It is important to start by saying that I, like you, was horrified to hear about the events of last weekend playing out halfway across the world. As a Palestinian American, I condemn Hamas and any acts of violence brought against innocent people. My heart is shattered for the people who lost their lives, lost their loved ones, or are suffering in any way.
I want to emphasize that this article is in no way meant to take away from the Jewish heartache because it is one that should be heard. I am writing to say that we, too, are heartbroken.
In Charleston, I have a Jewish neighbor and close friend who has relatives living in Israel. She and I have shared with each other personal stories from our family’s experiences of the past week. The stories of Israelis who have encountered tragedy should be heard and mourned.
And ours should, too.
I was born in Jerusalem. I lived in the Palestinian Territories until I was seven years old when my immediate family immigrated to America in search of a better life. I have aunts, uncles, cousins with babies, and a grandmother still living in the region. For as long as I can remember, not one day has passed when I haven’t legitimately feared for my family’s safety. Unfortunately, when people you love live in an ongoing war zone, fear is a fact of life.
Hamas is a terrorist group that acts independently of innocent civilian wishes. Think about every person in the United States who has said, “He’s not my President.” (No matter which President they were referring to.) Except that Hamas is truly not the Palestinian governing body. Palestinian Territories are an Israeli-occupied land. It is not a neighboring country as we would typically see in war. Palestinians and Hamas are not, and should not be viewed as, one and the same.
As a Palestinian Christian, I also am repulsed by the claim that this is a war between Muslims and Jews, or one based on anti-semitism. I, personally, love my Jewish friends and family (yes, I even have a family member who is Jewish).
Still, I am seeing more criticism, hatred, and blatant racism towards Palestinian people than I ever have before.
Bear with me. This will get heavy, but I promise I have a point . . .
If I’m being completely honest, I had a hard time figuring out how to write this in a way that did not convey the utter hopelessness and devastation that I feel.
While the recent attack was on Israel, the retaliation against Palestinians has been and will continue to be brutal. It is important to understand that innocent lives are lost on both sides of the conflict. Gaza is a narrow strip of land that Israel created when it expelled the people from their original Palestinian home. It has a dense population of two million, half of which are children due to the extremely low life expectancy (think: bombs and limited resources). And because this is an occupied land, the Palestinian Territory does not have a military to defend civilians.
Although I desperately want to, my intention is not to educate you about the conflict — in fact, the intricacies and the experiences or things that I have seen in my homeland cannot possibly be described in such a short article. (However, I do urge you to independently research and understand the history without bias.)
My intent in sharing this information with you is to humanize those who are also suffering. While the history of the conflict is long, it doesn’t change the current situation — innocent human lives, like yours and mine, are dying. They are aunts, uncles, cousins with babies, and grandparents of those whom you may know or pass by on King Street. And they are begging you to understand that they are not Hamas. They don’t deserve to be deliberate human collateral in a violent exchange.
Palestinian Americans are watching our friends, our favorite celebrities, and even our President stand with Israel and pray for innocent Israeli lives. That is powerful. In any other circumstance, I would only be warmed to witness humans standing with each other.
But we are also watching the media cover the issues with sympathy for Israelis and hatred for “Palestinian terrorists” with a failure to recognize that our families in our homeland are also innocent and being cruelly targeted.
I opened social media to see a video of a Palestinian mother in Gaza teaching her 18-month-old how to say his full name and his parents’ full names in the likely event that something terrible happens to them. While we are teaching our babies all of the different animal sounds here in the United States, he is learning that “the sound goes BOW,” because that is their reality. It is devastating to witness, and it is disheartening and isolating to know that we are mourning alone, because no one is willing to acknowledge that we, too, are human.
I know. Heavy.
Let’s bring it back to motherhood in Charleston.
I moved to Charleston over two years ago from an area that has a large Palestinian and Middle Eastern community. When tragedy hits my homeland, I am accustomed to leaning on people who understand. I don’t have that in Charleston.
I am writing this article anonymously out of fear.
I am distinctly aware of what being known as Palestinian can do to a person — particularly in the deep South. I learned the meaning of a terrorist at 10 years old when my American-born classmate undeservingly called me one as he threw scissors across the room aimed at my face. Now that I’m grown, it is not uncommon for me to hear stories of Palestinians being verbally attacked, losing their jobs, or being physically harmed if they speak out about the situation in Palestine. A six-year-old boy in Chicago was murdered this week just for being Palestinian. You will not see my name attached to my story because this risk is not one that I am willing to take. Let that sink in.
My friend asked me recently if I feel scared in America. My answer was that I am not as scared as I would be if I still lived in Palestine, but yes, I am scared.
I am scared to be targeted.
I fear whether my Charleston neighbors and friends will accept me if they know that I am Palestinian. I fear whether my babysitters will still want to come to my house, or if they will dismiss my family as terrorists as the media is so heavily pushing. Most of all, I am scared that my children will grow up experiencing the same hatred that I have been subjected to.
Since the attacks, my Jewish neighbor and I have had discussions over the helplessness that we both feel and what may bring us comfort in this time of devastation. For me, I find comfort in the idea of raising good people; the idea that our children will see a future in which they are not targeted because of who they are.
While our people are in contention across the globe, I made a promise to my friend that I will raise my children to only love hers.
What can you do?
When the world feels heavy and you are not sure what to do, I urge you to hold onto humanity and focus on what makes us the same — not different. Above all else, we are human; we should not prioritize politics over humanity.
Do not let the world desensitize you to human suffering.
Hatred is learned, and hatred breeds violence.
The only way we can ensure peace for our children’s future is to collectively teach them to love other humans. Now, more than ever, the world needs their love.
In case you feel called, I’m including links for reputable information from the United Nations which is calling the situation in Gaza a humanitarian crisis.
