Resistance Writer: Wassim Abuzaid Editor: Mahmoud Fadel
Who am I? Who I am was a question I kept asking myself all my life. I figured lately that I am a transported tree, plant, land, and home that is always gravitized to Palestine. I am a citizen of the world and my passport is a threat to all the bordered states I visit or stay in. I am recognized for many things that I am not; and, I am labeled for many things that I disapprove and do not recognize. I am a star that is always censored and tracked by foriegn militaries and intelligences. I am a unique reminder of the failure of the zionist progress towards the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians.
In this article, I am aiming to take you on a speed tour consisting of no more than 1200 words about the resistance mechanisms of a second generation displaced person living in Gaza and is originally from Yafa.
Fighting like a Palestinian is as tough to us as you might see on your headline news. Substantially different though, I promise. Hello, I am Wasim, I am Palestinian (I fight) and I want to make this world a better place. And I fight. The fear of being hated and judged as a Palestinian is as bad as your fear of missing out (FOMO). Our FOMO is usually one of three things, first, the fear of missing out on a strike of bombs in your neighborhood. We usually fear not being there to calm and assure our family that we are home and that they could at least not
worry about us. Second, the fear of missing out a chance to buy groceries on a ceasefire. Third, not being awake or home to use the four to eight hours of electricity we get per day. This includes cooking, charging phones and laptops, using WiFi, heating water, and doing laundry.
We as Palestinians do not resist or fight through machinery. In fact, our machinery compared to others in the region might be the least effective. Hence, we use our words, education, knowledge to fight and resist. I will be resisting and fighting in this article as you tour with me.
My grandfather was forced out of his home by Zionists. And I resist. I resist and fight through presenting a negated history. Yafa, a beautiful place and also an occupied city in Palestine, is where my grandfather lived. He assured us to have hope. We fight, resist, and FIGHT trying to explain that we have the right to return home. He adds that one day he will take us all back home, may his soul rest in peace. My home in Yafa might now be a dancing club or even better a dating bar. Who knows but it is there in Yafa. He, my grandfather, would always say that if I would bring him a granddaughter, I shall name her Yafa. He would always say that she will be beautiful just like the city.
Visualizing my beloved Gaza is easy. North and East, we have IDF blockage isolating us from the rest of Palestine. West, we only have three miles of the lovely Mediterranean Sea where fishermen struggle for their livelihood and pray to get back home safe every day. And south, we have Egypt’s borders. Gaza is a piece of land that is guarded by the most powerful powers in the region. Well, it is not really guarded for our precious souls, but from them.
I survived three brutal aggressions on Gaza before celebrating my 17th birthday. We fought and resisted during and after each of these aggressions. We learnt how to fight by picking up the rubble and turning it into something to build with. We had nothing but rubble and a 4 digit number stating the number of deaths. We have constructed the roads of our seaport in Gaza with the rubble of destroyed buildings. We have also managed to turn the ash of coal and wood into building bricks that are used in construction buildings now with great demand. We as Palestinians fight our way through every aspect of our day through education, art, history, theatre, innovation and many more. We resist our ethnic cleansing by surviving, and then, by reproducing. We fight, everyday, endlessly.
To make it easier for everyone to visualize, I will use recently used concepts on world news to explain a long living experience. Curfew, as a concept, has been a huge highlight of our lives for as far as I can remember. Similar rules are imposed in the curfews set like the ones we all had during the pandemic. You can only leave when having an extreme reason to do so, however, you are assured that you will not be safe if you decide to leave, even if leaving means saving your life or the life of a loved one by going to the hospital.
The curfews were always there to remind us that we are occupied. Our usually failed ceasefires were similar to the end of pandemic related lockdowns. We try to secure food, for God knows when the next time we might have the option of leaving the house. However, unlike social distancing post-lockdowns, we hug and kiss our beloved ones knowing that it might be the last time we do so. The next digit number by one of us.
We live with post-traumatic stress disorders (PTSDs) as if they were our closest friend. These PTSDs are censored to the sound of planes, the sound of screaming, the sound of explosion and anything similar. They also adapt as part of our human nature as they develop to assure us, when being abroad, that the planes flying above us are not the same ones that were once attacking us. The PTSD is also quite conscious during New Years and other big celebrations when we do not realise that the fireworks are noises of happiness. It is exactly how we used to lie to assure our younger siblings that they will be safe. (+18) Their shock realizing the sorrow might be as bad as when children of western side of the world discover that Santa Clause is not real. (+18)
I believe most people living abroad during the Pandemic have gone through a slightly similar experience of the Palestinian’s daily struggle. Not being able to go back and feeling unwelcome in their home because there might not be space. And not being able to go anywhere else because you will always be a suspect holder. Yes, we are always suspects; accused of having a terroristic mentality. Unfortunately, we could never disprove their false accusations with a certified document saying that we are negative to their biased misconceptions. I would wait for a week and pay the 90$ for this certification. When you are a Palestinian holding dual citizenships, life changes; as I hear from my brother and witness my friends not having to stress a lot before entering any check point. Being respected and accounted for human rights are things they encounter after traveling with their other citizenship.
You could always be concise and go straight to the point. Why don't we stop fighting or why don't we just accept the peace talks. Well, lately we have been accepting of almost anything, but
people would still see us as terrorists. Nonetheless, there is nothing concise about this struggle besides the daily headline news mentioning the number of dead and injured due to a “conflict”. I would have to explain all the intersections and the crossborders and their history to be able to go through the complexity of my beloved Palestine.
In remembrance of Murid Barghouti, “Palestinians have a unique story that's similar to none of the stories of others, but one at the same time because what is shared is huge: the sense of loss, exile, being displaced, being oppressed, being voiceless, being of a negated history and geography”. - may his soul rest in peace.