Recently, racism has become a heated topic on social media within the Sudanese community – both racism directed against us and racism that exists among us.
Over the past few months, several videos addressing racism have circulated online. One in particular, featuring an Egyptian woman verbally and racially abusing refugees of various nationalities in Egypt, including Syrians, Palestinians, and Sudanese, sparked widespread outrage. Her use of racial slurs, particularly against Sudanese women, provoked angry responses from Sudanese people around the world. Egypt hosts approximately 1.1 million registered refugees and asylum-seekers from 65 nationalities, according to UNHCR Egypt data. Sudanese are the largest group, followed by Syrians.
Soon after, a young Sudanese woman posted a video response, which also went viral for her eloquent yet hard-hitting response to the racist woman.
As I watched the response video, I remembered another video I had come across on Instagram of a young Sudanese woman calling for an end to the loaded and derogatory terms used by some Sudanese, such as habash (a term historically associated with people from Ethiopia and Eritrea, but which can also carry a discriminatory connotation) and sh’ar gurgudi (nappy hair).
This week, another video has been making the rounds, this time featuring a young Sudanese woman, Lubna Musa, known as @lubnasarchives on Instagram, who has also spoken out about racism within Sudanese society. “Unifying a country with people who refuse to be unified will never work,” she said.
After the war began, many believed that we as Sudanese would finally become united, brought together by our fight against a common enemy: the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF). The ongoing war has devastated Sudan, displaced more than 12 million people and killed an estimated 150,000 or more, while the RSF continues to face accusations of ethnic cleansing and other grave abuses against non-Arab communities in Darfur and Kordofan. Yet, more than three years later, it seems we still have not learnt the lessons.
We are discriminated against, yet we discriminate against our own people, based on colour, tribe, ethnicity, region and religion. Yes, Sudanese people can be racist too. But the issue is often more complex than racism alone. Discrimination in Sudan can manifest through ethnic — Arab, Nubian, Beja, Fur, Masalit, Zaghawa, and others — as well as tribal or clan identity and regional identity, whether from Darfur, Kordofan, Northern Sudan, Eastern Sudan, the Nuba Mountains, Blue Nile or elsewhere. Skin colour or colour-based hierarchies is another significant marker through which people can be judged and treated differently.
Understanding Racism
Racism exists across the world and has existed throughout history. Systematic racism, racialised ideologies, ethnic discrimination and other forms of identity-based persecution have contributed to some of history’s most devastating humanitarian crises, including the Armenian Genocide (1915–1917), the Holocaust (1941–1945), the Cambodian Genocide (1975–1979), and the Rwandan Genocide (1994). In Sudan, identity-based discrimination and the marginalisation of ethnic and regional communities have also contributed to cycles of violence and mass displacement. Today, the Israeli occpation of Palestinian continues to raise serious questions about discrimination, occupation, racialisation and the rights of Palestinians.
- Internalised racism: When someone adopts negative stereotypes or beliefs about their own racial or ethnic group because of broader societal attitudes or discrimination.
- In-group prejudice: Disliking or discriminating against certain groups within one’s own broader identity. In Sudan, for example, this might involve prejudice based on ethnicity, skin tone, tribal affiliation, or regional origin.
- Colourism: Bias or discrimination based on skin tone within the same racial or ethnic group. This is related to, but distinct from, racism.
- Over time, racial slurs have victimised people all around the world of all racial and ethnic groups. However, it’s mostly black people, whether by race or complexion, who have endured the most discrimination and racial slurs – whether in North America, South America, Europe, Asia and of course, Africa.
A Long History of Political Marginalisation, Discrimination and Conflict
Discrimination and racism have also played out throughout Sudanese history, becoming intertwined with political strategies, state policies and systems of marginalisation. Successive governments in Khartoum have been accused of disproportionately targeting and marginalising communities in the west and south of the country, with ethnic identity often becoming a factor in violence and displacement. These longstanding centre-periphery tensions contributed to Sudan’s civil wars, although the causes of those conflicts were complex and extended beyond ethnicity alone.
The First Sudanese Civil War (1955–1972) was fought between the central government and southern rebels seeking greater regional autonomy and political representation, eventually ending with the Addis Ababa Agreement. The Second Civil War (1983–2005) was fuelled by, among other factors, the imposition of sharia law, the erosion of southern autonomy and longstanding political and economic marginalisation. The conflict killed an estimated two million people and ultimately contributed to South Sudan’s independence in 2011.
The Darfur conflict that began in 2003 represented another devastating manifestation of Sudan’s longstanding centre-periphery divisions. Government forces and allied Janjaweed militias carried out a campaign of mass violence against predominantly non-Arab communities, including the Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa. The atrocities included killings, forced displacement and the destruction of villages, and have been widely described as ethnic cleansing and genocide.
Now, more than three years into the current war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the RSF, communities in Darfur and Kordofan continue to face ethnically targeted violence, displacement and other grave abuses. The pattern is painfully familiar.
It has become an ongoing cycle of systematic discrimination, marginalisation and violence rooted in Sudan’s unequal distribution of political power and the deeply entrenched centre-periphery divide. For many, the roots of these divisions are traced back to British colonial rule and the administrative and political structures it established before Sudan gained independence in 1956. But colonialism alone cannot explain the prejudices that continue to exist within Sudanese society today.
The Discriminatory and Derogatory Terms We Use
As we blame successive governments and political powers for their discriminatory policies and actions, we sometimes fail to recognise that we, too, have inherited and reproduced some of these beliefs. We use derogatory terms for people from particular regions, ethnic groups and nationalities.
Gharbawi or gharbawiya, literally meaning “westerner”, is commonly used to refer to people from western Sudan, including Darfur, but can carry a derogatory meaning depending on context. Similarly, habash has been used to refer to people from Ethiopia and Eritrea, but can also carry a discriminatory or derogatory connotation when used in certain contexts.
Before the war, Sudan was home to large numbers of Ethiopian and Eritrean residents and refugees, many of whom had lived in the country for years or even decades. Many worked in low-paid and physically demanding jobs and, despite their long-standing presence in Sudanese society, were often subjected to discrimination and looked down upon.
Then there is colourism — the hierarchy we create around skin tone. Sudanese Arabic contains numerous terms used to describe people’s complexions, including abyad/beda (white), gamhi/gamha (light tan), asmar/samra (brown or dark tan), and azrag/zarga or akhdar/khadra (terms that can refer to very dark or Black skin). These words are not inherently racist, and their meaning depends heavily on context, but some can become derogatory when used to demean someone.
This hierarchy of skin colour is deeply connected to Sudan’s history and to wider ideas about race, class and beauty. Sadly, as in many countries around the world, lighter skin in Sudan has often been associated with beauty and status, while darker skin can be subjected to stigma and prejudice. However, light-skinned Sudanese people can also be subjected to prejudice and derogatory terms. Words such as abyad and gamhi may simply describe complexion, while halabi/halabiya can carry a racialised or derogatory meaning depending on how and why it is used.
There are discriminatory words we hear almost daily, both in everyday conversations and across social media. Languages and dialects around the world contain derogatory terms used to describe people or communities who are perceived as different, inferior or outsiders.
One of the most documented forms of racial discrimination today is the racism faced by Black people, particularly African Americans in the US, but also Black communities around the world. In the US, one of the most widely recognised racial slurs is the N-word, a term with a long history rooted in the dehumanisation and enslavement of Black people.
Arabic, too, contains words that can become deeply offensive when used in a racialised context. Abd, which literally means “slave” or “servant”, has historically been used as a racialised term towards Black people in some Arabic-speaking societies. Similarly, khadam, meaning “servant” or “domestic worker”, can carry a derogatory connotation when directed at Black people or used to imply that they are socially inferior. The words themselves can have different meanings depending on context, but their use as racial insults reflects deeper attitudes towards race and social hierarchy.
Ending the Cycle
As we witness and experience discrimination against us, we must also confront the discrimination we inflict on others, especially our own people. As the saying goes, “hurt people hurt people”, which is a phrase often used to describe how unresolved pain, trauma or experiences of abuse can sometimes lead people to project their suffering onto others. It may help explain harmful behaviour, but it does not excuse it.
We must acknowledge the ways discrimination has affected us while also recognising the ways we may have perpetuated it. Healing from the trauma of discrimination begins with acknowledging our pain, challenging the prejudices we have inherited and reconnecting with communities where we feel safe, respected and valued. Ultimately, it is about reclaiming our wellbeing without passing our pain on to someone else.
We cannot demand an end to discrimination against Sudanese people while ignoring the discrimination that exists among Sudanese people themselves. We cannot condemn racism when it is directed at us and remain silent when it is directed at others. If we genuinely want a more united Sudan, perhaps the first step is acknowledging the prejudices we have inherited, and the ones we continue to perpetuate ourselves.
Ola Diab is the new founder and editor of 500 Words Magazine, and the deputy editor of Marhaba Information Guide, Qatar’s premier information guide. Based in Qatar, the Sudanese journalist graduated from Northwestern University in Qatar (NU-Q) in 2012 with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism and has since built a successful career in the print and digital media industry in Qatar. Find her on X (formerly Twitter) @therealoladiab or on LinkedIn.
