Tunisian Diaspora: We Miss You, We See You, We Love You 🫂

This is for the Tunisian diaspora—the ones who left, the ones who stayed, and the invisible thread that ties them together.

Fifteen percent.

That’s how many Tunisians live outside Tunisia. Scattered across continents, speaking new languages, rewriting their futures. Some left by choice, chasing dreams. Others had no choice at all.

And now, they exist in between.

Between nostalgia and new beginnings. Between the comfort of home and the thrill of the unknown. Between belonging everywhere and belonging nowhere.

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The Weight of Leaving

We know.

We know that sometimes, you feel anger—not at the country you love, but at the one that didn’t love you back enough. The hours wasted on paperwork because your passport isn’t strong enough. The job applications dismissed before they were even read. The sinking feeling of realizing that “home” is now a question, not an answer.

We know about the nights when you’ve cried alone, missing the call to prayer at sunset, the scent of mlawi from a street vendor, the warmth of a family gathering where voices overlap in a beautiful, chaotic symphony.

But we also know about the moments that take your breath away. The ones where you see things your ancestors never dreamed of. The first time you walked into a place where no one knew your name, and yet, you made it yours.

You are the contradiction. The success story and the heartbreak. The exile and the ambassador.

And we see you.

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A Love Letter to the Tunisian Diaspora

You carry Tunisia in ways you don’t even notice.

It’s in the way you instinctively pour mint tea to the very brim of the glass. In the way you say “Inchallah” even when you don’t believe it. In the way you crave Lablebi when the world gets cold.

You are the bridge between where we were and where we could be.

And for that, we owe you something.

We owe you an apology, for the opportunities that weren’t here, for the dreams that felt impossible, for the doors that never opened.

We owe you gratitude, for keeping Tunisia alive in places where it might have been forgotten.

And we owe you hope, hope that Tunisia can be more than just a place you visit, more than a nostalgia trip, more than a postcard memory.

Because Tunisia is learning. Tunisia is changing. And we want you to be part of that change.

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Coming Home—In Any Form

Home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. And Tunisia is still yours, no matter how far you go.

Maybe you’ll return one day. Maybe you won’t. Maybe home isn’t a flight away, but a moment—a smell, a song, a conversation in broken French and Arabic with a stranger in a foreign land.

But know this: Tunisia has never forgotten you.

And we never will.

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💌 If this speaks to you, share it with someone who understands, because no matter where we are, we’re still part of the same story.