible
for promotions.132 Muslim American teacher Safoorah Khan filed a lawsuit against a
Chicagoland school district after resigning from her teaching position when school
officials refused to accommodate her religious practices. Khan had requested a
leave from work to perform Hajj, but her request was denied as it was “not related to
her professional duties.”133
In a prominent case from Oklahoma, Muslim teenager Samantha Elauf sued popular
clothing company Abercrombie & Fitch after she was not hired because she wore
a hijab to her job interview. Company officials argued that they sought a certain
“look” when hiring and maintained a no-hat policy. Elauf’s case made it all the way
to the Supreme Court, which ruled 8-1 in her favor.134 Although racial discrimination
in the workplace is illegal, these experiences illustrate how anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
racism often define not only where Arab Americans can work but also the conditions
of the workplace, with participants enduring daily degradations leveled by their
supervisors, coworkers, and clients.
The FBI data that have been collected demonstrate that anti-Arab/anti-Muslim hate crimes have
increased faster than those perpetrated against other historically discriminated ethno-racial groups.
Since anti-Arab/anti-Muslim hate crime statistics started being collected in 2015, the number of
anti-Arab/anti-Muslim single-bias incidents, which refers to one or more hate crime offense types
motivated by the same bias, has grown 2.2 times. In that time, anti-Black and anti-Latinx hate crime
incidents have grown 1.6 and 1.1 times, respectively. The overall growth rate in racially motivated
incidents across all racial groups is 1.2.
Nawal, a Palestinian American woman, explained that, when they were younger, “after
[other students] would say something super fucked up […] I would just laugh along
with them because I didn’t know any better. Then after becoming aware, it was just, if
I said anything, they would also use that against me. It was upsetting.” This meant that,
“In high school whenever kids used to say really messed up stuff like, ‘You’re a terrorist,’
my reaction would be to laugh with them, and be like, ‘Ha-ha’ like, ‘Sure.’ Because
if I was outraged or angry, I would come off as like, ‘Oh, she’s being aggressive.’
Oh, she’s triggered’.” For Arab students, laughter was a way to defuse and contain
situations that were upsetting. Laughing along with people making hurtful anti-Arab/
anti-Muslim jokes or derogatory comments was also a way that some Arab Americans
in our study attempted to fit in when engaging with mainstream white society.
Although our study participants felt hurt and angry, they sometimes reacted with
laughter, especially as children and teenagers, because they didn’t have the
energy, capacity, or support to explain to those making racist anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
comments or jokes why it was wrong. As Nawal put it, “I didn’t know how to properly
respond at that time. I think, like, what really frustrated me too when I reflect back on
my high school experience was that I knew a lot of the things that people were saying
were wrong, but I just couldn’t communicate myself and explain why it was wrong
or know how to refute against it.” Some participants in our study expressed interest
in perhaps taking the time to educate their peers. Hamza, a Yemeni immigrant man,
stated, “I don’t really care. I don’t know how to react to it. I’m not gonna be angry
about it. Maybe educate them. Give them facts and be like, ‘Hey, yo, our race isn’t —
our religion isn’t the one that causes most of the terrorism.”
However, some of our study participants wanted to confront hostile behavior but
expected or knew from experience that school adults would not support them
and that reporting bullying could lead to amplification of the negative treatment.
Recalling his days playing youth football, Mustafa recounted his thought process:
At another point in our focus group, Mustafa further explained that the possibility
of retaliation circumscribed his Arab peer’s responses to anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
bullying, reporting:
I’ve seen Arab kids get into fights with kids who have done some stuff to
them. I knew they would get punished. The other kid would walk free. I
didn’t wanna — I had this fear that I was risking my school career if I even
tried to retaliate. That was the fear all of high school. Even when kids would
literally grab things out of my backpack. Mind you, I could fight them. I
could easily fight them. If I did, I would get expelled. That was the biggest
fear walking through those halls.
Zahra recounted that, when she was a healthcare student and was working in a
nursing home and a patient complained about having an Arab caregiver, her boss
– Abeer, Yemeni
immigrant woman
I’ve […] worked at a trauma one hospital for the last six years. Thankfully my
bosses have always been very understanding about my identity. […]. I did
have one negative experience with one of my coworkers when I started
wearing [the] hijab back in November. It was so eye-opening ‘cause I didn’t
realize how — I don’t know. It’s like you don’t think that these people are your
coworkers or that they’re your peers or classmates, but they’re actually
super-racist. You’re just like, “Wow, that’s a really huge shock.” […]. She was
like, “Why do you wear that thing on your head?” I’m like, “It’s for my
religion.” Then she was like, “Oh, you don’t wear it to protect yourself from
COVID?” I’m like, “How would my hijab protect me from COVID?” Then I was
like, “No, pretty sure it’s for my religion.” Then she was
like, “Oh my god, so no one’s ever gonna see your
hair again? What about your husband? He’s
never gonna see your hair?” […]. I said
something like, “Do you come to work to see my
hair, or do you come to work to work?” and I
walked away ‘cause I was so upset.
Jumana, another Palestinian woman and healthcare worker, stated that her supervisor
continually brought up her hijab and said that, while patients encouraged her
to report this discrimination to the Better Business Bureau or a human resources
representative, she felt:
I couldn’t do that to a person […]. No, if I’m at least able to educate her
about something, even if it doesn’t want to go through her stubborn head,
that’s fine. I at least [will] try rather than report it, especially because it’s her
office and it’s her business. I look at it like that’s her income. I don’t want to
be the person that ruins that for her.
The reasons that Arab workers in our study gave for refraining from reporting anti-
Arab/anti-Muslim racism in the workplace ranged from fear of retaliation to the
desire to educate their clients and coworkers and up to showing restraint because
they did not want to “ruin” business owners.
coworkers, bosses, or clients. Even though some participants like Munira, an Egyptian
American woman, willingly took on the extra labor of “speak[ing] on behalf of an
entire group of people” as the “only Arab American Muslim […] in a space,” they also
reported that “it gets so taxing because you feel like you can’t mess up and you’re
under a microscope all the time.” Omar, a Palestinian American man, echoed this
sentiment, saying, “it hurts knowing that […] I have to put in the effort to humanize
myself. They can’t even see me. I have to explain. […]. I have to convince people
that I’m just like you and that just feels very unfair and it’s very frustrating.” As Amani
summarized, Arab Americans feel pressured at once to spend “more time convincing
people or making a space” for themselves even as they also feel that “there was no
point in me trying to explain myself or trying to convince them otherwise of the
image that they already had about me.”
Our focus group research reaffirms the limitations of existing data on Arab American
experiences with racism. Many participants did not feel comfortable or did not find
any structures in place to report racist incidents. As Nina Shoman-Dajani documented
in her study on Arab American college students, even when Arab American students
reported racism or discrimination, incident reports at schools and public institutions
do not collect demographic information on Arab/MENA populations. Since the
report would be documented as that of a white student, it would not be treated as
an incident of racial discrimination. Shoman-Dajani’s research participants, like ours,
tended to agree that they are not treated as “white” and that the “white” label should
apply to people from Europe, not Arab Americans.139
Although our focus groups made clear that the effects of pervasive anti-Arab/anti-
Muslim racism have shaped the lives of all our study participants, their joy, resilience,
determination, and love for each other and for Arab American communities was also
evident in our focus group interviews. Abeer, an older Yemeni immigrant woman
reflected on what she and older generations of immigrants to the United States had
gone through and the differences in how younger Arab Americans were growing up
by stating:
Back then, I don’t think that we were that aware […]. We were not that
strong. We were just — I don’t know. It wasn’t like now. Now, I raise my kids,
Hind Makki is an interfaith and anti-racism educator with the Institute for Social Policy and
Understanding (ISPU) who holds a degree in International Relations from Brown University. She
is the founder and curator of Side Entrance, an award-winning website documenting women’s
prayer experiences in mosques around the world and has served on the Islamic Society of North
America’s Mosque Inclusion Taskforce. In 2018, Hind was recognized as one of CNN’s 25 Influential
American Muslims and her work has been featured in a variety of national and international media.
There are no precise numbers for Sudanese Americans in Chicago. The difficulty in obtaining data for
this immigrant group is emblematic of the challenges facing a community limited by intersectional
invisibility.140 Sudanese, who are Arabic speakers from northeast Africa, share challenges and
experiences with non-Black immigrants from the MENA region as well as with African Americans
and other Black immigrants.
Like members of multiple marginalized groups, Sudanese Americans often find one or many parts
of their identities erased, simultaneously facing Islamophobia, xenophobia, and anti-Black racism.
Like many other immigrant groups, they often face obstacles to achieving financial security. This
brief commentary will describe Chicago’s Sudanese community, highlight some of the challenges
faced by immigrants and their U.S.-born children, and offer recommendations for funders and local
officials to better serve this community.
Sudanese immigration started in significant numbers during the late 1990s and early 2000s,
due to political and economic instability in Sudan. The challenge in obtaining accurate local data
may be due in part to the fact that Sudanese typically emigrate to the U.S. through the Diversity
When a Sudanese immigrant first arrives in Chicago, their first stop is almost always the north
side. After a family establishes itself, they may decide to move to the suburbs. The mother of one
family, N.S.142, describes the north side — home to a plurality of Chicago’s Sudanese — as a close-knit
community of recent immigrants renting affordable apartments in diverse neighborhoods. Strong
bonds are made as women socialize with each other, providing crucial mental health and wellness
support for those who feel lonely and isolated as they are away from their home country and alone
in small apartments while their husbands are at work.
Upon achieving financial stability, families may purchase a house outside of the city. Southwest
suburbs such as Bridgeview, Oak Lawn, and Palos Hills are attractive because of good public schools
and significant populations of Arabic-speaking Muslim immigrants, the prevalence of which leads
to high levels of cultural competencies in schools, libraries, and hospitals, despite being whiter and
less diverse overall than the north side of Chicago. N.S. was pleased that she did not need to explain
to her children’s schools about Ramadan143 since they already accommodate the religious needs of
their Muslim students and staff. She also found it easier to wear a headscarf after moving to the
suburbs, feeling less conspicuous than when she occasionally wore it while living on the north side
of Chicago.
When a group of local Sudanese leaders were asked, “How do you identify racially?”146 their
responses illuminated the difficulty in fitting Sudanese identities into U.S. racial categories. Among
all participants and interviewees, there was general frustration at having to choose one identity,
noting that the Sudanese identity inherently contains multitudes. While several respondents
identify as Black and Black African, one participant stated that as he was born in Cairo, Egypt, he
is automatically designated as white — in contrast to his own self-identification as a Black African.
A number stated their race is “Sudanese” and that they check the “Other” box in government
documents. Several of the respondents said they are disconnected from African American culture
but feel an affinity for Arab culture, so they identify as “closer to Arab.” Several participants stated
that their Islamic faith is more important than racial or ethnic classifications and questioned why
the federal government tracks race or ethnicity.
M.M.147 describes that tensions between Sudanese and other Arabs are due to deep-seated anti-
Black racism. Growing up, “the ‘Abeed’148 conversation happened at least once a month,” he
said. There is rising awareness in the activist Arab community about the intersection between
Islamophobia and anti-Blackness after the murder of George Floyd and President Trump’s “Muslim
Ban,” which targeted citizens of several African and majority-Muslim countries, including Sudan. At
the same time, “The Talk”149 that his immigrant parents had with him as a teenager wasn’t about
being a target of the police as a young Black man in the U.S.; rather it was about how to respond
to TSA questions at the airport. Growing up, his body awareness was as a Muslim. After moving out
of his Levantine Arab neighborhood, he quickly realized “I’m a police target,” who is viewed by the
broader society as a Black male body.
Recommendations
Chicago’s Sudanese community is a small, tight knit one, divided by the Dan Ryan and Stevenson
Expressways. New immigrants are assisted by those who came before in finding employment
and affordable apartments and second-generation Sudanese Americans typically financially
surpass their parents’ generation while achieving the same levels of higher education. However,
attaining financial success remains a challenge for individuals and families due to the difficulties
in authenticating their foreign academic and professional credentials. The community remains
overeducated and underemployed, making it overall strapped for resources. It struggles to build
collective capacity in order to serve its own spiritual, cultural, and social needs.
Throughout the report we have documented the conditions and experiences of Arab
American Chicagoans. We have described challenges related to the communities’
lack of visibility: how a lack of data and historical understanding about Arab Americans
makes it exceedingly difficult for Arab American communities to be accurately seen
and to get essential needs met. We have also described the ubiquitous experiences
of being mis-seen as Arab Americans navigate pervasive stereotypes and racial
targeting in everyday life. In part one, we provided demographic data on the status
of Chicagoland Arab American communities in relation to housing, insurance rates,
income, employment, and education. This first section demonstrated the vital
importance of having access to data about Arab American communities in order to
understand their diverse realities. By disaggregating the data, part one also makes a
compelling case that paying attention to the diversity of Arab American communities
is vital. Treating Arab Americans as a monolith erases their diversity and masks how
housing-cost burdens, economic challenges, and access to education vary by ancestry
group and in relation to that group’s immigration history (i.e., whether people came
as refugees or as middle-class professionals). By focusing on the diverse conditions
of Arab American communities, we find that they are, by and large, at one or the other
end of the socioeconomic spectrum, among both the most advantaged groups in
Chicagoland and among those that are facing the most challenges.
CONCLUSION 145
reveals the profound challenges that working-class Arab American migrants face
in accessing social services, especially within institutions (e.g., schools, police, non-
profit organizations, etc.) that do not have familiarity or cultural competency related
to serving Arab Americans. The survey reveals that verbal assaults and threats are
the most common types of racism experienced and that, while physical attacks,
vandalism, and loss of employment are not everyday occurrences, the rate of such
occurrences is high. Moreover, the survey documents the fear many Arab Americans
face when it comes to participating in public life or filling out forms containing
personal information whether at the doctor or DMV.
Survey results reiterate the link between these urgent problems: (1) invisibility,
or the ways the lack of quantitative/administrative data about Arab Americans as
a result of their official governmental classification as “white” makes it extremely
difficult to account for their needs and simultaneously fosters a lack of knowledge
and understanding about Arab Americans across society; (2) hypervisibility, or the
consistent and profound realities of racial targeting, harassment, intimidation, and
profiling; and (3) the resulting problem whereby Arab Americans lack access to
resources necessary to survive and thrive — such as the lack of Arab American staff
at organizations who are not only able to speak Arabic but who understand their
diversity, histories, and needs.
In part three, we draw from the focus groups we conducted to deepen and
personalize our analysis of how anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism plays out in the daily
lives of Arab American communities in Chicagoland. Portrayed as terrorist threats or
culturally/religiously backwards in public policy and popular media, Arab Americans
in Chicagoland have experienced high rates of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim harassment,
discrimination, and bullying in schools, in their encounters with police officers, and
in workplaces from customers and coworkers. Together, our survey and focus groups
provide tangible evidence that anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism is a structural problem.
Our focus groups also reveal that Arab Americans’ classification as white and the lack
of knowledge about Arab Americans and their experiences across society obstructs
the possibilities for challenging, resisting, and dismantling anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
racism in the lives of Arab Americans.
Collectively, this data suggests there is a great deal of work to do address the needs
of the Arab American community. This includes work at multiple levels and across
MENA Category
One effect of Arab Americans being classified as white is that, as Detroit epidemiologist
Kaitlyn Akel states, “In consolidating us into the non-Hispanic white population, my
CONCLUSION 147
community is not recognized federally as a minority. […]. This directive invalidates
our lived experiences, whether those are the outcomes of discrimination, health
disparities, or even our achievements.”153 As scholars Awad, Abuelezam, Ajrouch,
and Matthew Jaber Stiffler further explain, “accurate and robust collection of ethnic
and race data” are necessary to identify and address inequities.154
Trying to fill the gaps left by the lack of a U.S. Census racial/ethnic classification for
people from the Middle East and North Africa, (i.e., a MENA category), scholars of
Arab Americans have used the less than ideal “ancestry” data collected by the Census
Bureau from a small sample of the U.S. population to describe Arab Americans. They
have also done the important work as we have here of gathering data within specific
locales, using surveys and focus groups, and raising research funds to study issues
around education and health, among others, within Arab American communities.
All of this research demonstrates that the lived experiences of MENA Americans are
distinct from whites. As these scholars have documented, and as we have shown in
this report, MENA Americans often fare differently when compared to non-Hispanic
whites in relation to their economic, educational, housing, health, criminal legal, and
racialized experiences.155
Nationally and locally, this is not a new conversation. Multiple scholars and local
organizations have studied the distinct experiences of the MENA population in
and around Chicagoland over the last three decades. In 1998, the first ever needs
assessment was published on Chicago’s Arab American communities and provided
an overdue and crucial understanding of the gaps in services provided to Arab
American communities. An effort initiated by the Arab American Action Network
and funded by the Chicago Community Trust, the needs assessment articulated
that Arab American communities were “voiceless” and were “misrepresented” and
“shut out” in various sectors; in other words, they were invisible where being visible
matters.156 A decade later, Chicagoland’s Arab and Muslim communities were the
focus of sociologist Louise Cainkar’s study of the impacts of 9/11, where she found
hypervisible communities bearing the brunt of public anger for attacks in which
they played no part.157 Nearly twenty-five years after 9/11, this report documents
that little has changed for the better in the intervening period. The needs and
challenges of Arab American communities remain largely invisible while the context
of threat and fear due to hypervisibilty persists. The time for change is now. In the
What is the Impact? Here, we provide a brief outline of some of the tangible harms
that come from not having a MENA category.
Several scholars of Arab American studies have articulated how the lack of accurate
and systematic data on MENA Americans constitutes bad science and thus leads
to bad policies. As a recent study notes, “Sampling schemes that do not include
MENA individuals compromise scientific inquiry by inaccurately attributing trends
to Whites, making invisible the unique challenges faced by MENA populations and
further obscuring disparities between White and minority individuals and groups.”158
The authors refer to a number of studies to make the point that the lack of an MENA
category not only renders Arab American experiences invisible but also produces
inaccurate information about the white racial category and thus potentially masks
larger disparities between whites and other racial and ethnic minorities.
CONCLUSION 149
been spent instead on addressing the real issues on the ground. Moreover, because
the needs of Arab Americans are largely invisible, community, state and healthcare
institutions were slow to provide appropriate Arabic interpretation, create outreach
and informational material in Arabic, and hire Arab American staff to communicate
accurate and trustworthy information. Instead, community organizations had to
hire additional staff and produce their own outreach and informational material on
COVID-19 to address those needs.
Invisibility vs Hypervisibility
As discussed in the report, the current U.S. Census classification of Arab Americans
within the “white” racial category is reproduced throughout all national, state, and
local institutions, rendering MENA Americans invisible in nearly all of the data
collected by myriad government, state agencies, and private sector organizations.
These data are often the key factor in determining how resources are to be distributed,
what problems/patterns exist, and how agencies support and serve their citizens
in accordance with their lived realities. This void includes information on, but not
limited to health conditions and healthcare, nutrition, housing distribution, income,
educational levels, violence, and poverty. When Arabs are categorized as white,
their experiences are effectively disappeared, obscured by those of the substantially
larger white population.
At the same time as the needs of Arab Americans are largely invisible, Arab American
people and communities are hypervisible in ways that lead to criminalization and
harm. This hypervisibility is, in many ways, another form of misrecognition or “mis-
seeing” that involves not really seeing but rather involves projecting a wide array of
stereotypical images and ideas onto people and communities. This hypervisibility
includes persistent stereotypical representations in all forms of media (e.g., films,
television, news, music, marketing/advertisements) that portray all Arabs and
Muslims as the same and as coming from violent and backwards societies rooted
in terrorism, sexism, and misogyny. Societies and cultures that are imagined to be
fundamentally at odds with what U.S. media and government rhetoric portray as
“American democracy and freedom.” Racial profiling and surveillance by police and
security forces further hypervisibilize Arab Americans as a potential threat associated
with terrorism.
We see one example of the pernicious effect of this potent mix of invisibility
and hypervisibility at the University of Illinois Chicago (UIC). The Arab American
Cultural Center is in constant conversations with Arab American students about
microaggressions and racist experiences they have had with professors, staff, and
colleagues. While UIC promotes diversity and inclusion, unless a MENA category
is recognized at all levels of the institution, the university has no way to collect data
on such situations, understand how prevalent they are, or implement policies and
programs to directly address them. Thus, Arab American students at UIC feel there
are no official mechanisms to address their experiences. In addition to a lack of clarity
about the racialized experiences of students on campus, students at UIC face the
same issue of invisibility that all Arab American college students face on campuses
where federal race categories have been adopted on college applications. In turn,
postsecondary institutions are underestimating the diversity on their campuses and
have no way to track the total enrollment, retention, academic success and graduation
rates of Arab American students. Simultaneously hypervisible and invisible, these
students tend to avoid challenging or reporting incidents of racism. As our findings
reveal, the lack of existing structures for accounting for Arab American experiences
and needs overall, and struggles with racial discrimination more specifically, leads
people to either not know where or how to respond or to believe that responding
will achieve little to no results.
In this report, we find clear documentation from American Community Survey (ACS)
data that Arab American communities in the Chicagoland area have higher rates of
poverty, lower median household incomes, a higher portion of renters, and a higher
portion of residents experiencing housing-cost burdens than the Chicagoland
average. While it is possible to mine the ACS data using the ancestry question,
CONCLUSION 151
results are based on a small sample of the population and therefore prone to
underestimation. Moreover, given that these data must be extracted from the ACS by
experts rather than from published, official U.S. Census reports on racial disparities,
this hampers the ability of Arab American serving organizations to produce data
and access resources dedicated to support minority or underserved communities
and intended to decrease racial disparities. While data from the ACS demonstrates
that Illinois is home to the fourth largest MENA population in the U.S. and that
Chicagoland holds the fourth largest urban concentration of the MENA population,
this group continues to experience disparities because of the lack of quantitative
data available statewide.159
The lack an official MENA data category results in a data desert. The practical
result of this lack of data is that organizations that work to address the challenges
of Arab American communities are unable to apply for grants or other types of
funding because of the lack of accurate data that funders require about the local
population and their needs. The result is a deficit of crucial services needed by Arab
American communities. Arab American Family Services, a local Chicagoland agency
that provides various social services to a diverse range of clientele including Arab
American immigrant communities, has advocated for the Illinois Department of
Human Services to recognize the unique needs of Arab American communities for
years. State agencies lack the ability to properly serve underrepresented groups
when they do not have precise demographic data on the populations that seek their
services.
Students on college campuses that participated in the focus group sessions organized
by IRRPP and the testimonies gathered from students by researchers at the UIC
Arab American Cultural Center testify to the dire conditions they face as they try to
locate financial and other resources that could help them succeed in their academic
careers. Many spoke of their disappointment and struggles as they were informed
they are not eligible to apply for certain scholarships and internships because they
are labeled as white. Previous research on the racial identity of Arab American college
students in Chicagoland has demonstrated that, like community members overall,
Arab American students do not believe “white” accurately represents their lived
experiences as a marginalized, targeted population that continues to experience
anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism on campus and in the community.160 This research
Arab American organizations have been mobilizing at least since the 1980s to
request a separate MENA category on the U.S. Census. Arab Americans have seen
that being classified as white and even at times being perceived as white (due to the
closeness of some to whiteness phenotypically) has not stopped the impact on their
lives of harassment, prejudice, discrimination, and structural racism that impacts
their daily lives. Arab organizations believe it is important to create categories that
better reflect their Arab American identities and lived realities. Collecting reliable
data on the Arab American and MENA communities in the Chicagoland region and
nationally would result in increased understanding about Arab Americans as well as
in access to services and opportunities for the population.
In higher education in Illinois, staff, faculty, and students at Moraine Valley Community
College worked for years to advocate for a MENA category on student applications.
This organizing, along with the drop in student enrollment during the pandemic
experienced by most higher education institutions across the country, led college
leadership at Moraine Valley Community College to recognize the importance of
more detailed, reliable, and updated student demographic information; they added
CONCLUSION 153
a MENA category in the spring of 2021. At UIC, the Arab American Cultural Center
organized a MENA campaign beginning in 2019 with students sharing testimonies
about the essential need for this category to their experiences and success in their
higher education.163 Several student groups at other universities and colleges
have also advocated in different ways for a MENA category; for example, St. Xavier
University recently implemented this change, and a group of community advocates
and educators continue to collaboratively advocate for the state to include a MENA
category in postsecondary education data collection. Having these data is beneficial
for the higher education system and for students who have long remained invisible
in campus demographic reports. By adding this category, colleges and universities
will begin to address the underestimates of diversity that are currently reflected in
their demographic reports. In addition, adding this category aligns with diversity,
equity, and inclusion initiatives on college campuses and allows student service
personnel with an opportunity to better serve Arab Americans on their campuses
and accurately track the retention and recruitment of MENA students.
In Summary
Given the extensive data and findings presented in this report on Arab American
experiences, which echoes findings from previous studies, we argue that a primary
policy change for all institutions in Chicagoland, Illinois, and across the U.S. is to
create and implement a MENA data category in all places where racial and ethnic
data are tracked and especially in those domains where these data are used to
determine access to resources. Gathering accurate data that can better inform our
policies and resource distribution is essential to addressing the economic and racial
disparities and inequalities of Arab Americans and other MENA groups in our state.
A MENA category ensures that social institutions would not erase Arab American
realities, needs, and experiences by classifying them as white and would provide
crucial data for advocates, policy makers, and institutions to use in addressing the
needs of Arab American communities. It also can provide administrative structures
for understanding the extent of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism, including the pervasive
verbal and physical violence, fear, repression, harassment, and intimidation many
Arab Americans consistently face as they navigate their lives and the social institutions
and public spaces that shape them.
In June 2022, the White House announced the beginning of a formal review of
Directive 15.164 This directive sets the standards on racial and ethnic data-gathering.
While this is a hopeful step in the right direction, states such as Illinois and other public
institutions do not need to wait for the federal government to make much needed
changes. The next Decennial U.S. Census is eight years away. States can already
begin gathering data to inform their policies to help address the urgent needs of
their constituencies. The report makes abundantly clear that the introduction of an
MENA category should be used in all state funded public service sectors including
all regional and local agencies. This effort would include transforming all application
processes and databases to include this racial category and ensuring that the
MENA racial category is present in all surveys and data gathering research projects
conducted by any government agency.
CONCLUSION 155
sense of safety and belonging and be challenged in trying to access resources,
challenge racism, and secure funding for their community-based organizations. It
is time for local, state, and federal agencies as well as universities and all social
organizations to adopt a MENA category and collect robust, disaggregated data on
Arab American communities.
At the same time, adopting a MENA category is not enough. If we really want to
see Arab Americans surviving and thriving across Chicagoland, we are going to
need to do more than count them. We must also increase their access to relevant
resources once they are counted. For example, funders and advocates should
commit to resourcing Arab American organizations that have been unable to meet
their constituents’ needs. In addition to counting and resourcing local communities,
Chicagoland should also increase its commitment to dismantling anti-Arab/anti-
Muslim racism, including what has become an erroneous commonplace idea across
society: the idea that Arabs and Muslims are potential terrorist threats who deserve to
be dehumanized, surveilled, and punished. This will mean confronting false narratives
and stereotypes and also challenging the systems and policies that target Arab
Americans. For example, Chicagoland should commit to (1) increasing knowledge
and education about Arab Americans in schools, universities, and across society; (2)
stopping institutionalized anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism in places like schools and
universities, the police force, workplaces, media, housing, and within social justice
activist spaces where Arab Americans, especially Palestinians, face intimidation and
the denial of their free speech rights; and (3) establishing structures to support Arab
American survivors of targeting, harassment, intimidation, repression, and exclusion
across all areas of society.
Ultimately, if we really want to affirm Arab American life and dignity, we are going to
need to establish a MENA category to count Arab Americans; educate our society
about Arab Americans; provide resources to Arab Americans communities and the
organizations serving their urgent needs; commit to ending anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
racism; and institutionalize support systems that increase the sense of community
and belonging for Arab Americans in Chicagoland.
Our research prioritized working-class recent Arab migrants because they are the
primary constituents of these organizations and are disproportionately impacted by
the problem of racial injustice. They are also the most likely to be invisible in other
datasets. We began our research by working with these groups to help us conduct a
survey and organize focus group discussions with their Arab American constituents.
We used a mixed-methods research design that employed both surveys and focus
groups. We conducted these simultaneously. We chose to distribute surveys to
capture the experiences of a large number of Arab Americans (496 in total), especially
those most ignored in the U.S. The benefit of a larger sample has its draw backs
which is why we chose to follow a prior study165 and simultaneously conduct focus
groups. Surveys are limited in their ability to capture the complex realities of racism.
Also, we knew a large portion of our sample would be Arab Americans who tend
to be in very precarious positions and who might be worried to be forthcoming in
their answers. In comparing the results of the surveys and focus groups we identified
some factors that render the survey data limited:
1. Before migration, while living in the Arab region, Arab migrants do not gain
familiarity with the language of race/racism. While racism indeed exists in the
Arab region, it operates differently than in the U.S., is not a primary category
3. Historically, Arab migrants come to the U.S. from cultures with long-standing
oral traditions. As a result, we realized that research participants, especially
recent immigrants, felt more comfortable speaking about their experiences
than writing about them.
In addition to the surveys and focus groups, we also include quantitative data on Arab
American experiences in the report. Unless otherwise noted, our socio-economic and
demographic data comes from the U.S. Census American Community Survey (ACS)
2011-2015. The ACS is administered to a sample of some 3.5 million U.S. households
yearly and collects a variety of socio-economic and demographic information. It
is possible to study Arab Americans using the ACS’ ancestry question. Due to the
small population sizes and small sample sizes, the data is increasingly limited at
smaller geographic scales. The 2011-2015 ACS was the most recent available data
that allowed for a breakdown of ancestry groups in the Chicago-Naperville-Elgin, IL-
IN-WI metropolitan area. In our analysis, we included the U.S. Census classification
of Arab Americans (both aggregated and disaggregated by ancestry group) as well
as additional ancestry groups that we use as an expanded classification of Arab
Egyptian (402-403)
Iraqi (417-418)
Jordanian (421-422)
Lebanese (425)
Moroccan (406-407)
Palestinian (465-467)
Syrian (429-430)
Arab/Arabic (495-499)
Other Arab (400-401, 404-405, 408-415, 423-424, 426-428, 435-464, 468-481, 490-494)*
Assyrian/Chaldean/Syriac (482-489)
Somalian (568)
Sudanese (576-581)
1 Jamal, Amaney A. and Nadine Naber. 2008. Race and Arab Americans before and after 9/11: from Invisible Citizens
to Visible Subjects. New York: Syracuse University Press; Naber, Nadine. 2008. “Look, Mohammed the Terrorist Is
Coming! Cultural Racism, Nation-Based Racism, and the Intersectionality of Oppressions after 9/11.” S&F Online,
Summer 2008. (https://sfonline.barnard.edu/immigration/naber_01.htm) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
2 While frameworks for addressing anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism exist, they are largely confined to a relatively small
circle of researchers, teachers, and grassroots community advocates. However, the problem of the invisibility of
anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism is compounded by the work of a highly funded and organized anti-Arab/anti-Muslim
political movement describing themselves as “civil rights organizations,” and legitimized by the mainstream
news media, which suppresses and silences teaching and discussion about anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism and
Arab Americans. In the most recent attack on Arab American Studies curriculum in K-12 schools in January
2020 in California, the State Board of Education sided with this right-wing racist movement despite the massive
efforts of a people of color led “Save Arab American Studies” solidarity movement. For more on this see https://
savearabamericanstudies.org/; see also Naber, Nadine. 2000. “Ambiguous insiders: an investigation of Arab
American invisibility.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 23(1): 37-61.
3 Alsultany, Evelyn. 2012. Arabs and Muslims in the Media: Race and Representation after 9/11. New York: NYU
Press.
4 Lean, Nathan. 2012. The Islamophobia Industry: How the Right Manufactures Fear of Muslims. London: Pluto
Press.
5 Cainkar, Louise. 2006. “Immigrants from the Arab World.” The New Chicago. Edited by John Koval, Michael Bennett,
et al. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Pp. 182-196.
6 Throughout the report, we use pseudonyms to refer to focus group participants. Protecting their anonymity is not
only a best practice in focus-group based research, but it is also necessary when reporting about people who share
a deep-seated, highly legitimate fear of retaliation for reporting instances of discrimination from employers and
colleagues, at educational institutions and in healthcare settings, or from police.
7 Naff, Alixa, 1985. The Early Arab Immigrant Experience. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press; Suleiman,
Michael. 1999. “Introduction: The Arab Immigrant Experience.” Arabs in America: Building a New Future.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Pp. 1-21.; Shakir, Evelyn, 1997. Bint Arab: Arab and Arab American Women
in the United States. Westport Conn.; Praeger; Aswad, Barbara, 1974. Arabic Speaking Communities in American
Cities. Staten Island: Center for Migration Studies of New York; Elkholy, Abdo. 1969. “The Arab Americans:
Nationalism and Traditional Preservations.” The Arab Americans: Studies in Assimilation. AAUG Monograph Series
1, Edited by Elaine C. Hagopian and Ann Paden. Pp. 3-17.; Albrecht, Charlotte Karem. 2022. “Narrating Arab
American History: The Peddling Thesis.” Sajjilu Arab American: A Reader in SWANA Studies. Edited by Cainkar et al.
Syracuse: Syracuse University Press. Pp. 136-144.
8 B. Johnson, Ashley. Unpublished Manuscript, “The Unauthorized Mahjar: Syrian Muslim Migrations Between
Mexico and the Midwest in the Twentieth Century.”
ENDNOTES 163
16 Norris, Sonya Schryer. 2014. “Saudi Arabian Americans.” Gale Encyclopedia of Multicultural America. Edited by
Thomas Riggs. 3(4): 75-85. Detroit, MI: Gale.
17 Khouri, Rami G. 2019. “How Poverty and Inequality are Devastating the Middle East.” Carnegie Reporter, September
12, 2019. (https://www.carnegie.org/our-work/article/why-mass-poverty-so-dangerous-middle-east/). The growing
economic devastation in the region has a number of origins including growing privatization and the increased
economic disparities that sparked the Arab Spring revolutions for “bread, dignity, and justice” across the region in
2011, coupled with the interconnected realities of the U.S. war on Iraq, U.S.-backed authoritarianism in countries
such as Egypt, civil wars in countries such as Syria and Yemen, and the intensified Israeli colonization of Palestine.
18 Naber, Nadine. 2008. “Introduction.” Race and Arab Americans before and after 9/11: from Invisible Citizens to
Visible Subjects. Edited by Amaney A. Jamal, and Nadine Naber. Syracuse, N.Y: Syracuse University Press. Pp. 1-45.
19 Majaj, Lisa Suhair. 2000. “Arab Americans and the Meaning of Race.” Postcolonial Theory and the United States:
Race, Ethnicity, and Literature. Edited by Amrijit Singh and Peter Schmidt. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi.
Pp. 320-337.
20 Samhan, Helen. 1999. “Not Quite White: Race Classification and the Arab-American Experience.” Arabs in America:
Building a New Future. Philadelphia: Building a New Future. Pp. 216-226.
21 Quoted in Conklin, Nancy Faires and Nora Helen Faires. 1987. “Colored and Catholic: the Lebanese in Birmingham,
Alabama.” Crossing the waters: Arabic-speaking migrants to the United States before 1940: 69–84. Washington,
DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Pp. 75.
22 Samhan, Helen. 1999. “Not Quite White: Race Classification and the Arab-American Experience.” Arabs in America:
Building a New Future. Philadelphia: Building a New Future. Pp. 216-226.
23 Ibid., 217.
24 For more on the implications and history of the changing status of Arab Americans in relation to whiteness, see
Gualtieri, Sarah. 2009. Between Arab and White: Race and Ethnicity in the Early Syrian American Diaspora.
Berkeley: University of California Press. For more on the history of Arab American assimilation, see Suleiman,
Michael. 1999. “Introduction: The Arab Immigrant Experience.” Arabs in America: Building a New Future.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Pp. 1-21.
25 Suleiman, Michael. 1999. “Introduction: The Arab Immigrant Experience.” Arabs in America: Building a New Future.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Pp. 1-21.
26 This section draws upon the crucial work of Louise Cainkar, leading scholar of Arab Americans in Chicago.
See: Cainkar, Louise. 2006. “Migrants from the Arab World.” The New Chicago: A Social and Cultural Analysis.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Pp. 182-196.; Cainkar, Louise. 2009. Homeland insecurity: The Arab
American and Muslim American experience after 9/11. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
27 MSAs are areas “containing a large population nucleus and adjacent communities that have a high degree
of integration with that nucleus.” Office of Management and Budget. 2010. “2010 standards for delineating
metropolitan and micropolitan statistical areas.” Federal Register 75(123): 37,246.
28 The Arab American population in towns and cities beyond Cook County saw a growth of over 27 thousand. DuPage
County (west of Cook County) and Will County (south and southwest of Cook) saw the largest increases in the Arab
American population.
ENDNOTES 165
42 Rana, Junaid. 2007 “The Story of Islamophobia.” Souls: Critical Journal of Black Politics, Culture, and Society 9(4):
148-161.
43 Said, Edward. 1978. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon books.
44 McAlister, Melani. 2005. Epic Encounters: Culture, Media, and U.S. Interests in the Middle East Since 1945.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
45 Especially after the 1970s, the US Government “officially” labeled Arabs and Middle Easterners as white (with
Directive 15 which created the current U.S. Census categories).
46 “Special Report: RAWI (Radius of Arab-American Whiteness) Provides Creative Matrix for Writers Across America.”
Washington Report on Middle Eastern Affairs (Jan. - Feb.): 34-35.
47 American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee. Congressional Hearings on Anti-Arab/anti-Muslim Violence - A
Milestone for Arab-American Rights. 1986. (https://www.ojp.gov/ncjrs/virtual-library/abstracts/congressional-
hearings-anti-Arab/anti-Muslim-violence-milestone-arab-american) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
48 Akram, Susan M. 2002. “The Aftermath of September 11, 2001: The Targeting of Arabs and Muslims in America.”
Arab Studies Quarterly 24(2/3): 61–118.
49 There are countless examples of the interrelated character of anti-Arab/anti-Muslim racism in the U.S. and U.S. policy
towards the Middle East abroad but a few examples are the murder of the Regional Director of the American Arab
Anti-Discrimination Committee, Alex Odeh, in Santa Ana, California in 1985 alongside the U.S.’ increased support
for Israeli colonization on Palestinian land and expansion in the Arab region (i.e., Israel’s 20 year occupation of
southern Lebanon); the targeting of Arab American homes in 1986 when the U.S. bombed Libya; and how anti-
Arab/anti-Muslim racism increased by nearly 800 percent during the Arabian Gulf crisis of the 1990’s. The bombers
who committed the murder have yet to be brought to justice, although the FBI has indicated that identified suspects
are members of a Jewish terrorist organization currently living in Israel.
50 Goodstein, Laurie and Marylou Tousignant. 1995. “Muslims’ Burden of Blame Lifts.” Washington Post. April 22,
1995. (https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/1995/04/22/muslims-burden-of-blame-lifts/29d45b49-
c106-46d5-bd82-94eed4adc538/) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
51 American Civil Liberties Union. 2012. Support the Secret Evidence Repeal Act. (https://www.aclu.org/other/support-
secret-evidence-repeal-act) (Accessed on December 12, 2022). According to the ACLU: “The 1996 Antiterrorism and
Effective Death Penalty Act established a new court charged only with hearing cases in which the government seeks
to deport aliens accused of engaging in terrorist activity based on secret evidence submitted in the form of classified
information. The 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act expanded the secret evidence
court so that secret evidence could be more easily used to deport even lawful permanent residents as terrorists.”
52 Smothers, Ronald. 1998. “Secret Evidence Jeopardizes Some Immigrant.” New York Times. August 14, 1998.
(https://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/fl-xpm-1998-08-15-9808140674-story.html) (Accessed on December 12,
2022).
53 Justice for Muslims Collective, HEART Women & Girls, Vigilant Love, the Partnership to End Gendered Islamophobia,
Project South, the Partnership for the Advancement of New Americans (PANA), US Campaign for Palestinian Rights
(USCPR). Abolishing the War on Terror & Building Communities of Care: A Grassroots Policy Agenda for the Biden-
Harris Administration and 117th Congress. February 2021. (https://www.justiceformuslims.org/grassroots-policy-
agenda)
ENDNOTES 167
59 Nguyen, Nicole. 2019. Suspect Communities: Anti-Muslim Racism and the Domestic War on Terror. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press.
60 Deutsch, Michael E. 1984. “Improper Use of the Federal Grand Jury: An Instrument for the Internment of Political
Activists.” Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology 75(4): 1159-1196. Pp. 1159.
61 Kumar, Deepa. 2021. Islamophobia as Empire. New York, Verso. Pp. 139.
62 Cainkar, Louise. 2009. Homeland Insecurity: The Arab American and Muslim American Experience After 9/11. New
York: Russell Sage Foundation.
63 Cainkar, Louise. 2002. “No Longer Invisible: Arab and Muslim Exclusion After September 11.” Middle East
Report 32: 224; see also Cainkar, Louise. 2005. “Violence Unveiled.” Contexts 4(4): 67.
64 Naber, Nadine. “Including Arab Americans in the Biden Administration is not Enough. Jadaliyya. March 25, 2021.
(https://www.jadaliyya.com/Details/42543/Including-Arab-Americans-in-the-Biden-Administration-is-not-Enough)
(Accessed on December 12, 2022).
65 Nguyen, Nicole. 2019. Suspect Communities: Anti-Muslim Racism and the Domestic War on Terror. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press.
66 Boundaoui, Assia. 2018. The Feeling of Being Watched. US: Women Make Movies. (http://www.
feelingofbeingwatched.com/about) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
67 Goudie, Chuck, Ross Weidner, Barb Markoff, and Christine Tressel. 2017. “DOJ Releases Scathing Report on Chicago
Police Department.” ABC 7. January 14, 2017. (https://abc7chicago.com/justice-department-chicago-police-civil-
rights-investigation-cpd-violations/1700689/) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
68 Masterson, Matt. 2020. “Chicago Police Union President Could Be Fired Over Social Media Posts.” WTTW. December
18, 2020. (https://news.wttw.com/2020/12/18/chicago-police-union-president-could-be-fired-over-social-media-
posts) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
69 Khalidi Dima. 2014. “Odeh’s guilty verdict doesn’t mean her battle for justice is over.” The Hill. November 14, 2014.
(https://thehill.com/blogs/congress-blog/judicial/224077-odehs-guilty-verdict-doesnt-mean-her-battle-for-justice-is-
over/) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
70 For more on SARs, see: https://www.dhs.gov/nationwide-sar-initiative-nsi/about-nsi (Accessed on December 12,
2022).
71 Arab American Action Network (AAAN), The Policing in Chicago Research Group at the University of Illinois Chicago.
2022. Campaign to End Racial Profiling (CERP) Report: Suspicious Activity Reports and the Surveillance State. The
Suppression of Dissent and the Criminalization of Arabs and Muslims in Illinois. May 2022. (https://www.aclu.
org/other/aclu-testimony-material-support-terrorism-laws-section-805-patriot-act-and-section-6603) (Accessed on
December 12, 2022).
72 Nguyen, Nicole. 2019. Suspect Communities: Anti-Muslim Racism and the Domestic War on Terror. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press.
73 See ICJIA’s full grant application here: https://www.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/publications/EMW-2016-CA-
APP-00169%20Full%20Application.pdf (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
ENDNOTES 169
87 Albdour, Maha, Linda Lewin, Karen Kavanaugh, Jun Sung Hong, and Feleta Wilson. 2017. “Arab American
Adolescents’ Perceived Stress and Bullying Experiences: A Qualitative Study.” Western Journal of Nursing Research
39(12): 1567–1588.
88 Carlson, Carole. 2013. “Muslim Headwear Stirs Complaint at School.” Chicago Sun Times. March 30, 2013. (https://
www.meforum.org/islamist-watch/39218/muslim-headwear-stirs-complaint-at-northwest) (Accessed on December
12, 2022).
89 Abu El-Haj, Thea Renda. 2006. “Race, Politics, and Arab American Youth: Shifting Frameworks for Conceptualizing
Educational Equity.” Educational Policy 20(1): 13–34. Pp. 21.
90 Albdour, Maha, Linda Lewin, Karen Kavanaugh, Jun Sung Hong, and Feleta Wilson. 2017. “Arab American
Adolescents’ Perceived Stress and Bullying Experiences: A Qualitative Study.” Western Journal of Nursing Research
39(12): 1567–1588. Pp. 1579.
91 Abu El-Haj, Thea Renda. 2006. “Race, Politics, and Arab American Youth: Shifting Frameworks for Conceptualizing
Educational Equity.” Educational Policy 20(1): 13–34.
92 For a devastating view of the extent of surveillance that the Chicago Palestinian and Muslim community
has been subjected to, see Assia Bandaoui’s documentary, The Feeling of Being Watched. (http://www.
feelingofbeingwatched.com/) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
93 For the full story of the political prosecution of Muhammad Salah, see Deutsch, Michael and Erica Thompson.
2008. “Secrets and Lies: The Persecution of Muhammad Salah (Part I).” Journal of Palestine Studies, 37 (4): 38-58;
Deutsch, Michael and Erica Thompson. 2008. “Secrets and Lies: The Persecution of Muhammad Salah (Part II).”
Journal of Palestine Studies 38 (1): 25–53.
94 Ibid.
95 Ibid.
96 Davis, Charles. 2014. “How the FBI Goes After Activists.” Vice. March 31, 2014. (http://www.vice.com/read/how-the-
fbi-goes-after-activists) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
97 Moynihan, Colin. 2010. “F.B.I. Searches Antiwar Activists’ Homes.” New York Times. September 24, 2010. (http://
www.nytimes.com/2010/09/25/us/politics/25search.html?_r=0) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
98 Davis, Charles. 2014. “How the FBI Goes After Activists.” Vice. March 31, 2014. (http://www.vice.com/read/how-the-
fbi-goes-after-activists) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
99 Jamail, Dahr. 2014. “Tortured and Raped by Israel, Persecuted by the United States.” Truthout. September 2,
2014. (http://www.truth-out.org/news/item/25910-tortured-and-raped-by-israel-persecuted-by-the-united-states)
(Accessed on December 12, 2022).
100 Ruebner, Josh. 2014. “Why Is Obama’s DOJ Prosecuting a Torture Victim?” The Hill. June 10, 2014. (http://thehill.
com/blogs/pundits-blog/international/208699-why-is-obamas-doj-prosecuting-a-torture-victim#ixzz3AzjJi1PF)
(Accessed on December 12, 2022).;People’s Law Office. 2014. “Update on Rasmea Odeh Trial.” Press release,
November 7, 2014. (http://peopleslawoffice.com/update-rasmea-odeh-trial/) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
101 Khalidi, Dima. 2014. “Odeh’s Guilty Verdict Doesn’t Mean Her Battle for Justice Is Over.” The Hill. November 14,
2014. (http://thehill.com/blogs/congress-blog/judicial/224077-odehs-guilty-verdict-doesnt-mean-her-battle-for-
justice-is-over) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
ENDNOTES 171
116 SJP Loyola University Chicago. 2014. “Loyola SJP Found Responsible For 1 of 6 Charges, Sanctioned With Probation
& Dialogue Training; Hillel Only Sanctioned With Administrative Training For Violating Similar Rules.” November 3,
2014. (http://www.sjployola.com/blog/press-release-loyola-sjp-found-responsible-for-1-of-6-charges-sanctioned-
with-probation-dialogue-training-hillel-only-sanctioned-with-administrative-training-for-violating-similar-rules)
(Accessed on December 12, 2022).
117 Palestine Legal. 2017. “University of Chicago: Students Harassed on Campus and Online.” October 2, 2017. (https://
palestinelegal.org/case-studies/2017/10/2/university-of-chicago-students-harassed-on-campus-and-online)
(Accessed on December 12, 2022).
118 For more on Canary Mission and its impact on students, see https://theintercept.com/2018/11/22/israel-boycott-
canary-mission-blacklist/ (Accessed on December 12, 2022).See also, https://mesana.org/pdf/Exposing_Canary_
Mission.pdf (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
119 See https://twitter.com/sjpuic/status/1359569424064409604?lang=en (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
120 See Palestine Legal. 2021. 2021 Year-in-Review: Palestinian Uprising Generates Record Solidarity — And Fierce
Backlash. (https://palestinelegal.org/2021-report) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
121 See International Jewish Anti-Zionist Network. 2015. The Business of Backlash: The Attack on the Palestinian
Movement and Other Movements for Justice. March 2015. (http://www.ijan.org/resources/business-of-backlash/);
Adelson, Sheldon. 2016. “GOP mega-donor funds group calling pro-Palestine US students ‘Jew haters’.” The
Guardian. August 24, 2016. (https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/aug/22/sheldon-adelson-palestine-jew-
haters-colleges-campuses) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
122 Department of Justice Civil Rights Division and United States Attorney’s Office of the Northern District of Illinois.
2017. Investigation of the Chicago Police Department. Washington, D.C.: Department of Justice. Pp 1-161. Pp. 144.
123 Department of Justice Civil Rights Division and United States Attorney’s Office of the Northern District of Illinois.
2017. Investigation of the Chicago Police Department. Washington, D.C.: Department of Justice. Pp 1-161. Pp. 147.
124 Renault, Marion. 2016. “Muslim Woman Sues Chicago in 2015 Arrest: Filing Alleges Cops Profiled Plaintiff,
Excessively Forceful.” The Chicago Tribune. Aug 12, 2016. (https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/breaking/ct-
chicago-police-muslim-student-lawsuit-met-20160811-story.html) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
125 Department of Justice Civil Rights Division and United States Attorney’s Office of the Northern District of Illinois.
2017. Investigation of the Chicago Police Department. Washington, D.C.: Department of Justice. Pp 1-161. Pp. 144.
126 Ibid.
127 Ihejirike, Maudlyne. 2016. “United Apologizes over Treatment of Muslim Chaplain on Flight.” Chicago Sun Times.
June 24, 2016. (https://chicago.suntimes.com/2016/6/24/18438955/united-apologizes-for-treatment-of-muslim-
chaplain-on-flight) (Accessed December 21, 2022).
128 Carbonaro, Giulia. 2022. “Who is Hadi Abuatelah? Teen Repeatedly Punched by Oak Lawn Police in Video.”
Newsweek. July 29, 2022. (https://www.newsweek.com/hadi-abuatelah-teen-punched-oak-lawn-police-
video-1729078) (Accessed on December 12, 2022).
129 Naber, Nadine. 2006. “The Rules of Forced Engagement: Race, Gender, and the Culture of Fear among Arab
Migrants in San Francisco Post-9/11.” Cultural Dynamics 18(3): 235–67. Pp. 249.
ENDNOTES 173
144 U.S. Census Bureau. 2022. “About the Topic of Race.” March 1, 2022. (https://www.census.gov/topics/population/
race/about.html) (Accessed on December 21, 2022).
145 Buchanan, Angela, Rachel Marks, and Magdaliz Álvarez Figueroa. 2016. “2015 Forum on Ethnic Groups from
the Middle East and North Africa: Meeting Summary and Main Findings.” Washington D.C.: U.S. Census Bureau.
(https://www.census.gov/content/dam/Census/library/working-papers/2015/demo/MENA-Forum-Summary-and-
Appendices.pdf) (Accessed on December 21, 2022).
146 Discussion took place via WhatsApp July - August 2021
147 Like many second-generation Sudanese Chicagoans, he graduated from university and joined the job market at a
higher salary range than first-generation migrant Sudanese.
148 An anti-Black slur used by some Arabs; analogous to the N-word. Here, M.M. is referring to having to explain to his
peers why they should not say “the A word.”
149 Solis, Gustavo. 2021. “For Black parents, ‘the talk’ binds generations and reflects changes in America.” USC News.
March 10, 2021. (https://news.usc.edu/183102/the-talk-usc-black-parents-children-racism-america/) (Accessed on
December 21, 2022).
150 U.S. Department of Education. N.D. “Appendix A: Revisions to the Standards for the Classification of Federal Data on
Race and Ethnicity.” (https://nces.ed.gov/programs/handbook/data/pdf/appendix_a.pdf)
151 For just a few examples of a vast literature, see Mora, G. Cristina. 2021. Making Hispanics. University of Chicago
Press.; Strmic-Pawl, Hephzibah V., Brandon A. Jackson, and Steve Garner. 2018. “Race counts: racial and ethnic
data on the US Census and the implications for tracking inequality.” Sociology of Race and Ethnicity 4(1): 1-13.;
Lee, Sharon M. 1993. “Racial classifications in the US Census: 1890–1990.” Ethnic and racial studies 16(1): 75-94.;
Snipp, C. Matthew. 2003. “Racial measurement in the American census: Past practices and implications for the
future.” Annual Review of Sociology 29: 563-588.
152 U.S. Census Bureau. 2022. “About Population.” February 9, 2022. (https://www.census.gov/topics/population/about.
html) (Accessed December 21, 2022).
153 Akel, Kaitlyn. 2022. “Arab American Research Gaps and a survey of its solutions.” Primary Care Review. Boston:
Harvard Medical School. (https://info.primarycare.hms.harvard.edu/review/arab-american-research-gaps)
154 Awad, Germine H., Maryam Kia-Keating, and Mona M. Amer. 2019. “A Model of Cumulative Racial-Ethnic Trauma
Among Americans of Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) Descent. American Psychologist 74(1): 76-87.
155 For disparities and inequities related to health, see the following: on metabolic disorders and cardiovascular
disease, see Abuelezam, El-Sayed, and Galea 2019; Dallo, Ruterbusch, Kirma, Schwartz, and Fakhouri 2016; Jaber,
Brown, Hammad, Zhu, and Herman 2004; On low birth weight, see Abuelezam, Cuevas, El-Sayed, Galea, and
Hawkins 2021; Lauderdale 2006; On depressive symptoms, see Ajrouch 2018; Lipson, Kern, Eisenberg, Breland-
Noble 2018; On education, see Read 2013.
156 Cainkar, Louise. 1998. Meeting Community Needs, Building on Community Strengths: Chicago’s Arab American
Community. Chicago: Arab American Action Network; see also Cainkar, Louise. 2021. “Palestine—and Empire—Are
Central to Arab American/ SWANA Studies.” Journal of Palestine Studies: 1-18. (https://doi.org/10.1080/037791
9X.2021.1899513)
157 Cainkar, Louise. 2009. Homeland Insecurity: The Arab American and Muslim American Experience After 9/11. New
York: Russell Sage Foundation.
ENDNOTES 175
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