Hip-hop acts as a living archive, a tool of protest, memory, and storytelling, capturing both personal and collective experiences. Palestine itself is a fragmented space, divided geographically and politically, yet music serves as a thread connecting these realities. From Gaza to the West Bank, and from the diaspora to cities around the world, Palestinian rap bridges generations, languages, and cultures, revealing the resilience, creativity, and complexity of its people. Today more than ever, paying attention to Palestinian rap is a way to listen to voices historically overlooked and to recognize their connection to broader struggles for global justice and racial equity.

Voices From Within: Rap under occupation

Gaza

MC Abdul, born and raised in Gaza, gained international attention as a teenage rapper with viral tracks like Shouting At The Wall. His music is performed in Palestinian Arabic and addresses the daily realities of life under occupation, including the trauma of conflict, limitations on freedom, and resilience of youth. Starting his career around 2020, Abdul has become a symbol of how Palestinian youth use rap as archive, voice, and resistance, translating their lived experiences into a language that resonates both locally and globally, exemplifying how the younger generation in Gaza channels the immediacy of their environment into music, bridging generational gaps and connecting the Palestine lived with global audiences.

West Bank

Shabjdeed is a Palestinian rapper from Kafr ‘Aqab, currently based in Ramallah. Active since 2017, he is a leading figure in underground Palestinian hip-hop and a member of the collective BLTNM. His lyrics focus on the daily life of Palestinians in the West Bank, using playful Arabic wordplay, thick accents, and rapid delivery to depict generational experiences rather than directly discussing historical events or occupation. Notable releases include Carlo (2017), Hmlana (2018), and the Jdeed series (2019), as well as his album Sindibad el Ward (2019) and single Amrikkka (2020), with over 14 million streamings on Spotify.

Al Nather (Mohammad Masrouji) is a Palestinian rapper, music producer, and songwriter from Ramallah, active since 2014. He is a key figure in the BLTNM collective and has collaborated with artists like Shabjdeed, El Rass, and Synaptik. Known for his innovative production and bold lyrical style, Al Nather addresses Palestinian social struggles and street realities, blending experimental sounds with Arabic hip-hop. Notable projects include the albums Sindibad Al Ward (2019) and Fi Swat (2024). He also hosts a monthly radio show, MashALLAH w/ Al Nather, presenting international experimental audio and reflecting on events such as the Gaza war.

Daboor is a Jerusalemite rapper, active since 2020. His debut single Liter Black received wide acclaim for its raw talent and distinctive style, and he soon joined BLTNM Records. Performing in Palestinian Arabic, Daboor’s lyrics tackle the violence of the occupation, while his delivery mirrors it with rapid, staccato bursts. His music explores resistance, daily life under occupation, and the tensions of identity, reflecting the realities of Palestinians living in Jerusalem. His single Inn Ann, with Shabjdeed, released in 2020, has over 15 million streamings on Spotify and over 100 million in YouTube.

Fawzi is a Ramallah-based Palestinian rapper known for his idiosyncratic style, avoiding autotune in favor of raw reverb and echo. His relentless flow gained the attention of the BLTNM collective, leading to the release of Ma6A6 (“elastic” in Arabic), produced by Al Nather, mastered by Hiba Kadri, with creative direction by Shabmouri. His music captures the confusion and angst of Palestinians “born in the Intifada”, combining raw delivery with themes of urban life, resistance, and generational experience.

Muqata’a (born in Tucson, USA) is a Palestinian electronic musician, rapper, DJ, and hip-hop producer currently based in Ramallah, West Bank. Raised in a Palestinian family that moved from Tucson to Nicosia and then Amman, he eventually settled in Ramallah, where he co-founded the musical collective Ramallah Underground in 2003 with Basel Abbas and Stormtrap. Active internationally, Muqata’a has performed at festivals such as Sónar Barcelona, Unsound Warsaw, and Future East Berlin, blending experimental beats, drum and bass, trip hop, jungle rhythms, traditional Arabic music, and field recordings from occupied Palestine. His work reflects the Palestinian lived experience, cultural resistance, and the intersection of experimental music with urban hip-hop.

‘48 Palestinians

Formed in Lod and Acre in the late 1990s, DAM is the pioneering Palestinian hip-hop group inside Israel. The three members sing in Arabic, Hebrew, and English, addressing issues of racism, identity, politics, and historical memory. Their music connects the struggles of Palestinians in Israel to global movements for resistance and social justice, from Bronx hip-hop to anti-apartheid songs. Recurring themes include discrimination, marginalization, and identity construction. The track Meen Erhabe? combines satire and direct critique, establishing DAM as an enduring reference point for subsequent generations of Palestinian artists.

Tamer Nafar, the leader of DAM from Lod, has cemented his role as a cultural activist and voice of Palestinian resistance since the late 1990s. His career spans music, film, and cultural advocacy, bringing the underground Palestinian scene to international stages. His lyrics explore dual identity, social injustice, and political resistance, reflecting the experience of Palestinians living in Israel while maintaining a connection to historical Palestine.

Maysa Daw is a Palestinian indie musician, singer-songwriter, and the newest member of DAM, the pioneering Palestinian hip-hop group. Influenced by rock, hip-hop, soul, and neo-jazz, she fuses multiple genres while exploring personal, interpersonal, and collective experiences from her complex perspective on reality. Daw completed her music studies in 2016 and released her debut album Between City Walls in 2017. As part of DAM, signed to Cooking Vinyl, she continues to develop new music while performing solo with musicians Issa Khoury (drums) and Shadi Awidat (bass), creating a distinctive style that moves fluidly between calm, slow, rapid, and pounding rhythms.

Voices Beyond: Diaspora, exile & return through sound

UK

Lowkey (Kareem Dennis) is a British-Iraqi rapper and activist from London. He began rapping at age twelve and gained early recognition through mixtapes released before he was 18. Known for his politically charged lyrics, Lowkey addresses Palestinian liberation, social justice, and anti-imperialism, collaborating with artists like DAM, Shadia Mansour, and Narcy. His albums include Dear Listener (2008) and Soundtrack to the Struggle (2011), with later works continuing to explore global political issues. His track Long Live Palestine exemplifies how diaspora rap can act as both witness and bridge, linking inherited Palestine with lived global realities, and resonating across generations of activists and listeners.

Shadia Mansour is a British-Palestinian rapper, known as the “First Lady of Arabic Hip Hop.” Born in London to Christian Palestinian parents from Haifa and Nazareth, she began performing at Palestinian protest rallies as a child. Active since 2003, Mansour raps in Arabic and English, blending politically charged lyrics with traditional Arab influences. Her songs often critique Israel’s occupation of Palestine, highlight Palestinian nationalism, and addressing women’s empowerment. Collaborations include artists such as DAM, Lowkey, Narcy, and Ana Tijoux. Mansour performs wearing a traditional thobe and considers her music part of a “musical intifada,” merging cultural heritage with modern hip-hop activism.

Tarek Abu Kweik, known as El Far3i, is a Palestinian-Jordanian rapper, singer, songwriter, and drummer, member of the ‘shamstep’ band 47Soul, currently based in the UK. He began his solo career around 2008 in Amman, Jordan, and has released several albums, including Sout Min Khashab (2012), Far3 El Madakhel (2012), and Lazim Tisa (2021). His music blends Arabic rap with acoustic elements, addressing themes of identity, memory, cultural resistance, and urban life, reflecting the experience of Palestinians living abroad while maintaining a connection to heritage.

Arab countries

Abyusif, originally from Egypt but with strong ties to Palestine, has been active since the early 2010s in the Arab trap and rap scene. His lyrics mix Arabic with modern hip-hop slang, reflecting diaspora hybridity and double belonging. Abyusif often references Palestinian themes in his work, connecting the Palestine of heritage with the urban realities of the wider Arab world. His music illustrates how artists outside Palestine can maintain cultural and political ties while participating in global rap networks, creating intergenerational and cross-border dialogues through music.

The Synaptik is a Jordanian-Palestinian rapper, vocalist, and performer who has been active since his teenage years. He started making music at 17 and, remarkably, graduated from medical school in May 2018 before fully committing to hip-hop. He has released a wide array of songs and albums, including Al Taman (2024), and tracks like Om Al Mawjat and La Shay2 Yoz3ejoni, blending Arabic rap with themes of mental health, migration, social inequality, and diaspora identity. He has also founded his own record label, Milق Records, and performed internationally, including at Cairo Jazz Club 610 in August 2024.

MC Gaza (Ibrahim Ghunaim) is a Palestinian rapper and digital artist, born in Algeria as a refugee and active since 2005. He has created over 130 songs that depict devastation, resilience, and the struggle for freedom in Gaza, often describing the conflict as systemic genocide. His work addresses life under occupation, destruction in Gaza, and global issues, including U.S. involvement in the conflict. Having lived in multiple countries such as Algeria, Lebanon, Egypt, Tunisia, Japan, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Turkey, MC Gaza uses his music to amplify Palestinian voices and highlight the determination of his people despite personal losses. In 2025, he released the single After death with well-known Algerian rapper Didine Canon 16.

US

Saint Levant (Marwan Abdelhamid) is a Palestinian singer-songwriter and rapper born in Jerusalem and raised in Gaza and later Amman. With a multicultural background—Algerian-French mother and Palestinian-Serbian father—he is fluent in Arabic, French, and English. He began making music early, studying piano and saxophone, and posted politically charged videos on TikTok before gaining fame. He started being noticed in 2020 when he released a series of trap songs where he sampled traditional Arabic music, like Nirvana in Gaza. His trilingual rap track Very Few Friends (2022) went viral, followed by the EP From Gaza, with Love (2023). He is currently based in Los Angeles, USA, and his music explores Palestinian identity, diaspora experiences, and social commentary, blending hip-hop, R&B, and alternative influences.

Sammy Shiblaq is a Palestinian rapper from Detroit, Michigan, who began rapping at a very young age inspired by his older brothers. He built a fanbase on SoundCloud as a teenager and gained wider recognition with his first mixtape, Faith & Hustle (2019), followed by Between The Lines (2020). His music blends personal storytelling with themes of perseverance, identity, and the diaspora experience, turning challenges and everyday life into hip-hop narratives. Sammy Shiblaq exemplifies how Palestinian diaspora artists navigate inherited heritage and lived realities abroad, using rap as a bridge between generations and cultures.

The Beat Goes On: Exploring Palestinian Rap

This is not a comprehensive mapping of all rap produced inside and outside historical Palestine, but rather a starting point for discovering the vibrant and diverse music being created. From the underground streets of Gaza and Ramallah to diaspora communities around the world, these artists are using hip-hop to document daily life, resist oppression, explore identity, and build bridges across generations. We hope this volume inspires further exploration, listening, and engagement with the voices shaping Palestinian rap today.

Now listen to it!

In case you missed it…

NO FILTER - What is going on with Booba?

OFFBEAT - From banlieue to barrio. Cinema of the margins in Spain

ALT PICK - Radio Nova

Vol. 9. From the bled to the top.

In our upcoming issue…

Vol. 11. Clandestino. Migration in Tunisian rap

The French rap scene has long served as a platform for voices from marginalized communities. In recent years, artists with migrant backgrounds have increasingly shaped its sound and narrative, blending urban beats with cultural influences from their countries of origin. These rappers not only diversify the musical landscape but also challenge mainstream perceptions of migration, identity, and belonging. Their music reflects the lived experiences of diasporic communities while shaping how broader French society engages with multicultural realities. In this edition, we turn the spotlight on three of the scene’s most influential figures.

Soolking: From Guerrillero to Casanova

Je chante l’amour au milieu de cette guérilla

Parce que j’t’aimerai pour toujours, mon Algeria

Guerrilla - Soolking

Abderraouf Derradji, better known as Soolking, was born in 1989 in El Hammamet, Algiers. He began his artistic journey in Algeria as MC Sool, not only rapping and singing but also dancing, chasing a dream of success in France—without much luck at first. Back in Algeria, he joined the group Africa Jungle, releasing two albums that marked the start of his musical career.

In 2014, Soolking returned to France and quickly made a name for himself with early hits like Vida Loca, Barbe Noire, and TRW (with Alonzo). His first solo album, Fruit du démon, under Affranchis Music, featured hits such as Guerrilla, Milano, Dalida, Youv, and Rockstar, and went platinum just seven months after release. He became a staple in the French rap scene, collaborating with Black M, Naps, SCH, and Dadju, and releasing tracks like Liberté and Espérance. In 2020, his second album, Vintage, a double release packed with collaborations (Melegim with Dadju, Ça fait des années with Cheb Mami, Tichy with Sofiane, Maryline with SCH, CNZL with Jul, Vida Loca 2), further solidified his success.

His third album, Sans Visa (2022), included hits like Balader with Niska and Baila with Kendji Girac, earning platinum status seven months later. Summer 2023 marked his international breakthrough with Casanova (feat. Gazo), certified diamond and remixed with Moroccan rapper Milano and Spanish artists Lola Indigo and Rvfv.

In 2025, he released his latest double album, Africa Jungle, featuring hits like Tour du monde with L2B, Carré OK with Gims, Dinars with VEN1, Titi Taka with SCH, and Koula Youm. As of February 2026, Soolking boasts 9 diamond-certified singles, 6 platinum singles, 2 platinum albums, and a double-platinum for Sans Visa, with 6.6 million monthly Spotify listeners, over 3 billion streams, and 4.2 billion YouTube views.

Soolking’s music is a vibrant mélange of hip hop, urban pop, and trap, always infused with references to his Algerian and African roots. A polyvalent artist, he raps and sings, collaborating with legends like Cheb Mami. His cultural references go beyond lyrics: he samples iconic artists, such as Magic System or Fairuz.

Despite his mainstream success, Soolking frequently addresses the struggles of diaspora youth in France and maintains strong connections to Algeria, both personally and socially. For instance, Liberté adapts a chant from USM Alger fans, which became an anthem during the 2019 Hirak protests. In Guerrilla, he references the guerrillas who fought for Algerian independence. Koula Youm, featuring Fairuz, is a heartfelt plea in support of Palestinians in Gaza. Adding a playful twist, he opens nearly every track with Brooks’ iconic laugh from One Piece, turning it into a signature move fans instantly recognize.

Beyond his artistic achievements, Soolking has paved the way for other Maghrebi artists to enter the French rap scene. His music gives visibility to migrant communities, highlighting diaspora struggles and cultural pride, while blending Algerian and African sounds with French urban beats. He connects historical and political memory with contemporary social realities. Through collaborations, performances, and social media presence, he acts as a cultural bridge and a role model for young artists and fans, inspiring a new generation to embrace their identity and pursue their own creative paths.

Zamdane: From Bab Doukkala to Marseille

J'dois faire respecter mes droits mais là, y a tout l'monde qui m'harcèle depuis qu'j'ai quitté Bab Doukkala pour poser mon drapeau à Marseille, la musique, j'sais faire que ça

Affamé #13 - Marseille - Zamdane

Ayoub Zaidane, better known as Zamdane, was born in 1997 in Marrakech, in the neighborhood of Bab Doukkala. Growing up, he admired classic French singers like Charles Aznavour and Dalida. At 17, he moved to France to study economics in Istres, near Marseille, where he discovered rap through artists like Nekfeu and began performing at open mic events. He released his first track, Sinbad, in early 2017, gaining initial recognition with Favaro, which amassed millions of views. Between 2018 and 2019, he released four projects before unveiling the two-part EP Chrysalis in 2020. That same year, he collaborated with rapper Hatik on La fête.

In 2021, he launched Affamé - Saison 2, releasing eight tracks every two weeks, including Hayati (Affamé #8) and Marseille (Affamé #13), and performed Le monde par ma fenêtre on Skyrock’s Planète Rap. Later that year, he signed with Warner Chappell Music France and released Couleur de ma Peine (2022), his debut album featuring collaborations with Soso Maness, Jazzy Bazz, and Dinos. The album debuted at number five on the French Top Albums chart.

In 2023, Zamdane released Affamé - Saison 3, including hits like Triste mais elle aime ça (Affamé #16) and Formidable (Affamé #21), and performed at La Cigale. Despite a serious car accident, he received widespread support from the French rap community. In 2024, his double album Solsad debuted at number three on the French Top Albums chart and was widely acclaimed by critics. It included hits like Million, Alouette, Printemps, Youm wara youm, Fleurs or Monstres, and featured top artists like Josman, Niska, Kekra, So La Lune, Sofiane Pamart, Zaho and TIF.

In May 2025, he released his third studio album, Rahma, meaning “mercy” in Arabic. This was a very personal album, with very emotional titles like the one that gives name to the album, and it came after his consecration in the Zénith de Paris on April 2025. The album featured artists such as La Fève, PLK and the must awaited single with SCH, Le Poison. During 2025 he became regular in the scene and collaborated with other artists like Rim’K, Mister You, USKY, Georgio, Dinos, Stony Stone or Danyl, among others. As of February 2026, he has two albums certified gold as well as 3 singles, and counts 1,8 million monthly listeners on Spotify and 343 million streams.

Zamdane’s music blends introspective and melancholic rap with melodic influences from Moroccan music and the French rap scene. His lyrics are honest and deeply personal, often reflecting the pain of losing his sister, as in Rahma: “On m’a dit: ‘Crois en ton rêve’, ah ouais? Mon rêve c’est d’ressusciter ma sœur”. He also explores family loyalty, as in Marseille: “Maintenant qu’on est là, on a quoi ? Tous ces sacrifices pour quoi ? J’vois même plus mes darons, eux on tout fait pour moi”. Nostalgia and the struggles of immigrant life in France, including youth violence and the harraga experience are also addressed in his songs such as in Triste mais elle aime ça: “Comment sauver mon âme si j'confonds le bled avec Tijuana ? C'est parce que mes amis ont des armes et des sacs de marijuana”. Besides, inherited masculinity traits are explored as in Les zhommes with Danyl: “Être un homme, c'est un peu s'détruire, beaucoup renaître de ses cendres”. While albums such as Couleur de ma Peine (2022) and Rahma (2025) showcase his reflective and emotionally charged style, with Solsad (2024), he evolved toward a more song-oriented approach, merging rap with melodic elements and demonstrating his artistic sensitivity. Across his work, Zamdane transforms personal tragedy and life challenges into music that resonates profoundly with listeners.

Beyond his music, Zamdane has become a role model for young artists and fans, using his platform to connect with society and give visibility to migrant communities. Since 2022, he has organized the charitable initiative “Zamdane & Friends”, bringing together fellow artists for concerts supporting SOS Méditerranée to raise money to aid humanitarian efforts. In 2024, he also participated in a benefit concert for Palestine, highlighting his commitment to social and global causes. His career and artistic vision have inspired a new generation of Marseille rappers, including artists like Eniah and Typhee, showing how diasporic voices can shape the local scene. Through these efforts, Zamdane not only strengthens the French rap community but also demonstrates how artists can leverage their influence for social good, inspire solidarity, and encourage younger generations to engage with cultural, humanitarian, and diasporic issues.

TIF: Back and forth to the Sweet Houma

Mon avenir vers le large donc j’ai fait c’qu’il fallait

Mon cœur est d’l’autre côté de la mer Méditerranée

Nothing Personal - TIF

Toufik Bouhraoua, better known as TIF, was born in 1996 in the El Hammamet neighbourhood of Algiers. As a child, he was nicknamed “Tifou,” which later inspired his artistic name. His passion for music and rap led him to move to France at 18 to study at university in Lyon — officially for his studies, but in reality to pursue a career in music. In 2019, he definitively quit university to focus entirely on his artistic path.

He was a prolific teenager, starting at 14 to participate in cyphers and rap battles, notably against Flenn, another Algerian rapper who later also tried his luck in France. While Flenn mainly raps in Arabic and addresses an Algerian audience, TIF chose French as his primary language. From 2012 onwards, he began sharing his productions on SoundCloud, and in 2013 he participated in the Paname Boss Remix challenge organised by La Fouine, while continuing to upload music to YouTube.

In 2019, he released the single 3iniya, which marked a turning point in his career, reaching a wider audience and gaining significant traction. Around that time, he met Younès and Adil Boucif, who became his managers. Together, they later founded the label HSH (Houma Sweet Houma). In 2022, he released his debut album Houma Sweet Houma, featuring singles such as Emoji DZ, HSH, .38, BZMOR, and Vent du Nord. He later released Harraga with Younès, inspired by the real story of an Algerian migrant who drowned at sea.

In 2023, he established himself as one of the most promising rising stars of the French rap scene with the album 1.6. The title refers both to the 1.6 version of the video game Counter-Strike and to the telephone code of Algiers province. The album includes tracks such as Hinata, Mathusalem, Shadow Boxing, Amnesia, and Demain C’est B3id. Later that year, he released an acoustic live version of six songs from the project. In 2024, he was awarded the prize for Scenic Revelation of the Year and was invited to perform at COLORS, where he recorded Nothing Personal, a song addressing Palestine. He has since become a frequent collaborator, working with artists such as Zamdane (Noum), Saint Levant (Forgive Me), PLK, Rim’K, Vacra, SDM, and ElGrandeToto. As of February 2026, he had one platinum-certified single, as well as one gold-certified album and five gold-certified singles. He currently counts 1.3 million monthly listeners on Spotify.

His style is characterised by a fusion of rap with chaâbi, raï, gnaoua, and Andalusi music, giving his sound a melancholic texture shaped by his departure from Algeria and the experience of ghorba (exile). His lyrics often revolve around homeland and displacement — as suggested in the opening quote of this section — the cultural shock of migration, and the longing for home and loved ones, as in Shadow Boxing: “J’ai dû m’éloigner d’mi amor pour m’rapprocher en simultané”. He also portrays the struggles faced by many young Algerians, as in Harraga, where he sings: “La dalle m’a poussé au départ, mais la mer a plus d’appétit”. His work contains references to social and political tensions — as in .38, where he states: “Je vais t’donner des raisons pour voter Éric Zemmour” as well as broader Arab and international issues, including Palestine.

Beyond music, he remains a politically engaged artist. He organised the solidarity concert It’s Not About Us at the Zénith de Paris in support of Palestine, gathering numerous artists on stage. He also publicly criticised the renewal of Jack Lang’s mandate as director of the Institut du Monde Arabe for a fourth consecutive term, referring to past controversies and accusations surrounding his positions. More broadly, TIF has contributed to reshaping the space occupied by Franco-Algerian narratives within French rap. By embracing vulnerability, exile, and political consciousness while maintaining mainstream appeal, he has opened pathways for a younger generation of artists navigating similar identities.

Not Just Hits: How Migrant Rap Changes the Game

Soolking, Zamdane, and TIF do more than make hits — they give voice and visibility to migrant experiences in France, creating a cultural dialogue that bridges communities. Their music fosters empathy, challenges stereotypes, and inspires youth to engage with multicultural realities, while their distinctive styles and personal stories make them role models for the next generation of artists.

Beyond entertainment, they act as informal cultural ambassadors, shaping perceptions and carving space for more inclusive narratives in French society. While there is always a risk of their work being reduced to superficial or exoticized representations of migration, their true impact lies in conveying the complexity of identity, struggle, and belonging, offering audiences nuanced insights into the lives of diasporic communities and the evolving landscape of contemporary French rap.

Now listen to it!

In case you missed it…

NO FILTER - Hate me if you can. Controversies around Draganov’s Tach.

OFFBEAT - From the cités to the screen. The rise and evolution of banlieue cinema.

ALT PICK - The Chaos Machine by Max Fisher

Vol. 8. Habibi music. The dangers of re-orientalisation in the era of social media

In our upcoming issue…

OFFBEAT - From Banlieue to Barrio. Cinema of the margins in Spain

When I first traveled to Marrakech in July 2024, I was deeply shocked by what I witnessed: countless Spanish tourists treating local people as if they were little more than servants. They would speak to them in Spanish with no regard for basic courtesy, as if they were in a familiar bar in their own neighborhood, or try to haggle over prices while adopting the same entitled attitudes they display back home. I was both appalled and disgusted by what I saw. What drives people to travel to a country whose very people they seem to disdain so much?

Social Media and the Re-Orientalization of Arab Identities

The rise of urban artists of Arab origin has helped shape perceptions of migrants among certain sectors of European societies. In Spain, for instance, the popularity of singers like Morad or Beny Jr. has drawn Spanish youth closer to these communities. Yet this influence often conveys a very narrow and superficial image of what it means to be Maghrebi. It is not uncommon to find young Spanish men attempting to imitate the dress, speech, and attitudes of Maghrebi youth—sometimes more as a style statement than as genuine understanding. At the same time, this visibility has fueled polarization. Another segment of youth—often linked to Incel subcultures, Vox supporters, and other right-wing movements—reacts with hostility toward the growing social influence of these artists. On social media, this dynamic translates into a creeping “re-orientalization”: Maghrebi identity is transformed into a set of stereotypes and aesthetics.

From a theoretical perspective, this phenomenon can be understood through the lens of Orientalism (Said, 1978), which describes how Western societies historically construct simplified, exoticized images of “the East” to assert power and distinction. On social media, a form of re-orientalization occurs: Arab identities are flattened into visual codes, attitudes, and aesthetic tropes. These images are consumed, appropriated, or mocked by young people across Europe, rarely reflecting the lived realities of Maghrebi communities. On one side, identities are superficially adopted and celebrated; on the other, they are ridiculed or demonized. In both cases, the social media spotlight reduces complex individuals and cultures to symbols and performances, rather than acknowledging their diversity, agency, or social presence.

This theoretical lens sets the stage for examining three concrete examples, in Morocco, Egypt, and the UAE, where visibility, appropriation, and misrepresentation intersect in practice, revealing the limits and unintended consequences of social-media-driven engagement with Arab societies.

Dima al Maghreb, but just a lil’ bit

Look around your circle, and you will likely find someone who has recently travelled to Marrakech. In recent years, Morocco has become an increasingly popular destination for European tourists. Its appeal lies in offering cultural and adventure experiences at low prices compared to traditional tourist hotspots, along with affordable accommodation, transport, and flights thanks to Ryanair’s expanded coverage.

Yet many of these tourists—if not openly racist—display attitudes that are, at best, discriminatory toward Moroccans in their home countries. They rarely mix with locals or make any effort to engage beyond the tourist circuit. As a result, Moroccan cities are transformed into exotic playgrounds catering to tourists’ convenience, while the everyday lives and experiences of Moroccans living abroad—especially migrants in Europe—are dismissed or even disparaged. This simultaneous exoticization of Morocco and devaluation of Moroccan people abroad produces a contradictory, almost performative tourism. On social media, this dynamic plays out in posts showcasing “trips to Morocco,” often after only a couple of days in Marrakech, or in “what I ate in Morocco” content that rarely features an authentic Moroccan dish.

After returning home, some tourists express sentiments such as “Moroccans in Morocco are nicer than those in Europe,” implying that people somehow change depending on geography. These attitudes ignore the real experiences of migrants and reduce them to abstract comparisons, flattening the complexities of human mobility and identity.

A particularly concerning aspect is the growing orientalization in social media, especially among young women. Many express attraction to young men of Maghrebi origin, but this attraction often relies on narrow, aestheticized models inspired by urban Maghrebi artists. Such perceptions essentialize the “Arab man,” turning him into an object of desire rather than a person. Trends like posting a Moroccan flag with captions like “the only red flag I like to see” or sharing a partner’s photo with “My Moroccan side” exemplify this. These behaviours risk reinforcing regressive stereotypes about gender roles and feed racist reactions among some European youth, who perceive this fascination as a threat to “their” women.

The problem is not personal attraction itself, but the idealization of culture through individuals without genuine engagement with language, society, or history. When connections to Maghrebi culture are limited to attraction or aesthetic enjoyment, admiration can easily flip into frustration or even racism if expectations are unmet, reinforcing both exoticization and devaluation in a vicious loop.

“The worst country in the world” - Egypt

A striking social media trend in Egypt involves travelers posting videos portraying the country as “the worst,” “unsafe,” or “chaotic.” Many of these videos go viral, yet their creators often arrive with no prior knowledge of local culture, laws, or social norms. Tourism tends to be extremely limited to typical tourist zones—Pyramids, Luxor temples, resorts—without engaging with the broader society. Particularly concerning is the portrayal of interactions with women: tourists—especially young women—frequently act as if the country exists to serve them, disregarding local codes, boundaries, and expectations. This behavior is framed online as entertainment or “personal freedom,” but it erases the lived experiences of Egyptian women and reduces them to props in a spectacle of travel and self-expression.

While negative attitudes from men toward women exist across many contexts, the social media trend highlights the sense of entitlement some tourists feel: that being a visitor allows them to ignore social rules entirely. The result is a flattening of Egyptian society into a series of hazards and stereotypes, where women are either sexualized, threatened, or used as markers of danger, and the country itself is reduced to a stage for personal narratives rather than a complex society.

These practices have tangible impacts on Egypt. They reinforce orientalist perceptions internationally, affect how Egyptians—particularly women—are perceived, and contribute to a tourism industry that prioritizes superficial experiences over genuine cultural exchange. Social media amplification of these trends pressures local spaces to cater to a limited, performative kind of tourism, reinforcing patterns of exclusion and misrepresentation.

“Habibi, come to Dubai” - Sexualized tourism and gendered fantasies

A recent social media trend in the UAE, particularly Dubai, portrays the Emirates as a playground for women seeking their “Habibi.” Videos and posts encourage female tourists to travel not for cultural exchange or authentic experiences, but to pursue romantic or sexualized encounters. Unlike some other trends, the men featured in these videos are not passive objects—they actively participate, performing and amplifying the fantasy for likes, views, and social media attention.

The imagery these posts convey is striking: women are shown enjoying a life of luxury, attention, and privilege, which is framed as a direct result of men submitting to their desires. This dynamic transforms social interactions into performances of dominance and consumption, turning real people into symbols in a narrative of entitlement. While framed online as glamorous or playful, the trend carries serious real-world risks: there have been reports of women disappearing or being put in dangerous situations while participating in these encounters.

Beyond the individual risks, the trend reinforces narrow ideas about femininity, gender roles, and Arab masculinity. Dubai is framed as a space where women can pursue sexual freedom without regard for local norms, while Arab men are reduced to performers of exoticized fantasies, valued only insofar as they provide access to wealth, attention, and luxury.

Beyond superficiality: a personal reflection

This article is not intended to discourage curiosity or passion for other countries and cultures, nor to criticize anyone personally. On the contrary, this project aims to promote knowledge and awareness of Arab culture and Arab diasporas in Europe. However, it seeks to do so through genuine exchange, not superficial consumption. As someone who has been passionate about Arab culture for decades, I know it is not always easy to distinguish sincere interest and passion from our own prejudices. Nevertheless, this internal work is crucial. I want to share some ideas that may help in this process.

• Stop idealizing anything. When we love something, we tend to view it through an idealized lens. Every culture, community, or individual has both bright and dark sides—and that is fine. True appreciation lies in accepting things in their originality and authenticity.

• Beware of your privileges. Acknowledge the advantages you may have as a traveller, visitor, or observer, and reflect on how they shape your perspective.

• Please, inform yourself. It is striking, in the era of abundant information, how little some people prepare themselves before engaging with other cultures. Learning about history, social norms, and lived experiences is essential.

• Share and educate others. Knowledge becomes meaningful when shared thoughtfully and responsibly, helping to counter stereotypes and shallow perceptions.

Disclaimer: These are my personal views. This article focuses on Arab examples because that is the scope of this project, but the phenomenon described applies to any culture or region. Even within one’s own country, similar attitudes persist. Focus on what truly matters: genuine understanding, respect, and curiosity.

In case you missed it…

NO FILTER - Why Netflix hates Marseille? Audiovisual Narratives and the Politics of Stereotype

OFFBEAT - Brutalist architecture as a symbol of the cité. Accounts from Paris to La Scampia

NO FILTER - Allons enfants… de la cité?

Vol. 7. Marseille c’est pas la France! How Marseille became the epicentre of French rap

In our upcoming issue…

Vol. 9. Rising stars: the impact of migrant rappers in French Rap scene

Share Arab عlt

Fort Saint-Jean and Fort Saint-Nicolas are two of Marseille’s iconic landmarks, flanking the entrance to the Vieux-Port like guardians of the city. But their origins reveal a powerful irony: built by order of Louis XIV in 1660, the forts weren’t designed to defend against foreign invaders, but to intimidate the local population after an uprising. The cannons pointed inward, toward the city, a stark symbol of royal control. This uneasy relationship between Marseille and the central state—a mix of resistance, defiance, and pride—runs deep in the city’s history.

That same spirit of independence echoes powerfully in Marseille’s music. Just as the city resisted kings and endured abandonment, its rap scene has risen from the streets with its own voice—gritty, multilingual, and unmistakably local. Rooted in a legacy of immigration, struggle, and cultural fusion, Marseille hip-hop stands apart from the polished dominance of Paris. It is the sound of a city that has always spoken on its own terms—and refuses to be silenced.

De la planète Mars…

Tempérament fatigué, on est nés sous le soleil

Tu reconnais bien là le style des Bad Boys

Bad Boys de Marseille - Akhenaton, Fonky Family & Shurik’n

Marseille’s identity is deeply shaped by its working-class roots, vibrant immigrant communities, and strong ties to the Mediterranean world. These dynamics have profoundly influenced its rap scene, where sounds from North Africa, the Caribbean, the Comoros, and even Corsica converge. The city’s urban geography—marked by sprawling cités, economic hardship, and a sense of exclusion—has fostered a culture of defiance and pride. While Paris often represents the elite and institutional face of French culture, Marseille offers a raw, street-level perspective that speaks powerfully to youth on the margins.

This distinction is reflected in Marseille’s slang, rhythms, and lyrical approach. The city's rap blends French with Arabic and local dialects, forming a language that is as hybrid as its people. The music functions as more than entertainment—it narrates daily life, preserves collective memory, and reclaims space. As both Boivin and Lafargue de Grangeneuve note, rap in Marseille is territorialized: it is inseparable from the city’s identity and physical landscape.

The movement took root in the late 1980s with IAM, a group that fused American hip-hop with Marseille’s ancient and multicultural history. Their seminal 1997 album, L’École du Micro d’Argent, became a cornerstone of French rap. With cinematic beats and philosophical lyrics referencing Egyptian pharaohs, Greek myths, and Afro-Mediterranean struggles, IAM gave Marseille intellectual and artistic credibility. Alongside IAM, groups like La Fonky Family and 3ème Œil brought their own distinctive voices to the scene, blending gritty street narratives with soulful, reflective lyricism, while “Belsunce Breakdown” from Bouga became an anthem. At the same time, Massilia Sound System offered a reggae-tinged, Occitan-infused sound that celebrated regional pride and multilingual resistance.

In the 2000s, artists like Soprano and Psy 4 de la Rime broadened the scene’s emotional register, addressing family, belonging, and social mobility. Alonzo kept street realities front and center, while Keny Arkana injected fierce political critique with anthems like La Rage. Their success helped Marseille evolve from a rebellious outlier into a national force. Today, the city’s rap remains rooted in local stories but speaks far beyond its borders—boldly challenging the cultural dominance of the capital and redefining what French rap can be.

C’est pas la capitale, c’est Marseille bébé!

Bah ouais, rien n’est factice, numéro dix

Marseille, oui, ma gatée, tu nous connais

Mode Akimbo - SCH ft. Jul

The 2010s marked a turning point for Marseille’s rap scene, driven by the meteoric rise of Jul. With his auto-tuned vocals, relentless release schedule, and fiercely independent ethos, Jul rewrote the rules of French rap. Unlike earlier artists tied to major labels, he built his career from the ground up—using YouTube, social media, and streaming platforms to connect directly with fans. Tracks like Tchikita and Wesh alors combined club-ready beats with streetwise storytelling, offering a snapshot of daily life in Marseille’s quartiers. Jul’s accessible yet authentic sound resonated far beyond the city limits, making him one of the most streamed Francophone artists in the world and inspiring a new generation of DIY rappers across France.

But Jul wasn’t alone. The decade saw a wave of artists expanding Marseille’s sonic palette. SCH brought a cinematic, noir-infused style, fusing American trap with dark lyricism and introspective themes. His polished production and brooding persona offered a stark contrast to Jul’s unfiltered energy. Naps, on the other hand, channeled the city’s Mediterranean charm into laid-back flows and Afro-influenced rhythms, becoming a staple on summer playlists. Meanwhile, Soso Maness emerged as a sharp social commentator, weaving humor and political critique.

Artists like Kofs and L’Algerino further enriched the scene with their own distinct flavors. Kofs stood out with his raw delivery and street-centric narratives, often referencing his Algerian roots and the realities of life in Marseille’s toughest districts. His line in Bande organisée—“C’est pas la capitale, c’est Marseille bébé!”—became a viral catchphrase and rallying cry for local pride. L’Algerino, a veteran of the scene, blended Maghrebi influences with pop-rap sensibilities, crafting hits that straddled Marseille’s underground grit and mainstream appeal. Together, these voices reflected the city’s diversity—not just musically, but culturally, linguistically, and politically.

As Marseille’s influence grew, it began to challenge the long-standing dominance of Paris in the French music industry. “Marseille, c’est une ville qui ne ressemble à aucune autre—c’est cette différence qui fait sa force,” said IAM’s Akhenaton, capturing the city’s enduring spirit. That “difference” lies in its deep sense of place: its rappers don’t just rep a genre—they rep a geography, a history, and a worldview. From slang and beats to storytelling and swagger, Marseille’s rap is inseparable from its streets. By the end of the 2010s, the city had become a cultural powerhouse in its own right, exporting not just music, but a defiant, unmistakable identity rooted in the heart of the Mediterranean.

Marseille trop puissant

À Marseille y a des guerres tout l'temps, que des grosses équipes pour les vendetta

Le problème, c'est le manque d′argent donc tous les quartiers veulent faire un coup d'état

Vendetta - Nia

While Paris has long claimed the title of France’s cultural capital, it is Marseille that has become the soul of French rap. This isn’t just about sound—it’s about identity. The city’s gritty energy, working-class pride, and multicultural pulse have shaped a rap scene that speaks directly from the margins. Here, rap isn’t a trend—it’s a survival tool, a language of resistance, and a mirror to the streets. Marseille doesn’t chase mainstream recognition; it builds its own paths, often far from the spotlight.

Nowhere is this more evident than in its underground scene—the real engine of Marseille’s musical power. Long before artists hit the charts, they cut their teeth in freestyle battles, street cyphers, DIY studios, and neighborhood collectives. Local videographers, producers, promoters, and independent crews make up a tight-knit ecosystem that nourishes talent without waiting for outside approval. Spaces like La Friche Belle de Mai and festivals such as Marsatac, with spaces like La Frappe, give structure to this raw creativity. Other more underground projects, such as Marseille Capitale du Rap, seek to give visibility to local artists. Even clothing brands like Vrunk reflect a self-sustaining cultural identity that fuses music, street art, and urban fashion into a singular Marseille style.

What makes Marseille rap endure is its ability to constantly reinvent itself while staying rooted in place. From IAM’s politically conscious rhymes to the street narratives of Fonky Family and the club-ready anthems of Jul, each generation builds on the last. Today’s wave—featuring artists like SCH, Elams, Naps, Soso Maness, or Gambino, but also emerging talents like TK, So La Zone, Mehdi Miklo, or Nia, among many others—blends auto-tuned hooks with hyper-local slang, Mediterranean references, and an unmistakable Marseille swagger. The music evolves, but the DNA stays the same: proud, raw, and independent.

Football culture adds yet another layer. Olympique de Marseille (OM) is not just a club but a symbol of the city’s pride and defiance. Rappers wear the jersey like armor, shoot videos near the Vélodrome, and channel the passion of OM ultras into their lyrics. This fusion of sport and music fuels a cultural loop where the street, the stadium, and the studio all speak the same language.

Marseille has transformed itself from a regional outlier into the undeniable epicenter of French rap—powered by a deep-rooted underground scene, an unfiltered connection to its neighborhoods, and a sound shaped by migration, struggle, and pride. What began as a voice from the margins has grown into a cultural force that commands attention not just from fans, but also from institutions, media, and brands increasingly eager to associate with its authenticity. Yet, what makes Marseille unique is that institutional validation hasn’t diluted its essence. The city’s rap scene remains anchored in street-level narratives, community solidarity, and a distinct identity that resists assimilation into a Paris-centric model. As Marseille continues to shape the future of French hip-hop, it does so on its own terms—loud, proud, and defiantly local. C’est Marseille bébé is more than a catchphrase; it’s a cultural manifesto.

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue… Vol. 8. Habibi music: the dangers of re-orientalisation in the era of social media

Yo nací en Marruecos y aprendí que el respeto es lo primero

Yo crecí en España y España me enseñó a ser un guerrero

Dos mundos - El Paisano

During the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, Morocco’s national team carved its name into history, reaching the semifinals for the first time, marking a milestone as the first African team to go that far. Those days, I found myself celebrating in Puerta del Sol, surrounded by friends, with each victory of the Lions of Atlas igniting a shared joy. It was one of those rare moments of pure bliss: Moroccans, young and old, waving their flags high, alongside Spanish ones, in a blend of cultures and triumphs. It was an image that some couldn’t bear—extreme-right groups gathering nearby, ready to disrupt the celebration with their violent intent, launching an assault on the Moroccan supporters.

Subscribe now

Trajectories of anti-Moroccan racism in Spain

Los moros no son capaces de integrar los valores de la civilización occidental, por mucho que se les intente civilizar.

José Antonio Primo de Rivera, founder of the Spanish Falange.

Although Spain is often described as a country without deep-rooted racism, hate crimes continue to rise, disproportionately affecting migrant communities, particularly those from Africa and South America. The Spanish Observatory for Racism and Xenophobia (Oberaxe) reports that North Africans are the most frequent targets of online hate speech, with Moroccans facing particularly harsh discrimination. The derogatory term moro, used for centuries, reflects deep-seated prejudices that persist today.

The origins of anti-Moroccan racism in Spain trace back to the medieval Reconquista, when Christian rulers sought to expel Muslim forces from the Iberian Peninsula. Later waves of North African Muslim rulers, particularly the Almoravids and Almohads, reinforced the perception of Moroccans as invaders. These historical conflicts fuel far-right narratives today, depicting Moroccan migration as a continuation of an age-old "threat" to Spanish identity.

Spain’s colonial history further entrenched negative perceptions of Moroccans. During its occupation of northern and southern Morocco, Spain faced fierce resistance, particularly in the Rif War (1920-1927), where Berber fighters humiliated Spanish forces. This conflict left a lasting imprint on Spanish national memory, reinforcing stereotypes of Moroccans as rebellious and violent. Colonialist and Orientalist narratives also depicted Moroccans as backward, justifying European "civilizing" efforts and shaping long-term biases.

The Spanish left’s perception of Moroccans has been shaped by historical contradictions. While advocating for decolonization and migrant rights, some leftist sectors remained wary due to Morocco’s association with Franco’s dictatorship and the Western Sahara conflict. During the Spanish Civil War, Franco recruited thousands of Moroccan soldiers (Regulares) to fight for the Nationalists. Rather than being seen as victims of colonial exploitation, they were widely viewed as mercenaries and enforcers of Francoist repression, deepening leftist distrust toward Moroccans.

The Western Sahara conflict further complicated these perceptions. When Spain withdrew in 1975, Morocco’s occupation of the territory was seen by the Spanish left as a betrayal of Sahrawi self-determination. The Polisario Front, leading the Sahrawi independence movement, received strong leftist backing, reinforcing a broader narrative of Morocco as an aggressor. In regions like the Canary Islands, where Sahrawi solidarity is strong and Moroccan migration has increased, these tensions are particularly pronounced, with Moroccan migrants often perceived not just as foreigners but as representatives of a hostile state.

Despite the Spanish left’s broader commitment to anti-racism, Moroccans often remain an exception. While Latin American migrants are embraced within progressive circles due to linguistic and cultural ties, Moroccans continue to be marginalized. Historical grievances, economic crises, nationalist rhetoric, and rising Islamophobia have reinforced long-standing prejudices. Although official policies promote human rights and anti-discrimination measures, the perception of Moroccan migration as a security threat continues to fuel discrimination, shaping the challenges Moroccan communities face in Spain today.

National Identity or Walou: The Right-Wing Narrative

Y tu padre facha me llamaría MENA

Y yo pago los impuestos por lo meno'

Un racista que critica to' mis tema'

Es porque su hija se enamoró de un nene

Seguimos - Morad

Right-wing discourses in Spain have shaped debates on immigration, national identity, and security, often using loaded rhetoric and perpetuating stereotypes. These narratives frequently target immigrants, particularly those from Morocco, sub-Saharan Africa, and Muslim-majority countries, portraying them as threats to Spanish society.

A central theme is the framing of illegal immigration as an "invasion," particularly regarding migrants arriving by boat or crossing through Ceuta and Melilla. This rhetoric fuels fears of national identity dilution and loss of border control. Similarly, the term "MENAs" (Unaccompanied Foreign Minors) has been politicized to stigmatize young migrants, especially Moroccans, portraying them as unruly and a burden on social services.

Another key discourse is the fear of "Islamization," where Muslim immigrants are depicted as culturally incompatible with Spanish values. Concerns about mosques, Islamic dress, and religious institutions contribute to the idea that Islam threatens Spain’s secular and Catholic identity. Right-wing figures argue that Muslim communities seek to impose their beliefs, despite little evidence supporting these claims.

Economic anxieties also play a role, with the concept of "la paguita" promoting the belief that immigrants exploit Spain’s welfare system. This rhetoric ignores migrant contributions to sectors like agriculture and construction, reinforcing the false perception of immigrants as dependent on public resources.

Security fears further fuel anti-immigrant sentiment, with Moroccan and sub-Saharan migrants often stereotyped as criminals. Right-wing media frequently highlight crime rates involving immigrants, creating the perception of a public safety threat. Muslim communities are also linked to extremism, with terrorist attacks like those in Madrid (2004) and Barcelona (2017) cited to justify stricter immigration controls and surveillance measures.

By combining economic, security, and cultural fears, right-wing narratives construct a political identity based on exclusion and the defense of an "authentic" Spanish culture. These arguments shape public opinion and policy, fueling hostility toward immigrants and influencing Spain’s national identity debates.

Countering unique identities in rap discourses

“There is many people in Spain who does not like me holding this flag. But I sing in Spanish, I represent my neighbourhood, La Florida, which is in Spain, I have been born in Spain, my first love was in Spain, and truly I owe everything to Spain.”

Morad in a concert in Zurich, 22 February 2025

Debunking the "Invasion" Narrative: Migration, Identity, and Exclusion

The idea of "migration as an invasion"—a framing that portrays migrants as an existential threat to Spain's culture, economy, and social fabric—is one of the most enduring right-wing myths surrounding immigration. Arab drill artists refute the idea that their presence is an assault on Spanish identity by revealing the actual experiences of immigrant groups.

This contradiction is explicitly addressed by Morad, whose unvarnished portrayal of life in underprivileged communities is the foundation of his fame. In El Barrio featuring Guleed, he critiques the fearmongering rhetoric that labels immigrants as threats: “Niños en su habitación escuchando mi música con corazón, su padre facha y abusón, les dice: ‘No escuches al malandrón’. Malandrón por querer yo buscarme tranquilo rápidamente mi pan.” The absurdity of a father forewarning his kids not to listen to Morad's music is encapsulated in this verse, which perpetuates prejudice while ignoring the reality of social exclusion and economic hardship that his lyrics depict.

Many artists emphasize that the rejection of immigrants is often more about class than culture or religion. In El Barrio V2, El Paisano points out the hypocrisy in Spain’s immigration policies: “Los que vienen con dinero van primero. A los jeques bienvenidos caballeros, a los moros no queremos extranjeros.” His lyrics reveal how wealth determines acceptance—while rich foreign investors are welcomed, working-class migrants from the Maghreb are treated as intruders.

Beyond the systemic discrimination, these artists also shed light on the human cost of migration, challenging the criminalization of those seeking a better future. El Paisano mourns the thousands who have lost their lives in the attempt to reach Spain: “Muchos chavales murieron en pateras. Muchas vidas en mares y carreteras, mucho pobre quiere irse afuera, a pesar de que él ama su bandera.” These words serve as a stark reminder that migration is not an act of aggression but a desperate escape from hardship—one that too often ends in tragedy.

Aiman JR, whose Moroccan heritage is central to his music, uses his platform to push back against the expectation that immigrants must erase their identities to be accepted. In Orgullo Marroquí, he asserts his right to celebrate his heritage while being part of Spanish society: “Orgullo marroquí, ya se hizo normal.” His words reflect a broader struggle for recognition among immigrants, who often find themselves caught between cultures yet fully embraced by neither.

This experience of exclusion is particularly pronounced for those born in Spain to immigrant parents. Delarue, in an interview, articulates this feeling of permanent foreignness: "I was born in Spain, and I consider myself a Madrileño, not Spanish. I have never walked down the street and had a Spanish person make me feel Spanish, not once in my life. I have always felt like the Moroccan, and not even just the Moroccan, but el moro." His words reflect the common experience of many young Spaniards of immigrant descent, who, despite being born and raised in the country, are still viewed as outsiders.

Morad has shared his experiences with racism and exclusion, highlighting how being the only Moroccan student in his private school and facing economic disparities shaped his music, making him a voice for marginalized youth. Yet, despite this rejection, Morad reclaims his Spanish identity on his own terms. In a recent concert in Zurich, holding the Spanish flag, he addressed his audience: “There are many people in Spain who do not like me holding this flag. But I sing in Spanish, I represent my neighborhood, La Florida, which is in Spain, I was born in Spain, my first love was in Spain, and truly, I owe everything to Spain.” His words serve as a powerful statement—one that challenges the right-wing notion of immigrants as outsiders and instead affirms their integral place in Spanish society.

Challenging the "Islamization" Narrative

The fear of "Islamization"—the idea that the Muslim community in Spain is trying to force Islamic ideals on the general populace, endangering the nation's secularism and cultural norms—is one of the most enduring themes spread by the right-wing. Concerns regarding the building of mosques, the increasing prominence of Islamic customs like the hijab, and the alleged rise in the number of Muslims in particular cities are frequently used to characterize this danger.

Arab artists have addressed these issues in various ways. One approach is to highlight the importance of faith in shaping their values, presenting it not merely as a belief but as an integral life philosophy, as sings Delarue in La Suerte Pt. 1: “The devil tempts me, but Allah will guide me.” At the same time, they criticize the fact that, despite centuries of coexistence, Spanish society still struggles to understand many aspects of Muslim culture. “It’s unbelievable that many of my colleagues don’t understand why my mother wears a hijab or why I practice Ramadan,” says Houda, a Spanish rapper of Moroccan origin, in an interview. “How can you live with people from other cultures and not know anything about them?” she remarks, with resignation.

Another issue that arises for Moroccan men in Spanish society is the perception of who "owns" women. Right-wing supporters often accuse Arab men of "stealing" Spanish women, claiming that this undermines Spanish society. Morad addresses this issue in his song Seguimos, where he raps, “And your father, the fascist, would call me MENA, but I pay taxes, at least. A racist who criticizes all my themes does so because his daughter fell in love with a guy [Arab].”

Overall, Arab artists—whether born in Spain or immigrants—embrace their dual identity and advocate for the possibility of blending the best of both cultures.

Who Really Lives Off the State? Challenging the Myth of "La Paguita"

One of the most persistent narratives in right-wing discourse is the accusation that immigrants exploit Spain’s welfare system, portrayed as freeloaders who drain public resources without contributing. The term “la paguita”—a colloquial and often derogatory reference to social welfare payments—has become a rhetorical weapon used to paint migrants as burdens on the state.

However, artists from immigrant backgrounds have reclaimed and subverted this term, turning it into a critique of who truly benefits from state resources: working-class people or politicians. In Generación Maldita, Morad and Delarue expose this contradiction: “Algunos te ponen culo’ pa’ tener visita’, otros se parten la espalda para la paguita”—a stark contrast between those who manipulate the system for personal gain and those who toil to survive.

Beyond challenging this stereotype, artists emphasize taxation as the highest form of social contribution, countering the notion that immigrants do not give back to society. Morad explicitly addresses this in a statement that underlines both his economic contribution and the hypocrisy of anti-immigrant rhetoric:

"For now, as long as I continue living here in Spain, if I have to pay, I pay. And that's it. Everyone has to comply. I pay 47% of what I earn. If I make a million, I pay 470,000 euros. If I make two, I pay almost a million. And I'm giving it to Spain. I'm not giving it to Morocco for you to look at me with a bad face or hate me. It's staying here. So why am I worse than the politician who steals that million from you? That's why I can't believe in those things."

This perspective reflects a strong class consciousness, positioning these artists as representatives of the working class—those from the barrios—and as part of wider Spanish society in direct opposition to the political and media elite. Morad reinforces this idea in Seguimos: “Soy de la clase, la clase obrera, los que odian porque suben por más que no quieran”—a defiant assertion of working-class resilience despite systemic obstacles. Another recurring theme is the rejection of the idea that poverty equates to a lack of dignity. Morad’s well-known phrase, “Pobres pero no pobrecitos”, serves as a powerful rejection of both victimization and right-wing narratives that infantilize immigrant communities.

Artists also highlight the structural barriers faced by immigrant youth, who are often left with limited opportunities, making government assistance a necessity rather than a choice—or worse, forcing them into illegal activities for survival. In Zona Barrial, Delarue raps: “A los draris del 7ouma les toca vivir del hram, por el precio del poder o simple necesidad”, underscoring the harsh realities that push young people into difficult moral and economic dilemmas.

By addressing these issues in their music, these artists not only challenge the idea that immigrants are passive beneficiaries of the system but also expose the deeper inequalities that make survival an ongoing struggle for many in Spain’s working-class neighborhoods.

Confronting Security Issues and Extremism

Right-wing rhetoric often links immigration to security concerns, particularly in the aftermath of terrorist attacks carried out by extremists who claim to represent Islam. This has fueled heightened fears of radicalization within immigrant communities, especially among young people. The media frequently sensationalizes the idea of "homegrown terrorism," portraying immigrants as potential security threats rather than as citizens with legitimate grievances.

Artists like El Paisano have addressed this issue in their work. In his song El Barrio, he raps: “Somos los chicos de barrio, buscamos solo pa’ sacar los khawas del patio, aquellos que acusaron de terrorismo, y sufrieron esto por el racismo. Siempre es por yihadismo porque es lo que más se vende en el periodismo.” He critiques the way immigrant youth are unfairly labeled as terrorists, using their lived experiences to highlight the role of racism and sensationalized media narratives in perpetuating these stereotypes.

Another related issue is the perceived criminality and insecurity attributed to these youth, despite the lack of evidence. They often face accusations and discriminatory practices by law enforcement. This theme is a recurrent one in Morad's music, where he frequently criticizes police actions. In an interview, he addressed this issue, stating: “It’s not illegal because I’m not saying anything specific. Corrupt police, this, that. If the police are corrupt, what should I do? I have to say it in the song. What should I do if they treat us badly here? I’ll have to give my voice. If I get into trouble, it’s fine, but freedom. I’m going to sing everything I’ve lived.” Through his lyrics and statements, Morad sheds light on the systemic discrimination faced by immigrant youth.

The Role of Media in Promoting or Challenging Right-Wing Narratives

The media plays a significant role in shaping narratives, and right-wing media often promote a fear-based perspective, particularly regarding immigration. This limited portrayal can misrepresent marginalized communities, reinforcing negative stereotypes. However, social media platforms have allowed artists from these communities to bypass traditional media, spreading messages of empowerment and resistance. These artists use their voices not only to entertain but to challenge these harmful narratives, sharing their personal experiences and giving a voice to those often silenced by mainstream media.

As activist Moha Gerehou mentions, people are seeking stories that resonate with their lived experiences, particularly racialized individuals who often find themselves excluded from mainstream narratives. These artists create spaces for connection outside the dominant white-centric sector, offering a new, more inclusive discourse. The media, while sometimes attempting to highlight these artists' success, often distorts their message, focusing on negative aspects like their run-ins with justice or their confrontations with the police, instead of their broader social impact.

Morad, a prominent artist, critiques this tendency, pointing out the discrepancy between the media's portrayal of his music and the reality of his fanbase: “In the end, the people who listen to me know that it’s all a lie and just a way to tarnish my name because some people don’t like seeing me succeed.” He highlights that the media often fixates on controversy, disregarding the more complex, nuanced aspects of his career. His words emphasize the harsh scrutiny placed on individuals from marginalized backgrounds and the prejudice they face, but also the strength and resilience that emerge in response.

The media's focus on controversy, rather than understanding the artist's life and struggles, further perpetuates a damaging narrative. “It seems worse when someone like me makes a mistake—because of the way I am, the way I speak, or the way I look. But of course, I don’t take it well. I don’t like it. Because of these things, I could end up quitting music”, he denounces. Yet, despite this, the artists remain connected to their communities, finding support from their listeners who understand their true message. Morad’s refusal to let media criticism define him speaks to the resilience of those who challenge the status quo, using their art as a form of self-expression and defiance against oppressive structures. “I can't hate my life just because a politician criticizes me if 100 kids from my neighborhood love me and don't care about him.”

Conclusion: A Reimagined Spanish Identity

Through their music, these artists are redefining what it means to be Spanish in the 21st century, countering the fear-based rhetoric of the right wing with a vision that embraces cultural diversity rather than fearing it. They offer a powerful voice to marginalized communities, challenging divisive narratives and highlighting the importance of integration, respect, and shared experience. Their work is a reminder that immigration is not an invasion, that Islam is not a threat, and that social welfare is not being "exploited," but rather reflects the struggles of those seeking a better life amidst inequality.

As El Paisano aptly states, "Yo nací en Marruecos y aprendí que el respeto es lo primero. Yo crecí en España y España me enseñó a ser un guerrero." ("I was born in Morocco and learned that respect comes first. I grew up in Spain, and Spain taught me to be a warrior.") This sentiment captures the dual identity these artists navigate, blending their cultural roots with their Spanish upbringing. Through their music, they not only challenge harmful stereotypes but also shape a more inclusive, compassionate Spain where all voices are valued and the true essence of national identity is forged through unity, not division.

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Vol. 7. C’est Marseille bébé. How Marseille became the epicentre of French Rap

Share

J'suis à deux doigts de quitter ce pays

Qui n'a pour nous que du mépris

Ils n'aiment pas ce que j'crois, ce que j'dis, ce que j'suis

Mais veulent la moitié de ce que j'ai pris

Je ne plaisante pas - Kery James

French rappers have long warned against rising racism and discrimination targeting non-native French citizens. For years, they have consistently denounced the growing influence of the extreme right, a stance that was particularly evident during the last legislative elections when many artists publicly opposed right-wing extremism.

The rise of the far right in France has not spared rap. A stark example was the backlash against Aya Nakamura’s rumored performance at the Paris Olympics’ opening ceremony. Extremists displayed a banner reading, “There is no way Aya, this is not the market of Bamako,” attacking her Blackness, African origins, and perceived lack of Frenchness. This incident is just one among many highlighting the increasing hostility faced by racialized artists in France.

Sadly, this situation is just one of many that are becoming the daily breadth in the Hexagon. In the past months we have heard historical heavy-weights of French rap like Sinik - in an interview - and Kery James - as the opening quote of this article shows - publicly declaring that it is impossible for any French of Arab and African heritage to live in France anymore.

Share Arab عlt

Qui peut prétendre faire du rap sans prendre position?

Qu'est-ce qu'on attend pour foutre le feu ?

Trop tard pour être pessimiste, face à la misère grandissante

Et la répression qui s'intensifie, ici la haine a remplacé le kiff

On nique la justice, on nique la police !

Qu’est-ce qu’on attend? - NTM

This now-iconic line from Arsenik’s “Boxe avec les mots,” later popularized by Youssoupha in “Menace de mort,” underscores rap's inherently political nature. Since its inception, French rap has tackled social and political issues head-on. In the 1990s, groups like NTM, IAM, La Scred Connexion, Ideal J, and Ministère AMER, among others, addressed police brutality, racism, and social inequality. The 2000s saw the rise of rap engagé artists like La Rumeur, Sniper, Kery James, Keny Arkana, and Oxmo Puccino, followed by Youssoupha, Médine, Orelsan, and Nekfeu in the 2010s.

But the engagement does not stop there. Even genres that might seem distant from political positioning, like trap and drill, have seen the emergence of artists with a strong political stance, such as Kalash Criminel and Freeze Corleone. These artists, while employing different musical styles, continue to infuse their lyrics with socio-political commentary. Most artists, if not constantly engaged, will take sides on specific issues, such as the ongoing genocides in Palestine and the Democratic Republic of Congo, the treatment of migrants and refugees, and more. Many have expressed their political positions through social media, signing public manifestos, releasing singles, or collaborating with civil society organizations, showcasing their commitment to global issues.

This is because, as stated above, rap is inherently political, even though many have tried to depoliticize it over the years. For those artists who are less publicly engaged, simply being a successful artist while being ethnically Arab, Black, or a migrant in today’s France is an act of resistance in itself. In a society where systemic racism and discrimination persist, their very existence and success challenge the status quo and inspire a new generation to continue the fight for equality and justice.

Don’t Panik: Rap as Public Enemy #1

On a les critiques imparables

D'une France qui oublie que les paroles de son hymne

Sont plus violentes que celles du gangsta rap

Je défends la cause des frères au Sud qui rêvassent du Nord

Mais ma liberté d'expression en chute est sous menace de mort

Ménace de mort - Youssoupha

Due to their vocal stance on issues affecting many in France, rappers have become prime targets for political leaders and media figures. They have been accused of being religious extremists, anti-Semites, and even of threatening national security or supporting terrorism. Politicians often use platforms such as social media, TV debates, and public performances to denounce rap, framing it as a challenge to social cohesion and national values, especially during election periods when divisive rhetoric can rally support.

Two notable cases exemplify this conflict: Médine and Freeze Corleone. Both artists have faced intense scrutiny, with critics accusing them of undermining national unity and promoting extremism. These attacks have led to public condemnations, parliamentary debates, and even calls for judicial intervention, underscoring the contentious relationship between politically engaged artists and French authorities.

Médine, a French-Algerian rapper, has used his music to critique racism, Islamophobia, and social marginalization in France. His 2005 album Jihad garnered attention for its title, with some accusing him of endorsing radicalism despite the album’s focus on self-improvement. Médine intended “jihad” as a metaphor for personal and societal battles, but critics ignored this and framed him as a security threat. In 2015, his song "Don't Laïk" criticized French secularism (laïcité), arguing it restricts religious expression, particularly for Muslims. The song included provocative imagery that fueled further backlash, especially from right-wing politicians.

The controversy escalated in 2018 when Médine planned a concert at the Bataclan, the site of the 2015 Paris terror attacks. Far-right politicians like Marine Le Pen and Laurent Wauquiez condemned the event, arguing it would insult the victims and labeling Médine as a promoter of Islamist ideology. These figures used the concert to claim there was an "Islamist infiltration" in France. Political pressure led to the concert's cancellation, highlighting the tension between Médine’s social critiques and the political establishment’s concerns about national unity and identity.

Freeze Corleone, a French rapper known for his cryptic lyrics, has become a controversial figure accused of promoting anti-Semitic views. His 2020 album LMF faced intense scrutiny for references to the Rothschild family and other symbols linked to anti-Semitic conspiracies. French Interior Minister Gérald Darmanin condemned the lyrics, leading to an investigation and the suspension of Freeze Corleone’s record label collaboration. Politicians like Valérie Pécresse called for a ban on his music, citing concerns about its impact on young audiences.

The controversy intensified in 2024 with his song “Haaland,” which alluded to the 2016 Nice attack, sparking accusations of promoting terrorism. This led to further concert cancellations and legal battles, with Freeze Corleone defending his music as social critique rather than hate speech. The backlash reflects broader fears in France over extremism, with political leaders using his lyrics to argue they threaten societal values, highlighting the challenges French rappers face in navigating artistic expression amid political and public scrutiny.

Beyond artists like Médine and Freeze Corleone, several others have faced significant opposition, reflecting a broader struggle over freedom of expression. The influential rap duo NTM, for instance, became targets in the 1990s for their critiques of police brutality and social inequality. Their 1993 song "Police" led to public outrage, lawsuits, and censorship attempts, with Joey Starr even convicted for incitement to violence after allegedly encouraging violence against law enforcement.

Other rappers like Rohff, Sniper, Kery James, and Ministère AMER have also faced political scrutiny. Rohff has been criticized for his socially conscious lyrics addressing discrimination and the struggles of immigrant communities, while Sniper’s 2003 song "La France" led to a lawsuit for incitement to racial hatred, despite charges being eventually dropped. Kery James and Ministère AMER have also been targeted for their critiques of racial and economic inequalities, with some political figures accusing them of promoting anti-establishment or violent ideas. These cases highlight the ongoing tension between French rappers’ social critiques and the political establishment, which frames their music as a threat to public unity and republican values, particularly when it challenges secularism and national identity.

The backlash against French rappers reflects a fear of losing control over public discourse. Their music challenges the status quo by highlighting social injustices and questioning national institutions, sparking discomfort in a society that prefers to avoid such debates. Is this intense reaction simply about preserving national values, or does it reflect deeper anxieties about identity, power, and the disruption of traditional narratives?

La France est une f**** et on se fait trahir…

Allô zenfants de nos quartiers, ne nous laissons pas dénigrer

Même la statue de la liberté a le statut d'immigré

Allô zenfants - Médine

In 2017, Médine released Prose Élite, an album whose cover features a street banner blending his portrait with that of Victor Hugo. The message is clear: Médine presents himself as a modern-day Hugo, using his words to challenge power and give voice to the marginalized. The album title itself is a wordplay—prose élite (the prose of the elite) or prosélyte (proselyte)—reinforcing his role as both a critic and a messenger.

Médine draws a parallel between the backlash he faces today and the criticism Victor Hugo endured in his time. Both have been attacked for speaking out against privilege, exposing how societies often reject those who challenge dominant narratives. This connects to a broader issue: historical amnesia, the tendency to selectively forget or rewrite history to maintain a comfortable national identity.

Historical amnesia is a process through which societies shape their collective memory, often omitting or distorting events that challenge their self-image. This concept, rooted in the work of sociologist Maurice Halbwachs, explains how historical narratives are constructed to serve political, cultural, or psychological needs. Governments may downplay certain aspects of history to promote national unity, while educational systems often prioritize stories that align with patriotic ideals over those that reveal past injustices. The result is a distorted understanding of history that perpetuates systemic inequalities and prevents meaningful societal progress.

In France, historical amnesia is particularly evident in the way colonial history is addressed. The country’s role in Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia is often downplayed, and the contributions of colonial soldiers in World War II remain underrecognized. This selective forgetting extends to post-colonial immigration, where descendants of these communities are expected to assimilate without acknowledgment of France’s role in shaping their histories. The contradiction between the country’s ideals of liberté, égalité et fraternité, and the lived experiences of these communities fuels ongoing tensions around identity, belonging, and systemic racism.

The echoes of Vichy-era exclusionary policies still shape contemporary discussions on race and immigration in France. During World War II, the Vichy government sought to "purify" French identity by excluding Jews and other groups. This exclusionary nationalism continued to influence post-war policies on immigration, particularly toward North Africans, who were often marginalized and subjected to assimilationist policies. This is evident in France’s policies against visible religious symbols in public spaces—such as the 2004 ban on hijabs in schools—which disproportionately target Muslim women. The expectation that immigrants must completely abandon their cultural heritage to be considered truly "French" is a direct legacy of the Vichy-era conception of identity.

French rap actively counters the Vichy-era exclusionary narrative by challenging the sanitized version of national identity it promotes. Through their music, rap artists reject the idea that immigrants or their descendants must abandon their cultural heritage to be accepted as French. They expose the exclusionary practices that persist today, such as the marginalization of immigrant communities in the banlieues and the criminalization of Muslim identity. By addressing these issues, rap artists critique the lingering influence of Vichy-era ideologies, asserting that diverse cultural identities are legitimate within the French nation. This form of resistance redefines what it means to be French, offering a counter-narrative to exclusionary policies and challenging the notion that there is only one way to be "French."

At its core, the resistance expressed through French rap and other Black and Maghrebi artists serves as a powerful counter to France’s refusal to fully confront its colonial past. Through their music, these artists challenge not only the narratives surrounding French identity but also the systemic inequalities that persist today. The controversies surrounding figures like Médine, Aya Nakamura, Kery James, and Booba transcend music—they question who truly gets to be considered "French" and who is allowed to succeed without facing racialized scrutiny. These artists are pushing the boundaries of what it means to belong to the nation, offering a broader, more inclusive definition of French identity.

The persistence of these questions underscores the ongoing process of historical amnesia in France. The struggles of immigrant communities, particularly those of Black and Maghrebi descent, reflect a refusal to reckon with the uncomfortable truths of colonialism, race, and exclusion. By reclaiming suppressed histories and challenging dominant narratives, these artists compel France to confront the realities it often chooses to overlook - as Hugo did in his day which earned him an already ‘forgotten’ disrespect -. In doing so, they demand a more honest and inclusive national dialogue that recognizes the contributions, struggles, and identities of all its people.

Follow us on Instagram

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Vol. 6. Identity in Spanish Arab rap: countering racism and right-wing discrimination

Share Arab عlt

La France au rap français: mapping rap in France 

This is not a comprehensive map of all French rappers and urban musicians because, at the moment, that would be a nearly impossible goal to complete given the surge of artists becoming renowned over the last decade. However, it is merely an exercise to try to discover all of the other regions where a burgeoning rap scene is blossoming, as well as its representatives and distinguishing styles. This mapping does not address the rap generated on French overseas territories in the Caribbean and Indian Ocean; that would be the subject of another publication.

Le Grand Est

We will now travel east to the Grand Est area, which includes major cities such as Metz, Nancy, and Strasbourg. Larry is the major representation of Strasbourgeoise rap. Coming from the Elsau area, he began his musical career about 2018 in a very family-oriented environment, with his parents in charge of his business administration. He gained popularity in 2019 after releasing a freestyle with Booska-P titled "Booska Beriz". That same year, he released the mixtape Cité Blanche, in which he discusses the challenges in his neighbourhood, particularly those related to drug trafficking. Elsau is referred to as a "priority neighbourhood" in France, which is a euphemism for excluded neighbourhoods that require social engineering. In the case of Elsau, it is very surprising since it is essentially located on the opposite side of the railway that separates it from the centre of Strasbourg, yet it is a somewhat inaccessible location. Cité blanche was a success, but the consecration came in 2021 with his first album Petit Prince and the series of freestyles En Pepé, which established him in the scene and opened the door to collaborations with rappers such as Hamza, Gambino la MG, Kerchak, and Sofiane. In early 2024, he released his second album, NCE. His style is regarded as versatile, modern, and appealing.

OKLM à Lyon

Heading south, we arrive at Lyon, France's second-largest city. Lyon is now the centre of a thriving urban scene, with various rappers earning national headlines with a variety of genres.

First, there's Sasso, a Lyonnais rapper of Moroccan and Togolaise heritage who lives in the Part-Dieu neighbourhood of Lyon's third district. In 2018, he was one of 11 talents chosen by Booska-P to be followed. In 2020, he released the first volume of his mixtape series Enfant de la Rue, becoming the first Lyonnais rapper to receive gold certification for his single "J'picole". Then, in 2021 and 2022, he released volumes 2 and 3 of the mixtape series, as well as the collaborative album 2 lions with Lyonnais rapper L'Allemand. His musical approach is heavily influenced by Jul's sound, with highly rhythmic beats and sticky melodies that contrast with his lyrics, which discuss the reality of the street as well as yearning for the past and escape from reality.

Staying in Lyon's central region, we encounter Ashe 22, a French rapper of Algerian heritage who was born in Bab el Oued in 1996 and emigrated to France as a child, settling in Lyon's La Guillotière suburb. After a rough adolescence that landed him in prison, he began his musical career in 2018, becoming a pioneer of the drill genre in France. His style is defined by a lack of melodies, dark sounds, and no mixing. His lyrics discuss drug trafficking, money, lean, weapons, women, cops, and justice in a raw, unfiltered manner. Between 2019 and 2021, he released five mixtapes that established him on the French scene. He has a good working relationship with rapper Freeze Corleone, with whom he will release a joint album titled Riyad Sadio in 2022. In 2023, he released two studio albums with important characters from the scene, including Central Cee, Soolking, Rim'K, El Grande Toto, Hamza, Gazo, Baby Gang, and Maes.

The next performer is So La Lune, a Lyonnais rapper of Comorian heritage who lives in the Mermoz area. He is considered a member of the French rap movement known as "la Nouvelle Vague" (the New Wave). He rose to prominence in 2020 with his debut mixtape, Tsuki. He released nine EPs in 2021, which helped him gain recognition, but it was not until 2022 that he truly joined the scene, having been chosen by Booska-P as one of the musicians to watch. During the same year, he released four EPs and his mixtape Fissure de vie, which featured notable musicians like as Green Montana, Da Uzi, and SCH while also filling La Cigale and L'Olympia. In 2023, he published his debut studio album, L'enfant de la pluie, which was heavily influenced by the Japanese universe he has used since the beginning of his career. His style is distinguished by melancholy melodic chanting and a broken, raspy, nasal, and exaggeratedly high-pitched voice. That musical manner contrasts with his lyrics' dark subjects, which include references to addictions, loneliness, death, and so on, all framed in a nocturnal discourse.

We'll hop ahead to the dormitory town of Vénisseux, south of Lyon, to meet Khali, another member of that new wave of French rap. From Morocco, he began his career in 2018 and released two EPs in 2019 and 2020. In 2021, he released his first studio album, Laïla, which earned positive reviews from reviewers. It was succeeded by Il me resemble pas plus in 2022 and 23- in 2023. His sound is regarded as deep and sad, with some chopping and singing flows, lyrics in French, English, and Arabic, with a strong contemplative tone.

Now we'll head north to Rillieux-la-Pape to meet Menace Santana. He became known in the scene towards the end of 2020. He is a representative of what has been dubbed "drill ténebreux" (tenebrous drill), hiding his face behind a mask while wearing gloves and a knife, copying the style of Jason Vorhees, the protagonist of the horror film Friday the 13th. He began releasing a series of freestyles under the name Freestyle Covid, which became very popular on streaming services. Then, in 2021, he published his first album, !, with some tracks receiving over 20 million Spotify streams. In 2022, he published his second album, Into the Darkness. His universe is extremely gloomy, with an ambience reminiscent of horror films and the invisible. His lyrics are highly harsh, frequently referring to illicit activity.

Finally, we'll discuss one of the rising stars of the French scene. The Algerian TIF, one of the 2023 reveals, moved to France at the age of 18 to study and establish his musical career, settling in Lyon. He began piercing with his song "3INIYA" in 2020, but it was not until 2022, with the release of his first album Houma Sweet Houma, that he became widely renowned. In 2023, he released his second album, 1.6, cementing his status as one of the rising stars of the French music business. His style is distinguished by the combination of rap, Andalusian music, and Algerian chaâbi, resulting in a hybrid sound that appeals to a wide range of audiences. His principal songs focus on nostalgia for his own country and the difficulties of migrating.

La relève du Sud

Finally, we arrive at the South of France. We will initially stop in the Cote d'Azur to find Nekfeu. He began his career in 2007 in several collectives after growing up in La Trinité, a town near Nice. He released two EPs with 1995 before releasing his debut solo album, Feu, in 2015, which won Best Urban Music Album at the Victoires de la musique. In 2016, he released his second album, Cyborg, which was certified platinum in two weeks. Following that, he began a career in filmmaking, appearing in two films. In 2019, he released his last album until date, Les étoiles vagabondes, which was declared double diamond four years later. Since then, he has stayed silent and invisible on social media, only appearing alongside musicians he admires, such as Kalash Criminel, Alpha Wann, Dinos, and S.Pri Noir, among others. He is a politically oriented rapper who supports a variety of social causes, and his style is very technical, employing complex rhetorical figures. He is regarded as one of the finest writers in French rap.

Moving west, we land in the small harbour town of Sète. There, we meet Demi Portion, a rapper of Moroccan heritage and proponent of independent rap in France. After a difficult childhood, he began rapping in the 1990s, and in 1999, he and Sprinter established the group Les Grandes Gueules, which still exists today. Inspired by La Scred Connexion, he laboured in the shadows for many years, using the internet to promote his music. He has recorded over a dozen mixtapes, one EP, and three studio albums, all of which reflect his vision of rap as a respected art form, with a focus on lyrics and melodies and the use of music as a bridge for connection rather than rivalry. He founded the Demi Festival in 2016, which is held in his hometown of Sète.

From Sète, we'll head to Toulouse to find Laylow, a French rapper of Tunisian and Ivorian heritage. He began his career in 2012, releasing collaborative EPs with the Toulousain musician Sir'Klo and the Montpelliérain Wit. In 2016, he released his first solo EP Mercy, followed by Digitalova (2017), .RAW (2018), and RAW-Z, all of which were huge successes, paving the way for his first studio album Trinity, which was released in 2020 and featured artists such as S.Pri Noir, Jok'Air, Alpha Wann, and Lomepal, and was certified gold. In 2021, he released his second album, L'Étrange Histoire de Mr. Anderson, which features Damso, Hamza, and Nekfeu, among others. His style is described as futuristic, with extensive use of autotune. Aesthetically, his universe is influenced by films like Matrix, Blade Runner, and even Tim Burton.

Staying in the same city, we encounter Bigflo & Oli, two brothers from Argentinian origin who started their career in 2015. The duo gained prominence in the French rap scene with their introspective lyrics, smooth flows, and catchy beats. Their debut album, La Cour des grands, released in 2015, propelled them to national recognition, earning critical acclaim and commercial success. Known for their socially conscious themes and authentic storytelling, Bigflo & Oli have continued to captivate audiences with subsequent albums like La Vraie Vie (2017) and La Vie De Rêve (2018). With their unique blend of rap and pop sensibilities, they have become one of France's most beloved musical acts, inspiring a new generation of fans with their insightful lyricism and infectious energy.

Finally, we arrived in Perpignan, near the border with Spain, to meet Capuccino. The rapper is originally from Tunisia and is a member of the #TeamNasDas collective, which is led by influencer Nas Das. He gained popularity in 2022 with his tune “La Location”, which he performed at Planète Rap, at Skyrock radio. Since then, he has continued to release dynamic and cheerful tracks while also collaborating with musicians such as DJ Hamida.

This closes our tour de France, where we discovered burgeoning communities and artists outside Paris and Marseille's typical rap hotspots. I hope you enjoyed this brief introduction and will include some of them in your playlist.

Follow us on Instagram

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Vol. 5. Rap against racism: how Spanish driller counter right-wing racist discourse

Subscribe now

En province, je suis Parisien (Hein), j’suis du 9.5 à Paris (À Paris)

On stoppera pas l’hémorragie banlieusarde, même avec l’oseille des Qataris

Lino in Grand Paris - Medine ft. Lartiste, Lino, Sofiane, Alivor, Seth Gueko, Ninho & Youssoupha

Speaking about rap in France means talking about Paris and its surrounding areas. Except for Marseille, the vast majority of French rappers are Parisians or residents of any of the other districts that comprise the Greater Paris area, which are Essonne (91), Hauts de Seine (92), Seine-Saint-Denis (93), Val de Marne (94), Val d'Oise (95), Yvelines (78), and Seine et Marne (77). This is not surprising given that the Greater Paris area accounts for about 20% of France's total population, with over 12 million inhabitants spread throughout all departments. What is more relevant to our concern is that 40% of the population is migrant or of migrant origin. Given that they are the genre's bulwark, it is only natural that the majority of rappers develop in the Paris area.

Furthermore, the country's political, economic, social, and cultural concentration around Paris hinders the development of other economic and cultural hotspots across the country. However, over the last decade, many other regions of France have begun to thrive in terms of rap output, with new and distinct scenes blooming around the country. 

Share Arab عlt

La France au rap français: mapping rap in France 

This is not a comprehensive map of all French rappers and urban musicians because, at the moment, that would be a nearly impossible goal to complete given the surge of artists becoming renowned over the last decade. However, it is merely an exercise to try to discover all of the other regions where a burgeoning rap scene is blossoming, as well as its representatives and distinguishing styles. This mapping does not address the rap generated on French overseas territories in the Caribbean and Indian Ocean; that would be the subject of another publication.

Nord determiné 

The northern region of France is primarily divided between the departments of Nord, Pas de Calais, Somme, and Seine-Maritime, which includes towns such as Lille, Calais, Amiens, Rouen, and Le Havre.

The first hub is the metropolitan region of Lille, Roubaix, and Tourcoing. This is a border territory with Belgium; thus, diversity and cultural interchange have existed for generations. Because of its closeness to the port of Dunkirk, the Lille-Roubaix-Tourcoing area has recently served as an industrial hub for textile manufacturing as well as a logistical centre. The metropolitan area attracts a large number of suburban migrants seeking economic possibilities in a city where the cost of living is relatively low, but there are also concerns about unemployment and low income levels—approximately two-thirds of the national per capita average. The suburban areas of Roubaix and Tourcoing are the strongholds of rappers such as Zkr and Gradur. 

Zkr is a Lille-born rapper of Tunisian and Moroccan descent. He first gained attention in 2018 when he launched his Freestyle 5 minute series, which has now reached number 13. That same year, he released his first EP, Absent. He became well-known in the scene as early as 2020, working with artists such as Koba LaD and Da Uzi. In 2021, he released his debut studio album, Dans les mains, which was certified platinum in June 2023.  From then on, he appeared in the works of various artists, like Maes, Nessbeal, RK, Guy2Bezbar, Alonzo, and Fresh La Douille. In 2022, he published his second album, Caméleon, which was reissued in 2023 with additional tracks. Following a hiatus, he recently released the mixtape Mode Opératoire Vol. 1. His style is defined by his street attitude, the necessity to preserve his street credibility, and the desire to rehabilitate himself following his time in prison. In fact, it is his authenticity in describing real-life events, combined with his dedication to freestyle, aggressive flows, and rapping à l'ancienne while also being able to innovate, that has earned him recognition in the scene.

Gradur might already be considered an established personality in the French rap scene. The rapper of Congolese descent began piercing in 2014 with a series of freestyles called “Sheguey”. In 2014, he released the mixtape ShegueyVara, which was followed by ShegueyVara 2, which featured appearances by Niska, Alonzo, Lacrim, Booba, Black M, Jul, and Nekfeu, as well as hits like “Rosa”. He released his debut album, L'homme au bob, in 2015, followed by his second, Where is l'album de Gradur?, in 2016. From there, he became a regular contributor to other artists, producing a number of singles each year and evolving into a more commercial style influenced by African sounds, Afro-beat, and lyrics about love, relationships, and money aimed at a wider audience. In 2019, he published his third album Zone 59, which has collaborations with key characters in the scene such as Ninho, Niska, Naza, Koba LaD, Alonzo, GIMS, Dadju, and Heuss L'Enfoiré on the hit "Ne reviens pas".

Our second trip will be Amiens, where we will meet the eccentric Naza. He rose to prominence after signing with Youssoupha's label, Bomayé Muzik, in 2015. Since then, he has maintained a tight friendship with KéBlack. Both rappers have collaborated on a number of chart-topping hits. Until now, he has released four albums and two mixtapes that have established him in the scene, featuring major artists such as Heuss L'Enfoiré, Niska, SCH, Koba LaD, Hornett La Frappe, and Da Uzi, among others, in addition to performing on the collective album Le Classico Organisé. His approach is distinguished by African rhythms, romantic lyrics, and melodic beats.

Finally, we'll stop in Le Havre, Médine's base. Since the publication of his debut album in 2004, he has been a symbol of rap engagé (committed rap). His second album, Jihad, le plus grand combat est contre soi-même, paved the way for the type of music he intended to offer: hard, combative, clear, and devoid of euphemisms, describing the sociopolitical reality of modern France as well as global issues such as Arab colonialism. Since then, he has released eight albums, three EPs, and four mixtapes, including notable singles such as “Don't Panik”, “Don't Laïk”, “Protest Song”, “Le bruit qui pense”, “Gaza Soccer Beach”, “Grand Paris”, and “Bataclan”, among others. His lyrics do not spare anyone from criticism, raising his voice to protect the underprivileged, and calling out the paradoxes of French society. Musically, he has shifted from more boom bap sounds to trap beats, but his style remains distinct, and any other French rapper, whether old school, young talent, commercial stars, or the darkest drillers, will be proud to share a song with him. Being outspoken has not come without consequences, as the right-wing has made him the focus of hate campaigns, as evidenced by the cancellation of his concert at the Bataclan, the site of the terrible atrocities in 2015. In addition, around Medine, a Havroise scene has arisen, with exponents such as Brav', Index, Pirate, Ali B, or MALTI, among others.

Rising west 

In Brest, we meet the quirky Lorenzo. He began his career in 2016 by publishing comical songs on YouTube and becoming known for his tune Freestyle du sale. The same year, he released his first album Empereur du sale. On the scene, he goes by the surname “empereur du sale”. Since then, he's produced three more albums: Rien à branler in 2018, Sex in the City in 2019, and Légende vivante in 2022, as well as collaborations with other musicians including Heuss l'Enfoiré and Vladimir Cauchemar. His quirkiness is evident on numerous occasions, such as the release of his album Sex in the City, when CDs were sold at FNAC with a condom. In his last album, he released 68 31-second tracks before Spotify removed them. His style is defined by a nasal voice, and his lyrics contain misogynistic and sexual undertones.

Moving south to Nantes, we encounter Coelho. The Nantois rose to prominence after appearing as a finalist on the Netflix series Nouvelle École. He had already begun his career some years before, working alongside his brother. He had already signed with Mezoued Recordz, which is owned by Tunisiano, a member of Sniper, prior to competing in the programme. His style is defined by quiet beats laced with sincerity and polished lyrics that express his state of mind, however he may switch between hip hop, jazz, R'n'B, and even disco sounds, as shown in his single “Allo Mon Fréro”.

Our final trip will be at Angers, where we find DA Uzi. The rapper of Congolese heritage began piercing in 2017 with a series of freestyles titled La D en personne. That same year, he joined with Warner Music's Rec 118 label and recorded some collaborations with Maes and Ninho, which helped propel his career forward. In 2019, he released his EP Mexico and a series of freestyles called WeLaRue, which paved the way for his first album, Architecte, in 2020. This work made him known in the scene, resulting in the publication of his second album Vrai 2 Vrai in 2021, followed by Le chemin des braves in 2022, where he appeared with artists such as Nekfeu, Heuss l'Enfoiré, Soso Maness, ZKR, MHD and Freeze Corleone, among others. His lyrics are distinguished by their authenticity, as he portrays his daily life, struggles, and hardships on the street with a heavy dose of realism and rawness. His harsh voice and technique of rhyming while shouting make him appear "crazy" or "possessed" on the mic, lending him a distinct touch.

Rap de campagne

From the Atlantic coast, we'll head into the heart of France: la campagne. Our first trip will be Alençon, the hometown of award-winning rapper Orelsan. Orelsan began his career in the 2000s, using online sites like as MySpace, until piercing in 2008 with the single “Changement”. His debut album, Perdu d'avance, published in 2009, was a triumph. In 2011, he published his second album, Le Chant des Sirènes, which earned him two Victoires de la musique. He experimented with television and film before returning to rap in 2017. In 2021, he released his fourth album, Civilisation, which was certified diamond. Orelsan has 15 Victoires de la musique accolades, making him one of the few rap musicians to do so. He is a representative of what has been referred to as alternative rap and rap engagé, despite some controversy around claims of misogyny and racism for his tune “Sale Pute”.

We'll head to Blois, the small town where Niro grew up. The rapper of Moroccan ancestry began his career in 2009, when he performed on the mixtape Talents fâchés alongside TLF, Black Kent, and Leck. Since then, his career took off thanks to features on Booba's mixtape Autopsie Vol. 4 and collaborations with Rim'K and Sadek. He released the street album Paraplégique in 2012 and the mixtape Rééducation in 2013, before releasing his debut album Miraculé in 2014, which prompted him to play at the Bataclan that same year. Since then, he has released nine additional albums, including his last, Taulier, in 2023, which was reedited. Niro is a member of the late 2000s rapper generation, which includes artists like as Lacrim, Dosseh, and Sofiane, among others, and serves as a bridge between the old and new generations, having collaborated with the vast majority of French rappers. His style may be described as hardcore, although he also does trap and world music as necessary. His lyrics are well-known for their high level of sophistication, which includes oxymorons, chiasms, and metaphors that precisely portray his character's complexity.

Our next destination will be in Vierzon, Josman's hometown. The rapper of Congolese and Angolan heritage began his career at a young age. In 2013, he became the youngest rapper to win one of the most prominent freestyle rap competitions, the End of the Weak, after moving to Paris to study baccalaureates. Then he continued to participate in more contests and released some mixtapes. In 2016, he released his single “Dans le vide”, which helped him get greater recognition. In 2018, he released his first album, J.O.$., which was certified platinum in 2021. Since then, he's released two mixtapes and four albums, including Split in 2020, M.A.N. in 2022, and J.000.$ in 2023. His approach is distinguished by the merging of diverse musical styles, rather than focusing solely on rap, and the development of his own style, far from existing norms, which led him to receive the prize for best song of the year 2023 in Les Flammes for the intro to his album M.A.N.

Part 1 of our journey concludes in Orleans, where we will meet Vegedream. He began his career in 2017 as a part of the group La Synesia and is best known for his track “Ramenez la coupe à la maison”, which was released after France won the World Cup in 2018. Then he went solo in 2018 with his debut mixtape, Marchand de sable. His success prompted him to collaborate with famous singers as Damso, Dadju, Ninho, KeBlack, RK, and Alonzo. In 2019, he released his debut album, Ategban, and in 2022, he released his second studio album, La Boîte de Pandora, which featured collaborations with Naps, Zaho, M. Pokoro, Heuss l'Enfoiré and Tayc. His music is heavily influenced by his Ivorian heritage, with danceable lyrics that are not particularly deep. He has discovered a niche in creating commercial music, particularly for football games.

Follow us on Instagram

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Vol. 4. Du Nord au Sud: French Rap beyond Paris and Marseille (Pt. 2)

Subscribe now

Je peux faire un disque de rubi même posé dans une tente Quechua,

Si seulement tu étais à ma place, j'pourrais te dire qu'ils sont durs mes choix.

Pic et pic, alcool et drame – Jul

In November 2022, I visited Marseille. It had been ten years since my first visit, and time seemed to stand still. I remembered every nook and cranny of the city and moved as if I had lived there forever. But something had changed: nowadays, French rap and rap from Marseillaise artists are ubiquitous throughout the city. Every business, shop, restaurant, and car passing by can be identified by the sound, voice, or lyrics of a mainstream rapper. But one stands out above the rest: the three-letter man, Jul. Accompany me as we learn how L'Ovni de Marseille has irreversibly changed the path of French rap.

Share Arab عlt

How Everything Began

J'ai l'cœur blanc, je fais pas le héros

J'ai rempli l'compte, j'suis parti de zéro.

Pic et pic, alcool et drame - Jul

Julien Mari, sometimes known as Jul, was born on January 14, 1990, into a working-class household. Originally from the Saint Jean du Désert area in Marseille's 12th district, he immediately abandoned his studies and began working in menial jobs until joining his father on swimming pool construction sites, a position he would resist for a year before pursuing music full-time. This is a recurring issue in France, where over 10% of pupils drop out of school without completing their education. However, in Marseille, this proportion rises to 17%, leaving many of these young people in a terrible situation with little access to professional employment.

At the age of 17, he began recording music with only a microphone, a computer, and a sound card and was quickly discovered by the Marseillaise label Liga One Industry. At that point, he acquired the moniker Jul and joined the band Ghetto Phénomène. Then, in 2013, he published his first single, "Sort le cross volé," which received over 30 million views on YouTube within a few weeks.

Jul launched his debut album "Dans ma paranoïa" in February 2014, which is still considered one of his best works, with anthems such as "J'oublie tout", a song known from Marseille to Tunis.

Jul went on to create two more albums and started a tradition of giving away free CDs and songs to his fans. After releasing his third album, he left Liga One, accusing them of failing to pay him for CD and T-shirt sales, and founded his label, D'Or et De Platine, which will signal a before and an after in French rap.

Follow us on Instagram

The underdog’s on top: democratizing rap

Et ne confonds pas, j'suis pas tes potes
Ferme ta gueule ou j'te casse les côtes
T'as du vice, t'as des sales méthodes
Ouais du vice pour emboucaner les autres

Pour un violet - Jul

Jul has established himself as an unmistakable star of French rap since 2015. His album My World was a huge success, going gold in three days and platinum in three weeks. One year and a half later, the album has been certified Diamond.

Jul has had a tremendous impact on French rap and beyond. He developed a new musical style that is now inextricably linked to Marseille and has had a global influence on the sound of French rap. The impact of music can be attributed to two factors: the short time it takes to produce the instrumental track, write the lyrics, and record the song, and the music style, which combines an auto-tune-filtered rap with a dance beat with high beats per minute and hints of reggaeton, baile funk (favela music), Raï, Eurodance, and French Variété.

This simplicity of the musical production process enables many young people across the country to create music without making large investments in equipment. Visually and aesthetically, his videos are relatively cheap, filmed in his neighbourhood and other sections of Marseille's Quartiers Nord, and simply feature his friends and neighbours doing daily activities such as riding, driving motorcycles, and enjoying life on the street.

Jul's songs convey the story of each district of Marseille, as well as the daily lives and struggles of individuals trying to get by and make ends meet. His pieces discuss friendship, respect, and honour, relationships with women, and the issues that young people and residents of Marseille experience every day. In "Superstar," he writes, "J'lève la moto, j'prends des risques du Prado jusqu'à l'obélisque," referring to a common pastime that young people do between two representative locations in the city. In addition, references to city iconography appear in both his texts and the visual imaginaries that accompany them, featuring the cathedral of Notre Dame de la Garde, the Vieux Port, the Avenue de La Canèbiere, the cités of Castellane, the beaches of the Prado, and the ever-present sea.

His style is also distinguished by a humble demeanour, reminiscent of the guy who has everything yet continues to live in the same neighbourhood and associate with the same people. References to his beginnings and the difficulties he overcame to reach this point are particularly prevalent in his lyrics, as he stated in "J'oublie tout": C'est Jul qui arrive dans l'game, j'suis venu pour tout niquer. J'traînais avec des gens, j'en ai jamais profité”.

His songs, like any rap lyrics, make references to street life and gangsterism, but they also address these clichés by juxtaposing them with what is everyday living in any Marseille neighbourhood. In this sense, references to luxury companies like Ferrari, Rolex, and Dior compete with mentions of names like Quechua, Asics, and Casio, which represent much more of the spirit of today's people, as in the song “My World” where he states, “Y'a rien d'fantastique, moi j'rentre en Asics”.

That is why, despite his success and popularity, there are still segments of the French people who disagree with what he symbolizes. "Jul embodies the popular par excellence, both in its emphasis on authenticity and spontaneity and in its stigmatisation of so-called bad taste and vulgarity", Emmanuelle Carinos is quoted as saying. That naiveté, in some ways, has led to a segment of the public criticizing and mocking the musician because of his alleged lack of knowledge, which has prompted him, like many other rap artists, to avoid any contact with the media to safeguard his image. This is not surprising because there is a "long tradition of misunderstanding and contempt for rap by a good number of French generalist media, preferring to elaborate and perpetuate a good number of clichés around this musical genre, in an attempt to extract any truth from anyone trying to give it any kind of artistic treatment," according to Pierre Kron in his thesis on the media treatment of French rap. In this sense, one of his recent releases, “Courtois” embodies this idea:

D’Or et de Platine

J'job toute l'année, j'fais plaisir à la zone

Trop d'condamnés, y a trop d'gens qui maronnent

J’fais plaisir à la zone – Jul ft. SDM

Jul has become the best-selling rapper in French history, surpassing MC Solaar, with over 7 million records sold in less than ten years. He is also the second performer with the most platinum-certified albums (17), trailing only Johnny Hallyday. Three of them are certified diamonds.

There is a lot of debate concerning Jul's music style and the numerous critics he has because of his dependency on autotune. However, it is obvious that this blend has become a signature in French rap, with top-selling musicians such as PNL and SCH recognized for their use of autotune.

However, as many detractors as Jul gets, he is also strongly supported in the French rap scene. Jul's work has received public praise from artists such as Soprano, Alonzo, L'Algérino, SCH, Naps, Soso Maness, Mister You, Gims, Shay, Le Rat Luciano, Nekfeu, Ninho, Soolking, Kofs, and Lacrim, among others. Furthermore, he has collaborated with scores of other French singers, totalling over 259 appearances by 2022.

Jul is mostly supported by his followers, whom he refers to as "La Team Jul," and who number in the millions, with over 4 million followers on Instagram and 1.5 million on Tik Tok. That has helped him become France's most streamed rapper, with over 7.7 million monthly Spotify listeners and nearly 7 million YouTube subscribers, but he is vying for the distinction with Ninho. Furthermore, in June 2022, he became the second artist, after Soprano, to fill the Vélodrome, the stadium of Olympique Marseille, with over 60,000 spectators.

13 Organisé : Marseille takes the lead 

C’est past la capitale, c’est Marseille bébé

Bande organisée – 13 Organisé (Jul, SCH, Kofs, Naps, Soso Maness, Elams, Solda, Houari)

Jul is arguably one of the most significant figures in contemporary French rap. His ascension provided the necessary push for the genre to establish itself as one of the most popular among French listeners. As he self-qualifies, “c’est la zone en personne.” Although many have condemned his approach as monotonous and lacking in reinvention, the reality is that he has inspired many other artists, including those from outside France, as seen with Morad. Aside from democratising the genre throughout the country, his growing popularity led other Marseillaise singers to acquire recognition across the Hexagon, repositioning Marseille as a leader in music.

As we have shown throughout this newsletter, musicians have an impact that extends beyond the music industry. Jul is a symbol of Marseille. Much of this credit should go to the joint album "13 Organisé," released in 2020, on which he collaborated with dozens of Marseille artists ranging from major voices to old school stars. The tune "Bande Organisé" impacted the entire country during the continuing COVID-19 outbreak, spending 11 weeks at the top of the French singles chart. Today, the single has over 230 million Spotify streams and over 470 million YouTube views, making it a city-wide reference song, and the video has become a cult, with people visiting the filming locations. Last summer, the song was certified Diamond five times.

Music not only recounts people's stories, but it also produces new vocabulary and references, which assist in sustaining Marseille's distinct character[1]. Many French became acquainted with the Occitan impact on Marseille French at the outset of the song, when SCH begins his couplet with "Oui, ma gâté.". It also made a significant contribution to the establishment of the slogan "C'est Marseille Bebé," which continues the history of other punchlines that have distinguished the city from the rest of the country, such as IAM's "De la planète Mars."[2]

Jul has had such an influence that the city's official tourism website has dedicated an entry to explaining the artist's relevance. Furthermore, in 2023, the rapper began a sponsorship agreement with Olympique de Marseille, with the label D'Or et De Platine's logo appearing on the left sleeve of the team's t-shirt. Nonetheless, politicians, comedians, football stars, and ordinary citizens around the country have used their hands to create the symbol of Jul, occupying not only physical space, as he does with his ephemeral boutique in one of Marseille's most well-known malls, but also referential space beyond music.

References

[1] Kron, Pierre (2018), Les dynamiques du traitement médiatique du rap en France. Les Inrockuptibles, entre distinction and similitude (1990–2017), Université de Strasbourg.

[2] Maëlys TOMA, "« NOUS ON VIENT DE MARSEILLE, COMME DIDIER RAOULT », RAP PANDÉMIQUE ET REFONTE DE L’IMAGINAIRE LINGUISTIQUE MARSEILLAIS", ANADISS 31:121–131.

[3] Chong J Wojtkowski, “100% Marseillais: Marseille Rap and Defining Difference,”

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Arab عlt Vol. 4: Du Nord au Sud: French Rap beyond Paris and Marseille

Me despertaba cansao, el futuro era oscuro,

Y si miraba pal lao, no tenía ni un duro,

Me despertaba cansao, y no había dinero,

Así que miro pal frente y me siento el primero

Bogota – Naps. ft Morad and Alonzo

In 2019, philosopher Ernesto Castro wrote an interesting book outside the scope of his discipline. In "El trap. Filosofía millennial para la crisis en España" (Trap. Millennial philosophy for the crisis in Spain), the author contends that trap music is the soundtrack of the post-economic crisis in Spain. This, he argues, has led to the trap scene being very individualistic, foregrounding money, fame, and quick success as the main antagonists of an ongoing crisis, not only economic but also environmental, generational, and social. In contrast to this picture, the drill scene - at least the Arab drill scene, which is the subject of this article - shows a different representation of the same crisis. One could say that this scene has particular aspects related to migration policies, but also to specific cultural values related to the importance of family, respect for elders, and solidarity. In this sense, the Arab drill scene offers an alternative understanding of what music can achieve.

The importance of Morad and other emerging young Arab rappers in Spain goes beyond the realm of music. In recent years, the number of unaccompanied minors and young migrants, mainly from Morocco, in Spain has increased by over 20,000 between 2018 and 2020. Unfortunately, right-wing organisations often stigmatise these young migrants by calling them "MENAS" - the Spanish acronym for foreign unaccompanied minors - which has led to debates among academics and NGO practitioners to stop using the term to avoid further stigmatisation. But as is so often the case with pejorative terms, victims have turned the term into a proud one.

Share Arab عlt

Rap that heals

No es pa’ tanto, no es pal llanto, Miro para el cielo, vuelo con el viento

No es un cuento, nunca miento, Problema’ a diario, pero estoy contento

Aprendí - Morad

Precisely, Arab drill songs have paid attention to minors and young migrants, addressing their situation in their lyrics. “Children of 17 go out to sea to give their mothers food and a table” (‘Niños pequeños’ – Morad) is just one of the verses addressing this problem. However, this connection goes beyond rhyming and impacts other aspects. For instance, Morad’s lyrics are the primary tool through which many of these youth learn Spanish when in Ceuta - a Spanish north-African city where many of them stay for a long time before crossing to the peninsula. It is quite an interesting exercise to observe how many of them did not have any other reference than drill songs, and from there were able to develop good Spanish skills to help them deal with daily life issues. This question can be traced to the kind of competition to see who a ‘real’ Morad fan was long before he became widely known.

"We, the MENAS, we are the ones who have helped Morad to rise to the top," told Karim, a 30-year-old guy from Tetouan, in the North of Morocco, close to the border with Spain. Karim spent several years in Ceuta before crossing to mainland Spain. In Madrid, he is fortunate as he is renting a room. The rest of his colleagues live in a ‘piso patera’ – a substandard and overcrowded flat, named this, as it resembles the small boats in which many migrants cross the sea to arrive in Spain - usually squatted until the police evict them from it. They all work seasonally in black in the construction sector and develop back pain and leg injuries.

Morad’s and other Arab drillers’ songs serve as psychosocial support tools for these youth, who often face very difficult situations such as lacking legal documents, financial resources, and family and friends to support them. Lyrics are meaningful as they recount issues such as their daily breadth: continuous police harassment, roaming the streets in the quest for any resource to eat that night, or the loneliness of feeling alone and not trusting anybody. 

"When I listen to Morad, Beny, and others, I feel something touching me. Other Spanish rappers always talk about the same things: the neighbourhood, money, and so on. Morad talks about things that we live and feel: our mothers, the police, life on the street," said Hassan, a 25-year-old from Dajla, a town located in the southernmost part of Western Sahara. He crossed Spain by boat, arriving in Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands, where he stayed for two years before crossing inland Spain. After some time living as an asylum seeker, he lost his asylum permit and returned to struggle again.

What do Arab drills speak about and why is it so touching?

Portraying real life issues

Este es nuestro sistema, eh eh, Día a día evitando condenas, eh eh

Dinero, drogas y problemas, eh eh, Es la calle quien puso las reglas, eh eh

La Suerte Pt. 2 - Delarue

One thing that has always been wrongly understood by those who criticize rap music and culture is the alleged promotion of violence, crime, and damaging behaviour. Although I will not vouch for anyone, I can strongly affirm that the vast majority of rappers do not promote violence or criminality. Rap songs speak about issues of violence, criminality, killings, drug trafficking, and imprisonment, but they do so as a sort of denouncement of that reality and celebrate the fact of leaving that life behind. Rather than thinking that rap music is intrinsically violent, it would be better to understand that the living conditions of most of the communities from which most rappers come are plagued with many forms of violence, particularly systemic violence.

In this sense, the main topics of Arab drillers' songs in Spain are related to the reality they face daily and how they cope with it. Unsurprisingly, one of the main themes is how to find a livelihood and survive in hostile environments. Moroccans’ unemployment rate in Spain is the highest among foreign nationals at 34.6%. Similarly, the poverty rate among foreigners is double that among Spanish nationals. Most Arab migrants in Spain are employed in sectors such as restaurants, catering, domestic work, construction, agriculture, and retail, which are more likely to offer jobs in the informal sector and suffer seasonal economic crises. Approximately 26.5% of foreign nationals were employed in the informal sector, compared to only 13.5% of the Spanish population. Moreover, approximately 13.5% of migrants are in an irregular situation, which makes them prone to work in the informal sector as the only way to meet ends.

Therefore, it is no surprise that the songs talk about these difficult conditions and the solutions they find. “I had to think to improve, I am coming from the nothing,” signs Morad in ‘La Street.’ For instance, they will constantly mention traveling to the south of Spain to pick up drug loads, stealing, dealing, etc. In ‘Carretera,’ Morad narrates the whereabouts of one of those travels and though he understands the wrongful of it, he acknowledges that there was not much choice: “I learn how to live with all the bad, and then yes, I ripped them off.” By the end, as anybody else, money is necessary to survive, but not at any price: “Theft for luxury used to be the main thing, now we make fluss to find our peace” (‘La Suerte Pt. 1’ – Delarue).

However, contrary to what many believe, there is no glorification of that but rather 1) a need to tell real-life stories and not inventions; 2) to denounce the life they seem destined to live, and 3) the relief that comes from leaving it behind. Because of that constant tug-of-war between the bad and the necessary, drillers live in a permanent battle against invisible enemies: “On continue dans la guerre (we continue the war), you don’t know what will happen, you just want to win, based on the feeling, slaves of the right path,” signs Delarue in ‘Generación Maldita.’ However, in this inevitable fate, there is always a loophole for honour and empowerment. ‘Sigue,’ by Beny JR and Morad, is a good example of that mentality, with punchlines like “Sometimes bad things go on, but no one chases them. He who follows always gets it.” They even use this platform to denounce the lack of opportunities for the younger generations: “Little children obsessed to commit crimes; stolen cars do not have an insurance nor a technician” (‘Niños Pequeños’ – Morad).

In the end, a measure of success in this life would be to pay taxes: “I did not have enough to enter the shops; I doubt that you understand that world. I had to steal all the clothes, now I pay the Treasury every month” (‘Bzrp Music Sessions Vol. 47’ - Morad) – a goal clearly at odds with those right-wing narratives obsessed with portraying them as invaders and the Trojan horse of a new Al-Andalus.

Free Sufian, Free Mustafa

Aguantando abusos policiales, levantándome pa’ los juzgados.

Aguantando charlas de los fiscales, para nunca más estar encerrado.

Aguantando – Morad

Police abuse is another theme that can be clearly identified in Arab drill songs. Mentions to the police and judicial system are constant in their songs to denounce the treatment that different police bodies have with the youth of deprived neighbourhoods. This is no secret. It is not hard to find, by chance, that a couple of police officers identify a young boy on the sole basis of how he looks. Despite racial profiling being unlawful in Spain, the European Commission Against Racism and Intolerance (ECRI) considers it an endemic problem. Data on criminality in Spain must be taken with a pinch of salt: over 30% of crimes are committed by foreigners, and they are mainly related to drug trafficking and crimes against property. However, there are no conclusive data on criminality rates by minors and young migrants, and in any case, they could be highly influenced by the racial profiling we pointed out.

Songs denounce this constant harassment, regardless of what they do, their age, or any other condition. “Secret police in the corners taking pictures of the children” (‘Cuzi Cuza’ – Morad) or the fear of being taken to a detention centre any moment, as in ‘Aprendí’: “Mum, please, do not open to the police. She was not open because that meant [being taken to the] police station” are just some examples of the situations they constantly face. Given all that, it is no surprise their anger and resentment towards them: “I hate the police as much as I hate Israelis” (La Suerte Pt. 2 – Delarue).

Drillers also have thoughts about their imprisoned friends and experiences in jail. Probably, one of the most popular cries for freedom in Spain has become the tag “Free Sufian, Free Mustafa” that Beny JR includes at the end of every song. However, this experience can be used as a symbol and a tool for collective identity: “A greeting to those who ate a tortilla sandwich at the public prosecutor’s office’ (‘Cuidadito’ – Morad).

Respect, loyalty, and la Mama

Mi mama me dice que a los buenos Dios los bendice

Mama me dice – Morad

On the other hand, we also find other themes that outlay the main values they uphold, given the panorama of difficult living conditions and police harassment. One of them is the importance given to honour, respecting one’s word, and not allowing oneself to change despite improved living conditions. “With the feeling that Beny would never sign up for a million, Morad would never sign up for a million, here we are with another song” (La Verdad – Beny Jr ft. Morad). This theme is linked to the importance of friendship and loyalty, and the disdain for snitches. Having good real friends, even if few, is a treasure: “The friend who is close, who is always in the bad, I’ll lend you my hand now, with nothing in return” (‘No money’ – Morad).

Another important value is the ability to endure and stay strong despite difficulties, for which inner beliefs in oneself and faith in God are almost the only tools left. Lacking almost everything required for a healthy growing up, introspection is a basic characteristic of these youth, particularly for those who arrived alone, and faced increased challenges. A clear example in the opening verse of this article is when Morad writes, “I woke up tired and there was no money, so I look ahead, and I feel I am the first.” Or the whole single of ‘Soñar,’ which all redounds in this idea of personal improvement.

Finally, the role of the mother is the foremost. It is clearly linked to the importance given to mothers in Islam, for many of these youths are the life guide to which they hold to survive. The mother is the beginning and the end of everything: the one who advises, the one who listens, the one who suffers, and the one for whom everything is intended. The ideas of doing whatever it takes to support the mother and the family but also of how her judgement is the severest one (“And for ignoring Mom, again seated in the trial chair” – ‘For ignoring Mom’ – El Patron 970) are constant ideas throughout Arab drill songs.

This article aims to highlight the main issues that drill songs talk about and how they resonate with the reality faced by Arab migrants in Spain. By no means can the article perform an exhaustive analysis of the lyrics of each artist, which are very rich and varied in terms of writing styles, cultural references, and so on, but only present a small overview of the main problems they touch on and how they relate to the actual youth on the street. 

In future, I will touch upon the themes of identity building and socio-political representation. However, I will now move from Spain to explore other scenarios. So, keep engaged!

*All the names in this article have been changed to preserve the anonymity and safety of the sources.

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Arab عlt Vol. 3: Jul and the rise of French rap: il n’y a plus de marche arrière

Un secuestro exprés, y luego atado en un ascensor

Pregunta por España si existe alguno que sea mejor

Toda la noche – Jul ft. Morad

I started listening to Morad in 2019 when I lived in Barcelona. At the time, I lived in the La Bordeta neighbourhood, near the Mercat Nou metro station. A few metres further, crossing the Rambla del Badal, Barcelona ends and you are in the dormitory town of L'Hospitalet de Llobregat. In the heart of L'Hospitalet is the neighbourhood of La Florida, where Morad was born and raised.

When I first heard "Cuidadito" or "MDLR" - which stands for 'Mec de la rue' in French and ‘Streetboy’ in English - I was shocked at how French his sound was. Memories of Jul and Marseillaise rap, as well as the Afro-trap of MHD, came to mind. As an avid listener of the French scene for more than a decade, I could not be happier that this sound was finally making its way through the Spanish scene. But the road to get there was not easy.

No country for racialised rap

Música pa’ carretera, y lo hacemos de otra manera

No somos unos cualquiera, somos los de la nueva era

Carretera - Morad

Morad represents a new generation of urban music in Spain. One that we have been missing for many years. It is fair to say that rap emerged as the music of a minority that rebelled against the prevailing order. This was originally the case in the United States, but also in many other countries. Not so in Spain. Of course, Spanish rap emerged from the hands of African migrants and racialised people influenced by exchanges with American soldiers in the US military bases of Torrejón de Ardoz and Zaragoza - which are no longer active - but it was never a renegade music made by minorities. In Spain, rap is predominantly white and Spanish.

That has a lot to do with the history of migration in Spain. In 2013, I wrote my thesis on the rap industry in Spain. The question of the influence of minorities in Spain was raised by Dr. Francisco Reyes Sánchez, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing. Until recently, the Gipsies were the largest minority in Spain. However, they have a very specific and strong cultural and musical tradition, namely flamenco, which makes it difficult for rap to assert itself as a vehicle through which they can express their grievances. Certainly there are cases of gypsy rappers, but these are the exception rather than the norm.

In the 1990s, Spain became a country of immigration and various migrant communities and their descendants became part of Spanish society. However, as mentioned earlier, this late migration did not help rap reach its peak as a musical genre in Spain, while it had become mainstream in the US and increasingly important in France.

In the last seven years, Spain has experienced a boom in urban music with very particular characteristics. Spain's trap artists, including world stars like Rosalía and C. Tangana, have taken Spanish popular music to a new level while retaining many cultural, musical and artistic elements of Spanish culture. Again, the minorities were left out.

In this context, Morad is an exception rather than the norm. Although Moroccans are the largest foreign community in Spain - 775,000 according to official figures, which do not take into account many people with irregular status as well as second-generation migrants and those who have obtained Spanish citizenship - this community's contribution to rap has been very small. Due to the lack of musical Arabic references in the Spanish language, the Arab diaspora in Spain has always looked up to its northern neighbour and found its inspiration and cultural and musical references in French rap.

Nobody is a prophet in one’s own land

T'es qu'un bandeur, rrh tfou gros molard

J'écoute du Rémy, du Ju-Jul, du Morad

Billets violets - Sasso

It is therefore not surprising that Morad's music is echoed in France. His hit "Motorola" - 56 million streams on Spotify and 46 million on Youtube - could easily have been written by a French rapper. His beats, entirely inspired by the sound of Jul and Marseille, and the shared codes and references that speak to life in the blocks with a strong Arab heritage, have appealed to French audiences and French rap artists.

Little known in Spain until a famous TV show interviewed him - his interview with Jordi Évole in ‘Lo de Évole’ earned him a lot of hate among right-wing collectives - Morad has found his way to the forefront of French rap artists. An avowed fan of Jul, he released his first feature, "Vatos Locos", with the Marseillaise rapper in 2020. Since then, heavyweights of French rap like Lacrim, Rim'K, Soolking or Naps, but also emerging talents like Moubarak and Maes have featured him in their singles and albums. For Jul, Morad is a must-listen, with four more singles featuring the Barcelona rapper released in the last two years. His star has risen so high that French rappers mention him in their own lyrics - as the opening quote above shows.

Morad's strength lies in the fact that he has not changed. His lyrics are still about the hard life in Barcelona's poor neighbourhoods, the struggle to make a living and support his family, the difficult balance between good deeds and survival, police abuse, drug use and trafficking, and the impact on the younger generations. Visually, his clips look cheap and simple, always shot on the streets and blocks of La Florida and starring children. Aesthetically, they are the elements found in every French rap clip: Football T-shirts, Lacoste tracksuits, Nike TN shoes, a group of guys sitting in the main square smoking joints, and drifting motorbikes. Still, he managed to get someone like Rim'K to come to La Florida to film the clip for "Papel" - 30 million on Spotify and 28 million on Youtube.

But despite all this success, Morad is not recognised in the Spanish rap scene. As mentioned above, Spanish rap is still predominantly white and Spanish. Only a few other rappers have considered collaborating with Morad, namely Dellafuente and R.V.F.V. - two Andalusian rappers from Granada and Almería respectively, who are very much influenced by Arabic sounds. Much to the chagrin of some, however, Morad hit it big in the summer of 2022 with his single "Pelele" - which, apart from reviving a Spanish word no longer in use, has amassed a whopping 103 million streams on Spotify and 59 million on Youtube - and his feature with Bizarrap on the latter's "Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 47" - also with over 100 million streams on Spotify. As of today, these are the only two songs that any Morad fan can hear in any mainstream nightclub in Spain.

Paving the way

Niño de la calle caminando en solitario y policía que yo veo siempre acompañado,

Esos niños sí que se preocupan por su barrio y no del comisario que está sentado.

Movimientos y problemas se ven a diario, pero bueno, eso aquí se ve normal.

Lo que hice fue porque lo veía necesario y tú lo hiciste porque querías ser viral.

Nuestros modos – Morad ft Delarue

It is fair to say that Morad launched the Arab rap scene in Spain and opened the door for other artists. But that does not mean there were not rappers of Arab origin before. In the 2000s, other rappers like ESM, Khaled from Los Santos, Ferid El Extranjero from the group Delahoja, who released a song with Marseillaise star Soprano, or Al Arabi from the collective Comando Apache were active in the scene, but they were drops in an ocean.

Today, most Arab rappers have found a vehicle in Spain to voice their displeasure in the drill subgenre, even if the Spanish version is far less violent and gritty than its American and British sisters. The reasons for this lie in what we have already commented on above: It is a genre heavily used by rappers of Arab descent; a Marseille-inspired sound, mainly characterised by autotune and reggaeton beats; and the easy access that drill offers to young people without resources - as evidenced by the large number of songs released each year. This has led to a terminology and universe that borrows heavily from France - la zone, les pukavs, MDLR and even specific gestures - although terms from Latin America can also be found.

Morad is the first, but not the only one. Anyone who has heard one of his songs will have paid attention to a name that keeps coming up: Beny. Beny Jr. is Morad's friend and neighbour and an aspiring driller. He came to prominence in the summer of 2022 with the hit song "Flow 2000s" by Bad Gyal, in which he featured. In the same year, he and Morad released the 6-song album EP Capítulo 1, which is probably one of the best drillers' works in Spanish - at least for me. Another Barcelona-based artist who has gained popularity is Khaled El Paisano. His lyrics are much more activist than Morad's and Beny's, constantly denouncing the police, right-wing parties, racism, and the difficulties of migrants in Spain.

Most rappers from the Arab diaspora in Spain are based in Catalonia. This is not surprising, as about 25% of all migrants from North African countries in Spain live in this region. However, there are also rappers of Arab origin in other parts of the country. In Madrid, Delarue is the head of the movement. He comes from the San Blas neighbourhood in the east of Madrid and could be described as the perfect representative of French rap in Spain. In his songs he describes life in his neighbourhood, but he dares to do something different from the rest of the drillers: he raps in French in many of his songs. Last but not least, Aiman JR is one of the youngest Drillers in the scene. He comes from Bilbao in the Basque country and is another representative of the Arabic drill scene, which is constantly growing.

It is impossible to go into all the new talents that appear on the drill scene every day. This article is exclusively about how the socio-political, economic and demographic changes in the country paved the way for the emergence of this Arab drill scene, which in just three years has become one of the most prolific sub-genres of Spain's urban music scene. In future articles, I will discuss how this scene differs from others like trap and how this genre democratises urban music in terms of minority representation, but also of territories.

Now listen to it!

In our upcoming issue…

Arab Alt Vol. 2: When rap is not just rap | The social impact of Arab drill in Spain