Issuu

Art by Zeindee

Volume 3 Issue 1

November 2018

Letter from the Editor Readers of Falastin, we proudly present to you our first edition in our third volume of Falastin. We have been working on this magazine for two years now, and I am immensely proud of what everyone who has been involved in Falastin has been able to accomplish. To all of our writers, photographers, and artists, thank you for sharing a part of yourselves with us. To the editors, thank you for your endless dedication to making Falastin better each and every issue. To PACC’s board and our sponsors, thank you for your support, without which none of this would be possible. And thank you to you, the readers of Falastin, who are the catalyst for change and the energy that keeps this magazine alive. One of my favorite things about being the Editor in Chief of Falastin is being able to connect Palestinian writers and artists from all over the world. Art is the heartbeat of our movement, it is the means through which our story is manifested. Art has been one of the strongest modes of resistance in countless liberation movements throughout history from ending Apartheid in South Africa to the Black Lives Matter movement here in the United States. Something I always carry with me from a conversation with Palestinian activist and poet, Rafeef Ziadeh, is the fact that when you look back to past liberation movements, the one constant thing that you always see is the art. Centuries later, even after conditions and social and economic shifts occur, the art always remains, serving as a reminder, a record, and a means of protest. This issue of Falastin, we wanted to celebrate the power of art in whatever form it takes, whether it be writing, photography, painting, dancing, cooking, and more. As Palestinian Americans, our voices are crucial, especially in a climate where we are not given the platform to speak on our own issues. The way to change this is to shift the narrative and reclaim it. Art is the reclamation of our story, and it is the means through which we emphasize that we are here, that we have always been here, and that we are never going anywhere. Art is resistance in its most primal form. It’s a refusal to be silent. Sending you all strength and power,

Reem Farhat Editor in Chief of Falastin

Staff of Falastin Reem Farhat: Editor in Chief Aya Mustafa: Poetry Editor Marah Siyam: Fiction Editor Aseel Zeinaty and Hiba Birat: Arabic Editors Aseel Washah: News Editor I’d like to extend a special thank you to Noor Siyam and Basma Bsharat for their assistance in editing. I’d also like to thank Zeindee for her amazing painting “The Key” which is being featured as our cover. Follow her @Zeindee on Instagram to see more of her work! Also, thank you to Maryam Tayeh, whose work “Turathee” is featured on the back cover! 2

Letter from the Executive Director It has been more than two years since we had the first conversation about starting the idea of a PACC magazine. Through your support, readership and contributions we have successfully been able to complete Volume 2 of Falastin and begin Volume 3. I am incredibly proud of the team behind the magazine. Their dedication to the magazine and ultimately the cause of Palestine leaves me in awe. Attending their meetings, watching the juices flow and witnessing continuous improvement with each issue gives me hope. Through Falastin we relay stories, photographs, and articles so that you can see and learn about Palestine and the struggles Palestinians face through the eyes of those who have gone. Get more involved with PACC. With the new year, we have a lot of exciting projects in the works! Alas, this is the part Iâ€™ve been hesitating to write the most. It is with humility and pride at what we have accomplished thus far that I announce my departure as the Executive Director at PACC. I started working at PACC approximately four and a half years ago. Since then, I have grown as an individual, progressed as a professional and matured as a person. I remember the days when our events were held in the unrenovated gallery where people would sit on the pink folding chairs. Aside from the board, we had only one part-time employee and a couple of volunteers. Now, we are blessed to have three employees, one fellow, three interns, twenty part time staff and a hundred (if not more) active volunteers. This magazine is a testament to the progress we have made in the last four and a half years. It truly has been a blessing to be a part of this amazing development. I will be completing my tenure at PACC until the end of the 2018. My time as Executive Director may be over, but my involvement certainly is not. I am eternally grateful to every one of you for this incredible opportunity and learning experience. Thank you for your time and patience and thank you for sharing these experiences with me. I wish every single one of you only the best. I would like to thank the Editor in Chief and staff members of Falastin for their dedication. I would also like to thank the sponsors of this magazine. Thank you to the Board of Directors for their support. Last, but not least, thank you for picking up and supporting Falastin.

Rania Mustafa Falastin Advisor Executive Director @PACCUSA

Palestinian American Community Center

@PACC_USA

@PACCUSA

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Illustration by Salsabeel Abdelhamid

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Pg. 6-7 Friction, Falastin, and Finding Where I Fit by Rebecca Vineyard Pg. 8 ‫فريدة العمد ابنة عارف العارف رجاء غزاونة‬ Pg. 8 ‫ قرية صفا يوسف قطب‬: ‫رام هللا‬ Pg. 9 Attacks on UNRWA are Attacks on Our Right of Return by Hazem Alqassas Pg. 12-13#SaveBasit by Yusef Haddabah Pg. 14 Arab Artist Profile Gazaleh Pg. 15 Palestine: An Issue of Humanity by Monica Hernandez Pg. 16-17 Art and Resistance by Werdah Hassan

Pg. 21 In My Blood by Nadine Badwan Pg. 22-23 A Conversation with Said Elateb by Falastin Staff Pg. 24 ‫صرخة فنان ليلى أبو شحادة‬ Pg.25 November Elections and Why They Matter by Aseel Washah Pg. 28-29 Tennis, Poetry, and Navigating the Diaspora by Reem Farhat Pg. 30-31 Waging War on the Womb by Noora Badwan

Pg. 32 Gaza Screams by Maryam Edris Pg. 34-36 Palestine Monologues by Ali Andre Ali Pg. 37 Shoruq Advocacy

Friction, Falastin, and Finding Where I Fit By Rebecca Vineyard Walking through the narrow, winding lane in Hebron, one of my travel companions stared at the mismatched “roofing” of chain link, tarp, and cardboard. It dimmed everything at ground level, only allowing narrow beams of the bright, hot sunlight to penetrate the shadows of the souk. “The settlers throw trash out their windows, onto the people in the souk,” our guide for the day explained. This, I knew. I knew about the way Hebron had been locked down, its Palestinian residents confined to small slips of the city while many of its business owners had their shops sealed.

ready pretty prepared. I also knew, going in, that in some ways I was a black sheep of my group, so to speak. I’m an only child, a half-Palestinian of Christian descent. I don’t speak Arabic, and I’ve never been a part of an Arab community beyond my blood relations. I am also an artist: I write and perform, and I’ve lived on my own in New York City for a decade.

Each person’s experiences are varied and nuanced, but having no Arab community and no foundation in Islam, as well as not really understanding the language, I felt acutely the ways in which I didn’t fit, I knew this from various television shows and docuparticularly in the first days of the trip. Thankfully, mentaries, from reading books— from all the work many of my group members responded with boundI’d done to understand my grandparless generosity, proactively jumping in ents’ homeland. All my life, I’d always translators and often affirming the “It was no one’s as accessed my heritage through my famlegitimacy of my experience, despite its ily members and the food they cooked; job to prepare me many differences from theirs. I’d never been to the place they called for Palestine.” Soon, I began to see the places in Paleshome, many years ago. I had also nevtine that were relevant to myself and my backer existed within a community of Arabs before. ground. At The Walled Off Hotel, politics and art Which might be why, in Palestine, my discoveries intersect, quite literally making guests face the Occuwere less about the facts of the Occupation, and pation and daring them to look away. Art can be an more about where I fit into this place. incredible vehicle for social change, and Banksy’s I was prepared for the settlers’ trash; I was prepared combination of tongue-in-cheek humor (the recepfor the checkpoints, the stark contrast between the tion desk displays a sign saying, “Rejection,” while a pristine Israeli roads and the shabbier Arab ones, video regarding the history of Palestine in the museand the general disparity between the Occupier, and um portion was narrated by a voice putting on an the Occupied. What I wasn’t prepared for, however, exaggerated British-colonial dialect) with a more was the moment that came shortly after walking simplistic display of the horrors of the Occupation is through Hebron’s souk: entering the Ibrahimi effective and memorable. mosque. Coming from a family that is Christian PalAnother day, we visited BuildPalestine, an organizaestinian, there was never any reason for me to go tion that crowd sources funding and problem solvinto a mosque; and upon entering I... well, basically I ing for Palestinian creators and business owners, totally panicked. I didn’t really know what to do, employing a grassroots mindset. We met with their beyond that I had to take off my shoes and cover my Chief Outreach Officer, whose demeanor shifted hair; I was extremely worried about doing somefrom casual to passionate as he explained ways in thing wrong and offending someone. Thankfully, which Palestinians can be empowered to find innoone of my companions told me in soothing tones: vative and sustainable solutions for issues in Pales“Of course you wouldn’t know what to do,” she reatine. In a way, I felt as though I was watching a comsoned. “I’m so sorry I didn’t prepare you.” munity organizer in Brooklyn speak to locals about It was no one’s job to prepare me for Palestine. combating gentrification— the exact place and issue There were ways— like having a generally solid unmay be different, but the tactics and passion were derstanding of the Occupation— in which I was althe same.

Finally, I was able to go to a feminist workshop at BabyFist, a brand founded by a young Palestinian woman after she was harassed on the street and fell into a depression. Everyone told her to get over it, and that harassment was normal; she rejected that stance, and instead began a clothing line filled with pieces that are meant to empower women and challenge the status quo. I was a fan of the brand before going to Palestine, and being able to take part in a workshop that included frank discussions about the challenges to freedom and equality for women in Palestine with its founder (and to know those were discussions that were happening there at all) was a dream come true.

lived in other places, ones where they technically had many more freedoms than they did living in Palestine, would return and stay. And that’s something I don’t think I expected: I was ready to see my homeland, and to be glad for having visited it. But before traveling to Palestine, I don’t think I ever dreamed that there would be space for me there. There may be frictions: between the traditional and the trailblazing, between the religious and the secular, between what we are told we’re supposed to be, and who we really are. I feel those frictions, and always will— because my values and my experiences are atypical, and because it’s in my nature as an artist to challenge what’s accepted. But after visiting Palestine, I love it, fiercely: I cannot wait to go back (I just might need some Arabic lessons, first).

Through these experiences, I saw the Palestine where I fit. I understood why Palestinians who had

Image provided by Diane Issa

‫فريدة العمد ابنة عارف العارف‬ ‫رجاء غزاونة‬ ‫جمع التبرعات وتقديم كل أنواع المعونة لالجئين‪.‬‬ ‫وكان من بين هذه المعونات أن تم استئجار بيت أصبح روضة – تضم‬ ‫أكثر من ‪ 951‬طفالً لرعايتهم وقد تم الحصول على تبرعات كثيرة‬ ‫إلقامته‪.‬‬ ‫مارست السيدة فريدة العمل مع السيدة سميحة خليل التي عملت على‬ ‫تنظيم التبرعات ووضع الخطط الالزمة لوقف عشوائية التبرعات‬ ‫وبذلك بدأت الجمعية تتوسع شيئا ً فشيئا ً وكان لها الدور األكبر في‬ ‫مساعدة أكبر عدد من الناس والمحتاجين وتعد‬ ‫برنامجها الخاص لتأهيل السيدات وتدربيهن‬ ‫ليصبحن مستقالت ماديا ً وقادرات على المساهمة‬ ‫في مساعدة عائالتهن وبلدهن‪ ،‬كما كان هناك‬ ‫دور كبير في إيالء االهتمام بالتراث الفلسطيني‬ ‫خوفا ً من اندثاره بعد هجرة الشعب الفلسطيني‪.‬‬ ‫تم تشكيل لجنة لالهتمام بالتراث الفلسطيني‬ ‫ترأسها المرحوم د‪.‬عبد اللطيف البرغوثي‬ ‫واستطاعت هذه اللجنة إصدار ‪ 98‬دراسة خاصة‬ ‫بتراث الشعب الفلسطيني وإصدار مجلة فصلية‬ ‫اسمها " التراث والمجتمع " وتأسيس متحف‬ ‫التراث الشعبي‪.‬‬ ‫حكم على السيدة سميحة خليل باالقامة الجبرية‬ ‫عام ‪ 9181‬لمدة ‪ 99‬سنة ونصف‪ ،‬وبسبب‬ ‫أوضاعها الصحية واإلقامة الجبرية توجهت لجنة‬ ‫من قيادات الشعب الفلسطيني إلى السيدة سميحة‬ ‫ب لها وذلك حفاظا ً‬ ‫خليل تطلب منها اختيار نائ ٍ‬ ‫على وحدة واستمرارية الجمعية خوفا ً من ظروف طارئة حيث قبلت‬ ‫بذلك وتم انتخاب السيدة فريدة العارف نائبا ً لها‪.‬‬ ‫أثناء شغل السيدة فريدة منصب نائب الرئيس بذلت كافة قواها‬ ‫لمساعدة الرئيسة سميحة خليل في حياتها وبعد وفاتها وارتقاء السيدة‬ ‫فريدة لمنصب رئيس الجمعية استمرت األخيرة في تطوير وتوسيع‬ ‫مشاريع الجمعية وأعمالها الخيرية وأصبحت الجمعية اآلن قلعة وطنية‬ ‫كبيرة تضم العديد من األقسام لرعاية األيتام ومدرسة للتمريض وعدد‬ ‫من األقسام األخرى لخدمة المجتمع الفلسطيني‪.‬‬

‫فريدة العمد رئيسة جمعية إنعاش األسرة منذ عام ‪ 9111‬هي ابنة‬ ‫عارف العارف وهي من مواليد القدس عام ‪.9198‬‬ ‫ساعدت فريدة المؤسسات النسائية الفلسطينية كثيراً‪ ،‬وساهمت في‬ ‫إقامة مراكز تطريز في المناطق الريفية‪.‬‬ ‫تعد فريدة عضوا ً بارزا ً في لجنة دراسة التراث الفلسطيني في منظمة‬ ‫التحرير الفلسطينية‪ ،‬وفي لجنة إحياء التراث الريفي‪ .‬كما أنها عضو‬ ‫في اللجنة العليا لألمومة والطفولة في‬ ‫فلسطين‪.‬‬ ‫حصلت فريدة على عدة جوائز عالمية‬ ‫حيث أنهت دراستها في مدرسة الفرندز‬ ‫للبنات في رام هللا وبعد التخرج سافرت‬ ‫كمدرسة لمدة‬ ‫إلى الكويت حيث عملت‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫سبع سنوات ودرست الصحافة بالمراسلة‬ ‫أثناء وجودها في الكويت‪.‬‬ ‫عام ‪ 9199‬تزوجت الدكتور كامل العمد‬ ‫وعادت إلى فلسطين وسكنت في مدينة‬ ‫رام هللا‪ ،‬أثناء حرب ‪ 9191‬انتقلت إلى‬ ‫بيت والدها في القدس لبضعة أيام وحيث‬ ‫انتهت الحرب في اليوم الذي بدأت فيه‬ ‫فقد عادت فريدة إلى بيتها في رام هللا‪.‬‬ ‫انضمت السيدة فريدة إلى جمعية إنعاش‬ ‫األسرة التي أسستها السيدة سميحة خليل‬ ‫عام ‪ 9191‬وقد كان هدفها االرتقاء‬ ‫بمستوى المرأة أوالً واالهتمام بالتراث وحمايته من الطمس‬ ‫ثانيا ً واالهتمام بالطفل الفلسطيني ثالثاً‪ .‬وقد شاركت في هذه المؤسسة‬ ‫بعد حرب ‪ 9191‬للعمل على معالجة قضية توافد الالجئين الفلسطينيين‬ ‫وتم تشكيل لجنة من السيدة سميحة خليل وأعضاء الجمعية مع عبد‬ ‫الجواد صالح رئيس بلدية البيرة‪ ،‬ونديم الزرو رئيس بلدية رام هللا‪ ،‬و‬ ‫عارف العارف‪ ،‬ود‪.‬ألفرد طوباسي‪ ،‬وإنعام المفتي‪ ،‬والمحامي فالح‬ ‫الماضي والدكتور عزمي الشعيبي‪ ،‬ود‪.‬عبد العزيز الحاج أحمد‬ ‫وغيرهم من المواطنين وقرروا إنشاء لجنة إلغاثة المتضررين وتم‬

‫رام هللا ‪ :‬قرية صفا‬ ‫يوسف قطب‬ ‫صفَا هي قرية فلسطينية تقع في أراضي الضفة الغربية وتتبع محافظة‬ ‫رام هللا والبيرة‪ .‬وقعت القرية تحت االحتالل اإلسرائيلي في حرب‬ ‫‪.9191‬‬ ‫وهي إحدى قرى غرب رام هللا التي تبعد عنها ‪ 98‬كم‪ ،‬وترتفع عن‬ ‫سطح البحر ‪591‬م‪ ،‬ويبلغ عدد سكانها ‪ 1951‬نسمة‪ .‬في حين تبلغ‬ ‫مساحة األراضي العمرانية حوالي ‪ 981‬دونم‪ ،‬يبلغ إجمال أراضيها‬ ‫‪ 1911‬دونم ‪ .‬و يزرع فيها الزيتون بمساحات واسعة والخروب والتين‬ ‫وبعض أشجار الفواكه ‪.‬‬ ‫يوجد في القرية خربة اللوز‪ ،‬وخربة بن عواد ‪ ،‬وخربة لوط ‪،‬ويحيط‬ ‫بأراضيها العديد من القرى مثل بلعين‪ ،‬وبيت عور التحتا‪ ،‬ونعلين‪،‬‬ ‫وبيت سيرا ‪.‬‬

‫يرجع اسم القرية إلى كلمة صوفانا السريانية وتعني التصفية أو‬ ‫التنقية ‪.‬حاول اليهود عام ‪ 9118‬االستيالء عليها ألهميتها كونها تقع‬ ‫على طريق رام هللا – اللطرون ولكنهم لم ينجحوا باالستيالء عليها‪،‬‬ ‫وبقيت تحت سيطرة أهلها ليكون اسمها الحالي صفا ‪.‬‬ ‫وعلى الرغم من ذلك بقيت تتعرض للهجوم وسلب األراضي من قبل‬ ‫االحتالل من أجل بناء جدار الفصل العنصري الذي كان سببا ً‬ ‫باالستيالء على الكثير من أراضيها وحرمان أصحابها منها ‪.‬‬ ‫ى عا ٍل من التعليم والصحة والثقافة على مستوى‬ ‫تتمتع القرية بمستو ً‬ ‫قرى رام هللا ‪.‬‬

‫‪8‬‬

Attacks on UNRWA are Attacks on Our Right of Return By Hazem Alqassas On August 31, the United States announced it would end all financial support to the United Nations Relief Work Agency (UNRWA). This is an attack on Palestinian refugees and our right to return to our homes. UNRWA provides vital services to 5.4 million Palestinian refugees living in the West Bank, Gaza, Jordan, Lebanon and Syria. It was established by the United Nations in 1949 as a temporary body to help Palestinian refugees until a political solution was found. 70 years later, millions of Palestinian refugees are still living in refugee camps.

The humanitarian and political fallout from the collapse of UNRWA would be enormous. Millions of Palestinian refugees depend on UNRWA for basic services from education, to health care, to sanitation and tens of thousands of families depend on UNRWA for their livelihoods. But the political aspect is even more dangerous. These enormous financial cuts are part of a war on Palestinians in general, and Palestinian refugees in particular, to force them to accept the US-Israel deal and to give up on their rights, especially the internationally recognized right to return to their original homes and lands. For the Palestinian refugees living in camps in the diaspora, the collapse of UNRWA is designed to forcibly transfer the responsibility of protection and services for refugees to the host countries thereby changing their status as Palestinian refugees and forcing them to live permanently in the diaspora.

The UNRWA crisis is not a financial or administrative crisis, but rather a systematic and deliberate political attack in which Israel and the United States are working to undermine UNRWA. Israel and its allies are not able to disband UNRWA in the UN General Assembly. So Israel is intensifying its efforts to gut UNRWA so it becomes an agency that exists only in name. This tactic is similar to the experience of the United Nations Conciliation Commission for Palestine, which was charged with protecting and resolving the issue of refugees through the implementation of Resolution 194 of the General Assembly of the United Nations in 1948. Israel worked to ensure it was an ineffective body and the refugees were not able to return to their homes and land. And now, with the help of United States they want to make UNRWA fail.

Photo provided by Hazem Alqassas

#SaveBasit By Yusef Haddabah April 5th. I walk into my physics classroom, ready with a list of useful numbers to bombard with calls to have another period full of jokes, laughs, and of demanding that they do something to help Ahmed. I course, physics. The physics teacher, Brother Ahshared it on all of my social media accounts , and med, always made sure that our classes were both made sure that my peers did the same. Eventually educational and fun, which made it the favorite pewe got social activist Linda Sarsour, the Huffington riod for the majority of the class. Sometimes his clasPost, and other popular individuals and media outses would become life lessons, and he always had lets to tweet about the situation. The first step of the best advice whenever someone approached him what we knew would be a lengthy process was sucafter class or after school; everyone loved him. cessful. But today he was absent, which was weird I, along with other student activists, set up because he had never been absent before. I thought the #SaveBasit campaign, with the help and guidto myself- things happen sometimes, so it’s nothing ance of Mohamed Soltan. Soltan is a former political to freak out about, right? Even though that’s what prisoner in Egypt who was sentenced for life, but any regular person would think, I still had a bad went on a well-known 500 day hunger strike which feeling about what was going on, so I carried on led to the U.S government heavily intervening and with the class and with my day, with unanswered successfully helping him gain his freedom. We made questions in the back of my mind. As soon as the a Facebook page and Twitter account for anyone day was over, I texted him asking who wanted regular updates. We set “Whenever you see an in- up a petition on change.org which what was going on and got no response, and that’s when I knew I conclusively had over 43,000 signajustice happening, it actually had something to be wortures, and a Crowdfunding camshould feel like both ried about, because this man was paign that had over 100 donors. We your Islamic and moral also set up weekly protests outside always on his phone. As a matter of fact, it was the main reason why he obligation to do whatever of the detention center that he was was in the situation that he was in. it is you can to stop it” being held in, which not only gathI went home and thought about ered activists, but also media outlets, what I should do to see what was going on, and one which helped spread awareness. So step 2 of the of the things that came to mind was searching his process, which was mainly spreading awareness name on Twitter, because we’re living in a time among the public rather than the representatives, where social media is the quickest way to find news, was also successful. and he was very political. He publicly expresses his The next thing I focused on was how I could help as views that, to the western world at least, may be an individual, aside from the group campaigning, seen as controversial. I thought maybe that had to and the first thing I did was agree to be one of two do with whatever was going on. That’s when I student representatives alongside Mariam Siam, found it. I saw different tweets saying he had been who was another key actor in the success of the camdetained by ICE (U.S. Immigration and Customs Enpaign. We frequently did interviews for media outforcement) and later found out that he was reported lets such as The Huffington Post, NJ.com, The Daily by an anonymous figure to ICE with completely Dot, and WNBC. We constantly spent our time doing false accusations and primarily false re-wordings of things that could help him in any way, since the sithis Arabic Facebook posts. That’s when I felt tense, uation affected both of us in such a profound way. confused, and stuck for a second, but I knew better We always helped in making sure that the protests than to freeze for any longer, and instead asked mywere going as planned, and we sometimes gave self what I could do to immediately help. I made short speeches during the protests to help upsome calls to people who I knew had more experidate anyone who was unclear about what was goence with cases like these than I did. We concluded ing on. that the first thing I should do was write up a script

tion schedules, and to seeing him skinnier every time, in a jumpsuit that he never deserved to be in. Even before Ahmed’s situation, I was always politically active and aware. However, what I realized is that for how often we read about cases like these on the news, they become normalized in your mind. When it’s actually happening to someone who you know and care about, though, it’s much harder to process and much more frustrating than just that interesting story you heard on the radio on your way to work. And although it was hard and stressful, it was a great experience that helped me learn a lot Pictured: Yusef Haddabah, with his teacher Ahmed Abdel-Basit about myself and my identity. One thing that this whole situaFinally, after doing as much as I possibly could, intion helped me realize is that it’s just as possible for cluding all of the things mentioned, paired with the the youth to take action and make important change extraordinary efforts of all of those who helped and as it is for the older generation. Whenever you see contributed in any way possible, as well as having an injustice happening, it should feel like both your Ahmed’s lawyer, Anwen Hughes, do a phenomenal Islamic and moral obligation to do whatever it is job representing him and presenting his case to the you can to stop it, and that’s what me and my peers judge, I felt pretty comfortable about the way things were able to do with our teacher. We ended up makwere going. I was confident that the result of his case ing a difference and being part of the reason why he would be in our favor. On the morning of Eid Alis free today. Not only are you doing what is moralAdha, while I was having breakfast, I received a ly right, but you also get the satisfaction of knowing phone call. I was told that the judge assigned to Ahthat you, as a member of the youth, made a differmed’s case had granted him asylum, and that he just ence, even if you thought you couldn’t. Being Palesneeded to wait to find out whether or not ICE would tinian-American motivated me and has always motiappeal the decision. My Eid felt different than it had vated me to do good for the sake of others. It’s what ever felt before. I was happy about a gift being given I’m dedicated to do for our people back home and to me, but it wasn’t one of the typical gifts that my it’s the way that I’ve been taught to think and act. family usually gave. Instead, my gift was the biggest We need to KNOW, not just think, that we can make step to my teacher and role model’s case so far. The change. We need to know that all of the protests we next day I still felt the adrenaline of the previous day go to and organizations that we support do make a as I received another call, this time with news that difference. We can’t sit back and just watch things made me feel happier than I could remember feeling unravel while JUST speaking against it, but we must before. “ICE won’t be appealing the decision to Ahboth speak for the cause and act upon it. Our genermed’s case and he’ll be released either tonight or toation is the future. We’re the brains and spirit bemorrow morning.” Boy oh boy did it feel good to hind the movement for justice for everyone, and let’s know that this was the end of the most stressful five prove to everyone who doubts us that we can be months.This was the end to the scratchy phone calls that. he made to me from the detention center, to visita-

Arab Artist Profile: Gazaleh fight for his people's voice and believes the arts are an important place to start educating people. parents, Gazaleh is an artist who works to spread “Imagery is so impactful in the minds of people, to knowledge, beauty, and awareness of Palestinian life be able to alter perspectives is what the corporate under occupation. Much of his work includes Arabic media has done, now it's up to us to organize and calligraphy, or abstract forms of calligraphy along paint a different picture!” Gazaleh has been an activwith designs inspired by Arab styles. He uses the ist since he was a teenager, later he was a member of Arabic language in his art to show the beauty and G.U.P.S at San Francisco State University, and he natural flow of the written language and to inspire plans to stay active in the communiArabs all over the world to draw inspi“Art is a language ty working with youth and other ration from Arab poetry and literature. organizers and producing more art Gazaleh grew up with graffiti art all and can have a real for the cause. His main goal is to around him and uses its elements in his art to make some of his works using impact on the world bring justice to his people who have been denied it for so long and to only spray paint. Another component around him.” show the world they won't accept or common theme in Gazaleh's work anything less than dignity and respect, the two are his characters, usually portraying people living things Zionism tries to deny his people. He leaves under the Israeli occupation and relating his work to with these words, “Free Palestine, long live the fight the Arab world in general. Visiting Palestine in 2007, for justice and freedom! Jerusalem is Arab!” he was inspired by the stories and faces of the peo-

Born in San Francisco to first generation Palestinian

ple. Leaving Palestine for him was a sad time, but knowing that he has the right to come and go made him feel like he had a duty to show the plight of his people. Gazaleh's work is instrumental to the struggle like all Arab or Palestinian artists in the homeland or in the diaspora. To Gazaleh, art is a language and can have a real impact on the world around him. Art is a catalyst for social and political change. Since mainstream media does not accurately represent the struggles in Palestine, being able to make art that does tell this important story is very significant to the fight for justice. In fact, one of his main inspirations for making art is fighting against stereotypes and historic racism that plagues the media and popular culture perspectives.“Being in a world that doesn’t understand Arab culture and history actually creates a need for education,” Gazaleh says. “It is an opportunity to assert our identity and do it right.” Having faced forms of discrimination growing up, Gazaleh is working to

Pictured: Gazaleh

Palestine: An Issue of Humanity By Monica Hernandez

I was raised on the Bible. My mother, a devout Catholic, always made fear, love, and an understanding of God a priority in our household. I clung most to the stories of Jesus. My favorite verse, which has had a tremendous impact on my life and the way that I see the world, is, “When you have done this for the least of my people, you have done this for me.” This notion that we should treat each other with the same love that we would treat God, if we were given the opportunity, has given my life vast purpose. This idea is what allowed my heart to open and feel the suffering of others. I feel tremendous pain for the suffering of the oppressed and tremendous power when I see a movement of resistance. In high school, I was infatuated with the civil rights movement, a movement driven by the impatience to be free. This is something that exists in all of us, the right be treated as an equal, as a human being. I studied Social Justice and Political Science at a Jesuit college. I once read a lecture by a Jesuit priest that had as much of an impact on me as the message of Jesus. He said we have a social obligation to humanity to: 1. Never cause pain or suffering upon someone that we have any advantage over, whether it be physical, financial, etc. 2. To never benefit directly or indirectly from the suffering of the oppressed, and 3. To dedicate our lives to helping those who are oppressed to be freed from injustice. At this time, I began studying the Middle East in a desire to learn more about the people whose suffering I was indirectly benefiting from. This was when I began to learn about Palestine. Seeing people suffer any injustice should make us uncomfortable. It should be difficult to watch, and it should ignite in us a desire to change the circumstances of those suffering. The more I learned about Palestine, the more I wanted to be a part of the fight for peace and justice. I would go to protests and rallies. I was constantly posting about Palestine on my social media and creating dialogue with friends and

family. Sometimes, I would get backlash about why I cared so much about a people that I had no relationship to. It amazed me how people couldn’t grasp the basic concept of humanity. In the verse where Jesus says, “When you have done this for the least of my people,” he’s speaking to people on the Day of Judgment. He’s telling them that the reason they will not be admitted into heaven is because when he was hungry, they did not feed him, and when he was homeless, they did not shelter them. They are so confused and, “When they ask when did we not do this for you?”, he responds, “When you have not done this for the least of my people, you have not done it for me.” There needs to be a part of us that transcends the limits of our ability to empathize. Our desire to help one another doesn’t need to stop at the perimeter of our race or religion. This isn’t a Palestinian issue. This isn’t a Muslim issue. This is an issue of humanity and we should seek to rectify that humanity when it is taken, so that we can rectify the humanity within ourselves. All over the world there are people suffering, and they are depending on us to use our voice and our power. We owe it to ourselves to do so. Our humanity depends on it.

Art and Resistance By Werdah Hassan Ahed is quoted in the New York Times as saying, “To exist is to resist” is a phrase, so simple, yet so “Resistance is not just the stone, it is the poems we defining of the reality of the struggle of the Palestiniwrite. Art.” The painting of Ahed on the wall was an people. Despite the protests, rallies, and the physdone by two Italian artists, who didn’t need to be ical trials within Palestine, the first kind of resistance Palestinian to acknowledge injustice and use art to is their existence. When an unjust force attempts to protest it. They later were arrested by Israeli officers eradicate the identity of a people, every breath taken and barred from entering the country for 10 years, by those very people is a powerful form of protest. showing just how impactful the weapon of art can How can such an honor, yet such a burden, be exbe. pressed in words? How can such anger and sadness be manifested into fitting action or speech? Speech This nonviolent form of protest elicited such anger that undoubtedly will be silenced and ignored? Art and quick response from unjust officials because is how. Art throughout different periods of history, they understood the influence and power interwohas been used as a universal tool to communicate ven in the words unspoken. beliefs across platforms for change. No matter the For Palestinians, the wall became a message board to language or geographic barriers, art is the wordless share information, maintain Palestinian national expression of an experience, shared or not, that the identity, and post calls for reartist urges be recognized. Art is defined as the “expression “Resistance is not just the sistance and unity. There is art on the wall that gives illusions of of human creative skill and stone, it is the poems we cracks and that portray a peek of imagination” by Webster’s a utopia on the other side, which write.” dictionary. But to places with serves as a sharp contrast to the a history of struggle and pain, hardship on the Palestinian side. like Palestine, art is so much There are drawings of giant house keys that serve as more. The expression of events aren’t imaginations a fierce reminder to the thousands of Palestinians but real-life perspectives of events. Art is one of the displaced from their home and a promise that they ways to resist the confinements of the occupation will soon return. Escalators, balloons, and ladders and demand that the viewer reaches inside themare drawn on the wall also speak of artists’ hopes of selves to identify the truth, and for Palestinians, to one day overcoming that barrier. Though the large share the truth with one another. Through art, the and dehumanizing wall is a constant reminder to unheard voices and untold stories of Palestinians are Palestinians of the injustice and occupation, the illusshouted through each color, shape, and stroke in trations give the people hope and strength to resist. protest, refusing to be overlooked. Another one of the most infamous images, shown on One of the most potent locations for art in Palestine the wall and throughout the world, was one created is the infamous apartheid wall. Paintings and graffiti by Palestinian cartoonist Naji al-Ali of Handala. It is on the Palestinian side of the wall is an artistic form of a young child with his back turned and hands of criticism and protest against its existence, deheld back, to symbolize the agonizing wait for jusmanding an end to the barrier. One recent portrayal tice and freedom. It is understood symbolically, that on the wall is of Ahed Tamimi, the 17 year old Paleshe wouldn’t turn until Palestine is liberated from the tinian girl who made headlines across the world for hold of apartheid. Palestinians display their courage standing up against Israeli soldiers occupying her and give hope of that liberation through their depichome. She was recently released from prison after an tions in art, and as long as they maintain their deter8-month term for hitting a soldier trespassing her mination and unity, Palestine will never succumb to home after her cousin was shot in the head. Her face the corruption. has become a symbol of the Palestinian struggle.

Image provided by Diane Issa

In My Blood By Nadine Badwan Thrown in a dark, humid, small room Not knowing when he will face his inevitable doom Chains wrapped around his neck, ankles, and wrists Not enough energy to even make a fist They think these rusting metal pieces can stop what is rushing in his veins That flows until the day he dies A fact that no one can deny Chains can’t change a person’s background, ethnicity, or race The soldiers ran after him as if it were a high-speed chase But for what crime was he put into these chains? For the blood that is relentless, won’t give up, or take no for an answer Do the guards surrounding his cell know that he works for 13 hours a day to pay for treatment for his mother’s cancer The longer he sits in the cell, the more the sorrow grows But, to the guards his tears will never show Because he has a name to live up to and a country of strength to represent As time passes, every second becomes more tense This 16-year-old boy has siblings and parents to love and care for, for the rest of his life And to make sure he got to them every night in his pocket he would carry a knife But they caught him defending himself from the grown man attacking him Who was going to tear him limb by limb Arrested because of no fault of his own Now never again will he see his home Or watch the sunset with his family or even alone He’s been sentenced to death By the Israeli government The time came and yet he persisted The soldiers had to fight him because he wouldn’t stop resisting The man in green camouflage says “No matter what you do, it means nothing. Just give up.” He replies “I can’t. It isn’t in our blood.” That same soldier saw that boy’s blood that day He watched a young innocent boy pass away He saw what was in his blood He watched it flow and watched the room flood He saw the Palestinian fire and passion And for a moment he felt some compassion But now it’s too late The boy died because of a man who only had hate What was engraved in his blood was what kept him from giving up For his parents, siblings, and country he had to stay tough That soldier knows what was in his blood and in every other Palestinian child’s veins The blood that runs no matter the chains Until the day we die We don’t surrender because it isn’t in our blood

A Conversation with Said Elateb By Falastin Staff The entire months of September and October, the Paterson museum hosted the exhibit of local artist, Said Elateb. As we enter the museum, we see the entire length of the area is marked with Elateb’s colorful paintings. Many of them depict the faces of Arab women, and others depict the landscape of Palestine.

Sabra and Shatila. He carried that tragedy to us, he used to tell us how beautiful Palestine was.”

Sabra and Shatila are two refugee camps set up by the International Committee in 1949 to accommodate the influx of Palestinians fleeing to Lebanon after the Nakba in 1948. Elateb tells us that life in the refugee Looking at Elateb’s paintings, one might assume that camp was difficult, and he often turned to art to exhe was Palestinian due to the prominence of Palestini- press the misery of living in such conditions. an figures and culture within his artwork. Elateb explains why very quickly, “I am Lebanese but I lived in Elateb said, “I painted all throughout my life. When I went to this school, my teacher a refugee camp for Palestinians. “I get surprised how Palestini- used to be the wife of Ismail I lived with Palestinians more than I lived with Lebanese peoans live there. It is real apart- Shammout, Tamam al Akhal.” Ismail Shammout and Tamam ple, and when I moved to heid. And I always admire the al Akhal are both well reAmerica I lived with PalestiniPalestinian people how they can nowned Palestinian painters. ans again.”

adjust to live there.

Elateb explains that his father lived in Acca, Palestine, where he would paint ceilings. Through his business, his father was able to create a modest living for himself and his family. This all changed in 1948, “He used to live comfortably and happy as a painter, but then the Jews came, they kicked out all the refugees, he came back to Lebanon, with all the Palestinians. That’s how we came back to

The theme of tragedy underlying Elateb’s life only continued. In 1982, the Lebanese Civil War broke out, and with it came the Sabra and Shatila Massacre, where a strategic attack from Lebanese militant groups and the Israeli military left an upwards of 3,000 Palestinian refugees dead. Elateb lost many friends and family members when the war broke out. At the time, he was eighteen years old, and he believed that the violence and destruction he witnessed needed to be captured. Therefore, he took up photography and became a war photographer, witnessing and capturing tragedies in Lebanon, Afghanistan, and Palestine. In 1990, Elateb traveled to Palestine to photograph the Intifada. Elateb emphasized how he made sure to take pictures of normal life as well, such as pictures of people working and cooking. Of his experience, he said, “I get surprised how Palestinians live there. It is real apartheid. And I always admire the Palestinian people how they can adjust to live there. If you see it’s like Nablus is a jail, Gaza is a jail, Ramallah is a jail. And when you go inside you see people dancing doing Dabka having a wedding. You see kids fighting with the Israelis and the next

block we see a wedding.” Nowadays, Elateb is focusing on his art and paintings. “When I paint,” he says, “it gives me peace of mind, it gives me happiness. The brush controls you, you think you control the painting, but the painting controls itself.” A common theme he depicts in his art is the pain of women. “The Arabic woman is a miserable woman,” Elateb says. “She has someone over her head all the time, from the time she is a baby, to when she drops dead. She is stopped by her family, by her husband, or her sons. It’s a never ending cycle and they never appreciate her. That’s why they are all sad, I never see Arab women happy. They are sad and depressed, they have issues in their life. The Arab woman sacrifices for her family, but in the end she is not appreciated.”

When asked if he knew these women, Elatab replies, “Yes, I know all of them.” Elateb’s greatest artistic inspiration is Vincent Van Gogh, he tells us as he shows us a painting of Jerusalem which he modeled in the style of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.” He uses muted colors to depict a sense of melancholy. Elateb says he wants to show a sense of sadness because Jerusalem is not free, showing but the beauty and tragedy of the city on the canvas. Elateb’s parallels with Van Gogh go deeper than art styles, however. Elateb says, “I have been inspired by Van Gogh, I like to relate to him because he was the greatest artist but was a complete failure for most of his life. He was never appreciated, and his brother used to help him with money, he was broke and depressed and nobody understood him. But when he died, he changed art completely.” Trailing off, he

mutters, “No one ever appreciated him when he was alive, but when he died. Now everybody appreciates Van Gogh.” Elateb closes the interview with a final message for the Arab American community. “All I want from the community is to understand art and to help artists. We need the help of the community to respect art, for their benefit and for our own.”

‫صرخة فنان‬ ‫ليلى أبو شحادة‬ ‫"كلنا فاسدون ‪ ...‬كلنا فاسدون ال أستثني أحدا ً ‪ ...‬ال أستثني أحدا ً ‪ ..‬حتى‬ ‫بالصمت العاجز الموافق قليل الحيلة‪"..‬‬

‫"عاطف وناجي" كالهما ساخط وكالهما عبر عن سخطه من خالل‬ ‫سالحه الوحيد الذي يجيد إستخدامه؛ الفن‪.‬‬

‫هذه الكلمات مرافعة المحامي (مصطفى خلف) في فيلم ضد الحكومة‪.‬‬ ‫تعبيرا أُلقيت في‬ ‫أعتقد‪ ،‬برأيي المتواضع‪ ،‬أنها من أكثر المرافعات‬ ‫ً‬ ‫قاعات المحاكم‪ ،‬وإن كانت في عمل سينمائي‪ .‬تلك الشخصية التي‬ ‫جسدها العبقري أحمد زكي وقام بإخراجها العظيم عاطف الطيب‪.‬‬

‫ناجي العلي استخدم قلمه في نقد كل ما هو مشوه في األنظمة العربية‬ ‫ودفع حياته ثمنًا لنقده غير المباشر أحيانًا والمباشر في معظم األحيان‪.‬‬ ‫كان همه الوحيد الطبقة المقهورة التي انتمى إليها وكان من أبنائها‪،‬‬ ‫ورغم كل المحاوالت إلسكاته بالمال تارة وبالتهديد تارة أخرى‪ ،‬إال أنه‬ ‫رفض كل اإلغراءات والتهديدات حتى أسلم الروح إلى بارئها بضغطة‬ ‫على زناد الخيانة‪.‬‬

‫كثيرا أتابع عددًا من األعمال المقربة إلى قلبي‬ ‫في الفترة األخيرة جلست‬ ‫ً‬ ‫والتي بدورها كشفت عورات كثيرة من الواقعية الحياتية التي يعايشها‬ ‫الشعب العربي‪ ،‬ومن أهم األعمال التي تابعتها بشغف‪ ،‬فيلم "ضد‬ ‫الحكومة"‪" ،‬التخشيبة"‪" ،‬الغيرة القاتلة"‪" ،‬الهروب"‪" ،‬سواق األتوبيس"‪،‬‬ ‫"الحب فوق هضبة الهرم"‪" ،‬كشف المستور" و "ناجي العلي"‪ ،‬والعديد‬ ‫من األفالم التي تتطرق لقضايا إنسانية وإجتماعية من الدرجة األولى‪،‬‬ ‫فاألعمال الفنية الصادقة عادة ما تكون السالح المزعج لألنظمة التي‬ ‫وتكرارا إخراسها إما بالتهديد بالسجن تارة أو بالقتل تارة‬ ‫مرارا‬ ‫تحاول‬ ‫ً‬ ‫ً‬ ‫أخرى‪.‬‬

‫من ناحية أخرى‪ ،‬عبّر عاطف الطيب عن الطبقة الوسطى الذي كان هو‬ ‫أيضًا أحد أبنائها‪ ،‬والتي كانت نتاج أعماله الفنية الرائعة‪ .‬هي رائعة في‬ ‫زماننا هذا ورائعة بعيون النقاد والشباب المصري الحالي‪ ،‬فال أحد يجرؤ‬ ‫على أن يقيّم عاطف الطيب بأقل من كونه أحد أهم المخرجين المصريين‬ ‫على اإلطالق‪ ،‬ذلك المخرج الذي عانى األمرين لتبصر أعماله النور في‬ ‫وقت مضى ألنه هو الوحيد الذي استطاع أن يقحم بها عالم الواقعية‬ ‫ويحقق النجاح بقوة مصداقيتها‪.‬‬

‫يعتبر عاطف الطيب من المخرجين القالئل الذين تناولوا قضايا الطبقة‬ ‫الوسطى في مصر خالل فترة اإلنفتاح‪ ،‬التي اتسمت بالمعاناة اإلجتماعية‬ ‫من جهة وبمعاناة الناس نتيجة ممارسات الحكومة من جهة أخرى‪.‬‬

‫على الرغم من الفروقات الشاسعة بين العظيمين‪ ،‬إال أن التشابه البارز‬ ‫بينهما هو اإلصرار على تقديم ما يؤمنان به على الرغم من كل‬ ‫المضايقات التي طالتهما‪ ،‬فجاء صراخهما فنًا‪.‬‬

‫بما أنني كنت من المشاهدين الذين يركزون على‬ ‫البطل ويهملون المايسترو الذي يقف وراء أي‬ ‫مؤخرا التركيز على صناع السينما‬ ‫عمل‪ ،‬قررت‬ ‫ً‬ ‫الواقفين خلف الكواليس‪ ،‬وعلى رأسهم‬ ‫المخرجين‪ .‬وتداركت وأنا أشاهد تلك األفالم أنها‬ ‫كلها من إخراج عاطف الطيب وما لفت انتباهي‬ ‫من بين كل تلك األفالم الرائعة كان فيلم "ناجي‬ ‫العلي" تلك الشخصية الفلسطينية المشاغبة‬ ‫والمزعجة لألنظمة العربية كافة‪ ،‬وهي إحدى‬ ‫أبرز الشخصيات التي تناولها عاطف الطيب‪.‬‬ ‫على الرغم من رأيي في تناول الطيب شخصية‬ ‫ناجي العلي بسطحية في الفيلم‪ ،‬لكن تناول تلك‬ ‫الشخصية بحد ذاته‪ ،‬يحسب له ال عليه‪ ،‬إذ أنها‬ ‫نوع من الجرأة المتهورة في ظل الوضع‬ ‫السياسي العربي عامة والمصري خاصة‪ .‬فقد‬ ‫كان في تلك الفترة‪ ،‬وما زال‪ ،‬من الصعب تناول‬ ‫شخصية ناجي العلي من خالل أي مخرج‬ ‫مصري أو أي مخرج عربي بموضوعية‬ ‫وشفافية‪.‬‬ ‫ربما كان وجه الشبه بين شخصية عاطف الطيب‬ ‫وناجي العلي في التمرد على السلطة هو ما دفع‬ ‫بالمخرج الى إتمام تصوير الفيلم بالرغم من كل‬ ‫الهجوم الذي طاله من الصحافة المصرية حينها‪.‬‬

‫من فيلم ضد الحكومة‬ ‫‪24‬‬

November Elections and Why They Matter By Aseel Washah We need a more diverse Congress. We need more diverse lawmakers. We need more people of color to make important lawful decisions for America. Americans need people who have faced discrimination one way or another whether it be their race, religion, or gender, in positions of power, because those individuals will truly understand their struggles. This past midterm election brought us this. We have people like Andrew Gullian, Ayanna Pressley, Rashida Tlaib, Ilhan Omar, and many more who understand the struggles that minorities in America experience.

Al-Foqa in Occupied Palestine. She studied law at Western Michigan University Thomas M. Cooley Law School. Tlaib is a Palestinian that wants to see a change in politics regarding many aspects of the government. She plans to First shed light on the many ways Palestinians are oppressed by Israel and work on important issues such as accessibility to healthcare and higher minimum wage.

Rashida Tlaib is also accustomed to how politics work. In 2008, she won a seat for State Representative making her the first Muslim-Palestinian woman to Midterms are not the most engaged political event, serve in the Michigan Legislature. Through her posieven though they are just as important as any other tion, she was able to raise millions of dollars for the election. Despite their importance, only 1 in 6 people educators and seniors as well as compose laws to profrom the ages of 18-29 voted in the 2014 midterm con- tect homeowners. Through her six years as a State gressional elections and about 55% of people above Representative, she was also able to stop many people the age of 60 voted. However, amidst a post Trump like the Koch Brothers from continuing to contamiAmerica, we saw a stark change in voter turnout. This nate the Detroit river and Matty Moroun from buildmidterm election was the first in US history to exceed ing a bridge connecting to Canada. These men have 100 million voters, with over 113 million individuals enormous power that Tlaib could not stand back and voting. The largest increase in turnout happened in let continue destroying the environment nor gaining the age category 18 to 29, which saw a 188% increase international power through the bridge. As a Conin voter turnout! The 2018 midterm election results gresswoman, she may be one of the most determined stand with the Democrats winning 227 seats in the politicians who are willing to make a change. House and Republicans winning 51 seats in the Senate. The Democrats sweeping the House enables them Diversity is important in government. It is what will give us representatives that understand the average to launch investigations towards Trump’s finances, American folk. As a Palestinian, I need someone who the Russian probe, and maintaining government will understand systemic oppression that minorities funded operations that matter. Among the new congressmen and women is a histori- face in Palestine and America. Rashida Tlaib is a cal feat for the Palestinian American community. Ra- voice that can be heard among other politicians that also want to make a change. She is aware of the reshida Tlaib, a Palestinian American woman from sponsibility that comes with such a position. Michigan won the congressional seat for Michigan’s 13th district. Tlaib is first Muslim PalestinianAmerican Congresswoman in the state of Michigan and in the United States.

“I knew the win would be uplifting so many people with me,” she stated. “It feels like a lot of weight on me to give them a voice.”

Rashida Tlaib, like many of the readers of Falastin, was born to two migrant Palestinian parents. She is the oldest of 14 children. Her roots are from Beit Our

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Tennis, Poetry, and Navigating the Diaspora By Reem Farhat

Illustration by Salsabeel Abdelhamid Recently, I read Ismail Khalidi’s “Tennis in Nablus” in a reading group at Fordham University. If you know nothing else about the small Jesuit University just a block away from Central Park, you may have heard about Fordham's ongoing battle with students over the denial of club status for Students for Justice

in Palestine (SJP). In December 2016, in a letter to the Students, Fordham Administration denied an SJP application, marking the first and only time Administration vetoed the Student Government approval of a club.

Following the denial of club status to SJP, a group of students decided to form a Palestine reading group on campus that meets weekly and discusses various Palestinian texts. However, since SJP has no club status, these meetings are informal, don’t have a designated space, and occur after hours. They are also incredibly elusive, -I didn’t know about them until well into my time at Fordham, when a friend told me about the meetings.

in, or Arabic, the language I stumble over too much to claim complete fluency in, but from German. The word is “sehnsucht” which roughly translates to “the inconsolable longing in the human heart for something unknown.”

I’ve never been in Palestine for longer than two months. I’ve only caught glimpses of life under occupation, and sometimes I wonder if my view of Palestine is skewed by my rose colored love for the land. I Two weeks ago, when I decided to attend a meeting, I miss Palestine like one gets homesick, but I can never roamed through the empty halls trying to find the pinpoint what I miss most. I recognize the longing for undisclosed meeting space. Clearly lost and conwhat it is, but never why. fused, I stumbled upon a group of around seven individuals in what looked like an important adminis- Something that struck me the most from Khalidi’s trative meeting that I had interrupted. Between awk- “Tennis in Nablus” was the ending. Spoiler warning, ward apologies as I tried to exit, one of the individu- for those of you who haven’t read it (you definitely should), the main character Yusef, whom readers als, a professor at Fordham, asks, “Are you here for the Palestine reading group? I can tell because of your quickly grow fond of, is found hung in a prison cell just as the other characters have finally found a way keffiyeh.” to set him free. It was a sharp contrast from the lightI almost forgot that I had worn one today, I grabbed it hearted comedic tones of the play, and was a slap into on my way out and didn’t give it much thought. But reality. because of it, I had found the group, sitting in a small I remembered reading the last line and thinking to informal space in between staff offices. myself, “Of course it wouldn’t have a happy ending, Although I was about 20 minutes late into the discus- this is Palestine.” Reading a play and navigating the sion, I joined in on the reading of Ismail Khalidi’s history and landscape of Palestine through a few “Tennis in Nablus” and was quickly entranced into characters truly immersed me in a Palestine outside of Khalidi’s world. the tragedy. Reading Khalidi’s work reminded me of the Palestine my father sees, a home filled with misThrough the reading, I felt myself taken back to my chief and fun, where the occupation was just a part of summers in Palestine. Although the play is set in everyday, a side effect like the harsh sun and poppy 1939, this pre-Nakba Palestine felt so much like the seed flowers. The story of Palestine is beautiful, it is summer home I know, so much like the place I miss strong, it is resilient, it is tragic, and it is all of these regularly. And reading Khalidi’s work, I found my things at once. own writing mixed in with his. I quickly realized that the reason I could identify so easily with Khalidi and I learned all this through forty pages of text. his perspective was because it was so similar to my own. As a Palestinian American, a product of the di- This is the beauty and strength of art. Art gives us the ability to physically represent our experiences, and to aspora, my idea of home exists in a crevice between share that story with others. To share in laughter, understanding and yearning. fear, and tears, and to make sure our stories are told. I’ve often sought refuge and comfort for this feeling There is inherent power in spreading our stories. The through art. Reading poetry of Mahmoud Darwish nature of storytelling is that it solidifies our experigives my longing a companion. Stories of Ghassan ence and manifests them into a physical form. Sharing Kanafani remind me of the need to continue to advo- art, whether it be writing, a painting, or any other cate for justice. But in Khalidi’s words, I saw my own forms of expression, emphasizes that we have a voice, writing. Not quite an outsider, but not quite a native and that we exist. And in a world where our existence either. is constantly threatened, being able to communicate that we are still here, still thriving and growing and The best word to describe this phenomenon comes existing, is resistance in its most raw form. not from English, the language I am most comfortable

Waging War on the Womb By Noora Badwan Below is an excerpt from the study: “Waging War on the Womb: Women’s Bodies as Nationalist Symbols and Strategic Victims of Violence in Susan Abulhawa’s Mornings in Jenin” Nationalism is a patriarchal construct that cal groups politicize and use motherhood as a weapclearly delineates women’s roles in the social strucon and tool for its cause. Still, these silenced Palesture, and assigns female bodies specific roles in the tinian women do manage to find ways to adapt nationalist, social, and political narratives, albeit mothering and express themselves and to resist this passive ones; ironically, as integral to nationalism as silencing in their own unique ways. women are, they are only ever pawns used by the In Mornings in Jenin, motherhood is reduced state, never equal participants. They are often asto a tool and a site of contest and conflict. Mothers signed the role of the mother figure who produces are expected to produce sons who will ultimately new citizens to populate the nation and who are exbecome collateral damage for the Palestinian nationpected to raise them to be alist agenda and target prac“good citizens” and offer “Women hold great power in tice for the Israelis. The Zionthem up to the state as poist forces fear being their potential as mothers, for it tential tools. The mother “outnumbered” by the Palesfigure is a nationalist icon is they who populate the nation tinians, and so they strategiwho is also often forced to target mothers as well and strengthen it, while also cally be the nation’s sacrificial in an attempt to contain the passing on blood, language, tra- reproduction of Palestinians. lamb. The woman is relegated almost exclusively to dition, and customs integral to Meanwhile, Palestinian nathe domestic sphere and her tionalism capitalizes on this the state.“ body becomes synonymous fear by encouraging women with the land; therefore, if to produce more men to the nation is threatened, so too is the female body. If fight and die for the nation, completely disregarding the land or the nation become vulnerable and exthese mothers’ feelings and desires. Mornings in posed to the enemy, then the nation’s women are Jenin follows the Palestinian Abulheja family also placed in jeopardy. When the nation or land is through several generations in different parts of Pal“scarred” or damaged, so too are women’s bodies estine, Israel, Lebanon, and the United States. Many and minds “scarred” in various ways. In Susan female characters in the novel suffer immensely at Abulhawa’s Mornings in Jenin, most of the female the hands of both Zionist and Palestinian nationalcharacters rarely overtly go against their Zionist opism. Amal, the novel’s main character and protagopressors (though they do resist in other, subtler nist, loses her beloved father when he leaves home ways) and are expected instead to be the traditional for news of the impending Zionist threat and never domestic fixtures as mothers and wives, despite the returns or is heard from again. Amal later is placed fact that traditional Palestinian life as they know it is in an orphanage after her mother, Dalia, becomes being destroyed all around them. Nationalism (both barely functional due to the trauma and grief of losPalestinian and Israeli) hurts Palestinian women and ing her son, Ismael; he is stolen by Moshe, an Israeli silences them; grief and familial bonds are repressed soldier, right out of her arms in the chaos of a Zionall for the sake of the masculinist-nationalist agenda. ist attack on the village. Yousef, Amal’s brother, losYoung men are collateral damage placed before the es his wife Fatima, his daughter Falasteen, and his tanks and missiles of Israel to be martyred and later unborn child to a vicious massacre orchestrated by used as symbols. These men’s mothers too become Israel in a Lebanese refugee camp. Muna, Amal’s symbols of patience and stoic sacrifice for the state. childhood friend from the orphanage, loses her parNationalism also establishes motherhood as a conents to Arab nationalist political violence. While Paltested site of conflict; Israeli nationalism (Israel and estinian women are expected to sacrifice and endure Zionism) uses mothers, children, and motherhood as in silence, the women and girls of the novel find strategic targets, while Palestinian nationalist polititheir own ways to resist and assert themselves

against masculine nationalist expectations. The Zionist invasion changed not only the social and familial aspects of Palestinian identity, but the political aspect as well. Prior to the Nakba, nationalism was not a major concern of the Palestinian people. One’s loyalty was to his family, his village, and his faith. On a slightly larger scale, Palestinians also felt united with their fellow Arabs in the rest of the region, especially Levantine Arabs (from what are now Syria, Palestine, Jordan, and Lebanon), as they share a common language and ethnicity, as well as a similar culture. However, as the situation escalated in Palestine, and after suffering a humiliating defeat in the Six Day War against Israel in 1967, many Arab leaders turned their backs on the Palestinians. In Mornings in Jenin, Muna Jalayta recounts the story of her father’s assassination at the hands of an agent of the Hashemite monarchy of Jordan. Her father had been a “professor who lectured the truth about King Abdullah’s dirty dealings with Golda Meir,” the Israeli prime minister infamous for denying the existence of the Palestinian people in the Holy Land (Abulhawa 147). Muna then denounces the Arab leaders, claiming that they “betrayed” the Palestinians, “just like the British,” and swears that she would “kill every one of them if [she] could, from the Hashemites to the House of Saud,” the ruling family of Saudi Arabia; the Arabs’ betrayal is much more painful, of course, as the Palestinians had (perhaps naively) expected that their fellow Arabs would come to their aid in their time of need (Abulhawa 147). Muna echoes the sentiment shared by many Palestinians who had waited twenty years for their people to come to their aid, only to be sorely disappointed when many Arab leaders instead chose to work with the enemy for their own benefit, leaving the Palestinians to fend for themselves. While Arab nationalism originally supported and fought for the Palestinian nationalist cause, after the Six Day war, many Arab leaders made deals with Israel in exchange for statehood of their own and abandoned the Palestinians. Thus arose the figure of the “lone wolf” martyr nationalist who purposely risks or lays his life down for the sake of his country, as he has grown weary of waiting for others to take action and defend the motherland.... Ultimately, while nationalist movements generally promote high-minded ideals of equality, freedom, and brotherhood for all the nation’s citizens, women are often left with little to benefit from this patriarchal system. While men take on the roles

of fighters and protectors in the political and public spheres, women are assigned an almost exclusively domestic role as homemakers, wives, and, most importantly, mothers. These roles are presented as integral to building a strong foundation for the state. The female body is strictly policed by the male nationalist discourse; the sole purpose of women is to produce new future citizens of the state. Additionally, the female body becomes not only a symbol of the state, but also the state’s property. In fact, the female body and the children it produces are sometimes sacrificed for the greater good of the state by the state itself, or by an enemy of the state. Motherhood becomes contested and politicized. Since female bodies are often equated to the land in many nationalist narratives, any damage the land suffers is inflicted on women’s bodies as well. In Susan Abulhawa’s Mornings in Jenin, the women of the Abulheja family suffer from many psychological and physical scars and trauma inflicted on them by Palestinian men and the Israeli occupiers. As a result, they are left as silent second-class citizens who arguably endure the brunt of the violence inflicted on the Palestinian people. The Palestinian female body is synonymous with the physical Palestinian land, while also symbolic of the patriarchal nationalist cause. Ultimately, female bodies are nothing but pawns in the male nationalist discourse that uses them as sacrificial lambs, domestic symbols, or inspiration for the movement created by and for men. Women hold great power in their potential as mothers, for it is they who populate the nation and strengthen it, while also passing on blood, language, tradition, and customs integral to the state. However, they are liabilities as much as they are assets, as potentially childbearing women are easy targets and the loss of these women is a crushing blow. Still, these mothers’ resilience is apparent through their choices to sacrifice for their children rather than to sacrifice the children themselves, and to adapt as best they can to their traumatic situations and mother their children as best they can. Ultimately, while Palestinian nationalism may claim to fight for its women and children, in fact it is created by men for men, and uses women and children as mere pawns in the political game. Women and boys can be sacrificed at any time for the state, and even after imprisonment or death, they become political nationalist symbols. Mothers like Amal and Dalia, and even men like Yousef, resist nationalism and make their own choices.

Gaza Screams By Maryam Edris Painted tears trickle down a lone olive tree A river of blood surrounds this town Perhaps it is a sea Quaint are your roads Lined with Gazelles and goats Who hop along merrily Utterly unaware They pay not a care Blind to apparent atrocity Gaza, O Gaza How do you still s

t a n d

Your people have fallen Theyâ€™ve butchered your land

Greedy scissors Have cut out your people Now forced to reside in shattered households And yet, The world turns its face away And muffles your screams with generous aids Only to bomb you into oblivion the very next day

Your walls adorned entirely Elaborate inscriptions of graffiti Your people are silenced But through these walls they speak Painting stories of war Of pain And of dreams How do these pictures speak so eloquently? Divulging a tale That which media wonâ€™t speak Of soldiers and children And murderous sprees Roles reversed Chains breaking free Visions of a land that never could be Quiet skies Serenity So distant from reality In this world Gaza screams Its rivers call out Mountains and hills All endlessly shout Will anyone listen to a word from its mouth?

In spite of all you carry on Body scarred, but faith not gone Your head held higher than the apartheid wall Afraid of seemingly nothing at all

You wear your art unabashedly No fears of being heard or seen

Palestine Monologues By Ali Andre Ali Trapped I was born here, but left when I was a baby, before the sights and sounds of this place could start taking shape in my mind. I don’t have any memories of this land like you do. I didn’t run around on this land as a child like you did. I didn’t learn how to read or write on this land like you did. I was just a newborn child when my family left and brought me to California. But because I had my first breathes on this land, I am punished, just like the rest of my people. I’ve dreamt of coming back here my whole life. And now I’m here. In the West Bank. But you say that since I was born in Gaza, I’m here illegally. Your country gave me an identification number the moment I was born, and these random numbers tether me to the ground. I’ve never had the privilege of returning to the land of my parents, but finally I’ve come. Yet you say I have to leave. I don’t have permission to be on “this side” of my country. How can I leave, when I’m not supposed to be here in the first place? And if I can leave,

The Sky is Closer

how can I ever come back? I have never known this place, yet it is in my heart nonetheless. I’ve spent my whole life hearing about this land, about my mother’s family growing up in Jerusalem. I’ve heard of the famous sweets, of the churches at the end of her block, of spending afternoons at Al-Aqsa, and of her falling in love with the peace of that place. I grew up listening to my father talk about growing up in Gaza, running on the beach with his siblings, and about the delicious meals his mother would make with freshly caught fish. Recipes passed down from generation to generation. Generations who can no longer visit their cousins on the other side. Generations who no longer have the freedom to create memories of this special place. Generations who no longer have the freedom to move. Why do you have the freedom to trap me here? Why do you have the freedom to move? What stories do you have?

“You walk through the streets and can feel the sense of community in the air.”

I feel like the sky is closer here. I don’t know what it is, but every night I stand on this ground, in these hills looking up, and I feel like if I could just reach my hand up a little bit farther, I’d be able to touch the moon. The stars shine brighter here too. It’s like you look up at the sky and just feel that this place is special, that this land holds some secret in it, something that makes it different from everywhere else. I grew up back in the States, but my father is from Nablus. I would spend every summer here, running through the market eating kenafeh, going up into the hills and listening to the adhan echo from down in the valley. But I haven’t been back since I was 13. Tickets became more expensive and my dad started going by himself, and even then, it was only every few years. I had been wanting to come back

and visit, and I was finally able to save up for a ticket and join him for the summer. It’s almost as if I had never left. You walk through the streets and can feel the sense of community in the air. You eat the food and can taste the work that was put into it, sense the generations-old recipe that was passed down orally. You stand in the hills and can feel the history that is in these stones, in these trees, in this earth. Maybe it’s simply because my family is from here, but I feel connected to this place. As if the generations upon generations of my family’s history lies in this soil and has been calling for me to return. Now I’m finally back, and as I look up at this sky that seems a little closer and breathe this air that smells a little sweeter, all I can feel is that I’m home.

The Beach I can taste the salt from the sea as the wind whips my face. It’s exhilarating. As our car turns a corner, the entire harbor comes into view and I’m speechless. In all my 16 years of life, I’ve never seen something so breathtaking. I’ve heard of how beautiful the beach in Haifa is, but I’ve never had the chance to see it for myself. My grandmother would always tell me what it was like when she was a child, running through the streets after school with friends, down to the beautiful sandy shore where she would play for hours on end. This was her home. It would still be her home, but like so many other families, she thought she would return after the war. But one year went by, then two, and so on. She hasn’t been back since she was a child. My mother always said that she wanted to visit, but was never granted a permit to leave the West Bank. She told me that one day we would be able to go back, to roam the streets like my grandmother did so many years ago. But that day never came, and I couldn’t be expected to wait forever. I mean, I’m already 16. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. All the roads that lead into “Israel” are guarded by checkpoints. Young soldiers stand there day and night, making sure that no Palestinian leaves the West Bank without the proper “permission.” But things have been relatively calm lately, and I’ve heard that there is a checkpoint just north of my village that is often left unguarded. For months I’ve planned how I would get there. My friend Shareen has an older cousin Samer, who lives in Nazareth and whose car

has Israeli license plates, which can make things a bit easier. We convinced him to drive into the West Bank and to pick us up on a Saturday when things are a bit quieter than usual. I tensed up as I got into his car and got on the road. I had never left the West Bank before, I’d never been allowed to. As we got closer to the checkpoint, all I could think of was turning back. What if I get caught? What if Samer gets caught? What will happen to us? I saw the checkpoint in the distance and noticed that there was a soldier leaning against his van. I didn’t know what to do, and there was no turning back at that point. As we got closer, Samer slowed the car down, preparing to stop for the soldier, but Alhumdulillah, the soldier didn’t even appear to notice as we passed him. I crossed the border for the first time in my life. And now I’m here, in Haifa, my grandmother’s hometown. Samer pulls his car into a small parking lot right next to the sea. I get out of the car, stepping on the beautiful and sandy beach that my grandmother once stepped on. I’m a mere thirty miles from my village, yet in danger simply for being somewhere I'm not allowed, simply for being Palestinian. The beauty of the beach has been withheld from me my whole life, but right here, right now, I can finally see it. I feel the sand underneath my feet. I hear the soft splash of the waves as they hit the shore. And I smile as I picture standing on this beach one day with my mom and my grandmother right by my side.

My First Visit Growing up I only heard about Palestine. My grandparents had moved to the US in the 1950s and had their children here, making me second generation on my dad’s side. When he was a kid, my father and his siblings would visit Palestine and Jordan often, usually going for months at a time, staying with family and becoming familiar with the land. I never had those experiences. Once my dad got a little older, his family stopped going as frequently, and my father stopped going altogether. My experience of Palestine was always through the food my grandmother cooked and the stories of the “Old Country” that my dad and grandparents would share with us. This changed when I was 13. My dad decided that a visit was long overdue and that it was time for me and my siblings to see where our family had come from. It was the

summer of 2004 and I couldn’t help but be excited to visit a new country, as well as see the “Old Country” for myself. I also couldn’t help but be a little nervous. I had heard stories about the Israeli occupation but didn’t fully understand what it actually meant for myself and for my family, visiting Palestine as Palestinians. The day of the trip finally came and we made the 12 hour journey across the world and landed in Tel Aviv. As US passport holders, we were able to choose where we flew into. Even for a 13 year old, the occupation made itself present almost immediately. My uncle joined us on this trip and his arrival came with extra scrutiny. He was stopped and questioned longer than any of us, but eventually was released. When we finally got into our taxi it was nearly (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) one in the morning. The journey seemed smooth at first, but then we came up to the border crossing. Ours was the only car on the dark road as we came up to a checkpoint stationed by a handful of Israeli soldiers. Our taxi slowed down and came to a stop. Slowly, the soldiers approached the driver's window. Me and my sisters were in the back as the side door of the van slid open and three soldiers stood there looking at us with rifles slung over their shoulders, determining whether or not we were a potential threat. I knew that the Israeli military would be controlling the roads, but I wasn’t ready to see soldiers and rifles in the middle of the night, in a country I had never been to before. I thought something was wrong, maybe we weren’t allowed to be on this road, or maybe we didn’t have the right paperwork. I didn’t speak Arabic or Hebrew, which only added to my confusion during this late night encounter. After checking all of our paperwork for ten minutes, and making sure we had the proper permits to cross the border to enter the land of

my grandparents, they let us go. I came to realize that nothing was wrong, that this was just a normal occurrence. The rest of my trip was peppered with the presence of soldiers roaming the streets at any hour of the day, and roadblocks that made it hard to travel around and see the surrounding villages. Despite this, the trip was amazing. I was able to meet family members I didn’t know existed and bask in the delicious food and sense of community that is present in Palestine. I got to experience this fabled “Old Country.” As I soaked up as much as I could, the constant Israeli presence scared me. I was on edge whenever I thought I saw a military vehicle or a soldier. It made me realize how the occupation weighs on the minds of Palestinians, and especially of Palestinian children who have to live with the threat of a military presence on a daily basis. If I, as a US passport holder, and a white-passing American, could feel my existence threatened in my brief two week visit, what must it be like for the children growing up there?

Illustration by Zeindee

A series of original short stories, poems, opinion pieces, interviews, artwork, photographs and so much more! Weâ€™re providing our PACC community with the chance to contribute in any of the following categories, you just might get published. To contribute email: litmagazine@paccusa.org 38

Art by Maryam Tayeh