Bilingual and Barely Heard - Arabic Access Still Lags in the U.S.

By: Laila Ali / Arab America Contributing Author
In a country that’s rapidly adding Spanish, Mandarin, and even Tagalog to its public school curriculum, social services, and government materials, the Arabic language is lagging behind greatly. Despite being one of the most spoken languages in the world, as well as one of the fastest growing languages in the U.S., Arabic access is shockingly rare and underfunded. For millions of Arab Americans, particularly recent immigrants and refugees, the lack of Arabic language services is not just a matter of communication. It’s a matter of equity, dignity, and even survival. In classrooms, courtrooms, hospitals, and housing offices from Maine to Hawaii, Arabic speakers are left behind, unable to fully participate in, or even access, the institutions of the country they call home.
The Numbers Don’t Lie — But They’re Ignored.
Arabic is the seventh most spoken language in the world, and in the U.S., it’s consistently been one of the five fastest-growing languages over the past decade. According to the U.S. Census Bureau’s American Community Survey, over 1.2 million people in the U.S. speak Arabic at home. And yet these numbers are likely an undercount of the true Arab American population, as there has been no formal MENA (Middle Eastern and North African) category to capture the full range of Arabic languages and identities. In practice, Arabic speakers are often given little to no interpretation or translation when they access essential public services.
In public schools, Arabic-speaking students, often recent immigrants or refugees, are placed in generic “English Language Learner” tracks without Arabic-speaking teachers or culturally responsive curriculum. A 2020 Migration Policy Institute report states that, while Arabic is among the top languages spoken by English learners in U.S. schools, Arabic-speaking students are consistently underserved due to a lack of bilingual teachers and culturally relevant materials.
In hospitals, Arabic patients routinely rely on family members, including children, to interpret critical medical information. The National Library of Medicine reports that Arabic is one of the most requested but least available languages in U.S. health care interpretation services. In city halls and courts, important forms, meetings, and legal documents are often available in Spanish or Chinese, but not Arabic. According to a UIC law review, Arabic was the least likely of the top ten spoken languages to be accommodated for translators and public documents across major U.S. cities. This isn’t just about language, it’s about whether Arab American families are seen, whether our kids are protected.
Language Access is a Civil Right — But Not Enforced
Arabic language access is not just a technical matter; it’s a civil rights issue. Under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, organizations that receive federal funding, such as public schools and hospitals, have a legal obligation to provide meaningful access to individuals with limited English proficiency. Arabic speakers are consistently the most invisible language group when it comes to the enforcement of this rule. There is a critical shortage of certified Arabic-language interpreters across the U.S. In many states, Arabic language interpreters are either not available at all or underpaid and overworked, leading to burnout and inconsistent service. The lack of a stable interpreter workforce in Arabic is not just a staffing issue, but a political one. It’s symbolic of a deeper unwillingness to see Arab communities as a demographic that merits investment.
The Classroom Crisis: Arabic language instruction in American public schools is even more dire than access to Arabic translation and interpretation. While many schools offer French, Spanish, and Mandarin, as well as a growing number of Asian and African languages, American schools rarely offer Arabic, even as there is a growing population of Arab American students across the U.S.
Reviving Arabic in American Classrooms
In response to this gap, Qatar Foundation International (QFI) has been working over the past decade to build Arabic language programs in American K–12 schools and train a new generation of Arabic language educators. Arabic programs have been seeded in cities across the U.S. with QFI’s support. In Chicago, Houston, and Washington, D.C. ,QFI has also launched a slate of K–12 Arabic language professional development trainings to help schools train their teachers. But these efforts, while encouraging, remain isolated and fragile, depending on the leadership of a single teacher or school administrator and grant dollars that can easily disappear over a single budget cycle.
The impact of this dynamic on Arab American youth is profound. Without language programs in school, these young people grow up seeing their language — and by extension, their cultural identity — treated as foreign, threatening, or irrelevant by the institutions of their own country. “It sends a message,” says Yasmine, a Lebanese American teacher in California. “That our identity is optional. Disposable.”
Language is Power — And Arabic Belongs Here
Why is all of this so important? Because language is power. Language access is the most basic barometer of a community’s political and social capital. When a community’s language is marginalized, its members have diminished access to resources, representation, and rights. Without Arabic-speaking mental health counselors, domestic violence survivors are unable to report abuse. Lacking Arabic-language school materials, parents are unable to understand their children’s education. Arab Americans are effectively shut out of the democratic process without language access in city government. They are unable to be heard.
Language access also has a powerful effect on belonging. As the U.S. reckons with what it means to be inclusive and equitable, and to even be a multicultural democracy, Arabic must be part of that reckoning. Arabic is not just the language of war or geopolitics, but the living, breathing language of millions of American families, businesses, students, teachers, and elders. The path to both access and belonging starts with Arabic language access, and it doesn’t end there.
So here is a message to lawmakers and leaders– expand Arabic language instruction in public schools. Require that city, county, and state agencies offer Arabic translation for key documents and meetings. Organizations like the Qatar Foundation International, Access California, Arab American civic organizations, and others are already doing this work on the ground. What’s needed now is a public commitment to seeing Arabic speakers as a full part of the American fabric — not a “niche” group, not a national security footnote, but a vital, growing, and American community. Being bilingual should not mean being barely heard.
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