We Arabs have looked down on our mother tongue for quite some time. English has become the default movement of our lips, making us seem, somehow, smarter. It is saddening to hear fewer metaphors we can not translate, fewer words with rolling r’s, and fewer calls to Allah.

The melody of our language is fading from daily conversations as young adults, and even those younger, chase the appeal of a modern tongue. Whether the topic is food or politics, it is unpleasant to hear Arabic words butchered with strings of English vowels and consonants.

I have hit a breaking point trying to speak Arabic with Arabs. I am tired of the judgments towards varying dialects, accents, and pronunciations. I have had enough of the stereotypes that come with being a certain “kind” of Arab. The prejudice towards specific Arab populations is a conversation for another day, but one thing is certain — no version of Arabic is superior or inferior to another.

When did we decide that speaking the language of our ancestors makes us more conservative, close-minded, or less cool?

Our linguistic prejudice towards Arabic is absurd. Our language is rich in poetic beauty, global relevance, and a vast vocabulary. As one of the most widely spoken Semitic languages, its intricate structure offers powerful cognitive benefits. By speaking this beautiful language, Arabs can connect more deeply with our cultural heritage, traditions, music, and literature.

Forget all that textbook talk — don’t you want to take pride in being an Arab? There is nothing more pivotal than embracing your Arab identity. Sure, you can claim to possess that identity without speaking Arabic, but it is difficult. Speaking your native language profoundly shapes your ethnic identity, because language is the most powerful tool of self-expression. Without it, how could we ever share with the world the beauty of being Arab?

Arabic is a living entity. I see her as a mother, comforting her children with words. She reads to them the stories of our ancestors and our past. She gave us (Fairuz)[https://www.britannica.com/biography/Fairouz], the beloved Lebanese singer who became an icon across the Middle East. She pulled (Khalil Gibran)[https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/kahlil-gibran] out of his shell and into the world as a literary legend. What are we without the values she has passed on to us?

Arabic is a melody, but she is also the struggles and triumphs of millions. She lives in all of us, yet we are choosing to silence her. It is unfair to adopt a black-and-white attitude toward language. We do not have to choose between Arabic and other languages. We have the privilege to learn about ourselves through speaking Arabic — and that alone is enough.

This is not a call to discourage Arabs from learning new languages. In fact, please do! Learning languages is a uniquely human skill great for the brain and for global connection. Neither is this a critique of the English language. It’s a universal superpower that connects us with the world, and I take pride in being a fluent English speaker.

Rather, I write this as a reminder to fellow Arabs: we already speak a beautiful language with deep roots. It deserves to stay. So, let’s remember that she is a treasure, a source of pride, and a part of who we are.