Syriac Malaak and the Digital Revival of an Endangered Language
By Leah Miksi-Sahdo
If you scroll through Instagram or TikTok and stumble upon a voice explaining Turoyo phrases, odds are you’ve found Malaak Massoud, known onhline as @syriacmalaak. What started as a casual comment on one of her videos turned into something bigger than herself: a mission to reconnect youth with the Suryoyo language, identity, and culture.
View this post on Instagram
Searching for Identity in the Diaspora
Malaak didn’t grow up with a clear, constant connection to her heritage. Born in Beth Zalin (Qamishli), a Suryoyo stronghold in North and East Syria, she spoke Arabic more fluently than Suryoyo. After moving to the US at a young age, she found herself navigating multiple identities — Arab, Syrian, Suryoyo — without fully feeling rooted in any of them. Her parishes, St. Mary’s and St. Matthew’s in Massachusetts, gave her some grounding, but like many in the diaspora, she struggled with the gaps left by cultural disconnection.
“I used to tell kids I was from Syria,” she says, “but I didn’t really know what that meant beyond geography.”
Everything changed when a simple video response turned into viral engagement. “All of this started with one comment,” she explained. “Someone asked me to teach the language and culture. I put my phone on my dresser and started recording.”
That moment became a launching pad for a growing digital presence focused on teaching Turoyo, the endangered Neo-Aramaic language of the Suryoyo people. And it wasn’t just other Suryoye watching — outsiders were curious too.
Through her videos, Malaak breaks down the basics: greetings, expressions, and names — cultural anchors wrapped in language. But this isn’t just about vocabulary. It’s about reclaiming identity. “Our culture is part of who we are,” she says. “If we don’t preserve it, who will?”
Unity Over Labels
Though Turoyo was one of Malaak’s first languages, she had to reconnect with the language herself by actively seeking it out. That learning process, combined with visits to family in Sweden and encounters with the Suryoyo diaspora, helped clarify what being Suryoyo meant for her. It wasn’t about rigid labels like ‘Assyrian’ or ‘Aramean’ — terms that can create division — but about unity and shared struggle.
“If I know who I am,” she says, “it doesn’t matter what I call myself.”
Now, as a content creator and educator, she’s joined forces with platforms like Rinyo Toons to create content that teaches cultural history, names, and stories that rarely make it into textbooks.
“We need each other to build each other up,” she says. “It’s up to us to have these conversations, especially the youth. The older generation won’t be here forever.”
There’s no sugarcoating it — keeping Turoyo alive is hard. Generational trauma, displacement, assimilation, and the dominance of Arabic, Turkish, and English have all pushed the language to the margins. Most youth in the diaspora grow up hearing it but not speaking it. And in our homeland countries, speaking it is actively suppressed.
“We take for granted that we live in the US,” Malaak reflects. “We have the freedom, the electricity, and the Wi-Fi — use it.”
A Movement, Not a Moment
And that’s exactly what she’s doing. Teaching. Sharing. Creating. Inspiring.
She’s received countless messages from young Suryoye who were ashamed of not speaking Turoyo — until they found her page. Now, they’re trying. They’re asking questions. They’re connecting with elders. They’re showing their parents her videos and learning together.
“We’re already such a small number,” she says. “The fear of putting ourselves out there only hurts us more.”
Her message is direct: if you care about your culture, show up for it.
Malaak isn’t waiting around for perfect conditions or permission. She’s using what she has — her voice, her phone, her time — and doing the work. Her example is a challenge to all of us: whatever your skill is, use it. As she put it, “If I’m not posting, who else will be?”
Malaak’s dream isn’t to go viral. It’s to spark a movement. One where Suryoyo youth feel empowered to speak their language, learn their history, and celebrate their identity — without shame, fear, or division. One where we come together as one people.
“It’s up to us at the end of the day,” she says. “The older generation will pass, and it will be our responsibility as youth to carry our identity forward.”
View this post on Instagram
Foreign fighters in Syria petition Islamist-led government for citizenship, Reuters reports
DARAMSUQ (Damascus) — Foreign fighters and others who flocked to Syria during more than …
