The ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas has brought many complex issues to light, but one that remains rarely discussed is the relationship between Arab Palestinians and black Palestinians.
Over time it has become increasingly clear black Palestinians face discrimination and racism within their own communities. As a black man, I can’t help but wonder how can I stand in solidarity with people who, if I lived among them, might have discriminated against me?
The history of slavery in the Arab world is often overlooked, specially in discussions about the African diaspora. While much attention is given to the transatlantic slave trade, the Arab slave trade, which began as early as the 7th century, was equally, if not more, devastating to African history. Some scholars argue it may have been more destructive. The Arab slave trade began after general Ameer ibn al-Aas conquered Egypt in 639 CE. His army of 4,000 soldiers ushered in a long period of African enslavement across many regions.
How can I stand with Palestinians who, in many ways, would have stood against me if I lived in their midst?
The trade evolved into sub-trades, such as the Andalusian, Barbary and trans-Saharan slave trades. Over the centuries, millions of Africans were enslaved and transported across the Arab world.
The most recent example of this legacy occurred in 2017 when reports emerged of African migrants being sold in slave markets in Libya. It is the latest chapter in a centuries-long history of African enslavement.
In Gaza today, a community of black Palestinians exists, estimated at around 11,000 and known as Al Abeed, which translates to "slaves". The community is a painful reminder of the historical and ongoing marginalisation of black people in the Arab world.
Black Palestinians make up about 1% of Gaza’s population of two million, many of whom trace their roots to Ghana, Egypt and Sudan. Many were taken to Palestine during the Arab slave conquests from the 7th century to serve their Arab masters. Another wave of African migrants arrived in the late 19th century, working as merchants or soldiers under Ottoman rule. While there are no formal laws enforcing their oppression, black Palestinians face subtle racism: they are the least likely to be considered for jobs, are socially isolated and often face restrictions in marriage, specially with Arab or lighter-skinned Palestinians.
In South Africa, after the Phoenix massacre in 2021, the Arab and Indian communities refused to take responsibility for the deaths of black people killed by the Indian community during the July uprisings. The communities also refused to support Palestinian-aligned political parties led by black South Africans, instead backing the DA and ANC, which took a more moderate stance on race and Palestine. The trend highlights that support for Palestine among Arabs often does not extend to black people fighting for justice in their communities.
In the US, Palestinians and other Arab communities have vocally opposed the country's support for Israel, particularly under President Joe Biden's administration. However, their opposition took a troubling turn in the 2024 elections when many Arab voters chose to support Donald Trump, a pro-Israel Republican, over vice president Kamala Harris, a black woman and the Democratic candidate. In doing so, they rejected a woman of colour while aligning with a candidate whose policies were more sympathetic to Israel, despite his history of racism and Islamophobia. The decision exposed the racial dynamics shaping the relationship between Arab Palestinians and black people.
On college campuses, the dynamics are similarly troubling. Many student organisations, including the Palestinian Student Organisation, protest against Israeli during "Israel Apartheid Week", aligning with the broader struggle for Palestinian self-determination. However, when it comes time to support black student leaders in their struggles—whether for leadership positions or tuition-free education — the same Arab and Indian organisations often remain silent. The lack of solidarity is specially evident when Arab students vote exclusively for candidates from their own ethnic group, even when those candidates are not aligned with broader racial justice movements. The black student on campus is often used merely as a number, supporting causes that fail to support them in return.
A telling example can be seen in the relationship between the Muslim Students’ Association (MSA) and the Progressive Youth Alliance on campus. MSA often voted for its own members regardless of their stance on racial justice, while disregarding black candidates from organisations such as the the ANC Youth League, the Young Communist League and the South African Students Congress, even when all candidates were featured together in the same campaign material. The pattern of exclusion reinforces the notion that solidarity with black people is often contingent on ethnic and political convenience, rather than genuine commitment to justice.
It’s time for all of us, whether black or Palestinian, Arab or Jewish, to confront the uncomfortable truths about race, solidarity and the legacies of slavery that continue to shape our world today.
Israel's covert missions to rescue Ethiopian Jews from persecution and terror in Arab communities in Ethiopia are a testament to its commitment to protecting its citizens. Between 1984 and 1985, and again in 1991 after the fall of the Derg regime, Israel successfully airlifted about 22,000 Ethiopian Jews to safety.
To facilitate their integration, Israel has implemented programmes celebrating Ethiopian culture, promoting political representation and supporting community organisations.
While Israel is not immune to challenges such as discrimination and socioeconomic disparities, it provides a platform for activists and organisations to address the issues, a privilege not afforded to Africans in many Middle Eastern and Arab countries.
I acknowledge discrimination against black people is a global issue, but I also recognise countries that actively work to eradicate or alleviate it.
For me the question remains: how am I, as a black man, expected to support a cause often tied to a community that has historically excluded me? How can I stand with Palestinians who, in many ways, would have stood against me if I lived in their midst?
The struggle for Palestinian liberation is important, but so is the struggle for black liberation. It’s time for all of us, whether black or Palestinian, Arab or Jewish, to confront the uncomfortable truths about race, solidarity and the legacies of slavery that continue to shape our world today.
• Kamohelo Chauke is a community and student activist at the University of the Witwatersrand, where he has held many leadership positions, including serving as a Student Representative Council member from 2021 to 2023. His activism is deeply rooted in South African history, focusing on addressing the injustices of inequality in society. He believes true freedom is synonymous with peace.
For opinion and analysis consideration, email Opinions@timeslive.co.za
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