Photo credit: Alaa Badameh
Date taken: July 1, 2014
Location: Jenin Refugee Camp, West Bank, Palestine
Relatives grieve as Yousef Abu Zagha, 16, is prepared for his funeral in a refugee camp in the West Bank city of Jenin. The Israeli military shot and killed him exactly one year ago during heavy crackdowns following the discovery of the bodies of three Israeli settler youth who were kidnapped in the West Bank. Read More
Were you so hungry that you spent time, money, and energy to make the trip to Washington, D.C., and navigate your way through streets and sidewalks caked with the bloody footsteps of soulless lobbyists and politicians just to break bread with a man whose signature authorized the thousands of death transactions we have seen throughout his presidency? Were you so excited upon receiving your invitation that you managed to forget that just hours ago, you were condemning everything about the White House? Were you so ambitious that you thought your attendance was going to change our government’s perception of the Middle East and reverse years of war that have taken the lives of millions of Muslims?
I am never really sure which is the U.S. State Department’s bigger gimmick: the Iftar itself or the guest list, upon which are the names of leaders, diplomats, and alleged representatives who are already so disconnected from the country’s Muslim community that they and their legacies are virtually unrecognizable. The White House has even begun inviting local leaders and community organizers, recognizing their individual struggles and reminding those in attendance that Muslims are a friendly bunch with great potential. The whole event is patronizing, but just like we loathe celebrities until the moment they’re autographing our t-shirts, the attendees eat it up.
There is a certain amount of dignity you must leave at the front door before allowing yourself to be convinced that you matter, that the President is listening to your needs, that American soldiers are taught that Muslims are dogs only to stimulate their wild cartoonish imaginations, not to make it easier to shoot at them and their families. Read More
The month of Ramadan is upon us and with it comes the age-old debate: which foods are holy enough to live up to the sanctity of this month and which foods nullify your fast for the next seven years?
We have conducted a painstakingly comprehensive poll to lay this debate to rest once and for all. Because this is a Palestine-centric blog, and because Palestinians are responsible for most of the world’s debates, we have thoughtfully elected to filter the poll results so that they only include foods common to Palestinian cuisine.
We have also included photographs of the dishes accompanied by accurate historical information and helpful cooking tips for the reader’s benefit. Read More
Like many Palestinians living in the United States, Chicago-native Nader Ihmoud had grown tired of the way he and his fellow countrymen and countrywomen were portrayed in the public sphere. Either their achievements or contributions were entirely ignored or, when they did earn themselves a bit of airtime, the coverage was almost always negative, as though Palestinians had somehow failed to earn the privilege of fair media treatment. So Nader decided to do something about it.
As true to its name as something can ever be, Nader founded Palestine in America to do what traditional American media simply refuses to do.
We caught up with Nader and asked him a few questions about his latest project and about what he hopes to achieve.
SMP: What compelled you to start Palestine in America (PiA)?
Nader Ihmoud: I attended Columbia College, where I got my degree in broadcast journalism. My dream was to become a sports reporter, specifically a Chicago Bulls beat reporter. I even wanted to stay away from reporting on Palestine because I felt I was too passionate about Palestine to report objectively.
That all changed when two Palestinian boys walking home from soccer practice were shot by Israeli soldiers and attacked by military dogs. It was my senior year and I was responsible for a weekly sports column in The Columbia Chronicle, the school’s award-winning weekly. I wrote about the assault and how FIFA should step in, but during that week’s production cycle, I was informed that my column would be withheld — censored — for a week until the story could be corroborated. I had already confirmed the story through two news outlets, but my advisors chose not to run the story because no Israeli news outlet had reported it. The article ran the following week but I had to jump through hoops just to get it printed. That situation made me second-guess my dream.
After graduating, I turned my attention to Palestinian-Americans and their culture within the United States. The more I reported on Palestinians in America, the more I realized there wasn’t a publication in the U.S. that catered to us. That’s how I realized my newest dream. Read More
Thousands gather at the TD Arena in Charleson, South Carolina, on June 19, 2015, to honor the nine victims of a racially-motivated killing spree at a historically Black church. (Joe Raedie, Getty)
The Charleston church shooting happened on June 17, 2015, when 21-year-old Dylann Roof joined the South Carolina-based congregation in prayer and then opened fire. He shot ten people. Nine died, including the church’s senior pastor, in this act of domestic terrorism.
We begin by recognizing the victims by name, to pay our respects, to pray for their souls, and to remind ourselves that they are more than just statistics.
Susie Jackson, 87
Daniel Simmons, 74
Ethel Lee Lance, 70
Myra Thompson, 59
Cynthia Marie Graham Hurd, 54
Depayne Middleton-Doctor, 49
Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, 45
Clementa Pinckney, 41
Tywanza Sanders, 26
Guest contribution by Norah Al Bireh
Is it paradoxical or perhaps self-defeating to define the Palestinian diaspora, to divide it according to region, to study its integration or isolation as the compass sways us away from home? After living on both sides of it, with Palestine in the middle, the Americas to the West, and the Arab refugee population to the East, I feel that I am, as Edward Said may have once felt, the social pariah who will merely dwell, becoming so reclusive in the self that relating to any side now is impossible. Unique, lost, alone, I hide in my corner.
Being the Palestinian-American whose family had some element of home hanging on the wall, be it a framed picture of Jerusalem or a photo of our grandfather, return was on our mind. Even rocks from back home were in a vase, pieces of broken clay we suspected were something antique in nature, spewed across the land of my grandfather. These elements of home were thrown against the backdrop of drywall suburbia, paved walkways and driveways, with at least one almond tree, one fig tree, and of course the olive tree planted somewhere in the backyard of our fears. There was an excitement I felt as a girl when, driving along the industrial roads of California’s warehouse capital, I saw olive trees weighed down by its gifts. Yet they were ornamental, I suppose, and even when we did try to pick them, security guards were not too happy.
It is difficult to articulate how out of place I will always be. And perhaps it is human nature to constantly strive to be different, to hold onto whatever makes us unique and proclaim it as I had done in the United States, with too many flags, authentic propaganda posters, and Handala with his back always to me. He too was in the same corner. Read More
Israel’s Foreign Ministry released an animated YouTube video on Monday mocking foreign journalists for their critical coverage of the country’s most recent invasion of the Gaza Strip. Journalists around the world have decried the cartoon, including Tel Aviv’s own Foreign Press Association. Few, however, are talking about how this video is public validation of the government of Israel’s racist view of Palestinians.
The 49-second spot follows a naive American English-speaking reporter through various Gaza settings where his coverage is contradicted by the actions of masked fighters in the background. At the very end, the camerawoman hands him a pair of glasses whereupon he sees “reality” and faints.
Creative? Not so much. As Robert Mackey demonstrates in this piece for the New York Times, the Israeli government has frequently turned to these kinds of mocking efforts to challenge negative public perception of Israel in the past half decade. The Israeli military similarly updated its Instagram followers with illustrated images during its 2014 offensive in Gaza. One of the more notorious ones depicts a mosque with a tunnel storing rockets underneath it. The image was used to swell public favor in support of the Israeli military’s decision to strike houses of worship across Gaza. Read More
Photo credit: Roger LeMoyne
Date taken: 1996
Location: Al-Shati Refugee Camp, Gaza City, Gaza Strip, Palestine
Children from Al-Shati Refugee Camp in the northern Gaza Strip surround one child palming a small bird. Read More
I am reminded of stories of families immigrating to New York in the early 1900s with empty pockets and big dreams. They would somehow have to learn the language, fend for themselves, and make enough of a living to support one another and their loved ones back home.
Work was arduous and far less rewarding than many of these new immigrants had ever imagined. But they pushed onward — out of necessity, mainly. Some opened businesses that would one day become popular chains. Some opened craft shops tailored to specific clientele. Some opened restaurants, infusing rich flavors from home into the melting pot that is New York City. But my favorite stories are about the ones who took a riskier route and invested in others — the schoolteachers, tutors, neighborhood educators. In a way, these new Americans had the clearest foresight. Despite the sheer elusiveness of the American Dream, they focused their energy on the next generation and sacrificed for themselves many of life’s simple pleasures all for the noble pursuit of building a community and molding an identity that would be in better hands tomorrow.
This story isn’t unique to New York City but the sacrifices many new Americans made in that city never fail to inspire me.
I am very privileged to have had access to an education system that invested in me and that took me seriously from the start. The Chicago Public Schools system worked for me. My undergraduate experience prepared me equally well. My time in graduate school equipped me with the tools I needed for medical school. And although medical school has so far been the most challenging thing I have ever embarked on, I am finally earning the chance to work one on one with ill, vulnerable, or otherwise disadvantaged patients. Is it worth it? Absolutely. My parents taught me to value education as the only currency that can never be taken from you. Aside from the blessing of seeing our parents proud, we get to represent our people, our country.
A resident pediatric surgeon once told me that we Palestinians inevitable carry larger ambitions than most. Simply succeeding is not good enough. Being at the top of one’s class might also not be enough. We must redefine the concept of innovation. We must continue to create, contribute, and share knowledge. We must tap into that deep reservoir of desire that keeps us fueled and motivated in the face of a decades-long occupation denying our ancestors the right to education. Yes, this is all common sense, the resident assured me, but the solution to our problems lies in the way we sacrifice for one another. Like the new Americans who chose to invest in the youth rather than in themselves, we too have a responsibility to look out for our own. There are people who want to follow your footsteps. What’s stopping you from lending a hand? Read More
Photo credit: Shadi Hatem
Date taken: May 30, 2015
Location: Balata Refugee Camp, West Bank, Palestine
Abu Haloom sells fresh fruit at his stand in the Balata refugee camp. His watermelon-balancing skills are a recognizable spectacle for the people of nearby Nablus and Ramallah. Read More