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Arabs have a longstanding history in Philadelphia — and this bilingual newspaper honors it

“We’re educating people about us through the newspaper,” said Amaal Al-Najjar, a collaborator with the Friends, Peace, Sanctuary Journal.

Friends, Peace, Sanctuary Journal co-editors Nora Elmarzouky and Yaroub Al-Obaidi (right) were photographed while discussing their plans for the paper at Renata’s Kitchen on Baltimore Ave. in Phila., Pa. on October 7, 2022.
Friends, Peace, Sanctuary Journal co-editors Nora Elmarzouky and Yaroub Al-Obaidi (right) were photographed while discussing their plans for the paper at Renata’s Kitchen on Baltimore Ave. in Phila., Pa. on October 7, 2022.Read moreElizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer

Amaal Al-Najjar was not planning on leaving her home in Syria permanently when the Civil War broke out in 2011.

She packed a bag of essentials in 2012, leaving behind family heirlooms and pictures, with the intention of coming back in a month once the fighting settled down. But Al-Najjar hasn’t been back to her home in the decade since, instead creating a new home in Philadelphia when she resettled in 2016.

“The word refugee wasn’t easy for us when we came — you feel like you’re a beggar,” Al-Najjar said in Arabic. “The refugee that comes here isn’t high up in society, but they have so much talent.”

So when Al-Najjar heard about a new Arabic bilingual newspaper launching in Philadelphia, she immediately knew she wanted to get involved, writing stories about historic neighborhoods in Damascus, traditions during the month of Ramadan and her favorite recipes.

“With this newspaper, people understand us more,” she said. “Now we can talk about our countries, our customs, our families, our cooking. We’re educating people about us through the newspaper.”

Launched in 2020, the Friends, Peace, Sanctuary Journal is a quarterly publication that highlights Middle Eastern culture and history through articles from community members on everything from Iraqi poetry to traditional recipes. The goal of the paper is twofold: to serve local Arabic-speakers with a sense of belonging and community, and to bridge the gap with the non-Arab community.

“This was really an idea that came from community discussion,” said Nora Elmarzouky, co-founder of the paper. “People really wanted to use the arts to build bridges and really show, ‘Hey, we’re here, we have a lot to contribute, and we’re more than just being a refugee.’”

An ode to a rich history

From the publication style, to the places where the paper is available, to the content in its pages, every element of the FPS Journal is a testament to the rich history and presence of Philadelphia’s Arab community.

The journal also carries forward a significant legacy — Philadelphia was home to the first Arabic-language newspaper ever published in the U.S. in 1898, called Al-Hoda. Four years later, the Lebanese founder Naoum Mokarzel moved the newspaper to New York City, where it published until 1972.

The fact that Philadelphia is where the first Arabic-language newspaper was founded is emblematic of the rich history of the city’s Arab community. In South Philadelphia, the Saint Maron Lebanese Church was founded by Lebanese immigrants in 1892, establishing an enclave in the neighborhood for the Lebanese diaspora that exists to this day. Kensington also has a strong Arab, particularly Palestinian, history and presence.

“This is a cultural newspaper, it’s really about building bridges and hearing stories from the diaspora.”

Nora Elmarzouky

“There’s so much vibrancy (in the Arab community), but we’re kind of under the radar,” Elmarzouky said.

FPS Journal picks up where Al-Hoda left off, honoring the diasporan experience and the rich and diverse cultures of the countries immigrants left behind.

“We decided to print because of the glory of printing, of paper,” said Yaroub Al-Obaidi, the other co-founder of FPS Journal. “There is a very special place for printing and books and manuscripts in most Arab countries. So this is one of the reasons we decided to print — because it’s something from our tradition.”

For the diaspora, there’s something special about picking up a physical newspaper and seeing Arabic on it.

“We feel that we have community here,” Fadaa Tarek Ali, who frequently writes for the journal, said in Arabic. “Now I want to do a radio channel — because we need to feel like we are at home.”

Bridging gaps

When Ali heard about the newspaper launching, she was imbued with a sense of responsibility.

“This was something necessary — (Americans) had the wrong perspective of Arabs, they were afraid of us,” said Ali, who came to the U.S. from Iraq in 2009. “I said it’s my responsibility to educate people about Arab culture. It shows the diversity in the Arab world. It allows people to learn more about the cultures and customs, the celebrations, the foods. It allowed for more community between Arabs and Americans.”

“We decided to print because of the glory of printing, of paper.”

Yaroub Al-Obaidi

Publishing the newspaper in both Arabic and English was intentional — a way to hold on to the culture from back home while folding it into the new home being built in Philadelphia.

“Putting the Arabic in public spaces was like, ‘We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere,’” said Elmarzouky. “This is a cultural newspaper, it’s really about building bridges and hearing stories from the diaspora.”

For Leroy Enck, a veteran of the Iraq War, FPS Journal did just that — while helping him and other veterans heal from their PTSD and emotional injuries as well.

“One of the treatments for PTSD is to put yourself in situations where traumatic memories are being triggered,” said Enck. “Trying to reckon with some of the horrors that we saw in Iraq, the newspaper has been a beautiful outlet to process some of the shame.”

Enck contributed a piece to the journal called Honeycomb, reflecting on how to see beauty and meaning among loss and grief, drawing upon his experience in active duty.

“The interactions we have had with the Middle Eastern community has aided me and others to move from that shame feeling to atonement,” Enck said. “We can’t change the past, but we can build something going forward, and that’s beautiful.”

Acknowledgment
The work produced by the Communities & Engagement desk at The Inquirer is supported by The Lenfest Institute for Journalism. Editorial content is created independently of the project's donors.