Navigating Identity: My Journey Between American and Arab Cultures

My father immigrated to California from Saida, Lebanon, during the 90s. He came hoping to find better economic opportunities and a more stable political environment in which to raise his children. The search for the so-called American dream was very real at the time, and his struggle to settle into American society has, in retrospect, been perhaps the greatest, strongest thing he has done in shaping me as a man. Assimilation and cross-cultural balancing, however, rarely came easy. As many children of immigrant parents will likely attest, being raised in an environment where two cultures are labeled as incredibly contrasting, although a significant and beautiful experience for personal development, often leads to a confusing mesh of emotions. People on both spectrums fail to understand the value of the other, leading you to never truly fit into the narrow labels of “American” or “Arab.” You could try and claim both, but then you are told you're not American enough or you're disregarding your heritage. There is an underlying assumption that your heritage outweighs your upbringing or vice-versa. For whatever reason, you can’t just be you. You have to pick one. Are you an American, an assumed nationalist or exceptionalist who has to abandon his religion and completely assimilate into secularist society, doing so by outwardly proclaiming your hate for Arab and Muslim sentiments? Or are you a Lebanese Arab, a Muslim who places his value and attention eastward towards his ancestral homeland, a person who, in affirming his membership in one particular culture, has to disregard the society in which he was born? In truth, both of these characterizations are completely wrong, and yet for the majority of my life these have been the options given to me, often in a way that presents culture as something binary or mutually exclusive. Culture, however, is fluid and complex.

This reality, which I have been grappling with for the entirety of my life, was especially apparent during my time studying abroad in Jordan through NSLI-Y. During my time in Jordan, the early morning classes often fueled with cheap .50 JD coffee from the vending machine or tea made in the lounge at Amideast, long taxi rides filled with vibrant and sporadic conversation, spontaneous periods of studying for long hours in random cafes throughout Amman, shopping in Abdalli and City Mall with my Jordanian language partners, and my first true taste of a never-dying nightlife spread throughout the city reinforced my belief in culture’s inconceivable complexity. Our beliefs and values as humans are more often than not intertwined. And yet there is a prevalent tendency within our society to concentrate on minute differences, disregarding the considerable overlap between cultures. Our value in art, music, and the varying expressions of life itself is one and the same. Jordan’s diverse and expansive collection of museums, art galleries, concert venues, and exhibits provided me with a window into Arab culture that is often overlooked in the West. During my time in Jordan, I visited Wadi Rum, Petra, Ajloun Castle, the Dead Sea, the Jordan Museum, and Jerash. These excursions became opportunities to not only learn about Jordan’s expansive and far-stretched history but also to explore my broader Arab heritage, through interactions with the locals and Bedouins and the exploration of important historical landmarks across the Kingdom. When discussing my upbringing with a local Bedouin, I was told, “...who cares where you were born, you’re Arab…we are travelers and nomads, we are always adapting. How could you define that?” This conversation was often revisited in my mind; it was so counter to the general narrative I’ve experienced in the U.S., and yet it was what I longed for. It was a validation of something I had grown to internalize, so once I heard it, I felt empowered.

In Jordan, a country filled with immigrants from across the Arab world, there are few blockades or labels put upon identity, at least in regard to culture. There isn’t an underlying feeling of necessity to overly explain your heritage or validate your lived experiences. You are your name, and whatever comes after is secondary to that fact. As I write this, I recall a conversation I had with my Uber driver the other night, in which I mentioned to him that my family is from Lebanon but I was born in America. His response lightened my heart: “...so you’re a Lebanese American? There is no need for so much explanation; while you are here in Jordan, you can simply state yourself as Jordanian or simply just Arab. The people within the Levant are one…When I’m in Syria, I’m Syrian. When I’m in Lebanon, I’m Lebanese, etc. Aside from these labels, we are practically the same–we all live in roughly the same area, and our differences are assumed as humans, not nationalities.” NSLI-Y is so much more than a simple language program; it truly is an amazing opportunity to explore other cultures, not only for their differences but also for their similarities and intrinsic uniqueness. Although having spent only a summer, I feel much more settled and familiar with myself coming out of NSLI-Y. I spent the summer with an amazing set of peers and a group of educators and advisors who genuinely cared for my well-being, often pushing me to advance both academically and personally. I leave with no regrets.