Fuck your darija. We speak Tunisian.
The language of the Tunisian people is denied recognition, not only as an official language, but as a language at all. It is dismissed as “darija,” a mere slang. The central thesis of this analysis is that Tunisians should advocate for the official status of their own language. The common misconception that Tunisian is a dialect of Arabic is as historically and linguistically flawed as claiming that French or Spanish are simply dialects of Latin. Indeed, the linguistic distance between Tunisian and Peninsular Arabic exceeds that of recognized separate languages like German and Danish. This essay will deconstruct the baseless justifications for maintaining Arabic’s official status.
The oppression begins with the word itself: “Darija.” This is not a simple linguistic descriptor, but an ontological assignment designed to cast our language as a corrupted and vulgar form of Classical Arabic. Accepting this label is an act of self-alienation, an agreement to one’s own inferiority. The depth of this linguistic hierarchy is exposed by a simple comparison. In English and other European languages, “Darija” is defined as a regional variant of Arabic; a dialect. In Arabic, however, the definition exposes its pejorative core, equating it directly with “slang” and defining it as the use of “informal words and expressions that are not considered eloquent (Fusha).” […] “but are considered acceptable in certain social circles.” By its very definition, the word relegates our tongue to the level of street talk, inherently disqualifying it from intellectual, cultural, or official life. This is a conceptual prison. It is time we break free. The language of Tunisia is Tunisian. A unique and sophisticated language that has evolved far beyond its Arabic roots to embrace a rich history of its own.
I don’t understand who decided to translate “darija” as “dialect.” Was it a politically correct maneuver or the error of an ignorant translator? Either way, the choice is linguistically wrong. The only accurate translation for “Darija” is “slang,” and even that word fails to capture its dismissive weight in Arabic. The actual Arabic word for “dialect” is “Lahja” (لهجة), a term used for legitimate regional variations, like those spoken across the Arabian Peninsula.
Let’s face it: this was never a mistake. Maintaining Tunisian at the rank of “darija” is a calculated political choice. A form of identity house arrest designed to sentence us to be a nation of natives speaking a patois. It is a symbolic violence disguised as “scientific rationality” to perpetuate a fraud. Every time you accept the label of “darija,” you consent to your own subjugation; you internalize the lie that you are inferior. We were all born into this rigged game. But who among us wants to be a willing player? Not me. And not you.
So, the issue of the Tunisian language is not linguistic; it is political to its very core. This is not a technical debate for academics but a history of domination playing out in real-time. An inherited power dynamic between empires and their subjects. The modern Tunisian is trapped in a cultural pincer movement. From one direction presses Western hegemony, the legacy of Rome and Christianity. From the other, the phantom of an Arab-Muslim empire demands its own binding allegiance, threatening to erase what is uniquely ours.
Faced with this cultural dispossession, fleeing to French or English can seem like an act of intellectual survival. But it is a mutilated survival. The intellectual becomes alienated, thinking in a language that is not their own, creating a profound cultural schizophrenia. They purchase individual recognition at the price of collective abandonment.
But what about those who stay? For them, the mandate is simple: “Serve and shut up.” Make no mistake; this is not an unfortunate byproduct of the system. It is the system’s intended function. A person’s speech, confined to a “slang,” is instantly disqualified. “How can a speaker of a vulgar tongue possibly construct complex thought?” they ask. It is the classic colonial argument, now turned inward.
Deprived of a language for nuance, all that remains is the scream. Anger and aggression become the only available outlets. Worse, the system creates the very conditions that prove its prejudice right. Orphaned by its intellectuals, the language itself begins to necrotize. It ceases to evolve, specializing only in expressing survival and frustration, becoming the slang of suffering. And this fate is not for one person alone; it is for all of us. Because a nation whose elite thinks in a foreign language is a nation with no future.
So, that is the diagnosis. But when you try to turn this understanding into action, you hit a wall of automated excuses designed to justify your own erasure. You can bring up cases like Creole or Hebrew, but the question that truly breaks the system is much closer to home.
Just ask: “And what about Maltese?”
Suddenly, the entire structure of their logic shatters. The obscene truth is laid bare. Could Europe have tolerated an officially Arabic-speaking nation within its borders? The very idea is grotesque. The defining difference between Tunisian and Maltese is not linguistic, but a choice of allegiance. The Maltese performed the required gesture: they embraced Christianity and the Latin script. In return for this civilizational surrender, their language was laundered, their identity was symbolically “whitewashed,” and they were let in.
In that moment of clarity, a Koranic verse sheds its theological skin to reveal a cold, hard political truth: “And never will the Jews or the Christians approve of you until you follow their way of life…” (2:120). This isn’t about converting religions, as some might claim; it’s about power. It’s the timeless observation that acceptance is always conditional on assimilation. You are not invited to the table as you are; you are invited only once you have become a reflection of them.
But lucidity is a wound, and intellectual honesty demands we turn the scalpel on ourselves. And here we must be precise. Is the demand for submission not the product of a hegemonic, politicized version of Muslim orthodoxy? One that commands submission not just to a universal faith, but to a particular Arab-centric codex?
This pressure to equate “Muslim” with “Arab” is a form of internal colonialism, a fatal conflation that leads to identity necrosis. We must untangle the two. History provides a clear verdict: Islam as a faith can weave itself into the fabric of a people’s culture, preserving their unique identity. In stark contrast, Arabization as a political project is simply colonization. Its historical footprint is one of cultural replacement. It is a historical dead end, an endeavor doomed to fail unless it annihilates the very people it seeks to convert.
It becomes clear, then, that the verse is a warning: Islam cannot demand self-erasure. To be Muslim cannot mean one must become Arab. That is the ultimate hypocrisy. Escaping one master only to pledge allegiance to another.
The conclusion, therefore, is not a debate but a duty: to make Tunisian an official language. This isn’t a dream. It is a political reality waiting for the will to enact it. And that will is already here. Despite the official narrative, Tunisian is not a future project; it is a present reality. It is the language of our films, our food, our songs, our stories.
Everything that makes us who we are is expressed in Tunisian. So where will the courage for this act come from? It will not be handed down to us. It must come from us. It is the courage of a people who act, not because they wish to “fix” their language, but because they love it as it is, and refuse to let it be silenced any longer.
We once showed the world that a people united could overthrow a tyrant with a single word: “Dégage.” The time has come for us to say, with one voice: “Fuck your darija. We speak Tunisian.”
PS. My apologies for the profanity. Then again what else would you expect from someone whose mother tongue is dismissed as “vulgar slang”?