As the title suggests, I write this letter with the hope of appealing to the hearts and consciences of the Arab and Muslim communities, whether they be found in the comfort of their homelands or scattered across the diaspora.
For much too long, the struggles and pains of the people of Western Sahara have been muted and dismissed. Whether such dismissal and rejection stems from fear of disrupting the powers above, or general lack of awareness, I do not know. What I do know, however, is that continuing to deny a voice for the Sahrawis not only undermines and contradicts the ongoing movements within our own communities, but also ignores, perhaps intentionally, our own similar histories. From Algeria's fight for liberation from the French in the 1950’s, which resulted in the death of nearly one million Algerians, to the on-going war in Palestine today, we as Arabs and Muslims are all too familiar with the high cost that comes with liberation and self-determination.
The struggles and pain we have endured as Arabs, Arab-American and Muslims, are also shared with Sahrawis. We fall on the same side of the coin. The same bombs that were dropped over Iraq and Kuwait during the 1991 Gulf War, and now over Gaza since October 7, are the same bombs that have been dropped over the Western Sahara time and time again. Yet, somehow, we refuse to acknowledge that the Sahrawis too have fallen victim to the enduring weight of the western imperialist yoke.
Despite these shared histories and traumas, the Sahrawis are still “othered” within the broader question of Arab identity and the Arab narrative. Arabs often find themselves entangled in complex webs of identity politics, particularly in regions like the Western Sahara, where the Sahrawis challenge of conventional national or ethnic labels and their struggle for self-determination raises questions about Arab identity and solidarity.
Although they share many linguistic and cultural ties and the Islamic faith with Arab nations, Sahrawis still find themselves marginalized within the Arab narrative as many Arabs do not view Sahrawis as part of the Arab collective.
I find this reality to be one that is painful to digest, particularly when I have witnessed much commonality with the people of the Western Sahara and the strength of potential of Arab unity. As a daughter to Libyan parents, my father would often share stories of his childhood where he would sit side-by-side with both Sahrawi and Palestinian students in the classroom back in Tripoli in the 1970s. They shared much in common, but perhaps their strongest bond was forged through their mutual aspiration to carve out their own destinies, an aspiration that has yet to be attained for Libyans, Palestinians, and Sahrawis alike.
While such unity has been showcased for the Palestinian cause, the same cannot be said for the Western Sahara. The 2022 World Cup in Qatar serves as a glaring example of this hypocrisy. Morocco’s historic journey to the final four in the World Cup sparked a remarkable sense of unity and pride, not only among Moroccans, but amongst the Arabs and Muslims across the world. Stadiums and streets were adorned with Palestinian flags and the profound sense of solidarity was undeniable. However, despite Morrocco’s attempts to present itself as a progressive participant, both on and off the field, there was a glaring absence of acknowledgement or discussion about the ongoing human rights violations and denial of self-determination of the Sahrawi people. The spectacle of Arab unity and celebration during the 2022 games stands in stark contrast to the reality faced by the Sahrawi people, who continue to endure displacement, repression, and the denial of their basic human rights.