Falastin Magazine - Volume 7 Issue 3 by paccusa

Volume 7 - Issue 3

December 2023

Falastin Staff Editor in Chief, Basma Bsharat Arabic Editors, Hiba B’irat & Ameera Abouali Copy Editor, Marwa Elessawy Layout Editor, Fadia Alagha Advisors, Rania Mustafa & Reem Farhat

We’d like to extend a special thank you to Peonica Fernando for allowing us to feature her beautiful artwork as this edition’s cover! Based in the UK, Peonica Fernando is an illustrator who takes a holistic approach to create work that is a celebration of themes including femininity, cultural identity, mental health, wellness and self care. As her work is greatly influenced by positive psychology, she uses detail, texture and earthy tones to create a warm, natural and welcoming atmosphere to her work as well as to evoke a sense of happiness and peace. Her aim is to empower others in their identities and to promote mindfulness and community through her illustrations. You can find more of her work on her Instagram page @bypeoni, or her website www.peoni.co.uk. We chose this particular piece because as we all have seen, the power is in our people. In the last two months, 92 Journalists in Gaza have been murdered as they continue to be targeted by the Israeli Occupation Forces. Our journalists are on the front lines and risk their lives every day to show the truth to the world.

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Table of Contents 06. The Olive Branch 08. Reflections on Life in Gaza 09. Where Does Honor Lie?

Ibrahim Qudah

10. ‫قهر و سالم‬ 12. Dear Children of Gaza 13. I Give Myself to Gaza

‫أميرة أبو علي‬

14. The Blood of Brown Children On White

G.A. Kleiner

Sheets and Starched Shirts

16. Dear Palestinian Ancestors 17. We Deserve To Be Free 18. Child of Darkness 19. The Home I Never Knew 20. My Dear Gazans 21. Poetry 22. “From the River to the Sea” 24. Palestine has Lived Independently

Bushra Hanaif Sereen Abdallatif Amira Muflahi Amanee Izhaq

Xana R Ameera Abbasi Barry M Janan Shahin Shajarat_zaitun Renee Shalhoub Daneiah Nasser Usef Abdallah

26. The Voice of the War of Rockets

Usef Abdallah

28. The (Mis) Representation of Arab-Amer-

Ali Zeidan

icans through Children’s Literature

Letter from the Editor in Chief and Palestine Education Director Right before deciding on this issue’s theme, our community was shocked to its core, and has been forever affected and changed by the recent and ongoing genocide in Gaza. Falastin has always served as an outlet for our community, and we hope to always center our community’s voices. As Palestinians and supporters of Palestine, we are doing all that we can to advocate for our people while we battle constant feelings of helplessness as we witness what is happening in real-time. Hence our theme, “‫” فخر و قهر‬terms that are so unique and so strongly determine the conflicting feelings we are all going through. The word ‫ قهر‬translates to anger; however, this one word does not do it justice. As Khadija Dajani put it so eloquently, “It is when you take anger, place it on a low fire, add injustice, oppression, racism, dehumanization to it, and leave it to cook slowly for a century.” The word ‫ فخر‬translates to pride; pride in the resilience of our people and pride in the realization that, even after decades of constant oppression and erasure, the people of Palestine remain steadfast and unwavering in their strength and their commitment to life. This edition of Falastin is dedicated to the voices of Gaza and all of Palestine that continue to teach us life and how to live it. The work in this issue was submitted by members of our community of all ages. We are proud and grateful to all of those who trusted us with their work. We are grateful to the PACC board for always supporting our vision for Falastin, and we thank every sponsor who contributes to the success of this project. I have always loved contributing to and reading Falastin, and am so grateful to PACC and the community for being trusted with the task of this immensely important work. Lastly, thank you to the readers who, without their support, would not make Falastin what it is today. Basma Bsharat Editor in Chief of

Artwork by Rosa Huitzitzilin

The Olive Branch Ibrahim Qudah Amidst the sand and ancient stones, In Gaza, where heartache intones, Whispers of history, tales untold, Palestinian dreams in sorrow unfold.

The olive tree, with roots so deep, In hallowed earth, its secrets keep, Its branches stretch, its leaves unfold, Stories of resilience, stories bold.

The olive trees, once standing tall, Witness the land where shadows fall, Children’s laughter, once carefree, Now echo cries of a haunting plea.

For centuries past, it’s stood the test, A silent witness, east and west, To every strife, every plea, It stands unyielding, proud and free.

An olive branch, a symbol of peace, Held tight in hands, seeking release, From walls and wires that constrict, Dreams of freedom, long evicted.

In the shade of its ancient boughs, Dreams are whispered, sacred vows, Promises made to the land and sky, That the spirit of hope will never die.

In every tear, in every scar, A testament of battles, near and far, Yet in their eyes, a fire remains A hope, undying, breaking chains.

Its fruit, a symbol of life renewed, With every harvest, hope accrued, Yet amidst the rubble, and the debris, Still stands the steadfast olive tree.

Let not the world forget their song, The right to live where they belong, In a land where peace might someday be, For every soul, for you and me.

A beacon for all who’ve lost their way, A reminder that hope will always stay, And as long as its roots run deep and true, The dreams of Palestine will continue too.

Picture taken by Rania Mustafa IG: @raniamustafa1

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

Reflections on Life in Gaza Bushra Hanaif

no hope for a cure. The Israeli aggression doesn’t stop there. Every single day of my five years in Gaza was lived with a daily electricity cut. There were times when we didn’t get power for five days in a row. I attended the American International School in Gaza, which was blown to the ground by Israel. I recall a time when my family and I were watching TV one night when a missile struck a car right outside our door. My family and I had to run out only to see body parts and pieces strewn all over. Even some parts stuck to the outside of our and our neighbor’s homes. My mother was so mortified when she saw a bike that resembled my brother’s, thinking she had just lost her son. The very next day, my father found the tip of that missile in our front yard and as he inspected underneath the tip, it read: made in the USA. How ironic is it that a missile funded by America lands in the front yard of an American? This is why it pains me every day to see the lies and propaganda that the media puts out there, with no narrative of what Palestinians have experienced. This is why I feel compelled to share my story because I feel a burning hopelessness raging in my heart and if speaking up and allowing my story to be told helps, then I will do whatever I can to spread awareness.

What Palestinian doesn’t have a story to tell? All Palestinians have been subject to some type of injustice in this world. The reason I tell my story is because I’m frustrated by the lies and the portrayal on behalf of Palestinians that the Western media spews. I feel helpless and distraught, living in America knowing and experiencing once, what my fellow Palestinians and family have experienced in Gaza. I lived in Gaza for 5 years, from 2006 to 2010. I witnessed Oppression Cast Lead, the war of 2008 to 2009, and I can say as a living witness to the war that I have never seen or read anything like this in my life. My family and I were subject to constant bombs and attacks in our neighborhood, not to mention in front of our house. We were cut off from electricity, water, fuel, food, etc. My family welcomed 4 other families into our home because they had either lost their homes or had to run to a safer location. It was in that war specifically, that Israel used white phosphorus bombs for the first time on Gaza. What it did left a lasting effect on two of my cousins. While my uncle’s wives were pregnant, they were subject to phosphorus inhalation that caused both babies to be born with health defects. One of those babies didn’t live long due to her condition and sadly passed. The other is twelve years old and has been treated over the years with

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

Where Does Honor Lie? Sereen Abdallatif

It’s become too dark a light as somber as a starless sky barely seen through the cracks of hope. with tunnel vision, I wander O lead me where the truth gleams brighter than the sun! and where lies are tucked in the shadows of death. A lesson to all moving with grace and humility to be sensible, do not be afraid! heed your own words head above the hurricane; quenching the driest of nights the bloodiest of lands and the quietest of pleas. An insistent cry where is liberty? where is justice? where is your conviction— of the lawless execution of those with a right to be? As long as my limbs can move my eyes can see my blood can pump into my heart— I will rise for Palestine. while the world repeats its wrongdoings, my brothers and sisters we are blessed with forethought! patience, the virtue humanity must bear, a dagger of moral excellence in a turbine of polarization. O glory to our martyrs, for they gifted us a kiss of sorrow and bloodshed and in return, we holler from rooftops may they drink from the sweet rivers of Jannah. below their feet so featherlight a land where the sand meets the sea watching the lioness reunite with her pride; Indeed, our destiny was liberation all along.

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

‫قهر و سالم‬ ‫أميرة أبو علي‬ ّ‫منذ السابع من أكتوبر استيقظ إخوتي علي‬ ‫محاطا ً بالدماء من كل خلية في جسدي‬ ‫هم ال يرون مني اال غزة‬ ً ‫غير أني منذ خمسة وسبعين عاما‬ ‫أنزف دما ً من كل شبر من حدودي‬ ‫وبعد كل الذي عشته‬ ‫الزلت أرى أن بإمكاني الخروج‬ ‫إال أن إخوتي من العرب سواء كانوا ذوي قرابة‬ ‫جغرافية‬ ‫فإن لم يكونوا األولى فهم الثانية بالتأكيد‬، ‫أو دموية‬ ً‫فما زلت أراهم من دمي رغم تغريبهم لي عنهم قصرا‬. ‫في كل حرب أظن أنها االخيرة التي أخوضها‬ ‫أظن أن النهاية أقرب وأن الوحدة قاب قوسين أو أدنى‬ ‫ويخيب ظني‬ ‫في نهاية كل حرب يموت من هم مني وداخلي‬. ‫في فلسطين نردد أناشيد الموت في كل وقت وحين‬ ‫ونحسد من وقع موته فيها‬ ‫فهو من فاز ونحن من خسرنا‬. ‫الشعوب خيّرة إال أن حال الشعوب يتشابه‬ ‫وال يوجد تمكين لها للمساعدة فحُصِ َرت مساعدتها‬ ‫بالدعاء‬. ‫أرض لطخت بدماء معطرة يتمنى كل من هو حي أن‬ ‫تكون هذه دمائه‬ ‫فهذه أرض ليست لمن يحب الحياة ؛هذه األرض خلقت‬ ‫الثنين فقط؛ من مات ألجلها ومن يتمنى ذلك‬، ‫فمحبي الحياة ُكثر مقارنة بعاشقي الموت ألجل أرضهم‬. ‫واقسم بمن جعل السماء مهداً لن تخون الشعوب‬ ‫وستعود هذه األرض وندخلها بالتكبير‬ ‫فمن خانها ليس ماليين من يعيشون بجانبها‬ ‫ولن نحتاج لذو علم لنعلم العدد الذي خان‬ ‫فهم معدودون على األصابع‬. ‫وفي النهاية أخشى أن أموت بعيداً عنها‬ ‫فهذه االرض تطلبني كما تطلب كل من منها ولها‬ ‫من شباب وشياب يتمنون تحريرها‬ ‫والموت هناك بسالم في أرضهم االولى واالخيرة‬

Since the Seventh of October, my siblings and I have been awakened, surrounded by blood from every side of our bodies. They see nothing from me except Gaza, but I have been draining blood from all sides of my borders for seventy-five years. After all that I have experienced, I still believe that I can break free, but my Arab brothers, whether they are connected geographically or by blood, are not the first; they are undoubtedly the second. I still see them as my blood, despite their estrangement from me. In every war, I think it is the last one I will endure. I believe the end is near, and unification is close, but my hopes are disappointed at the end of each war with the death of those who are part of me and inside of me. In Palestine, I chant mournful anthems at all times, and when someone falls to death, we envy him because he is free, while we have lost. People have choices, but the condition of nations is similar, and there is no empowerment for them to help, and their assistance has been limited to prayers. A land stained with fragrant blood, and everyone alive wishes it to be his blood. This land is not for those who love life; it was created for only two: those who died for it, and those who wish it. So, although lovers of life, they are often compared to lovers of death for their land. I swear by the one who made the sky a cradle; the people will not be betrayed. This land will return, and we will enter it with Takbir. Whoever betrays it is not from the millions living dedicated to it, and we will not need a scholar to know the number of those who betrayed, as they are countable on our fingers. In the end, I fear dying far from it. This land calls me, as it calls everyone to it, and it has young and old people who wish for its liberation. Death there is peaceful, in their first and last land.

Artwork by Ahmed Karam IG: @ahmedkaram.studio

Dear Children of Gaza Amira Muflahi While I write to you from the tranquility of my home thousands of miles away, You are bombarded by missiles from mere miles down the way Dear children of Gaza, While evil deems you as collateral damage in its mission for power and control, Your innocence is the only glimmer of humanity left in the world Dear children of Gaza, While rulers and tyrants sleep comfortably in their castles and mansions, You scream for rescue from under the rubble and destruction Dear children of Gaza, While the world watches in disbelief and horror at your killing, You cannot seem to convince evil that you are worthy of living Dear children of Gaza, While superpowers rain their artillery and chemicals from the skies, You are truly the most courageous as you fight with screams and cries Dear children of Gaza While thousands of your precious lives are taken away day after day, You must know God has a place for you to finally be free and play Dear Angels of Humanity, While you soar high up into the heavens where we hope to rejoice someday, the truth is, on earth, you were never treated as human and the world doesn’t deserve you anyway

Artwork by Lameess Mehanna IG: @lmoneypaintz

I Give Myself to Gaza Amanee Izhaq I give my voice to Gaza Where children lose fathers and fathers lose children all too often There is no softening the blow of 6,000 bombs in 6 days There is no way to do it Other than by colluding with political powers How they sit in their ivory towers and rain terror on a civilian population Claiming it as protection from terrorism But, it does not take much wisdom to know inhumanity when you see it So, believe me when I tell you that you’ve been brainwashed Tossed into the propaganda machine of the West with the rest of it’s injustices This is nothing to them They pollute public opinion to give reason to the pillaging of populations Devastating everything in their path They take from the past and use it for destruction Instructions for maximizing their interests Indifferent to the horrors they’re inflicting This is not conflicting it’s an occupier killing the occupied This is genocide and we’re witnessing it live This divide has collided for what seems like the last time, but I don’t know who will take accountability Only divinity knows in the end So, until then I give my soul to Gaza To Palestine, my precious homeland

Artwork by Amjed Al-Siyabi IG: @amjedalsiyabi

The Blood of Brown Children On White Sheets and Starched Shirts G.A. Kleiner and are now in their thirties have never seen a mountain? Imagine that the next time you swallow in your starched white shirts and ties, the next time you talk about “the other team,” as if this is some sort of sport.

It is smeared on your pale hands and your starched white shirts, Blinken and Biden, the two of you still alive, working in a white house, also splattered, while eight thousand are dead, bled out, wrapped up in white sheets, buried beneath gray rubble, bombed by U.S.-supplied weapons.

How can you support the incessant killing of mothers and fathers and grandparents who have nothing to do with the horror Hamas inflicted on other innocent children? Like all parents, these people want only to laugh and love their kids, live in a dry home with glass windows through which they can see the sun and stars.

You tout the trickle of aid trucks, claim the targets are merely military, tweet that every civilian life is “equally valuable,” and cast doubt on the death toll, while grieving mothers in Gaza cry out for clean water, newborns die in incubators without electricity, and toddlers are pulled from collapsed buildings in chunks of crushed bone and torn flesh.

Have you not seen the blood-stained children crying and calling out for their lost parents? What if these were your children, your grandchildren? Tell me, how can you sleep at night, knowing your stance ensures the bombs will keep bursting homes and hospitals and humans, day-in and night-out?

You have two young children, Antony Blinken. And you, Joe Biden, lost your first wife, Nielia, along with your one-year-old daughter, Naomi, in a car crash a week before Christmas, and your son Beau to brain cancer at forty-six. So how can it be that you are both apparently okay knowing three thousand three hundred children have been killed in Gaza so far, and another one dies every ten minutes?

How do you look at yourself in the mirror each morning after and not see the red splatters and pink smears on your cheeks and chin and chest – some of it still sticky and glistening, as you make your way to work, another day, another dollar, another hundred and fifty children, no different from yours, dead.

Have you never visited people who have barely enough to survive? Never shared a meal with a family whose home is a tiny fraction of your 6,000-square-foot mansions? Can you not imagine what it’s like to live on a fenced-in strip of flat land a mere five miles wide and twenty-five long and never be allowed to leave? Do you know that young adults who have lived their entire lives on that strip

Artwork by Catherine Corkfield IG: @ Catherine_Corkfield

Dear Palestinian Ancestors Xana R

I’d show them our greatest landmark

There are too many words I wish to express to you, Starting with: I’m sorry we never got to meet I’m sorry I don’t know your story

I’d show the landmark I am denied to see I’d show them the wall that marks us as animals I’d show my stolen house, all that’s left is a key I’d show them broken hearts and their bandages

I’m sorry I didn’t save you in 1948 I’m sorry your kindness was taken for granted I’m sorry your land is now stenched with hate I’m sorry your children aren’t wanted

Dear Palestinian Ancestors, I lost 10,022 of my brothers and sisters I lost 800,000 olive trees I lost 3 churches and 47 mosques I lost all sense of ease

I’m sorry your children write wills before reaching puberty I’m sorry all your children have PTSD and anxiety I’m sorry your children expect war over prosperity I’m sorry your infants don’t go past infancy

Dear Palestinian Ancestors, I have hope I have hope our God will serve us justice I have hope our God will ease our suffering Because my Palestinian brothers and sisters taught me hope and devotion They taught me truth and emotion They taught me strength and resistance They taught me love and persistence

Dear Palestinian Ancestors, I’m sorry I didn’t inherit your dark complexion I’m sorry I didn’t inherit fluency in our native tongue I’m sorry I didn’t inherit a strong cultural connection I’m sorry I didn’t inherit your lands, not one I’m sorry I couldn’t preserve the home you broke your back to build I’m sorry that I can’t locate or visit your grave I’m sorry my privilege of life only racks me with guilt I’m sorry I don’t understand how you were so brave

Dear Palestinian Ancestors, There are too many words I wish to express to you, ending with: I’m sorry I never got to thank you

Dear Palestinian Ancestors, I’m sorry I don’t own the narrative of our people If I did, I would’ve told them about your olive trees I would show them its bark, so tall and regal How the fruit falls from a graceful breeze I would show them pomegranates and lemons I’d take them to a historic church and mosque Show them the walls riddled with oppression

We Deserve To Be Free Ameera Abbasi

“From the river to the sea” That is what they chant for me But there are still those who refuse to see Blind by choice at how much we bleed All we want is to be freed Do they not see the agony and sorrow of my country? Free my population From this occupation We stay awake at night in contemplation How can leaders just sit there and discuss While we rot away in cuffs Slowly, turning to dust I watch my loved ones get crushed But no tomb, no tomb, no tomb for us, It is in God we surely trust. We have trust in His decree No matter how much we bleed No matter how much the world does not see No matter all the dying babies No matter the silenced pleas and needs we don’t receive No matter how many of our homes are forcefully seized No matter the atrocious deeds we grieve Our strength lies in the faith we believe We believe, so we persist Despite all the lies they twist We just want to coexist Yet they call us the terrorists Still, we remain resilient We know that God’s plan is brilliant Despite the millions that we lost Our love and faith will never exhaust And so, we have not yet lost So chant “From the river to the sea,”

Artwork by Amjed Al-Siyabi IG: @amjedalsiyabi

Child of Darkness Barry M A child of darkness. I am a child of darkness. I was not born to live but to instill fear, intimidation. I am a monster. I am an animal who needs to be dealt with. I do not have the right to live. I cannot be free. I will never be free. My freedom is trivial. It turns heads and causes controversy. My existence is a threat. A threat to what? A threat to oppression. A threat to injustice. A threat to the children of light. Since I am a child of darkness, born with no purpose other than terror, I must not deserve to live. I must not deserve freedom. There are no red lines to be crossed when dealing with me. Bomb me, shoot me,

burn me, demolish my home, ban my flag, censor my voice, throw me in prison – all for existing. I deserve it. I deserve all of it. And I will endure it. I will take it like a man. I will take it like a woman. I will cry like a baby. I will beg like a child. But I deserve it. I will always deserve it. No, I asked for it. Because I chose this life. I chose to speak. I chose to grow. I chose to be born. It is my fault. It will always be my fault. I choose to live. I choose to resist. I am not afraid to die, for I will die for a cause. I will die with a purpose. I will die with a people. I will live forever. I am Palestine.

Gaza Night Sea Picture taken by Ahmad AbuSamaan

The Home I Never Knew Janan Shahin I long to witness its beauty To see the olive trees that grow Deeply rooted in the earth. The orange and lemon trees and their tangy fragrance in Yaffa I long to pick them off the trees and not be told it does not belong to me. I long to witness the villages The hustle and bustle of daily life as people move about I long to even step foot inside and see my family’s history without their interrogation on why I have come. I long to walk the same earth as my ancestors once did, to feel their pain and struggle As they fled their land and left the life they built. I long to simply stand on top of a mountain and take in its scenery as if it were a painting. Arms outstretched as the wind blows and the taste of freedom on my lips. I long to witness a sunset, go on walks, see the stars at night without being a target. I have come to know much of its death and destruction But to witness its beauty and freedom for the first time would be a treasure.

Artwork by Rosa Huitzitzilin

My Dear Gazans Shajarat Zaitun My dear Gazans, In these bleak decades you have lived, The dark times you endure, We see your pain a hundred times, We feel shattered in our souls. You have paid the highest price, We can’t ask you for any more, You have buried your beautiful children, You have woken us once more. I don’t know what will happen next, The heartless savages may kill more, What I know for sure right now, you have scared them to their core. You have exposed their dirty hearts, Made fools of their blatant lies, Unveiled their ugly faces, Made public their evil ties. Your examples are being given, As the true free people in this worldly place, Those who didn’t answer your call to fight, Will be shamed on that final day. Your enemy’s arrogance knows no bounds, They can’t imagine what horror awaits, God is waiting to take their tab, They will soon be at hell’s gates. I wish I could promise you justice in this life, But who knew they would all sell out, Who knew every single one had a price. The truth is, they destroy all that is good, Since their hearts just can’t understand, And maybe they think your strength, Comes from that piece of land. Little do they know it’s not the land, Nor olive trees, nor sand and dust, The strength you have shown in your life, Is the result of Allah’s trust. So my dear Gazans stand steadfast in that land of yours, And be proud even if it may fall, No one in this world can deny you are the most free of us all.

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

Poetry Renee Shalhoub They give the people flags, To tell them where they’re from. To give them pride to brag, So their logic can be undone. What they don’t understand, Is that I want freedom of the land. For the people to breathe freely, From capitalism, That includes you and me. They give the people flags, To tell them where they’re from. To give them pride to brag, So their logic can be undone. I don’t care about religion or books’ lies. I only care about communities and how the earth cries. The politicians stand for war and greed, While celebrating human casualties. So think twice about which side you’re on, If you care about money or countries, you might be in the wrong. They give the people flags, To tell them where they’re from. To give them pride to brag, So their logic can be undone. Do you see how borders aren’t real, But indigenous people with cultures and languages can feel? How our hearts soar for people and the earth, And our minds grieve politics and we are in perpetual dearth. We know what we need and we hear the call! Let’s free ourselves once and for all! From the sea to the river, Palestine will be free forever.

Artwork by Lameess Mehanna IG: @lmoneypaintz

“From the River to the Sea”: A Cry for Peace and Freedom that Has Been Wrongfully Labeled as a Call For Annihilation Daneiah Nasser The land of olive trees, oranges, sounds from the Mediterranean, fresh olive oil from those special days when the smell of traditional Musakhan would diffuse into the air, and most importantly, a land of peace. Peace among Jews, Christians, and Muslims. The birthplace of Jesus and the home of the Dome of the Rock. Three religions living together in harmony, “From the River to the Sea.” But what happened? How did this beautiful narrative flip upside down? 1948, the year of doom, the year of the Nakba. Days passed and people fled their homes, taking with them their keys in hopes that a few weeks or even months would pass and they could return. 75 years have passed. 75 years of diaspora, life under apartheid, and Zionist propaganda and brainwashing. Injustice seemed to become the norm. The Naksa of 1967, the intifada, and multiple wars on Gaza have all culminated most recently in the ethnic cleansing and genocide of the Gaza Strip! Death after death, lies, and propaganda filling up Western media, all falling under the guise of, “Israelis want peace, the Palestinians want destruction.” The irony is that the true story has been reversed. Zionists play the victim as innocent people have been terrorized, unjustly imprisoned, and prohibited from a free and sovereign life on the land of their ancestors. It’s more than clear that the supposed victim is the one trying to annihilate those who rightfully own the land. Those who have every right to Pray at Al-Aqsa or the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, see the Sea, and roam freely through each town and village from Areeha to Yaffa and Safad to Beer Al-Sabe’i, “From the River to the Sea.” In reality, this statement is simply a call for peace and the dignified living conditions that Palestinians lived in before 1948, regardless of religion. Despite this, the events of 1948, 75 years of occupation and oppression have seemingly deteriorated the hopes of a pre-1948 life. From

Tantura to Deir Yassin, life became a nightmare as one side took over. Our cry for peace was turned against us, making us sound like uncivilized savages — as if we wanted to rid the country of the Jewish faith. The reality is what we have been witnessing over the past 75 years and two months of barbaric bombardment of Gaza has made the idea of going back to the pre-1948 peace even more necessary. Contrary to what has been relayed, the truth is quite the opposite. Condemning a Zionist agenda that discriminates against an entirety of people just for breathing and not supporting their continued atrocities is not a call for the annihilation of the Jewish people. Living in peace is a privilege that all groups living in Palestine deserve. The bloodshed must end. Harmony must bloom. Catastrophes will not break or silence us. We will always rise and stand strong in peace, “From the River to the Sea”- Jews, Christians, and Muslims. We are deep-rooted seeds seeping into the grounds of our lands with our history and culture. Palestine will never die. The old will die, but the young will not forget. We will never forget and will always say “From the River to the Sea, Palestine Will Be Free!” Daneiah Nasser is originally from Irbid, Jordan. She is a Professor as well as a Tutor and Academic Coach at Bergen Community College. She is an alumnus of Montclair State University’s Classes of 2011 and 2013 where she received her Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science and Master’s Degree in Law and Governance. Most recently, she completed her PhD in Education.

Picture taken by Rania Mustafa IG: @raniamustafa1

Palestine has Lived Independently Usef Abdallah ‫عاشت فلسطين مستقلة‬

‫يا اغلى من كوني‬

From the strip of Gaza towards the pinnacle of Jerusalem, From the corners of Ramallah to the peaks of Jineen,

Your dream is not forgotten. It cannot. The sound of your zarghoota cherishing the hearts of His ummah So why worry

‫عاشت فلسطين مستقلة‬

‫عاشت فلسطين مستقلة‬ Hear their voices. Listen to those dreams you claim to heedlessly defend for ‘justice The destruction of their homes, the brutal murder of their children…buildings falling upon itself. And what types of cries are Blown? Dreams. Hope. Promise that they are with their Lord.

But their screeches go unchecked, Haunting the dark hopeless sky with ghosts of terror of brutal occupation.

‫عاشت فلسطين مستقلة‬

A value beyond the jewels of the sky, Long may your beauty reign, To be embraced by TRUE justice towards an annihilation of an apartheid, Of a genocide of the innocent Palestinian children and displacement from their home since the dawn of 1948. Yet,

‫وال تحسبن الذين قتلوا في سبيل هللا اموات بل احياء ولكن ال‬ ‫تشعرون‬ Why blockade our hearts from humility? Look at them. They never forget. They never had They will return. From the peak of Lebanon to the gates of Egypt. They never forget Never had From the liberation of Yafaa from the falsehood of Tel Aviv For the innocent, the old, and the ill, for the ummah of Mohamed and the Arabs. They don’t deny. So why can’t we. So we must. So we shall see. Why? Because

‫عاشت فلسطين مستقلة‬ Do you hear their complaints? Have you been flooded by their cries to annihilate their spoils of blood?

‫ولو يرى الذين ظلموا إذ يرون العذاب أن القوة هلل جميعا وأن هللا‬ ‫شديد العذاب‬ Where do their hopes lie if not in their lord? Why Cry? Why Demonstrate Anger? Fear? Do you acknowledge another worthy to hear their terror? Their suffering?

‫عاشت فلسطين مستقلة‬

So why live in agony? Why worry about the struggles we find so appalling? Have you heard? Have you seen? What else do you need?

Artwork by Rosa Huitzitzilin

The Voice of the War of Rockets Usef Abdallah ‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

You’ve done nothing but increase pride in a nation that is rightfully mine.

The War of Rockets’ voices is but a promise; a promise to myself to scream until my voice is drained.

‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

‫لو رحل صوتي ما بترحل حناجركم‬

in the name of petty innocence.

Say their names. Spread their cries.

‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

‫يوسف شعرو كيرلي ابيضاني وحلو‬

You bomb my family… You can feast on my blood as you wish… But my voice is what remains.

You won’t deny that. You cannot demolish a nation that knows its blood isn’t the end.

‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

‫تعيطش وين العريس‬

The rockets will continue to dance in mockery as the sky looms above the rightful possessors. Their singing can taunt as they like. But will they win? No. Look at them. You expect to instill terror, but yield a promise for tomorrow.

What you kill is our rejoice. With their lord. The brides and grooms of paradise.

‫كلنا مشاريع شهداء‬ You will remain when I am gone. You will answer for their crimes. You will answer for what you’ve done.

‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

‫لم يقصف العدو أسامينا‬

You expect a tray of gratitude for what you’ve annihilated for their safety? Please…tell me, what do you expect? Me to place a barrier on my tongue because you deem it terrorism? No. You don’t have that right. You never will. You don’t have that power.

Your choice is your leverage if not.

‫لو رحل صوتي ما بترحل حرارجتكم‬ I hope you remember that when you lay your head on relaxation and gin. I hope you remember their noise. I hope you remember their inflictions. I hope you remember their terrorism. I hope you remember

‫صوت حرب الصواريخ‬

Your noise. Our music. Arabs? Unity? Sanction? No. A lie. Freedom of speech? Democracy? No. A lie.

What better privilege?

‫هال معانا أقوى وأكبر من بلد صهيون‬

‫الغضب العربي وين‬ Asleep. But who cares? We don’t need you. His ummah shall suffice. Your insults are but a blacksmith sanctioning the weapon of my voice yet higher.

Artwork by Anam Usmani IG: @artbyanam_usmani

The (Mis) Representation of Arab-Americans through Children’s Literature Ali Zeidan

Student cultures and experiences must be integrated into daily instruction. It is a disservice to look over student backgrounds, particularly for historically marginalized populations, such as Arab-Americans. I argue that early readers should be exposed to stories that validate their identities, challenge assumptions, and help identify sameness across cultures, to have a healthy literacy development. I pose the following questions for educators to consider while planning to incorporate multicultural and multiethnic literature: Why is identity important in children’s and adolescent literature? How might children feel when they don’t read about or see people who look like them represented in literature? What are the implications of the lack of representation in literature for Arab American children and students of non-Arab descent? Students need access to diverse texts to help build self-worth and be exposed to a wide range of perspectives. Multicultural and multiethnic literature can be used as a tool to reflect student backgrounds and offer counter-narratives to the negative perceptions associated with many minority groups. Literature is a powerful tool that can introduce students to myriads of issues, challenge mainstream portrayals of certain populations, and spark meaningful and relevant conversations in K-12 classrooms. Literature can serve as a conduit to reaffirm student identities while learning about the rich experiences and perspectives of a wide range of backgrounds. All K-12 student backgrounds and lived experiences should be reflected through curricula by having access to

Picture taken by Rania Mustafa IG: @raniamustafa1

multicultural and multiethnic literature, to promote student development and allow for inclusivity through a range of perspectives and sentiments. Moreover, multicultural literature should be considered as an essential component of a comprehensive reading program. Although students have the right and deserve to be reflected in their classrooms and the shifting demographics in the United States of America call for educators to teach for and about diversity, many minority students are marginalized or have limited representation in curricula or their school’s canonical literature. While over 50% of students in United States public schools are students of color, there is a disconnect in staff demographics and the implementation of culturally responsive practices (as cited in Burciaga & Kohli, 2018). While this article

discusses the importance of incorporating diverse literature in the classroom and ensuring that all students see themselves through a positive light, I will raise the perspective of ArabAmericans, yet another marginalized group in mainstream society that has limited or lack opportunities to define their own story, as an example. The reality of certain student populations, including Arab-Americans, is that they may find themselves alienated or perhaps invisible in classroom lessons and discussions. This may impact student self-esteem and self-worth, particularly for populations such as Arab-Americans who have minimized and often vilified offerings represented by popular media. As a result, multicultural and multiethnic literature can be used to challenge the misconceptions and distorted messages delivered by

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Artwork by Jenna Serhan

the popular media, related to marginalized and/or minority groups. There are myriads of stereotypes associated with Arab-Americans in literature and media that distort the richness of life experiences, subcultures, beliefs, trials, and tribulations of Arab-Americans. In classrooms, students should have opportunities to deconstruct stereotypes and read stories that validate and recognize their heritage and background. As Botelho and Rudman contend, “Children’s literature contains experiences that are different from children’s everyday worlds. It offers a window into society and creates a space where children meet people across lines of social differences (e.g., culture, class, language, sexuality, age, ability, and geography), providing vantage points from which readers can view multiple lives” (Botelho & Rudman, 2009). Educators need to ensure that their specific student population is reflected in readings and analyze texts to identify examples that capture authentic representations of Arab-Americans, and all students making up the classroom population. For instance, teachers can include a section as part of their classroom library titled “Books Where We See Ourselves,” covering all student cultures and various lived experiences. This will spark various discussions and promote students to make a range of connections. As Osorio states, “Given the fact that the majority of teachers will not reflect the cultural or linguistic backgrounds of the students they teach, teachers must be able to connect with a diverse student population with a wide array of differences and cultural wealth. One such way to do so is to use multicultural literature as a tool in the classroom” (Osorio, 2018). Moreover,

exposure to multicultural and multiethnic literature creates the opportunity for children to find sameness among diverse peers while fostering open-mindedness and the appreciation of different points of view. Also, it guides students to ask questions and understand people who look different than themselves. In addition to offering a positive self-image and self-worth, it opens the door to learn from and understand other cultural groups and backgrounds (Botelho & Rudman, 2009). As educators, is it crucial to understand the type of message that students receive if their cultural backgrounds are not validated or affirmed through the curriculum and daily instruction. It is imperative to examine our understandings and challenge assumptions or misrepresentations related to our student populations. By recognizing students’ cultural backgrounds and lived experiences, we are concurrently boosting their selfworth, helping them develop a positive identity, and teaching early readers to become critical thinkers by introducing them to a multitude of stories and experiences. Students have the right to be reflected in their classrooms, and the lens of historically marginalized populations, such as Arab-Americans, should be brought to the forefront. This will not only benefit students who identify with that ethnicity but will also aid others in recognizing the importance of shattering the “single story” (Adichie, 2009) and help develop empathy and respect for all people. Infusing multicultural literature in daily practice provides alternative points of view that serve as a reminder that the storied lives of those marginalized and/or oppressed in society share perspectives that are identifiable across socio-cultural borders. It is essential to expose children to a complete story, rather than a “single story” (Adichie, 2009) that has come to define minority populations.

Artwork by Capegraph IG: @capegraph

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