Henry Abbott

When I came to the U.S. from Syria a little more than a year ago, I knew I’d have to adjust to a few things: the cold Maine winters, the endless small talk and, of course, the inevitable questions about how much better life must be in a “first-world” country. From casual comments about how lucky I am to escape the war, to invasive questions about my homeland’s destruction, the reality of being Arab in America has meant constantly defending my identity and pushing back against stereotypes. I’ve gotten used to this kind of ignorance at Bowdoin—one awkward conversation at a time. But I certainly didn’t expect to see it amplified by one of Bowdoin’s own publications. Yet here we are.

The Bowdoin Harpoon’s recent article, “Arabic 1101: A Course in Deep Throating,” mocking Arabic language classes is not just tasteless; it’s a glaring example of Orientalism—a racist framework that views Arab and Muslim cultures as backward and inferior. Edward Said’s work on Orientalism explains this mentality, where the “West” asserts its supposed superiority over the “East,” reducing entire regions to caricatures for Western amusement.

The Harpoon’s portrayal of Arabic as something absurd and laughable fits perfectly into this colonialist mindset. The article felt like a reenactment of centuries of Western distortion and dehumanization of Arab culture.

Arabs are often portrayed in the Western imagination as mystical, exotic and fundamentally “other”—a fascination that reduces us to cultural oddities. This fetishization of Arab culture turns our language, customs and identities into something to be consumed rather than respected.

In the article, the classroom’s focus on Arabic pronunciation is twisted into an absurd spectacle for the amusement of outsiders. It is yet another example of how Arabs are dehumanized and simplified into mere entertainment. Rather than seeing Arabic as a complex and meaningful language, the author sees it as something foreign and strange, something to be gawked at rather than understood. This is Orientalism in action—placing Arab culture on display as if it were some distant, bizarre performance, instead of recognizing it as a living, breathing part of people’s identities.

What strikes me most is the sheer lack of self-awareness in this piece, especially since we’re in Maine—a state so far removed from the realities faced by those living in the Arab world. The attempt at humor falls flat because it relies on mocking what they clearly do not understand. The Arabic language, with its deep cultural and historical roots, is reduced to a joke, and the classroom—a space meant for learning and connection—is turned into a scene of humiliation. The mockery of our phonetics, the exaggerated focus on the professor’s instructions—all of it paints Arabic as something fundamentally “other,” foreign and laughable.

The article reveals an utter failure to recognize the significance of language as a carrier of identity, especially for those of us whose homelands have been ravaged by war, colonialism and misrepresentation in Western media. For me, Arabic is not just a subject I assist with as a learning assistant; it is the language I speak with my family, the language of my heritage and the thread that connects me to my homeland, which I haven’t been able to return to.

Yet over the past year, I’ve experienced countless moments of being “othered.” From the stares I get when I speak Arabic on the phone, to the assumptions people make about me when they hear where I’m from, the message is always clear: I am foreign. I am different. I don’t belong. The Harpoon’s article only reinforces this narrative. It says that my language is strange, that my culture is absurd, that my very being is something to be ridiculed. For this to be reduced to a joke is an absurd assertion of Western superiority.

I’m no stranger to humor—I’ve often turned to it as a way to cope with the realities of being Arab, especially in a country that seems determined to other me. I’ve joked with my friends here at Bowdoin about the war back home, making light of our realities as Arabs. Among Syrians, we use humor and satire to navigate the absurdity and tragedy of our lives. Humor, in that context, is survival. But what the Harpoon did wasn’t humor; it was simply racist.

What is especially upsetting is that this piece was written and approved at a time when anti-Arab rhetoric is growing louder across Europe and the United States. During times when people in Palestine and Lebanon are being subject to genocide, the article fails to understand the weight of words and their power to reinforce stereotypes that fuel discrimination and dehumanization.

As a campus that prides itself on fostering global understanding and inclusivity, Bowdoin must do better. Publishing this kind of content is not just tone-deaf; it is a contradiction of the very values we claim to uphold.

This article doesn’t use satire to expose ignorance, challenge stereotypes or call out behaviors. Instead, it mocks something it doesn’t even try to understand. This isn’t about challenging norms or using humor to cope. This is about making Arab identity into a joke for the consumption of the uninformed Western audience. The truth is, the few Arabs that exist on campus are not here to entertain misconceptions or laugh along with stereotypes about us. We’re here to be seen, to be heard and to demand better.