“When Will You Get Married?”: Palestinian Hip Hop and Its Criticism of Traditions

Felícia M. B. Campos

University of Edinburgh

Photo: “Flying Birds in Amman’s Sky,” by Ali Asfur

 

Introduction

Figure 1. Tamer Nafar, Maysa Daw and Mahmoud Jrere (credit: DAM)[1]

In the realm of contemporary Palestinian music, DAM, short for Da Arabian MC's, stands out as a pioneering rap group with a unique and influential voice. DAM is comprised of Tamer Nafar, Mahmoud Jrere and, as of 2015, their first female member, the singer-songwriter Maysa Daw. Their music transcends mere entertainment; it delves into complex social issues, while juxtaposing Palestinian folk sounds with globalized rap beats. In their latest album, DAM addresses sexism from a feminist perspective. Born and raised in Lyd and Haifa, cities in what is currently the settler colony of Israel, the identity of DAM's members as Palestinians with Israeli passports adds depth to their narrative. They are fluent in both Hebrew and Arabic, a reflection of their complex existence resulting from the occupation of their land. Their music transcends the conventional boundaries of political resistance and taps into the intimate, often overlooked struggles of Palestinian life. Central to their work is a confrontation with the pressures of tradition—particularly issues like marriage and gender roles—that both reflect and challenge the larger dynamics of Palestinian society. Engaging with textual and visual analysis, and within cultural history and cultural studies, this article explores how, by critiquing patriarchal tradition within their own community, DAM’s music in fact addresses the intersecting systems of capitalism, colonialism, and sexism on a global stage. By positioning their personal narratives within the global context of colonisation, gender inequality, and economic disenfranchisement, DAM’s work highlights the entangled Rising Voices 21.1 (2025) struggles faced by Palestinian youth today, while also offering a lens through which these issues can be understood across global contexts and resonate with other marginalized communities elsewhere.

Intersectional Struggles: Capitalism, Sexism, and Colonialism Sustaining Structural Violence

The Palestinian struggle can be analyzed intersectionally, particularly given that the Zionist settler occupation permeates all areas of life, from the very basic access to water—which is controlled by the Zionist entity—to freedom of movement from one place to another within and beyond Palestine. This is in addition to the impoverishment and precarity endemic to a capitalist-patriarchal-colonialist (Rolnik 2023) world order. Therefore, by engaging with feminist approaches and a critique of capitalism and neoliberalism in relation to gender, and more specifically, the institution of marriage, the work of the DAM rappers “complexifies” (Mbembe 2001) some of the often binary[2] views on the situation in Historical Palestine and sheds new light on the urgent Palestinian liberation cause.

DAM’s lyrics confront the systemic violence they experience as Palestinians living under what Tamer Nafar describes as “second-class citizenship” within an ethnocratic Israeli regime (McDonald 2009, 117), and also sexist violence within their own community.[3] It is important to note that the occupation permeates all aspects of their lives: from restricted access to education and movement to the deprivation of essential resources such as water, especially in the West Bank and Gaza (Masalha 1992; Pappé 2006; Makdisi 2008; Falk and Tilley 2017), and also their very own personal lives, through impoverishment, control of movement, destruction of houses, systemic abuse, and violence in general.

The intersectional intertwining of capitalism, sexism, colonisation, and imperialism forms a complex matrix of oppression that is deeply embedded in the struggles DAM addresses. Capitalist systems exacerbate inequalities by reinforcing economic exploitation, while colonial and imperialist institutions impose systemic violence and control, particularly over colonized bodies (Fanon 1963; Said 1978). Sexism functions within these structures, enforcing patriarchal norms and restricting women's autonomy (Spivak 1988; Lugones 2007). These systems are mutually reinforcing, with capitalism exploiting both economic and social hierarchies, colonialism creating structures of violence, and sexism ensuring patriarchal control, all of which work together to perpetuate the marginalisation of colonized peoples, particularly women (Rolnik 2023).

It is important to notice that under occupation, Palestinians face a unique form of dispossession, in which not only their land and resources are controlled but also their ability to build stable futures, a temporal deterritorialization. For young Palestinians, the dreams of financial security, family stability, and social mobility are often crushed under the weight of a colonial and capitalist system that exacerbates inequality (Abu-Lughod 2013). The pressure to conform to traditional roles, particularly for women, is compounded by economic hardship and the lack of opportunity (Shalhoub-Kevorkian 2006). DAM’s feminist critique, therefore, highlights how patriarchal expectations, exacerbated by colonial violence, serve to further entrench the marginalization of both Palestinian women and men, especially of youth.

When Will You Get Married?— ﺎﻤﯾ كزﻮﺠﻧ ﻰﺘﻣا ؟

The first single DAM released from their latest album Ben Haana Wa Maana (2019), is called “Emta Njawzak Yamma,” meaning “When Will You Get Married?”. This song critiques the tradition of marriage as a capitalistic institution, highlighting its role in commodifying relationships and reinforcing patriarchal and socio-economic structures, while simultaneously affirming the performers’ identities as Palestinians by making use of Palestinian poetry and musical elements. One rather humorous, perhaps ironic, example of how this critique was received by Palestinian society is the track's widespread popularity at weddings across Palestine, despite its critical stance on marriage—an institution that, while not exclusive to Palestinian traditions, is deeply embedded within them. According to the members of the band, to their surprise, it became a song widely played at weddings (Goldfine 2019).

Figure 2. Cover of DAM’s latest album, Ben Haana wa Maana (credit: DAM)

The pressures of marriage on young women and men also appear in the film Junction 48 (2016), written by and starring DAM’s frontman, Tamer Nafar. Loosely inspired by Nafar’s life, the film follows Kareem, a rapper, and Manar, a singer-songwriter, as they navigate their romantic relationship and creative aspirations in an Arab ghetto in present-day Israel. Junction 48 received critical acclaim, winning the Berlinale Audience Award, Tribeca’s Best International Narrative Feature, and the Best Narrative Feature at the Woodstock Festival. In a particularly illustrative scene, Manar (played by Samar Qupty) shares with Kareem (played by Nafar) that her family is pressuring her to marry before continuing her university studies, as they “do not want her living alone.” Kareem’s blunt response—“I have no income, no job, nothing”—underscores the material constraints shaping intimate decisions in contexts of socio-economic precarity. The recurrence of this theme in both the film and DAM’s most recent album highlights its significance for Nafar, suggesting an ongoing engagement with how marriage, tradition, and economic struggle intersect in Palestinian life.

Returning to DAM’s music, “Emta Njawazak Yamma” addresses marriage not only as a mechanism of social control, but also as a capitalist institution which contributes to youth disenfranchisement, highlighting its role in reinforcing both societal norms and economic structures. The song starts with the chorus:


When will you get married? ايمتى نجوزك يما؟ 
When will you find stability?                              ايمتى تركز يما؟
When will you get married?                                      ايمتى نجوزك يما؟
And the bank keeps calling me to visit it                والبنك يتصلي ايمتى تيجي عنا؟
Tell them: Don’t worry, I’m ok.                                   قولوله، دونت ووري انا اوكي
Sing to them: everything is good and settled        غنوله، مزبط ومسوچير
Tell them: Don’t worry, I’m ok.                                  قولوله، دونت ووري انا اوكي
No mortgage, and still struggling                            غنوله، بلا هال مشكنتا ومتخوزق

In the music video, the chorus questions are mouthed by an older couple—parental figures—as a way of representing society’s demands on youth to fill societal and economic expectations through marriage, to which the rappers answer: “Don’t worry, I’m ok.” The main chorus is followed by Maysa’s verse:

Seven alarms on, the rooster is knocking at my door ا7لارمات، ديك بدق عالباب 
I’m still in bed, my mom is asking for my neighbor to find me a groom وانا تحت اللحاف، امي عالبلكون جيرتي دبري عريس
Statistics: most of the married couples sleep in separate beds, احصائيات، اغلب الازواج
and my mom is asking Siri to find me a groom بتنامش ع نفس الفراش، وامي عالآيفون“Siri” زبطي عريس
Get out of my head, قولوا لإبن الحلال يستنى لانو العالم عم بستناني
I will find my partner after I find myself بلاقي شريكي بعد ما الاقي حالي وحاليا
And in the meantime, cheers to the single life بصحة العذوبية، صباح الضهرية المرخية
And the chilled late mornings

Tamer’s verse continues to explore the emotional and economic struggle of marriage demands. He talks back as if bringing forward the questions: “You want me to marry, but I am just a kid; and how do you want me to marry, if I have no money at all?” He raps:

Oh My, Oh My, the differences between us ويلي ويلي ويل، انتو وين وانا وين
I’m a kid with two kids, ولد مع ولدين، جيبوا مخدة جيبوا سرير
Can someone please get me a bed and a pillow لا بنام لا بفيق، انا بصحي الديك
I don’t sleep, I don’t wake up, مينوس من جديد، في حساب بنكي في كم بطريق
I am the one who wakes the rooster ولا ليرة
Money below zero, مسلطنة
I think I have penguins living in my bank account

Musically speaking, the song has a catchy, strong, and happy melody, made for dancing. It is     suitable for weddings—that is the intended sarcasm in it. Visually speaking, in the official music video the rappers’ main scenario is a junkyard, in front of many stacks of old cars piled up and nicely decorated with colourful laces (Figure 3 below). As if set for a party, the decorations attempt to disguise the scrap cars from which they are hanging. The rappers are dressed as grooms and brides and are dancing to their happy beats while delivering lyrics that express their concerns. 

Jrere’s verse directly addresses the societal pressures he faces, questioning the demands placed on him by traditional customs:

No pressure, بلا ضغط، بلا كبت
No oppression                                                                         بلا غصب
No forcing                                                 بلا ضغط، بلا كبت
Respect my decisions,                             بلا غصب
Respect my lover                                     حيوا قراري حيوا، حيوا حبيبتي حيوا
Respect my freedom                               حيوا حريتي حيوا، حيوا حيوا

The music video begins with the three artists standing in a junkyard dressed up for their wedding, but with stern faces that do not match such a happy occasion. As soon as the catchy beat hits harder to the sound of the derbak (a type of tambourine widely used in the Middle East), they start dancing and celebrating. In the last scene, though, they go back to very serious body language, staring at the camera—the staged party is over.

Figure 3. Two contrasting scenes of the music video for “Emta Njawzak Yamma (امتى نجوزك يما)”— “When will you get married?”[4]

Criticism of Traditions

A theme explored in many of DAM's songs—including “When will you get married?”—is the issue of the prevailing norms of the society in which they live. Although they are now hailed as one of the first and most well-known contemporary Palestinian rap groups, according to Tamer Nafar in an interview with me (Campos 2013), rap beats were initially met with suspicion by older generations, viewed as foreign and linked to the imperialist United States. However, once the older generation saw how the music brought youth together and sparked crucial discussions about the occupation, as well as other issues dividing their communities, they began to appreciate DAM’s work (ibid.).

The tradition of marriage is not an institution exclusive to Palestinian society. Yet, as Tamer Nafar emphasized in the same interview, their artistic practice is grounded in personal experience: “love, sex, sadness, joy, frustration, everything” (ibid, 97). As he puts it, “we are documenting our generation” (ibid.). In doing so, the group resists the stagnation embedded in tradition—a stagnation that arises from the effort to preserve particular values and behaviors by intentionally resisting change.

This critical stance toward tradition aligns with Eric Hobsbawm’s (1984) argument that many practices regarded as old are, in fact, recent inventions, if not entirely invented. These "invented traditions" are composed of ritualized practices designed to instill values and norms of behavior through repetition, implying a supposed continuity with the past. Hobsbawm underscores how such traditions often serve as instruments of social control—precisely the kind of structures that DAM’s music seeks to interrogate and disrupt.

Figure 4. Scenes of the videoclip “Emta Njawzak Yamma (امتى نجوزك يما)” - “When will you get married?”, where the older generation asks them the song’s title question.

The established and prevailing norm, which in many cases is intimately linked to tradition or becomes tradition itself, incites subversion on the part of individuals who do not understand it or decide not to follow it in certain aspects and behaviors of their lives (Elias and Scotson 1994). In this sense, DAM, widely known in Palestinian society, is a voice of dissent and a driver of change. The group creatively and courageously addresses internal social issues that are often overlooked or silenced within dominant narratives surrounding the Palestinian struggle and its aim to achieve liberation from the Western-financed Israeli occupation. Yet, these struggles are not disconnected from one another; rather, they are deeply intertwined and intersectional, as the fight against external oppression cannot be separated from the critique of internal social constraints.

By daring to engage with topics deeply embedded in tradition—such as marriage—DAM is sometimes viewed as controversial (Abu-Lughod and Mikdashi 2012).[5] Yet the group’s members have consistently asserted that they are speaking from their own lived realities and will not remain silent simply because some audiences may find their narratives uncomfortable (Nafar, Nafar, and Jrery 2012). 

Importantly, DAM does not shy away from addressing the structural violence they endure as Palestinians living under the settler colonial and apartheid Israeli regime (Erakat 2019; Amnesty International 2022). This is visible in their music video Milliardat (2019), which denounces the exorbitant amount of money invested and the infrastructure built by the Zionist settler colony and its Western allies to keep Palestinians separated from one another —Palestinians are currently scattered in small territories which are separated and controlled by the occupying entity, and very little mobility is allowed between them, keeping the Palestinian population geographically, economically, socially and even culturally separated (Johnson 2006).[6]


Global Connections: Voicing the Condition of Impoverished Youth

Figure 5. Youth is oppressed twofold, first and foremost by the Israeli occupation, and on another level by some aspects of tradition. Still from the video clip “Milliardat” by DAM depicting youth’s oppression by the occupation.[7]

The power disparity is blatant in the case of a colonized people as is the case of the Palestinians, and DAM, by addressing their very personal struggles, also connects the Palestinian reality to other colonized communities’ struggles around the world. Younger generations worldwide are experiencing impoverishment under contemporary neoliberal global capitalism, and economic precarity is especially extreme under colonial regimes. The pressures to live ‘as our parents lived’—marrying, buying a house, having children, obtaining a stable job, and so on—in a very different world is relatable to people in spaces far beyond Palestine. 

While DAM’s music addresses local struggles, it also resonates with broader global issues. By addressing personal experiences—such as the challenges of gender roles, marriage and precarity—DAM taps into a global conversation about the impact of patriarchy, capitalism, and colonialism on marginalized communities worldwide. These struggles resonate beyond Palestine, connecting with young people in various parts of the world who grapple with similar socio-economic challenges (Love 2017; Scott 2019; Brough 2020). 

Therefore, by articulating their personal and local struggles, DAM position themselves not only as political rappers resisting occupation but as artists engaged in a wider global struggle against capitalism, imperialism, and sexism. In doing so, they challenge structures within their own society while also situating their music within a transnational resistance to intersecting systems of oppression, opening pathways for identification and solidarity among colonized peoples globally.


Conclusion

In conclusion, DAM, the pioneering Palestinian rap group, has harnessed the power of music to reshape Palestinian tradition while embracing elements of their cultural heritage. Through their thought-provoking lyrics and innovative fusion of folk sounds with rap, DAM has positioned themselves as vital voices in contemporary Palestinian music and the wider Palestinian liberation cause. 

DAM’s music speaks to audiences both locally and globally, addressing complex issues within Palestinian society and connecting them to broader struggles for social justice in a capitalist-patriarchal-colonialist world order. By addressing it from a very personal angle, DAM internationalizes and to some extent de-exceptionalizes the experience of the impoverished Palestinian youth. This connection to broader struggles for social justice worldwide underscores the power of their music to transcend boundaries and connect with global audiences.

By navigating the intricacies of their complex identities and engaging with their community's traditions, DAM has not only shaped the Palestinian hip-hop scene but also contributed to a more nuanced and inclusive understanding of the Palestinian society and their multiple struggles as an indigenous population living under colonial settler occupation and apartheid.

Through their feminist critique, they not only critique patriarchal traditions but also envision alternative futures in which decolonization must be accompanied by social transformation from within. In doing so, they suggest that liberation from the occupation must go hand in hand with liberation from structures that hinder community cohesion, justice, creative freedom and collective aspiration.

I contend their art, therefore, produces futurity—the capacity to imagine oneself and one’s community existing, and thriving, in the future (Mbembe 2019). DAM imagines and demands feminist, anti-patriarchal futures for Palestine. Their journey testifies to the transformative potential of cultural expression to foster solidarity, social critique, and radical imagination in a world shaped by intersecting systems of oppression.


Notes:

[1] https://www.americamagazine.org/arts-culture/2019/07/05/palestinian-hip-hop-groups-new-record-feminist-rallying-cry. Accessed May 31, 2025.

[2] That of victim vs. perpetrator, a distinction that is often difficult to make given that the violence of the occupation permeates all strata and levels of personal life and social relations (Hammami 2004; Jabr 2019). For instance, poverty and precarity can reinforce rigid customs and more conservative interpretations of tradition—a tendency common in societies under stress, as a way to preserve cultural identity and social cohesion (Cowden and Singh 2017; Evans 2022).

[3] As denounced by DAM for example in their song and music video Law Arja (If I could go back in time), which criticizes the practice of “honor killing.”

[4] DAM, “EMTA NJAWZAK YAMMA - ايمتى نجوزك يما (Official Video),” May 17, 2023, music video, 3:44, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbMvIRdsBEY

[5] This tension became particularly visible when DAM released If I Could Go Back in Time (2012), a song addressing the issue of honor killings. In a public exchange of letters with the Palestinian-American Columbia professor Lila Abu-Lughod, she argued that by highlighting gender-based violence within Palestinian society, DAM risked reinforcing orientalist stereotypes that depict Arab cultures as inherently sexist, misogynistic, and patriarchal (Abu-Lughod and Mikdashi 2012). DAM made it clear that they are speaking about their lived experiences and addressing topics that are personally and socially significant (Nafar, Nafar, and Jrery 2012). The scholar ultimately apologized to the band (Abu-Lughod and Mikdashi 2012b). This exchange highlights an important conversation that is ongoing within Palestinian society.

[6] The documentary Palestine Underground (Kelly 2018) depicts the hardship of Palestinian musicians from different territories to meet and play for the first time together.

[7] DAM, MILLIARDAT - ملياردات (Official Music Video), August 8, 2021, music video, 3:28, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DROMnwIIvnI.

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