From the heart of the Arab world: Raseef22 English reflects on 2024

This article is part of the Raseef22 series "Between Professional and Personal Questions... Raseef22 in 2024," prepared to mark the end of the year 2024.

When I look back over the past year, I feel as though we’ve been living in a storm—a relentless whirlwind of change and loss. For Arabs, it’s been a year of grappling with painful truths about how our lives and voices are often dismissed, overshadowed, or deliberately silenced. Yet, amidst this storm, I found an anchor: my work at Raseef22.

Raseef22 has been a space where I, alongside my colleagues, worked to amplify your stories, share your experiences, and connect you with our communities at home and abroad.

As an editor and translator, this year has been a personal and professional rollercoaster. We’ve seen monumental challenges and transformative growth amongst ourselves, our work, and our English readers, while our page has gone through its share of ups and downs. Either internally, where we’ve faced the growing pains of being a developing department, or externally, where the region we cover, and where many of our own writers and editors are based, has been irrevocably shaken by wars, displacements, and irretrievable losses.

It hasn’t been easy, but throughout it all, Raseef22 English has stood firm in its mission: to be a voice for Arabs everywhere, and uncovering underreported stories in both the Arab world and in the West, while challenging dominant narratives in global media.

In a year marked by devastating conflicts and humanitarian crises, the role of Raseef22 English as an independent media platform has never been more critical. We have worked tirelessly to bring news from the Arab world to Western audiences, shedding light on the realities of life in conflict zones and the realities of living under brutal occupation and dictators. Equally, we have sought to cover the experiences of Arabs living abroad, highlighting their struggles and triumphs, and tethering them to their homeland.

The shifting perspectives of our audiences reflect the growing disillusionment with Western media narratives that often dehumanize Arabs and dismiss our suffering. This sentiment was best captured in our top social media post of the year, garnering the highest reach and the most shares on our Raseef22 English Instagram page. The post, written by Lebanese writer Lina Mounzer, reads:

“Ask any Arab what the most painful realization of the last year has been, and it is this: that we have discovered the extent of our dehumanization to such a degree that it’s impossible to function in the world in the same way.”

These words resonated deeply with many for their ability to articulate what many Arabs felt but struggled to articulate—a raw, collective pain when we realized just how little our lives are valued on the global stage.

As writer Salwa Amor aptly puts it, “We have been taught to regard the West as the moral authority, but what credentials does it really have for such a role?” Amor’s words reminded me of a story often told about Omar al-Mukhtar, the leader of the Arab native resistance against the Italian colonization of Libya in 1911. Al-Mukhtar protected two captured Italian prisoners and said, “We do not kill prisoners." When someone pointed out that their European enemies had shown them no mercy and killed their prisoners, he responded, “They are not our teachers.”

As another writer, Salwa Amor, aptly puts it, “We have been taught to regard the West as the moral authority, but what credentials does it really have for such a role?”

Amor’s words reminded me of a story often told about Omar al-Mukhtar, the leader of the Arab native resistance against the Italian colonization of Libya in 1911. Al-Mukhtar protected two captured Italian prisoners and said, “We do not kill prisoners." When someone pointed out that their European enemies had shown them no mercy and killed their prisoners, he responded, “They are not our teachers.”

This year’s realizations, which have reshaped how Arabs see themselves and their place in the world, have driven home the need for independent media that tells our stories, unfiltered by Western geopolitical agendas and xenophobic biases.

This year’s realizations, which have reshaped how Arabs see themselves and their place in the world, have driven home the need for independent media that tells our stories, unfiltered by Western geopolitical agendas and xenophobic biases.

For me, this work feels deeply personal. It’s about more than just telling stories; it’s about ensuring our realities—our struggles, joys, and everything in between—are seen and understood. What makes our work even more significant is that we’re not observing from afar—we are here, in the heart of the region, experiencing its instability firsthand.

This is why Raseef22 is more than a media platform; it’s a bridge. For Arabs and migrants in the diaspora, we want to provide our readers with a tether to home.

This isn’t just journalism for us; it’s about creating a space where our voices rise above the chaos and where our narratives, raw, unfiltered, and authentic, challenge the way that the world sees us.

Speaking truth in times of war and crisis

The year’s defining moment was undoubtedly our coverage of Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza. At a time when Western media largely ignored the realities of the Palestinian struggle or justified collective punishment, Raseef22 English stood firm in delivering the truth. Early on, when the world was still unaware of the scale of the horror, we shared testimonies from those suffering under siege and bombardment that resonated far and wide.

For me, this work feels deeply personal. It’s about more than just telling stories; it’s about ensuring our realities—our struggles, joys, and everything in between—are seen and understood. What makes our work even more significant is that we’re not observing from afar—we are here, in the heart of the region, experiencing its instability firsthand.

One of our stories featured a young woman who told Raseef22 that she was forced to tear cloth from her tent to use as a sanitary pad due to the blockade. This testimony, first published on our site and later shared on social media, went viral. Activists, journalists, and human rights organizations picked the story up, sparking conversations about the imposed siege and its effects on women.

Stories like these remind me why our work matters, evidenced by the change seen abroad. When mainstream narratives ignore or distort the truth, platforms like Raseef22 become lifelines, ensuring that the world cannot look away from the suffering of our people.

A personal connection to the stories we tell

This year’s challenges were not distant from me. My family and my loved ones have been forcibly displaced from our village on Lebanon’s southern borders since October of last year, and over the past two months, I’ve experienced additional displacement firsthand as I watched my neighborhood, village, and community bombed and uprooted.

To me, Raseef22 is more than a media platform; it’s a bridge. For Arabs and migrants in the diaspora, we want to provide our readers with a tether to home. This isn’t just journalism for us; it’s about creating a space where our voices rise above the chaos and where our narratives, raw, unfiltered, and authentic, challenge the way that the world sees us.

Balancing the weight of this personal grief with the demands of my job has been one of the hardest challenges I’ve faced. But it has also given me a deeper understanding and connection to the stories I translate. I’m not just a messenger; I’m part of the story, carrying the hope of my community into my work. Even though working under the weight of war and displacement has been far from easy, it has also been a reminder of the importance of what we do.

So, where does Raseef22 English go from here?

As we move forward, Raseef22 English remains committed to being a space where Arabs can see themselves and share their struggles—a space where we can tell our own stories, demand justice, and imagine a better future for ourselves to work toward. We will continue to work with writers who intimately understand the complexities of our region and its people.

This year has shown us the immense challenges we face—but also the transformative impact we can have when we persist in the face of danger. I’ve seen firsthand the power of our words and how they resonate with people across the world. We’ve also seen the gaps that we still need to fill. This is a new era for Arabs everywhere, one defined by a growing demand for dignity, justice, and honest representation. I am proud to be part of a media platform that is rising to meet you at this particular moment that will undoubtedly define the direction of our collective future in the Middle East and North Africa.

For me, being part of this journey has been both a responsibility and an honor. As we step into the future, I am proud of what we have achieved and hopeful for what is yet to come. Together, we are shaping the narrative of ourselves and for ourselves—one of resilience, resistance, and shared renewal for the Arab world.