At first, we used to complain.

Our parents would play Fairouz every morning in the car or while cleaning the house.

We rolled our eyes, saying, “Not again!”

But somehow, somewhere, between growing up and losing the sense of peace we once knew, we became the ones pressing the “play” button.

Now Fairouz isn’t just a singer.

She’s the sound of Lebanon waking up. She’s the smell of coffee in the kitchen, the quiet hum of a city that has been through so much and is trying to start over, again. Even in chaos - when the streets are blocked or when things feel heavy - her songs bring a strange kind of calm.

Every generation discovers her in its own way. For some, she’s nostalgia. For others, she’s resistance. For all of us, she’s a reminder that Lebanon still sings even when it hurts to listen.

During the war, when fear replaced alarms, Fairouz was still there. Her voice played softly on old radios, cutting through the noise of uncertainty. People found comfort in her calmness, as if her songs could cradle the country.

Today, she continues to unite us with her small and beautiful rituals over breakfast, during long drives, or while studying far from home. When “Bhebak ya lebnan” or “Kan Ena Tahoun” plays, something inside us softens. We pause. We listen. We remember.

Fairouz is a habit we never planned to inherit, yet inevitably we do. She connects us to something that survives crises and endures hard times. Her songs make Lebanon feel like a heartbeat we all share, no matter where we are.

Now, as we get ready to celebrate Independence Day, Fairouz provides the most authentic representation of Lebanon.
From “Li Beirut” to “Watani”, from “Ya Zahret El Janoub” to the everlasting echoes of “Baalbak” her voice carries the spirit of a country through its most challenging times.
Her songs serve as a reminder that independence is more than borders and flags; it's the love that keeps us rooted to our homeland, the spirit that never fades, and the voice that never stops singing.

So, in a country where so much gets lost, Fairouz is something we get to keep. She has become the thread that ties generations together: a grandmother humming in the kitchen, a father driving to work, a student walking with earphones on.

Even those who never lived the years she sang still carry a feeling of nostalgia, as if her melodies carry memories we didn’t really experience yet somehow still belong to us.

 That is the true meaning of her legacy: she gives us memories we may not have lived but somehow needed. Her music becomes a place we return to when Lebanon feels unfamiliar, a reminder of who we are beneath everything that has changed.

In moments of doubt, her voice feels like a compass guiding us back home. It gently guides us towards the parts of Lebanon we thought were broken. Through every crisis and every rebirth, Fairouz’s songs remind us that hope is not fragile - it’s timeless. It continues to sing through.

So, if Fairouz’s voice exist Lebanon will find its way …