I am my antagonist

Hello,


I just left the screening of a movie I've wanted to watch for a long time, because angry voices in my head were telling me I was worth nothing. I told my friends that I had a lot of homework as I went back to my floor. If pain is the reason I write then no wonder I am starting to write now.

I've been easing into college quite well. Americans are very inclusive and I love being here. I am curious about anything they can offer and they are ready to tell me anything and everything about their passions. I've realized that I am becoming more like them as I drink iced coffee and listen to Take on me by a-ha. Physically I am doing just fine its mentally were the issues arise.

I prize myself for my mental abilities. I've been through multiple traumas in my life and was able to fix them by myself in a healthy manner. The thing is arabs dont give a lot of attention to mental health, so if anything I am expected to talk about physical struggles like my classes or  food. I dont know how I will tell my people that I am struggling with anxious thoughts produced by none other than evil me.


I am in a cycle that never stops because my thoughts are always in full speed. I sit in my common room because otherwise I judge myself for being anti-social. As voices of the people in the room go louder I get quieter. They face each other as they turn away from me and my mind stabs me screaming they hate me. I frown as the voices continue "You're nothing, Who would talk to a person like you ? You're no good and they know it". I try to talk my thoughts away but how can I when I cant hear myself think. I try to say the right thing at the right time as an attempt to convince them that I am not a terrible person that everybody hates.

I feel my light head filling up with jumbled thoughts pushing me downwards into nothing. These evil voices shout at me making me more insecure about who I am. They look deep into my building blocks and criticize every atom of my existence. The thing is they know me so well, they always hit the right spots. They fill my head with scrawls of black and white as I rock myself in the middle of my mind begging for them to stop. I wish I could physically cry them away but they dont go.

The thing is, as I was leaving home to college the only concern I had was my fear of myself and my insecurities. I dont have many and my friends dont know about them, but if there is one thing that can break me, its me. I've never been good with groups. I've alway had an issue socializing with people my age and here I am interacting on a daily bases with a group of 50 wondrous people who are not even thinking about the mechanics of how they are bonding, as I sit on the side overthinking my breath.

At times I wonder what I should do about the voices. I try to fix them organically by rationalizing them to myself. I talk to myself as if I am rocking a 5 year old to sleep. Caressing my words as I tell myself everything will be fine. Two nights ago I held my breath until dots appeared in my horizon as I concealed the abstract pain with another that I can control. I laughed today as I thought about drinking alcohol just to blur the thoughts away.

I am writing this as a remedy to my problem. I've plunged myself into new lands, people and subjects I know nothing about. Even my skin and body feel different to me. The only place I feel at home right now is this blog. The familiarity of verbalizing my thoughts into writing may be therapeutic. I am not losing anything by doing this, if anything my heart is relaxing for the first time in many weeks.

An interview with a Zionist

Im in the American colony and a cat is sleeping on my lap. My nervousness is reduced with every stroke as I acclimatize to my surroundings. I thank God that I chose to sit next to the fireplace but then maybe I'm not shivering because of the cold. I ponder whether Its rude to order tea before my guest arrives but Im too nervous not to and so I ask for mint tea in Arabic.

My guest arrives. She is tall and I can see that she was lean back in the days. Her curly hair forms an aura around her face. She sees me and walks to me. I shake her hand and ask her to sit down. Maybe this interview wont be so bad after all. Maybe she is not really a ... Zionist.

When Harvard University told me that I will be interviewed by this woman, I of course jumped all over the place. I promised myself earlier not to tell anybody that I applied to Harvard in the first place but I couldn't keep my excitement. I did my research about the woman and was surprised by what I found.

My interviewer was first of all Israeli. I got nervous but then I criticized myself for thinking that that would mean anything. Yet as I searched more about her and as I read her articles I found exactly what I was afraid of. In between her many articles are glimpses of her ideologies. In one of her articles she clearly states "I am a proud zionist". In another She says that she agrees with President Donald trump's decision in moving the American embassy to Jerusalem the capital of Israel.

I freaked out. This one time opportunity. This interview that I worked for years just to reach is being done by A ZIONIST of all people. Believe me I would not have an issue with a jewish woman. But her political views are being said bluntly. She wants a state at the cost of my people. I called and I texted people asking what to do. Should I be notify Harvard about this ? Should I make a big deal out of it? Will I seem racist or even worse Anti-semitic ?

I was told to be calm and go to the interview and be smooth. And here I am trying my smooth talk in an attempt to impress a woman who thinks Palestinians should be Truck drivers. Second class citizens here to serve Israelis. I tried to impress her as much as I could. But her eyes went through me as she asked degrading questions like Do you now how big Harvard is? Do you know that you will be doing your laundry ? Do you know that you will be abroad ?

Her questions were not even about who I am as a person. Where my interests lye. My life as a jerusalemite. My blog. Nothing. Her questions were here to let me know that she doesn't think I should be here. She wrote a lot of words and let me know in the end that Harvard is indeed a great university and that i may very well be disappointed in the result because theres good competition.

I left the Interview feeling clueless but an underlying feeling of being cheated took hold of me. I did email Harvard and I let them know of the conflict of interest that was between me and my zionist interviewer. They responded telling me not to worry.

Sadly enough, all of my next interviews were all with Israeli citizens or jewish people. I felt victimized every time I wasn't offered a Palestinian or an international student. Not only did I have to overcome my nervousness in order to let them know who I really am, I also had to break years of prejudice towards my people. I felt horrible that my future was in the hands of the people I trust the least.

To be honest my interview with  Georgetown was different. The man lived in Tel Aviv, was an American and didn't identify as an Israeli.  Indeed, unlike that other woman he was open to learning more about me as a Palestinian and came not knowing what to expect. I listened to his point of you as he listened to mine. In the end we agreed that I will take him on the greatest adventure throughout the West Bank. That was the only interview I came out of thinking "Yes, he knows who I am now".

I didnt get into Harvard but I did get into Georgetown. I will not lie. I was broken hearted the moment I knew about Harvard's decision. My tears slipped down my face throughout that whole night as I slept on my mother chest. The next day I was ok. Better yet I was excited for Georgetown. Now I sit down and wonder why only students from the west bank get to go to these big universities ?
 Are they better than jerusalemites? or is it the fact that they are only interviewed by internationals or Palestinians?
The problem with my case is that I was not even allowed to believe that I did not get in because I did not deserve it. I received their decision doubting that my interviews biased opinion against me could've changed a lot. I hope that Universities take this matter into serious consideration. I hope that they dont repeatedly put Palestinian in my position. And I wish a great successful year to every Palestinian Student here and abroad.

My Graduation speech

Our Headmasters, faculty members, family, friends, and most importantly the graduates. Welcome. We’ve waited for this day in many forms for years now. In couple of minutes between chemistry and math class. In sighs of joy as we finish our official exams and in the small goodbyes that we have been bestowing on every detail of our campuses. Now that it is upon us we are sorry and glad to be here.  

I was very curious when I was younger. I would ask my mom about all sorts of stuff and she would tell me to wait until I was older. Obviously this hasnt worked out for me because I have stunted growth and I havent grown taller since 7th grade. But that hasnt been the case in this institution. Our curiosity has always been fulfilled whenever we seek it. Our teachers have readily provided us with all sorts of love and knowledge. This has created a s some sort of familiarity between us.  

And as I know Familiarity is comfort. Familiarity is safety. Today we are saying farewell to familiarity. This institution has been our guardian for twelve years and is cautiously sending us to the adult world to make our own decisions. I’d like to thank my mentors for their unconditional guidance throughout.  

  

I would also like to thank my ultimate inspiration. My best friend, my mom . My mother has constantly declared to me that I can do whatever I want and be whoever i wanted to be. She has weaved our house with music, fun and love.  She has guided me through these past seventeen years and I don't know if she has ever realized that i'm all too feeble without her guidance. 

  

I became very aware of this in summer of 2015 and I would like to share this story with you today. I went on a camping trip to the sea of galilee with my family. I can't see without my glasses and so i swim with them. Therefore, i unthinkingly dove into the water not expecting that my glasses would tumble off my face and into the depths where i desperately reached out but only grasped the void of losing my only source of vision. My only source of clarity. As I tried to regain my balance I stepped on hidden sharp stones and submerged spiky branches. The pain was cunning and I surrounded.  

  

I faced my mother with all too despair telling her of the incident. although the lifeguard laughed at the idea of finding glasses in the middle of the sea. She threw herself in the water for what seemed like hours trying to find them. Eventually as she turned her back to the sea walking back to me. She raised her foot and felt an object get stuck to it. She was ready to scream in fear but found my glasses instead in between her two toes.  

  

This horrific experience has taught me that the impossible is  feasible. These glasses can represent so much. They can represent hope,money, health, success and our loved ones. Entities that we lose and regain along our way. When our beloved principal ostaz khader khader died. we had lost a very important person in the deep dark water. His absence was most felt and his compassion is deeply missed. To an extent where the doors of our school have become unbearable. However,  These glasses can remind us that life is possible even without our loved ones. They promise us that we will pass these hardships.  

  

You see class of 2018. We lose so much in that water. Justice is lost on daily bases in the deep dark water. That is the reality for us Palestinians.  Two days from now the American embassy is moving next door. Our jerusalemite rocks are being used to deny our existence. Deny me, you and our common ancestors. One by one, day after day we could slip into reality and forget about the day we protested against this. Lose clarity towards the glasses we are losing right now. Perhaps, It is easier to surrender than to change something that is impossible.   

But if theres anything I learned from these glasses is that to continue on. Look for them. Re-create them. Dont look at the sea in haplessness. Let’s choose not to surrender. Right here, right now. Choose to devote our lives for our cause because our choices are affecting the future right now. Theres barely anything that we can do but its the choice of not complying to our reality that matters. The simple glimmer of hope is enough. 

   

Class of 2018 look around you.This is it. We are the future. We do own the world. We are fast moving entities barely seeing our surrounding heading to where that flash of gleam is. There's just one simple thing left. Lets take off our robes, face the world and change it together. 

The essay that got me into Georgetown University

As I was filling out this application, I read "Israel" "West Bank" or "other." I panicked while looking at my options because they did not seem like options to me. They appeared more like statements: I would never call myself Israeli, I do not carry a Palestinian Id, and well I am too patriotic to say other. Even my "Temporary" Jordanian passport cannot help me at this point. Being stateless is grueling.
I've experienced this many times throughout my life. Trying to fit the politically complex situation into a seemingly incomplex question. Where are you from?


President Donald trumps declaration of Jerusalem, my home, as the capital of Israel only erases me and every Palestinian Jerusalemite off of the map. This eliminates every shred of the existence of these Palestinians including their and my ancestors' DNA which lies in the soil of almost every cemetery. The organic material of what is left from their bodies does not only keep the world's ecosystem in balance but Jerusalem too.


 The situation for Palestinians is only getting worse. Unlike in the times of the first Intifada, Arab countries are less inclined to support the Palestinian cause. The conflict between brother countries and the manipulations of other countries have diverted our Arab allies from the cause they were so ready to die for forty years ago. The international community has created an image of Palestine as a troublesome aunt that nobody invites to Thanksgiving dinner because she won't stop waling about her horrible relationship with her neighbor.


In between these agendas are simple Palestinians fighting for their daily wage in a psychologically challenging, unnatural situation. From the inability to see the sea that so many of their great-grandparents swam in, to the electricity cuts that Gazans go through. These people are trapped by walls of a prison cell and are shushed whenever they argue otherwise.

The Palestinian conflict is the longest ongoing military occupation. The Israeli separation wall that divides Palestinians only reminds me of concentration camps where the Jewish people waited for the international community to fight for their justice. Israeli zionists now are the reason Palestinians ask for the international community to fight for their rights.

When I was younger, I thought that interbreeding and talking could solve the Israeli Palestinian conflict. However, now as I am getting older and have interacted more with the Palestinian people I have realized that it is difficult to negotiate when a needle is pocking one side of the two negotiators. The joining of Arab countries and their aid to Palestine can make both sides of the negotiation table equal. Furthermore, the political situation in Palestine can be improved by letting the new generation take part in the Palestinian's political strategy when it comes to negotiations.

 I fear the day in which I won't even have the option to say that I am a Palestinian. The day my people will be mentioned in history books among the many others that have passed by Jerusalem. But that is the beautiful thing about Jerusalem, isn't it? It has and will always be a generous host of anybody from the world. I know that Jerusalem can accommodate the Palestinians, the Israels and their conflict. I see that every day and when I do, I know I am home.

Fimilarity

I am reading a book in my favorite spot at my house. I lie on my back then on my stomach, when I raise head as I realize that this is the last week of school. Ever. I don't know why. Perhaps its my mom's music playing in the back. Music that breathed alive through me reminiscent of a childhood I am not sure of. I wonder why nostalgia for something I've never had hurts. I ask it to never stop and it obeys. Or perhaps its my book: The last meeting of two lovers who cant erase their memories. But Im yearning. I'm yearning for the person that I used to be. In other words, I am yearning for words. I write in my head as I look quickly for anything to engrave it on before its forever lost and here you are my beloved. I miss you.

Familiarity is safety. This is last few weeks of familiarity and afterwards I will be flung into the adult world where I very much might fail. I have encountered this once two years ago when I almost enrolled in a boarding school half an hour away. At that moment my whole body was tearing up as a response to the messages of my heart while my dry eyes responded to my brain's commands. I remember there was a song that was stuck in my head for weeks. It talked about the times when it was alright for moms to tuck us in bed and love us. How I wished it was fine to be feeble again. Because thats who I am. Vulnerable. In some need of the familiarity of the warm hug of my mother. I knew that if I were to come back home I wont detach the cement that has stuck skin on to skin.

I am there again. I look around and I am dead scared. Is it wrong that I can't move on like you?  I cant imagine myself anywhere else other than stuck in between 45 sessions of walls. In a room where my smell is yours and your voice is mine. You're my own familiarity. And I know that you hate me only because I'm unfamiliar to you. I gently shake my head as you leave me because no one should see that I'm scared of the cold.

But maybe life has been a bit kind towards me. Seven months ago I have been flung into the cold when my own idea of a father died. The walls that have governed my safety from the outside where more than destroyed and i haven't articulated anything that matters every since. My sudden trauma defied my voice and so my younger self started dying knowing all too well that the true end is coming soon.

My years haven't been perfect. Quite the contrary. But they were appreciated and still are. I wonder why Specific events and people represent this journey. Why I can still remember that specific moment of my first day at school when I hid my imaginary Cinderella dancing in the dark of my arms from the kid who'd become my best friend later on only to leave me missing what I once had. Why the guy sitting next to me is my childhood. He is the same kid that I haven't paid attention to but know like the back of my hand. Why it took me so long to know that you are my everyday. That you've seen it all therefore you know me better than me.

Familiarity is all that I have and all that I will lose. Am I to act normal as if Im used to the tiny goodbyes ? Ones I steal as I pass by the stairs, the doors, the janitor, the darkness of the hallways, the cold of the church, the traces of rubber the floor, the mystery of all that I don't know, his desk and the yellow light of the green rooms. Ones that I do on a small scale every day so that the last one isn't as hurtful. I convince my self that familiarity with pain is its own remedy to its effect.

3 hours and 15 minutes of electricity a day

The power line falling at my house in Jerusalem is an infrequent yet completely delightful occasion. Just like every other house in the Western Hemisphere it's a great opportunity to shut our phones and sit down together as a family. However, down south of The State of Palestine hours without electricity in Gaza are the norm and matters are getting worse.

Israel supplies Gaza with 120-140 MGW through 10 electricity lines. Around 23 MGW are supplied through Egypt however these are not reliable. Together they make up around 150-160 MGW which account for 40% of what the UN estimates as the power supply needed to meet basic humanitarian standards which are 400 MGW.

So since april Gazans receive around 4 hours of electricity a day leaving businesses and schools unable to operate fully. Medical Aid for Palestinians CEO Aimee Shalan said: ““The international community’s failure to solve Gaza’s devastating fuel and electricity crisis – and the 10-year blockade and closure of which it is a part – is severely affecting the lives of ordinary Palestinians. With only a few hours of mains electricity per day, hospitals are forced to rely on generators for power, the fuel for which is now carefully rationed and in danger of running out entirely.

“Surgeries have already been cancelled, and hospitals forced to cut back on essential cleaning and sterilisation services. Medical equipment is rapidly degrading due to constant fluctuations in electrical current.”

However the issue is becoming more complex as The president of The Palestinian Authority (PA) Mahmoud Abbas has casually informed Israel of their intention to pay 40% less on their monthly bill of 40 million shekels which are used to supply Gaza with Electricity. This will result in more electricity cuts by that reducing the 4 hours by 45 minutes.

The President of the PA has asked Israel to reduce the electricity as an attempt in a series of many to pressure Hamas ( The PA’s main rivalry) to step down from Gaza. Hamas took over in 2007 after a bloody coup.

Hamas has responded with an outcry calling Israel’s actions “disastrous” and that cutting power pushes Gaza even closer to explosion. However Israel is taking a nonchalant stance on this responding that the supply cut would be according to the payments received.

Israel’s prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu regarded this issue as an internal Palestinian dispute and that Israel is not part of this struggle.

Egypt meanwhile has offered to supply the much needed electricity if Hamas agrees to a list of security demands that include handing over 17 men wanted by cairo.


In the past Gaza used to have one power plant consisting of four power turbines which requires diesel fuel. At its optimum it can deliver 140 MGW. Hamas has used Turkish and Qatari funding to buy diesel however the power plant closed around january this year due to what Hamas claims as high taxes on the diesel fuel that is only supplied through the PA.

I couldn't help but notice The word Qatar there in the last paragraph and start my own interpretations as I love conspiracy theories . I need to point out that The past two years haven’t been as politically eventful in the middle east as the last four months ever since Trump’s visit. One of the reasons of the blockade on Qatar is due the fact that Qatar supports Hamas which is a terrorist organization in the eyes of countries such as Israel and the US. The lack of support from the surrounding countries including Cairo ( which takes part in the blockade) and Qatar's now inability to help could be putting Hamas under serious pressure. Is the US’s plan to end terrorism in the middle east or is it to end Hamas ?

Dignity strike

Last Monday on prisoner's day Marwan Barghouti a palestinain leader announced an open-ended strike in an op-ed article in The New York times which the Israeli prison officials report was smuggled by his wife, Fadwa. 

Marwan Barghouti who is leading the strike was convicted on charges of murder and was sentenced to five life sentences. In his article he stated that: "Hunger striking is the most peaceful form of resistance available. It inflicts pain solely on those who participate and on their loved ones, in the hopes that their empty stomachs and their sacrifice will help the message resonate beyond the confines of their dark cells."

More than 1000 Palestinians in Israeli prisons have joined the strike. About 186 have ended it, yet hundreds have joined since. The reasons to end the strike are personal which could include health conditions as every body is different. 

The main demand is to ensure regular family visits. As Barghouti stated, Israeli prisons are mostly in the occupied areas and so it is difficult for families to even get permits that allows them to enter and travel in the occupied areas turning their lawful right to see their families in Israeli prisons into a privilege. 

Other demands include improved medical service, pay phones to call relatives, access to education for Palestinian children and an end to administrative detention which is when an individual is arrested without being convicted or without knowing what he/she is being convicted of for security reasons. Under international law this could only be lawful under exceptional circumstances. However Israel has been in a state of emergency for 67 years and regularly exercises administrative detention. 

Individuals could be detained for "secret evidence" that the lawyer nor the detainee can see. The integrators could prevent access to lawyers and food. They can even prolong the stay of the detainee for as long as they think is necessary.

They also pressure prisoners by isolating them in inhuman conditions that include a thin mattress and no bathroom in a solitary confinement. 

At the moment there are around 6500 Palestinian prisoners including 500 administrative detainees. These include political activists, students, journalists and authors. 

Israel has been punishing the hunger-striking Palestinians by forcibly moving them to different sections of Israeli jails, confiscating their clothes and personal belongings, force feeding them and placing their leaders in solitary confinement's.

As for the prisoners' bodies. They stop feeling hunger pangs after the third day. Their bodies starts to use their muscle protein to make glucose , a sugar that is important for their cell metabolism. There is an increase in nausea due to the lack of energy provided to their brain. The kidneys stop working which increases toxics in their bodies. Salt and water ? Blood pressure falls due to lack of salts in the blood which prevents blood from reaching all body parts. Also salts prevent the stomach from developing a great environment for bacteria and fungi growth. 

Lastly, What can we do ? 

I have ignored this for a week now but have decided that the only way we can go through this is hand in hand. I dont know how effective these methods are but here they are: 

1- Theres been videos on social media circulting about the water and salt challenge. Where a person drinks a glass of water with preferably a sprinkle of salt.

2- I've seen some people changing their profile pictures to include a slogan that says dignity strike. You could do that by clicking your profile picture and adding a frame. 

3- Share #dignitystrike or in arabic #اضراب_الكرامة which I think can bring awareness to why our prisoners are striking. 

4- Theres the freedom and dignity run tomorrow in Ramallah that starts from AlSa'a circle at 9. I believe the larger the number the more awareness this could bring. 

5- Boycotting isaeli products. Truthfully, I've always found this difficult but you could start by gradually decreasing Israeli products that you're buying. 

I hope that I'll see people my age participating more in bringing awareness to the rights that are being denied to our prisoners. I've seen adults participating in the challenge but not as much from teenagers . I'm not criticizing or anything but I hope that whatever we do can help or at least support our families in the israeli prisons. 

What is your passport ?

Hey guyees,

Ive complained to many people about how horrible it feels to have a temporary passport. Jeruslamites don't have a Palestinian passport nor an israel one, unless they ask for one, so great Jordan gave us a temporary passport. I hate the idea that its been temporary for over 40 years but still appreciate Jordan for this.

I've only renewed my passport once. It's much worse than the interior municipality in jerusalem. I've made a comparison because in Jerusalem they make us wait in a line outside of the building in a heat wave, exposed to the sun for hours. Hugged by fat, sweat and boobs. In Jordan they do that plus make us move up and down a 4 story building while the employees patronize us but we accept it wholeheartedly at least it wasn't done by an Israeli but by an arab brother.

So I've never been truly proud of holding such a passport because when it comes down to serious business I'm almost identity-less so I've been trying to catch an american dude here or there.

What brought this up is that around 5 days ago the kingdom announced that it would raise the cost of renewing passports for everybody which sounds fair. My Jordanian friend told me that everything is getting more expensive there including cooking gas and food.

The thing is while they raised the price from 20 to 50 JOD for Jordanians with the national number they raises it from 50 to 200 JOD which is around 280 dollars for temporary passports meaning for Palestinians.

I was enraged. Palestianians truly dont have the money for this. Are Palestinians to pay for fixing roads they wont drive ? or make gardens they wont see ? After all these Palestinians like me live in the west bank and Jerusalem and barely visit jordan.

I truly ask what is the aim behind this ? Is there a justification ? And if there is I'd like to hear it.
I thought about it and you how my head is filled with conspiracies and I came up with this:
Maybe they make the experience of renewing the passport repulsive and expensive Palestinians would refrain from renewing their passports and might even apply for an Israeli passport instead.

My search for a British or an American husband is getting serious.

Good night

The normal

Growing up as a Palestinian has its own complications. I started realizing who I am and what it implies to be born on the most important mountain in the world at the age of 10 (Quite late compared to my other classmates). I first understood that I was affected by my nationality when I was at a school event and the headmaster said "Inshallah next year we'll have this event again and Palestine will be free". I got this exhilarating feeling of hope that flowed just like adrenaline through my body. I believed him, promising that next year I will attend this event and Palestine will be free.

Two years later I kinda felt how cliche this sentence is. Its repeated many times in all types of events. I dont get the same intense feelings anymore but yet a spark of hope does ignite as a respnse in the space between my abdomen and chest when it is said as if suddenly Palestine will be freed like poof.

At the age of twelve I understood how lucky I was. In Palestine the place were you're born in truly identifies who you are. Essentially 10 kilometers can ruin your life (Im actually exaggerating a bit, being born in the west bank does affect your life,in some cases making it better, but won't ruin it). My parents were jerusalemites so I was born in Jerusalem. Sometimes I feel like my family in the west bank envies this small privilege that I had no effort in and it makes sense. I could arrogantly leave and enter the west bank while they stood behind the wall waiting for permits.

Jerusalemites are not involved with the west bank. This wall had a true effect on people which is alienating us from each other. Some of my classmates call people behind the wall "Them". Check points turn a family visit into a brutal battle between cars in a never ending traffic while the smell of rotten egg is produced from their exhausts, not mentioning the days when soldiers throw tear gas at us. On these occasions my easily affected mom keeps on sneezing all day till she sleeps. I see my friends hasitate when I mention going to the west bank because we have to go through the wall.

I myself dont see the wall. Its just something that exists. This concrete wall doesn't stop me from reaching the west bank. The west bank is very different than Jerusalem. The mere fact that I will be walking down the street knowing that I will hear no hebrew makes me feel much safer. Its as if whenever I cross the wall I can truly breathe. I can truly be an Arab around my people.

What brought this up is what happened last week.
My family and I planned to go to Ramallah after school. Normally theres lots of traffic on the checkpoint around that time, but we just considered it as something that we had to go through. My brother was in the front and I in the backseat but sitting in the middle so I can be more involved in the conversation. We reached the roundabout that was just before the checkpoint and drove through it. Now the wall was on my right. Just like always grey, hideous with many footballs caught in it, but then my mother turned around and drove back.

She said" I heard theres this opening in the wall where you can reach ElRam". ElRam is next to Ramallah and is concidered in the west bank so its behind the wall. She drove away from the wall then took a right and there the wall was right infront of us.
My mother drove slowly as three Israeli soldiers pointed their guns at us. I stooped a little as we passed the gate then jumped out of my seat pulling my body forward and trying to get a better look.

The wall was different. It was somehow less gloomy. There was graffiti drawn all over it and advertisements on it. The roads and the air were different, somehow less clean and then i realized that i was in ElRam. I was in the west bank.

I asked aloud "Are we really here?". I was astonished because truly I never thought that I was affected by the wall. I truly believed that Jerusalem and the west bank were separated. There was a wall to prove that ! I was born in 2000 and the wall was built around 2004. Ever since I was a little girl the wall existed for me. I didnt know "The Golden times" where we could just walk to Ramallah.

I hate myself for thinking that it is normal to have that stinking wall. They turned a peaceful 3 minute drive into a chaos of cars bumping each other and people hating each other. I hate that they made jeruslamites seem a bit better than my friends in the west bank or gaza just because they have a blue card and can move around. I hate that people in the west bank sometimes make me feel like I am not one of them. I hate that they gave us a prison cell bounded by a wall and called it ours.

That was the moment when I truly realized that the Israeli occupation can never be called friendly. These monsters have turned peaceful Ramallah into a dreadful experience. They created a wall between my life and the ease of chest I feel when I reach Rukab street surrounded by stranger that I trust. How they fooled me and fooled many others to believe that these two places were different.

All of these emotions rose at once. I sat back and cried and I am still crying till now while writing this because I realized that I have also been avoiding Ramallah too.

Mr. Drumph said that we should ask Israel wether walls work or not. There is no need for that. I know about walls. And Yes, They do work magnificently. I assure you, Mexicans will fight for a while but then they'll clam down eventually. Their kids will also call it the normal.

Dear Mr. Israeli council leader ...

Dear readers,

Two days ago I read an article in the indepenependat news paper.
It said Israeli council leader says Arabs should be barred from israeli swimming pools.

Immediately it gripped my attention because I always swim in israeli swimming pools.
True enough the council leader says that arabs should not be in Israeli pools due to cultural and hygiene cultural differences. He pointed out that Arab women swim in their clothes instead of bathing suits.

Well, if you put it that way sure I've seen them but of course as an Arab I had to be biased to my side and completely disagree with my opponent.

That night I visited the swimming pool that I go to . Its in Naveh Yakouv (An Israeli settlement) right beside beit hanina (where I live). The swimming hours are divided into three : Men, Women and mixed.
Normally extremist religious jews live there but we go to the pool anyway.

I got to the pool around 8 pm at the girls only time. I got ready and as I was walking through the door I saw my and most other girls biggest fear a cockroach. Now dont underestimate the power of an extra large cockroach to freak me out. It was the biggest ive ever seen.
Due to hygiene differences Mr. Israeli counsel leader ?

The pool is not clean at all quite the opposite.  Its is one of the dirtiest I've ever been to. Green walls, wet floors and broken showers. I remember when I used to swim in my schools' swimming pool which is for arabs only. It's quite luxurious next to this.

I got a shock when I first walked in to the pool. It was completely filled up with girls. There was no place to fit in between them. The girls were wearing clothes instead of bathing suits and I need to point out that all the girls were jewish. They were walking around with their pajamas and underwear completely sticking to their bodies. Non of them were wearing swim caps. Why were these women wearing their clothes ? Is it due to harassment or money issues ? There were no men around. As I know, some Arab women wear clothes while swimming only when men are there.
So Mr. counsil leader even jewish girls wear clothes in swimming pools and yes even with them it looks disgusting.

No I am not implying that if jewish girls wear clothes while swimming that Arab women are allowed to do the same thing too. That would be a fallacy but I do want to show that well there is no real difference. All religious people are more or less alike at least in my eyes.

I couldn't start practicing because girls were all over my lane.They were not swimming. They were sitting on the lane lines!
They were completely oblivious to the common rules of any pool. Even when i went to the lifeguard she just shrugged and said they dont listen. They came out as uncultured ignorants a thing my people is being accused of.
I believe it was cultural differences he said.

So I spent the night being stopped mid swim because a girl just happened to pass by the lane.

Unlike what people think Israel is not just these hot women dancing in the beach in Tel Aviv. Truly I dont see these in jerusalem. It is filled up with very relgious people that have weird customs just like any other religion. I try to ignore them but some of them are just very vulgar while others are quite nice.

Mr council leader,

I would love to visit an arab only swimming pool but the closest one is in Ramallah behind a border that was built by your country. I have to wait for an hour at a checkpoint that you built. Not an option.

I'd love to find an arab only swimming pool just like your Israeli only swimming pool but your country doesnt allow us to build roofs on our heads. What about swimming pools or training centers ?

After I read that statement I went to my friends asking them about those "hygiene differences". It would sound stupid if we went personal becuase each person is different so i looked up these differences in religion.

Again Mr. council leader, arabs are not only muslims. These mistakes seem inevitable for you. So I looked up how it is for muslims and Christians.

I asked my christian friends and they told me that there is nothing hygienic they do I thats asked for in religion. I asked them about periods and religious holidays they frowned not knowing if there is anything special to do.

I've looked up Judaism and found out that all the regulations are exactly like Islam. I've studied Islam for 10 years but I am not a muslim so I am unbiased. Muslims and jews clean up the same way. As much as you wont like it Mr. council leader Judaism and islam share more similarities than christanity and Judaism.

Now about the "cultural" reasons.
I will point out that just like not all Israelis wear bathing suits in pools not all arabs wear clothes in swimming pools. Truly when I visit an arab swimming pool in the west bank I dont find girls in clothes.

This discrimination that is pointed out by you is only filled with stereotypes. Counting a whole nation as religious is like saying all cats are white. I wouldnet expect such a mistake to be done by a person with such a rank.

So Mr. council leader I hope I've clarified a few things. Ff you want we can discuss this further over mint tea while I show you my collection of swimming suits. Hint ? Yes, theres bikinis.

A class dominated by men

Dear readers,

I'm not the most popular kid in class. I'm not a popular kid.
I've told you about my beliefs which have made a barrier between me and some of my classmates. I am a person who likes to make trouble. Truly I know they dont have the same beliefs as mine but I don't shut up about it. I express my beliefs and doubt theirs as eloquently as possible.

I thought that this would trigger them. Raising debats and discussions where I could hear their thoughts on particular topics and they could hear mine. I didnt expect the real results.
They responded with offenses. Took sides against me as if my relgious beliefs made us enemies. Talking in the worst of manner about me. Judging and dodging me.

Surprised at first I saw myself hated by many people and I recoiled back.
This year I sincerely didnt care about their opinions nor mine. All I did care about is finishing these two years and getting the hell out of this situation. I saw myself saying islamic phrases to show them that im not completely against them.

Teachers noticed. They started raising their eyebrows and asking for my opinion. I in a low voice gave the most unbiased Switzerland opinion i could give.

I assumed that my beliefs caused what happend today.

I walked in to class today during break where a bunch of my classmates were playing around. One of them threw something at the other. When trying to catch it the other hit me hard on the chest. My water bottle fell on the floor. I cursed the kid. We were friends.

Another kid said something and I dissed him. He got so angry that as i was walking out of class he murmured "slut". A word that I was acquainted with. A word  I heard many men call my mother when she refused to be more than friends with them, when she acted as a feminist and when she refused to back down on something she had the complete right to.

"Did she hear it ? " One of them asked.
I turned around and looked at the guy. He was scared he wasn't man enough to say it to me in the face and now he was caught.
I walked to him.
"Did i just hear that right ?" I asked.
"I didnt say anything." He replied.
I stopped and really looked at him. I must say I pitied him. He looked small and scared as if he fell into a hole. He looked around soundlessly begging his friends to help him. I wanted to get out of there.
"I didnt expect to hear that from you." I said quietly. (which was totally a lie i did expect that especially from him)
"I'm sorry Malak i didnt mean it I was just angry."
He repeated his apology a couple of times more. I said its alright and ran away.


That would be marked the first time in many many times that i'll be called a slut. I knew it was going to happen eventually.  I thought while parking my car or crossing the street. Mostly I thought when I was mid-twenties. Truly I was disappointed having it happen while not defending the rights of a woman in front of crowds or defining the government in an interview. It is a common thing for arab men to say such curses at Arab women doubting their virginity, calling them sluts, etc ...

I dont know from where they catch that. In Islam it is completely prohibited and is a very big deal. Especially when a man doubts the virginity of a passing woman.

They could have caught it at their houses. Their father or older brother saying the same thing about other women, their sisters or even their mothers.

They could have catched that on the streets heard their friend shouting that with a filthy grin at a passing girl at night. I was put in my school because i didn't want to be in such a situation at such an early age.

I do remember my father doing the same thing to women. Sometimes his mother. As I grew up I heard my father saying many many claims about women I've never met. I didnt know what they meant until I grew up and understood them. If my life didn't go the way it did it would have become the norm for me. My not going through that doesn't mean that others don't.

I heard afterwards that the bunch didnt stop there.  They continued on and on about me in more detail saying: " Do you think she's the virgin Mary ?"

I was being verbally abused. I expected tears to come but they never did. After some years bullying stopped having that affect on me. I just wanted it to end it. So I consulted some people and I went to the principal who i think dearly of and explained the situation to.

He nodded and wrote the names of the students then he said he will look into it in a week if I remind him to.

I left his office feeling completely disappointed.
He's going to talk to them maybe bring their parents. They will say false apologies where I'm going to feel awkward. Then these guys will take me as their new permanent target intsead of moving on to the next person.

As I got out of his office I knew that I was the one who lost the most. I was cursed at. I was doubted for things i didn't do.  I was going to be hated by everybody for reporting about them. I'm going to be targeted more. In this loop I was going to lose.

So I didn't come back. I didn't remind the principal about it because in this class men were dominant. Theoretically,  I could go to the principal and report on them and he could promise me an end to this but thats just words and in action I was going to be hurt and the bunch knew it. I went back home. I recapped the day to my mother leaving that part till they end. I couldn't form my words out as
I chocked on a sob.

She didnt pity me. She didn't caress me. She told me to stand up and get used to it becuase thats how it is here .  After all my class is only an image of what my society is. That I will not be avenged. When I ask for my rights I am going to be called things far worse than a slut. Its inevitable.

But other women have it much worse. They are blamed for being too expressive, too loud, too energetic, too revealing, too friendly too flirty, too confident because when you are called a slut even by the closest of people.  When you are verbally abused you are always going to be blamed for calling attention on to yourself.  These women dont have a blog nor a nice principal to complain to.

I am just supposed to sit around while those dominating men act and blame me. Scream, whistle and curse at me. Because if I talk i'll be the slut but I'm not worried about that. I've always been a slut and I'll always be a slut as long as I've got a uterus and a mouth.

Thank you.

Bounded by walls of a father

Dear reader, 

 Ive said in my last post that I found a fatherstructor. I'd like to talk more about that.

 While i was in the havoc and the loud noises of my peers in NIR school my family met together in Jordan. I sent them a message telling my relative to say hi to everybody and hug my grandfather very tightly for me. 

 While I was in my break the next day my relative sent me a video. I walked away from my friends and opened the video. 
 There i saw a figure in the far distance. The figure was standing near a green backyard. He was wearing an old thawb (Arab man dress) and was looking far away. 
 My relative called his name multiple times but he didn't hear her. She came closer and whispered to him: Malak is watching this. 
He smiled but sadness covered his face. He did not show his aging broken teeth. His eyes gleamed. He said something but i couldn't hear it. (I had already broken down at that time). The video ended with my relative hugging my grandfather. Then she switched the camera at them and said: Malak me and grandpa miss you very much.

 My knees crushed down and i fell. I opened my mouth to a silent sob. My whole existence was filled up with salty tears. I couldn't hold myself anymore. Somebody found me in that state and got worried and tried to silent me. But i wasn't around him anymore. I was thinking about all the possibilities that are gone now.

I only saw my grandfather five times throughout my whole life. In my memory they appear as flashbacks of my childhood. Just like a movie unraveling. Few seconds of myself running around his house at five, watching him making coffee at nine, crying, begging not to leave him at twelve and my fifteen year old self sitting next to him with my mother and grandmother on the ground while he talked about the time when he became a refugee. About the time when he first laid eyes on my grandmother when he couldn't blink his eyes until he had her.

My grandfather wasn't a person who was around me while growing up. But the few time that i saw him were enough to establish real connection with him as if the time we spent apart didn't really matter.  Every time i visited him i begged to stay. But there was always a person to take me away from him.
This time it was death.

My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier. At that time it didn't reach me because my mother is the only person that mattered to me. I tried to support her but now it hit me at once. The fear that backed everything I did in life.

The thawb, his soft hugs and his amazing smell will be forever lost from the universe. Lost from my weak reaching hands.

Friends asked me why don't i visit him? Why not check up on him?
I tried to explain my situation.
My parents are divorced. I couldn't visit my grandfather because my father wont give me the permission to. I am trapped in Palestine unable to reach granddad. I thought that when i turn eighteen I'll have the ability to stay with him as long as I want to and nobody will take me from him. That was the plan until a few months ago.

Then they asked the drastic question. Why wont your father let you go ?
How do i explain how much he hates me ? How much he doesn't care about my feelings? How when i told him about my grandfathers' state he laughed.
There i completely broke down unable to stop the tears. Reaching Hysteria. He laughed at my grandfathers death. The person who stood up with my father against the whole family. Even his daughter. The first death I will ever face.

The students called an instructor. He was a physiologist. A good one in my opinion. I sat with him. He nodded and said. Your grandfather ?
I had already told him about it. It was great having a person who knew.
We started talking. Going back further and further into my childhood. The silent pauses chocked me.
He nodded and asked which made it easier. Then he talked about his experiences with abused women. There I developed that feeling that I hear girls talk about. How they look up to someone. A father figure I guess. A figure I've never had.
He cursed at how the situation is. He really understood the situation with my father. How a domineering, cynical cunning man can ruin a life that I own. How law doesn't help at all. But only takes away even more of your rights and money. But truly now I understand that I don't own my life. Its owned by a man. Any man. Father, husband and maybe my child.


My grandfather now is at his home in Jordan. Happy. I told him to come to Palestine. Maybe he'll find better treatment but he wont leave his land again. Last time he did he couldn't come back. He addresses his illness in the best way possible. He doesn't let it affect him. When I miss him I look at the coin album he gave me when i was nine. Coins from all different places put in it. Some are 100 years old or more. He told me that he thinks I'll travel all around the world and complete what he started. I'm afraid I wont be able to do that. I'll always be bounded by walls of a father. Walls of a man.