June 4, 2019: the day after the Khartoum Massacre.
Phone calls between relatives are wiring through cities, states, and time zones. Our family is trying to account for our loved ones; perhaps lost, perhaps detained, perhaps left for dead.
Sudanese civilians began a revolution in Atbara in December 2018, followed by the historic Khartoum sit-ins in April 2019.
People of all ages, gender, tribes, and socio-economic backgrounds gathered at the military headquarters for almost two months in protest for a civilian-led democracy. Walls were painted with murals and slogans rang as chants.
At this time, poetry, music, and art were lifelines for the activists. Every melody and rhythm had been reverberating with one hope: change.
Sudanese civilians successfully overthrew Omar Al Bashir, a 30-year dictator, earlier in the spring. Now the future of Sudan is unknown.
It was the closest we had come to a democratic, civilian-led government, and it caught the world’s attention. Iconic imagery of Sudanese women in white toubs leading the revolution on car hoods and bridges circulated the internet.
Even Rihanna changed her Instagram picture in honor of famed martyr Mohamed Mattar, whose favorite shade of blue is now synonymous with the revolution.
The world cared and it felt like we’d finally have the support we needed to rebuild. But that support was a fad. And like all fads do, it faded and the world moved on.
The finish line, once so near, had blurred in the shifting sands of the algorithm.
In June 2019, the corrupt regimes of the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Janjaweed (now rebranded as the Rapid Support Forces, or the “RSF”), dispersed the crowd with heavy gunfire and horrific violence. An estimate of over 100 murdered, dozens of bodies found mutilated, disfigured in the Nile—and millions stripped of hope.
My family members searched for my cousins and aunts who had spent weeks at the sit-ins. They were eventually found bloody and bruised, but thankfully alive.
Cue April 2023, the official start of the Sudan war—although truthfully it feels as though there has been war on our people for centuries, since colonization.
This war isn’t an accident, or a coincidence. It’s been called a civil war, a proxy war, but truly it is an intentional silencing of liberation efforts by global leaders who fear collective unity and peace. The RSF, who consistently ravage the country from Darfur to Khartoum, are pawns of a larger scheme: divide and conquer, destabilize and colonize.
Is it a coincidence that Sudan—despite the displacement of 14 million Sudanese people, 17 million children out of schools, being the world’s largest humanitarian crisis including famine, genocide, sexual based slavery and violence, and the death of an estimated 150,000 people—a country with a large majority of Black Africans, Black Arabic-speakers, and Black Muslims, is overlooked?
A country like Sudan, so perfectly aligned within Eastern Africa and within proximity of the Middle East, resurfaced their independence and autonomy only to have it suppressed again. This time the suppression is not just violent dictators but by global citizens who turn away from the beauty and resilience of the Sudanese people.
The Muslim and Arab community has failed Sudan. Since 1965, Sudan has been a part of the Arab League and is a Muslim majority country. Muslim and Arab institutions hold a responsibility to amplify Sudanese people.
We are not just an African country who keeps fighting ourselves. We are an African country trying to save ourselves, but the world keeps digging us deeper in the hole. We have our engineers, artists, physicians, philosophers, and more. We just need a platform and someone to care.
We are only human, our small hearts can only carry so many injustices and causes. Selective activism is understandable, but intentionally ignoring Sudan is not. Our causes are intertwined because we are.
This is not a competition nor is it “oppression olympics”. Our causes and demands have always been blended.
Mainstream media has decided our communities’ causes are not important, thus thrusting us to be media for our own people, documenting all atrocities.
I implore all of us to be the media.
I challenge our community to not continue the Western legacy of selective activism and begin implementing within our community.
As Muslims the Quran declares, “O humanity! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may ˹get to˺ know one another” Surah Al-Hujurat Ayat 13 (49:13 Quran).
I have sat in mosques praying for moral guidance and understanding from Islamic scholars and scrolled through Islamic podcasts in search of solidarity. I am yearning for our MENA leaders, whether Islamic or secular, to find courage to speak on behalf of Sudan.
I grieve within the Sudanese community with music from our artists like Nadine El Roubi and G-SALIH.
I find solitude with our Muslim leaders like Imam Ammar AlShukry and community organizations like Nile Nights and Sunduq Al Sudan. The only prerequisite for standing with Sudan is compassion not a Sudanese identity.
Are our deaths justifiable? Do we deserve this? Is our land too Black? Do we not deserve to keep our resources and gold? Is it because we do not appear to have “one” clear oppressor?
El-Fasher, within Darfur, is currently experiencing an intense siege by Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Satellite images show mass grave sites, erected walls to make sure civilians are trapped, extreme violence, and extreme famine. There are reports of sexual slavery as well as preventable diseases like cholera.
Whether consciously or unconsciously, racial discrimination plays a substantial role in our judgements and decisions. Ignoring Sudan and Darfur more specifically is not accidental but showcases a systemic issue that those with darker complexion are disproportionately disenfranchised.
At times, I’ve heard folks’ ignorance or brush off their silence with the “it’s complicated war” trope. The excuse of a complicated war is truly unacceptable. There is nothing complicated about 14 million people displaced and 17 million children out of schools.
We are not asking for geopolitical analysis nor solutions from everyone. Sudanese people are struggling but also resilient and innovative.
The backbone of Sudan’s humanitarian aid right now are Emergency Response Rooms across the country.
They are localized non-political youth led groups throughout localities that provide evacuation routes, soup kitchens, health services, and women hygiene kits throughout the region.
Youth are leading the charge and completing the tasks of global agencies and held accountable by their own communities.
So, no, you do not need to be an expert or be a savior for Sudan. We already have those.
We just need you to stop ignoring us. Your silence is the deadliest weapon.
CommentaryPOLITICS
The War In Sudan Is Not “Forgotten.” It Is Actively Ignored.
June 4, 2019: the day after the Khartoum Massacre.
Phone calls between relatives are wiring through cities, states, and time zones. Our family is trying to account for our loved ones; perhaps lost, perhaps detained, perhaps left for dead.
Sudanese civilians began a revolution in Atbara in December 2018, followed by the historic Khartoum sit-ins in April 2019.
People of all ages, gender, tribes, and socio-economic backgrounds gathered at the military headquarters for almost two months in protest for a civilian-led democracy. Walls were painted with murals and slogans rang as chants.
At this time, poetry, music, and art were lifelines for the activists. Every melody and rhythm had been reverberating with one hope: change.
Sudanese civilians successfully overthrew Omar Al Bashir, a 30-year dictator, earlier in the spring. Now the future of Sudan is unknown.
It was the closest we had come to a democratic, civilian-led government, and it caught the world’s attention. Iconic imagery of Sudanese women in white toubs leading the revolution on car hoods and bridges circulated the internet.
Even Rihanna changed her Instagram picture in honor of famed martyr Mohamed Mattar, whose favorite shade of blue is now synonymous with the revolution.
The world cared and it felt like we’d finally have the support we needed to rebuild. But that support was a fad. And like all fads do, it faded and the world moved on.
The finish line, once so near, had blurred in the shifting sands of the algorithm.
In June 2019, the corrupt regimes of the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Janjaweed (now rebranded as the Rapid Support Forces, or the “RSF”), dispersed the crowd with heavy gunfire and horrific violence. An estimate of over 100 murdered, dozens of bodies found mutilated, disfigured in the Nile—and millions stripped of hope.
My family members searched for my cousins and aunts who had spent weeks at the sit-ins. They were eventually found bloody and bruised, but thankfully alive.
Cue April 2023, the official start of the Sudan war—although truthfully it feels as though there has been war on our people for centuries, since colonization.
This war isn’t an accident, or a coincidence. It’s been called a civil war, a proxy war, but truly it is an intentional silencing of liberation efforts by global leaders who fear collective unity and peace. The RSF, who consistently ravage the country from Darfur to Khartoum, are pawns of a larger scheme: divide and conquer, destabilize and colonize.
Is it a coincidence that Sudan—despite the displacement of 14 million Sudanese people, 17 million children out of schools, being the world’s largest humanitarian crisis including famine, genocide, sexual based slavery and violence, and the death of an estimated 150,000 people—a country with a large majority of Black Africans, Black Arabic-speakers, and Black Muslims, is overlooked?
A country like Sudan, so perfectly aligned within Eastern Africa and within proximity of the Middle East, resurfaced their independence and autonomy only to have it suppressed again. This time the suppression is not just violent dictators but by global citizens who turn away from the beauty and resilience of the Sudanese people.
The Muslim and Arab community has failed Sudan. Since 1965, Sudan has been a part of the Arab League and is a Muslim majority country. Muslim and Arab institutions hold a responsibility to amplify Sudanese people.
We are not just an African country who keeps fighting ourselves. We are an African country trying to save ourselves, but the world keeps digging us deeper in the hole. We have our engineers, artists, physicians, philosophers, and more. We just need a platform and someone to care.
We are only human, our small hearts can only carry so many injustices and causes. Selective activism is understandable, but intentionally ignoring Sudan is not. Our causes are intertwined because we are.
This is not a competition nor is it “oppression olympics”. Our causes and demands have always been blended.
Mainstream media has decided our communities’ causes are not important, thus thrusting us to be media for our own people, documenting all atrocities.
I implore all of us to be the media.
I challenge our community to not continue the Western legacy of selective activism and begin implementing within our community.
As Muslims the Quran declares, “O humanity! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may ˹get to˺ know one another” Surah Al-Hujurat Ayat 13 (49:13 Quran).
I have sat in mosques praying for moral guidance and understanding from Islamic scholars and scrolled through Islamic podcasts in search of solidarity. I am yearning for our MENA leaders, whether Islamic or secular, to find courage to speak on behalf of Sudan.
I grieve within the Sudanese community with music from our artists like Nadine El Roubi and G-SALIH.
I find solitude with our Muslim leaders like Imam Ammar AlShukry and community organizations like Nile Nights and Sunduq Al Sudan. The only prerequisite for standing with Sudan is compassion not a Sudanese identity.
Are our deaths justifiable? Do we deserve this? Is our land too Black? Do we not deserve to keep our resources and gold? Is it because we do not appear to have “one” clear oppressor?
El-Fasher, within Darfur, is currently experiencing an intense siege by Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Satellite images show mass grave sites, erected walls to make sure civilians are trapped, extreme violence, and extreme famine. There are reports of sexual slavery as well as preventable diseases like cholera.
Whether consciously or unconsciously, racial discrimination plays a substantial role in our judgements and decisions. Ignoring Sudan and Darfur more specifically is not accidental but showcases a systemic issue that those with darker complexion are disproportionately disenfranchised.
At times, I’ve heard folks’ ignorance or brush off their silence with the “it’s complicated war” trope. The excuse of a complicated war is truly unacceptable. There is nothing complicated about 14 million people displaced and 17 million children out of schools.
We are not asking for geopolitical analysis nor solutions from everyone. Sudanese people are struggling but also resilient and innovative.
The backbone of Sudan’s humanitarian aid right now are Emergency Response Rooms across the country.
They are localized non-political youth led groups throughout localities that provide evacuation routes, soup kitchens, health services, and women hygiene kits throughout the region.
Youth are leading the charge and completing the tasks of global agencies and held accountable by their own communities.
So, no, you do not need to be an expert or be a savior for Sudan. We already have those.
We just need you to stop ignoring us. Your silence is the deadliest weapon.
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