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
Monday, February 20, 2017
Thursday, February 9, 2017
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.
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.
Thursday, September 29, 2016
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
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.
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.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
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.
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.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Found a fatherstructor
Dear readers,
Im fine, thank you. I hope you are too.
I've spent the last week in a hostel with 50 students in a program called the NIR school of the heart.
The program brings Palestinians, Israelis and Jordanians to teach us about everything involving the heart. There were also some unspecified lectures that were more cultural. Trying to teach the students the importance of social involvement.
I was discouraged to come to the program. Wanting to stick with my family this while. But i did leave everything to join these students.
I got in thinking that I've got it. I can study. I can relate to the students. No problem. But then when observing the instructors i saw that they acted strange. They joked all the time and had something weird about them. Now i know that NIR proudly has a knack of choosing retarded people of course this includes me.
Quickly dissing battles and private parts jokes started to rise up. Something very unnerving to me. But a couple of days later i found myself getting out of my seat spitting a lame yo mama joke and saw that people were encouraging me to continue. Which in turn increased my energy and ability to act like the weird person i am. The weird thing though is that i wasn't being judged. In fact i was applauded for my obsession with butts. No wonder we called ourselves Hard Attacks.
The week went on fast starting and ending with lectures and activities. We've built strong relationships on the first 4 days and challenged how strong they are on the other 3 days.
The instructors stimulated a family like relationship between us through insulting jokes and deep meaningful hugs. As if creating a comfort zone outside of our own comfort zone.
All the instructors were devoted passionate people. Some volunteered with their knowledge. Others with time to complete a satisfying experience within the school. One that i can now look back to and smile with gratitude.
I had one instructor though that truly had an impact on me. His tight hugs and caring words reminded me of how a father should be. I couldn't but help take him as a father figure. As the figure that is keeping me intact throughout the sessions. Running to him as soon as i see him. I feel very pathetic. I dont feel brave. I just feel stupid.
On the 5th days we started to think more political. Discussing topics that no other program dares to. The difference between the Israeli and the Palestinian was pretty obvious. We said staggering comments and unexplained statements. Barely listening to each other. But still we cared about each other which made or at least for me made my relationships stronger.
I myself made references to anne frank who is an important figure for me. I tried to show the resemblance between her and Gazans. How both couldn't and cant sleep because of the sound of rockets. I tried to describe a picture of gazans for them. A family warned by a mini rocket to take everything of significance out of the house in half a second. I asked them what they would take? Money ? Their kids ? Pictures of their childhood ? All in half a minute.
It was obvious how big the miscommunication is when it comes to facts and dates. We both had minimal knowledge about the other. What for them is the independence day for me is the Nakba (catastrophe) the death of a prime minister for them was significant while i couldn't even pronounce his name.
Personally, the program affected me in a strong way.
It first showed me that i can have an impact on people. During the political talks i must have said something that triggered people to think.
In an activity where when asked who of the students made you think the most people looked for me. Suddenly i was surrounded by bodies touching me from all sides. I was surprised at first but then appalled. I looked up and their eyes grabbed me. They gleamed as if they are proud of their choice. Smiled as if totally sure of it.
For a first i felt like my words are not meaningless letters thrown into the void. They had a meaning and they were listened to. They might even have an effect. I touched people which makes me worry. Did i have a positive impact ? Is considering my thoughts for them something hurtful ?
The confidence and the knowledge that every part of me is there for an important reason is empowering.
Im fine, thank you. I hope you are too.
I've spent the last week in a hostel with 50 students in a program called the NIR school of the heart.
The program brings Palestinians, Israelis and Jordanians to teach us about everything involving the heart. There were also some unspecified lectures that were more cultural. Trying to teach the students the importance of social involvement.
I was discouraged to come to the program. Wanting to stick with my family this while. But i did leave everything to join these students.
I got in thinking that I've got it. I can study. I can relate to the students. No problem. But then when observing the instructors i saw that they acted strange. They joked all the time and had something weird about them. Now i know that NIR proudly has a knack of choosing retarded people of course this includes me.
Quickly dissing battles and private parts jokes started to rise up. Something very unnerving to me. But a couple of days later i found myself getting out of my seat spitting a lame yo mama joke and saw that people were encouraging me to continue. Which in turn increased my energy and ability to act like the weird person i am. The weird thing though is that i wasn't being judged. In fact i was applauded for my obsession with butts. No wonder we called ourselves Hard Attacks.
The week went on fast starting and ending with lectures and activities. We've built strong relationships on the first 4 days and challenged how strong they are on the other 3 days.
The instructors stimulated a family like relationship between us through insulting jokes and deep meaningful hugs. As if creating a comfort zone outside of our own comfort zone.
All the instructors were devoted passionate people. Some volunteered with their knowledge. Others with time to complete a satisfying experience within the school. One that i can now look back to and smile with gratitude.
I had one instructor though that truly had an impact on me. His tight hugs and caring words reminded me of how a father should be. I couldn't but help take him as a father figure. As the figure that is keeping me intact throughout the sessions. Running to him as soon as i see him. I feel very pathetic. I dont feel brave. I just feel stupid.
On the 5th days we started to think more political. Discussing topics that no other program dares to. The difference between the Israeli and the Palestinian was pretty obvious. We said staggering comments and unexplained statements. Barely listening to each other. But still we cared about each other which made or at least for me made my relationships stronger.
I myself made references to anne frank who is an important figure for me. I tried to show the resemblance between her and Gazans. How both couldn't and cant sleep because of the sound of rockets. I tried to describe a picture of gazans for them. A family warned by a mini rocket to take everything of significance out of the house in half a second. I asked them what they would take? Money ? Their kids ? Pictures of their childhood ? All in half a minute.
It was obvious how big the miscommunication is when it comes to facts and dates. We both had minimal knowledge about the other. What for them is the independence day for me is the Nakba (catastrophe) the death of a prime minister for them was significant while i couldn't even pronounce his name.
Personally, the program affected me in a strong way.
It first showed me that i can have an impact on people. During the political talks i must have said something that triggered people to think.
In an activity where when asked who of the students made you think the most people looked for me. Suddenly i was surrounded by bodies touching me from all sides. I was surprised at first but then appalled. I looked up and their eyes grabbed me. They gleamed as if they are proud of their choice. Smiled as if totally sure of it.
For a first i felt like my words are not meaningless letters thrown into the void. They had a meaning and they were listened to. They might even have an effect. I touched people which makes me worry. Did i have a positive impact ? Is considering my thoughts for them something hurtful ?
The confidence and the knowledge that every part of me is there for an important reason is empowering.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
My Ramadan
A sigh of guilt hovers over me whenever i do anything I enjoy. This includes writing on my blog. This is one of the many many drawbacks of IGCSE. I'm finishing up the last of the three dreadful months of exam which were more than enough to turn me into a psycho. But now I've convinced myself to write although i feel like i dont deserve it.
My school offers options that no other school offers. When entering high school you could either enroll in the IGCSE stream (if your grades permit) or just do Tawjihi tests. These are the standardized testing over here. They are done in 11th and 12th grade. They are so hard, so nerve-racking that people actually commit suicide because of them. Afterwards marks are spat out on a local TV channel. Oh, you screwed up in ur exam and failed dont worry not just your relatives and your classmates will know about it but the whole Palestinian community too ;) good luck.
My school offers options that no other school offers. When entering high school you could either enroll in the IGCSE stream (if your grades permit) or just do Tawjihi tests. These are the standardized testing over here. They are done in 11th and 12th grade. They are so hard, so nerve-racking that people actually commit suicide because of them. Afterwards marks are spat out on a local TV channel. Oh, you screwed up in ur exam and failed dont worry not just your relatives and your classmates will know about it but the whole Palestinian community too ;) good luck.
Thus in an attempt of running away of all the baggage that comes with Tawjihi i got into that IG-thing. Now i'm starting to feel the drawbacks. This stream is much more serious than Tawjihi. We start doing officials two years before normal Palestinian students. So while my friends are out partying i'm staying in my bed studying (which i strongly prefer).
The British obviously didn't notice that June is the holy month of ramadan when they scheduled the tests. Either that or they meant it and i cant make myself believe the later. We fast from sun break till sundown. Ramadan includes exceptional ultimate laziness from before iftar (the meal we eat at sun break) and after iftar. After my first meal I am just so heavy i can barely breathe.
The British obviously didn't notice that June is the holy month of ramadan when they scheduled the tests. Either that or they meant it and i cant make myself believe the later. We fast from sun break till sundown. Ramadan includes exceptional ultimate laziness from before iftar (the meal we eat at sun break) and after iftar. After my first meal I am just so heavy i can barely breathe.
Surprisingly to everyone, I fast. I enjoy fasting I've been doing it ever since i was seven. Its a way to share the same feeling with your family. A way to honor the same sick feelings of torture i had when i was a kid. I especially love the feeling I get when water moves through my oesophagus after a desert appeared there. I guess I've alway been a psycho.
I ignore the raised eyebrows and doubtful tone people shoot at me when they ask if i fast. As if fasting is only a privilege to Religious folks. I fast because i want to fast. I want to feel hungry. I want to feel unable like the unfortunate. I challenge myself in ramadan. I know how strong i am because i had real rough days while fasting. You see, ramadan is not just about food its about morals too. Its about behavior and giving back. Its obvious that i am very fond of it.
As a tradition my family and i vist the Aqsa mosque every year to have iftar right beside thousands of muslim families. All joined up together on one table on the holy ground of the Aqsa.
I don't think this will be possible this year. Two days ago two Palestinians in two suits sat in two seats in a cafe in tel aviv pulled two guns and killed 5 Israeli civilians. I frown at this not because they were civilians but because what i know about ramadan is that it brings peace. Peace of mind and soul. How can somebody do such a foul act in Ramadan? How can they KILL in the holiest month of the year ? Don't underestimate the word kill. Its a word we've gotten used to but still the truth doesn't tarnish when it comes to the word kill.
This act doesnt just affect all the poeple who walked or couldve walked there it also greatly affects us Palestinian people. Palestinians applying for permssion to get into jerusalem from the west bank are going to be refused as a punishment not allowig thousands of muslims from reaching the holy mosque. The mosque and the old city won't light up like every year.
I visited the old city tonight. It has always been a place of tension but this act tightened the tension hundreds nay thousands of teenagers hovered around the old city tonight provoking the Israeli soldiers and police. In any minute a fight could and probably eventually will break out. The teenagers sang provocative patriotic songs aloud. In my eyes they dont appear to do this because they are driven by the love for their country, they think the rifles that are with the 17 year soldiers and plastic toys. Nothing more fun than an angry soldier. Most markets are closed. Police are everywhere asking everybody if they are muslim. Ramadan is not the same. There are no lights. I cant feel that warm feeling inside me anymore. I dont see kids running around. There are no food kiosks. I just see men provoking everybody including me. Giving me looks asking how dare I reach the old city ?
I try hard to get that fuzzy feeling of ramadan but with these continous disappoints and attacks that is not possible but the moon is not going anywhere any time soon. Its always going to stay up and we'll always have ramadan light glowing around us i hope that one day peace will prevail the old city. Peace i've never seen there before.
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