Loading ...A Fourth of July Letter from the Arab American Community
Private Nathan Badeen, an immigrant from what was then Ottoman-controlled Syria, is widely recognized as the first known Syrian and Arab to give his life to the United States. He enlisted in the 18th Continental Army on January 1st, 1776. These armies are known as America’s first soldiers. His regiment played a key role in the liberation of Boston. He died in battle against British forces on May 23, 1776 – roughly five weeks before the Declaration of Independence was signed.
To Our Fellow Americans,
Every Fourth of July, we gather to celebrate the birth of a nation – one built on the bold promise of freedom, justice, and equality for all. For many Arab Americans, this day is both a celebration and a moment of reflection. We celebrate the ideals that brought our families here. But many of us also ask, with sincerity and hope:
Do those ideals fully include us as well?
We Are Americans, Too
Our stories are as diverse as the countries from which we trace our roots–Lebanon, Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Iraq, Yemen, the Gulf, and beyond. Still, they share a common thread: we came here believing in the promise of America. Many of our grandparents opened grocery stores in Detroit and Brooklyn, often sleeping in the back room to keep the business afloat. Some of our parents worked double shifts – driving cabs, running bakeries, or studying late into the night – so their children could become engineers, lawyers, nurses, and more.
We are teachers in Dearborn, firefighters in Paterson, and doctors in Toledo. We have worn this country’s uniform – some have even paid the ultimate sacrifice. We are small business owners who stayed open during the pandemic to serve our communities. We are your public bus driver, your child’s soccer coach, and your supervisor at the office. We are part of the fabric of America in every sense of the word. And yet, from time to time, we are made to feel like we must prove that we belong.
The America We Know and the One We Still Strive For
We were drawn to America for its promise: that character matters more than color that freedom isn’t a luxury, but a right for all. For some, that dream came alive in moments big and small: a Yemeni shopkeeper receiving his first business license, a Jordanian-American girl being elected student body president, and a Palestinian family finally gaining citizenship after years in limbo.
But many of us also know the sting of suspicion. We are used to being pulled aside at airports. We’ve seen headlines reduce our cultures to caricatures. Some of us change our names to sound “less foreign” on job applications – “Mohamad” becomes “Mo”, and “Jihad” becomes “Jeff.” Others hesitate to speak Arabic in public, afraid of the looks – or of something even worse.
This Day and What It Means for Us
So, as this young nation celebrates its Independence Day, we ask:
What does freedom mean if some are still marginalized? What is independence if it isn’t shared equally?
The answer is not straightforward. It lies not only in what we’ve done but in what America must still do. Our marginalization isn’t born of a lack of patriotism or contribution – we have that in abundance. Rather, it’s rooted in systems and attitudes that too often see difference as danger.
But despite that, we believe in this country; not blindly, but earnestly – because we know that progress is possible. We see it in the new generation of Arab Americans. When they contribute to society. How they consciously tune into their heritage and display it proudly. When they make an effort to learn Arabic. In classrooms where children proudly share their native, unaltered names. In protests where Arab Americans stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Black, Brown, White, Latino, Asian, Jewish, and Indigenous communities to demand justice for all.
A Shared Responsibility, A Shared Future
Our struggle is not singular. It reflects the broader, global fight for dignity – from Gaza to Khartoum, from Beirut to Baghdad, and beyond. We watch these crises not from a distance but through the lives and histories of our own families. Their experiences fuel our commitment to justice here, in our own neighborhoods.
We want an America that lives up to its ideals, one where no child feels they must choose between where their family comes from and where they are growing up. One where being Arab isn’t a question mark within someone’s identity but a recognized and valued part of the American story. Requited love and feelings of endearment.
Our Message to America This Fourth of July
So, this Independence Day, we ask our fellow Americans:
See us – not as outsiders, not as “the other” – but as full participants in the American experience. We are here – not just as guests but as co-authors of this nation’s story. Siblings under the same roof.
Let’s make this country more just, more inclusive, and truer to the words written into its founding documents. Not only because it’s right but because it enriches us all and makes us stronger.
Just as our parents brought seeds of their homelands with them to America, they also planted them in its soil. They grew and learned to walk, talk, love, laugh, and live. They now declare:
We are Arab Americans, and we are home.
Happy Fourth of July to our fellow American brothers and sisters. With best wishes to you and your loved ones.
The Arab American Community
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