Falastin Volume 5 Issue 2

FALASTIN

Volume 5 - Issue 2

April 2021

PACC

Falastin, a Palestinian American Community Center Publication Falastin Staff Editor in Chief, Reem Farhat Fiction Editor, Marah Siyam News Editor, Aseel Washah Arabic Editor, Hiba B’irat Copy Editor, Abire Sabbagh Layout Editor, Ibrahim Issa Advisor, Rania Mustafa

We at Falastin would like to extend a special thank you to Nisrin Shahin, who is the incredibly talented artist behind our cover for this issue. You can find more of her work on her Instagram @Nisrin.Shahin.

We are always looking for new content and contributions! Submit your work to falastin@paccusa.org 388 Lakeview Ave, Clifton, NJ 07011 // www.paccusa.org // info@paccusa.org // 973-253-6145

TABLE OF

CONTENTS

04 Letter From the Editor 04 Letter From the E.D. 06 None Quite Like Palestine 07 Dabka 08 Dabka: A Cultural Pillar 10 ‫ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻠﻲ‬ 11 People of Palestine Massara Haseeb on TikTok, Tatreez, and 12 Tradition 15 ‫ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﺳﻛﺎﻛﺎ‬ 16 Cultural Cultivation and Assimilation 18 The Silenced Native Religious Rights 19 Traditions 20 A Dream Deferred, Then Found Again 22 Eyes Opened 23 Person of PACC: An Interview with Raed Odeh Reem Farhat

Rania Mustafa

Aya Mustafa

Basman Derawi

Jamal Mustafa

‫ﺭﺟﺎء ﻏﺯﺍﻭﻧﺔ‬

Ahmad Jamhour

Reem Farhat

‫ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬

Layla Odeh

Fatimah Alhomeidany

Marah Siyam

Israa Mohammed Jamal

Ramez Hayek

Falastin Staff

Letter from the Editor Reem Farhat It is with great pleasure and honor that we present to you the second issue of our fifth volume of Falastin.

This issue, our theme is tradition and what that means to us as Palestinians. We asked our contributors to think about their favorite traditions, the ways in which they practice them, and why they are important.

While traditions are an essential part of any culture, for Palestinians upholding it is imperative to holding onto our identity. When we wear tatreez we are honoring a centuries long practice passed matrilineally, when we dance dabka we are taking part in a communal practice that has brought Palestinians together generation after generation, and when we speak our native tongue, no matter our proficiency, we are communicating in a language that been passed down to us. Our power comes from keeping these traditions alive no matter how far we are from home.

We are incredibly grateful to all of our contributors who, through their contributions, have shown us the beauty and power of our culture by discussing practices like tatreez or dabka or exploring the diverse customs Palestinians have. We would also like to thank our sponsors and the PACC Board for supporting this magazine each issue. Lastly, thank you, reader, for supporting Falastin each and every issue.

We hope this issue inspires you to think about your favorite Palestinian traditions and reflect on how we can incorporate these practices into our daily lives. We also hope these pieces inspire you to join in our resistance through art by sharing your stories with Falastin.

Reem Farhat Editor in Chief

Letter from the Executive Director Rania Mustafa I have the pleasure of sharing some personal news with my PACC family, my husband and I have welcomed our second child, our son—Yousef Issa into this world earlier this month. As I have the privilege of bringing in another child into this world I am faced with the responsibility that comes with such a blessing. I am faced with the hard questions of what are the values, ideals and traditions I want to instill into my child.

This is why this issue and its theme of tradition are close to my heart. It is through platforms like Falastin and through centers like ours at PACC that we can ensure the Palestinian tradition is passed down from generation to the next. Before going on my maternity leave, we ended our second annual Freedom is the Future Class in which we discussed part of the Zionist narrative that “the old will die and the young will forget;” however through passing on traditions and keeping our stories alive, we will never forget.

At PACC, we just wrapped up our second session of programming and are currently in the midst of our Ramadan fundraiser. Ramadan Mubarak and may this be a blessed month for all who observe. If you would like to support our campaign, please visit www.launchgood.com/paccfamily and donate whatever you can!

We have a lot planned for this summer including our annual HOPE (Holding onto Palestinian Existence Program) for teens and we are in the process of coordinating a virtual component to the Homeland Project. We hope you join us this summer at PACC, to learn more visit www.paccusa.org for more information.

Congratulations and a sincere thank you to our Falastin staff for launching the second issue of our fifth volume! Thank you to our Board of Directors and sponsors for their continuous support. And Thank YOU for picking up this issue and supporting Falastin.

Rania Mustafa PACC Executive Director 4

Artwork by Melina Sobi IG: melinasobi.art

5

None Quite Like Palestine Aya Mustafa

I’ve delighted in all different kinds of desserts But there’s none quite like Nabulsi Kanafa I’ve cooked with varying brands of extra-virgin olive oil But there’s none quite like that which comes from a Palestinian olive tree I’ve taken in the air of several countries But there’s none quite as refreshing as that of Palestine I’ve met amazing people from all over the globe But there’s none quite like the Palestinian people I’ve watched the sunrise from all different sceneries But there’s none quite like that from my grandparents’ window I’ve swam in various bodies of water But there’s none quite like the Mediterranean sea I’ve worn millions of outfits throughout my life But there’s none quite like those adorned with Palestinian embroidery I’ve prayed in mosques all over the world But there’s none quite like Masjid Al-Aqsa, which I’m banned from visiting I’ve tried to find a place more beautiful and welcoming But there’s none quite like Palestine

Photo by Marah Siyam 6

Dabka Basman Derawi

Dancing in the middle of the street, Moving inside storms of adrenaline In a caged city, never a caged soul.

You stole my land but never my identity.

Dabka is in our blood You will never steal it.

Step right, step left, jump up move to the tabla and timbrel Hand in hand across the floor, Keffiyah shakes at every shoulder up.

Sweat is the fruit of joy, watering our roots in Palestine.

Let olive leaves rustle, hands clapping.

Let us dance, then fly free like birds.

7

Dabka: A Cultural Pillar Jamal Mustafa

Tradition is the bodywork of any culture. It is principally ensconced by distinguishing hallmarks that not only represent, but frame and sponsor distinctiveness. Many cultures have varying customs to highlight their ethnicity. Palestine specifically has many cultural traditions such as tatreez, ataaba, and the one being explored in this piece: dabka. Dabka personally resonates with me because of the great memories I have of learning it at the Palestinian American Community Center, where I was also able to proudly show my family, and ultimately dance at public festivities. I was initially fascinated by the unity and happiness that Dabka encompassed, bringing everyone together for the love of tradition that we all shared. However, an unfortunate reality is that the Palestinian traditions are being amalgamated with those of the occupier while repressing our identity. This is magnified by how the Zionists disallow the Palestinians from publicly expressing our traditions in our country, while bolstering their own customs as supreme and inalienable. Nevertheless, we will not be dispirited and a testament to our resolve and endurance is characterized by the expressive dance of Dabka.

and tap the floor with their feet, rhythmically going along with a song to organize their actions. Moreover, Palestinians are very nationalistic, with a great sense of pride and love of our country. To advocate for our traditions we ensure that we are heard loudly, collectively chanting, singing, dancing, and using other forms of publicization to spread our message and raise awareness of our challenges. We use these sources of communication to project our viewpoints as well as to solidify camaraderie and joy during times that are regularly enveloped by anxiety and fear.

Although Dabka’s etymology is somewhat ambiguous, it may stem from the Levantine Arabic word dabaka which translates to “stomping of the feet.” This translation references the dance moves but it also acts as the mouthpiece for Palestinian uprising and defiance to Zionist mandates. It symbolizes the revolution we’re emblazoning, that as long as we continue to pronounce and voice our individuality through a manifestation of our unity we will remain indelible. Furthermore, the trademarked interlocking arms or hands during dabka italicizes our solidarity, a capstone of our people that is inflexible to the pressure of Zionists. Dabka equips us with the blueprint to remodel the preconceptions of the world and antiquate this paradigm of injustice. This Palestinian dance betokens our originality and auspiciously works to campaign for our separation from the Zionists by underscoring how we will not be muzzled by the hand of restraint.

Dabka is typically performed to celebrate an occasion such as a wedding, religious holiday, or other festivities. Dabka is ingrained into Palestinian tradition and mantled as a permanent facet for thousands of years. Historically, it developed as a way to compact mud for the roofing of houses, people would gather together and stomp on the mud, producing a firm sealant. However, over the years, it evolved into a harmonious reflection of perseverance, hope, and unity: a monument of our strength and resilience.

Dabka has been a perennial fountainhead for our culture, and now it may be one of our most important assets in enlightening the world about our captivating traditions. It will also help us illuminate the significance of our pursuit to re-establish ourselves as an independent nation. Lastly, to help the Palestinian cause while being in America, we can perform Dabka with friends and families in our towns and present it at different social functions to

Dabka, although not complex, is intricate in its overtones. It is done either in a circle or line formation with a leader determining the sequence of dance moves. This dance requires the participants to hold hands and in synchronization, jump, crouch, 8

spur discussion and inform people of our foreign culture. By doing so, we will exhibit how Dabka isn’t just a part of who we are but makes us who we are.

By showing that traditions are the backbone of our culture and emphasizing what makes us special, we can reclaim the meaning of being Palestinian. We are the catalysts of reform and change, if we want to

make a difference we must be proactive and not be silenced by social intimidation but be encouraged by it, motivated to start an intellectual and political assembly. The only thing we need to do is express our traditions to the world and we can extend into the spotlight of truth.

PACC’S Al Baydar Dabka Group Photo by Ahmad Jamhour 9

‫ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻠﻲ‬ ‫ﺭﺟﺎء ﻏﺯﺍﻭﻧﺔ‬

‫ﺗُﻌﺩ ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻠﻲ ﻣﻥ ﺃﻗﺩﻡ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻋُﺭﻓﺕ ﻓﻲ‬ ‫ﻓﻠﺳﻁﻳﻥ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻭﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻭﺍﺳﻌﺔ ﺍﻟﺭﻭﺍﺝ ﺗﺻﺩﺭ ﻣﺻﻧﻭﻋﺎﺗﻬﺎ ﺇﻟﻰ‬ ‫ﺃﺳﻭﺍﻕ ﺳﻭﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﻣﺻﺭ ﻭﺗﺭﻛﻳﺎ ﻭﺍﻟﺣﺟﺎﺯ ﻭﺭﻭﻣﺎﻧﻳﺎ‪ .‬ﻭﻻ ﺗﺯﺍﻝ ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ‬ ‫ﻓﻲ ﺭﻭﻣﺎﻧﻳﺎ ﺗﺳﻳﺭ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﻧﻭﺍﻝ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ‪ .‬ﻭﻓﻲ ﻣﺻﺭ ﺗﺻﻧﻊ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻘﻧﺎﺩﻳﻝ ﺍﻟﻼﺯﻣﺔ ﻟﻠﺟﻭﺍﻣﻊ ﻭﺍﻟﻛﻧﺎﺋﺱ ﻭﺍﻷﺩﻳﺭﺓ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺷﺎﻛﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻠﻲ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻭﻳُﻌﺭﻑ ﺃﻗﺩﻡ ﺣﻲ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﺑﺣﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺯﺍﺯﻳﻥ ﻧﺳﺑﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻭﻗﺩ ﺍﺯﺩﻫﺭﺕ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻥ ﺍﻟﺗﺎﺳﻊ ﻋﺷﺭ ﻭﻋﺭﺿﺕ ﻣﺻﻧﻭﻋﺎﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻓﻲ ﻣﻌﺎﺭﺽ ﺃﻭﺭﻭﺑﻳﺔ ﺃﻫﻣﻬﺎ ﻣﻌﺭﺽ ﺑﻭﺩﺍﺑﺳﺕ ﻭﻓﻳﻳﻧﺎ ﻭﺑﺎﺭﻳﺱ‪ ،‬ﻭﻧﺎﻝ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺭﺿﻭﻥ ﻣﻳﺩﺍﻟﻳﺎﺕ ﻭﺷﻬﺎﺩﺍﺕ ﻭﺟﻭﺍﺋﺯ ﻻ ﺗﺯﺍﻝ ﻣﺣﻔﻭﻅﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻵﻥ ﻟﺩﻯ‬ ‫ﺃﺭﺑﺎﺏ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫‪Photo by Padres Hana‬‬

‫ﻭﻗﺩ ﺗﺑﺎﻫﺕ ﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﺣﻳﻧﺎ ً ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺯﻣﻥ ﺑﺳﺑﻌﺔ ﻣﺻﺎﻧﻊ ﻟﻠﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺩﺭﺕ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻳﻬﺎ ﺃﺭﺑﺎﺣﺎ ً ﻁﺎﺋﻠﺔ ﻭﺭﻓﻌﺕ ﺍﺳﻣﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﻣﻳﺩﺍﻥ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ‪ .‬ﻭﻟﻛﻥ ﻣﻣﺎ ﻳﺅﺳﻑ‬ ‫ﻟﻪ ﺃﻧﻪ ﻟﻡ ﻳﺗﺑﻖ ﻣﻥ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﻣﺻﺎﻧﻊ ﺳﻭﻯ ﻭﺍﺣﺩ‪.‬‬

‫ﻳﺣﺭﻕ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻧﺑﺎﺕ ﻓﻳﺗﺻﺎﻋﺩ ﻣﻧﻪ ﻟﻬﺏ ﺃﺯﺭﻕ ﻳﺩﻝ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻭﻓﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﻬﻳﺩﺭﻭﺟﻳﻥ‬ ‫ﻓﻳﻪ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﺗﺣﻭﻝ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻛﺗﻝ ﻛﺛﻳﻔﺔ ﺟﺎﻣﺩﺓ ﺗﺷﺑﻪ ﺃﻛﺳﻳﺩ ﺍﻟﺣﺩﻳﺩ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﻧﺣﺎﺱ ﻭﺗﺩﻋﻰ‬ ‫“ﺍﻟﻘﻠﻲ”‪ .‬ﺗﻛﺳﺭ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﻛﺗﻝ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻗﻁﻊ ﺻﻐﻳﺭﺓ ﻭﺗﻐﻠﻰ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻓﻲ ﻗﺩﺭ ﻛﺑﻳﺭ‬ ‫ﻓﻳﻌﻠﻭ ﺍﻟﻣﺭﻛﺏ ﺭﻏﻭﺓ ﻛﺛﻳﻔﺔ ﺗﺅﺧﺫ ﺑﻣﻐﺎﺭﻑ ﻧﺣﺎﺳﻳﺔ ﻭﺗﺑﺳﻁ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﺑﻼﻁ ﻟﺗﺑﺭﺩ‬ ‫ﻭﺗﺟﻑ‪ .‬ﻭﻣﺗﻰ ﺟﻔﺕ ﺗﺑﻠﻭﺭﺕ ﻭﺗﺣﻭﻟﺕ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺃﻣﻼﺡ ﺗﺷﺑﻪ ﻧﺗﺭﺍﺕ ﺍﻟﺻﻭﺩﺍ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭﻣﻥ ﻧﺎﺣﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﺻﻧﻳﻊ ﻓﻘﺩ ﻛﺎﻥ ﻳﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻓﻲ ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﺗﻘﻠﻳﺩﻱ ﻣﻭﺍﺩ‬ ‫ﺧﺎﻡ ﻣﺗﻭﻓﺭﺓ ﺑﻛﺛﺭﺓ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻭﺿﻭﺍﺣﻳﻬﺎ‪ ،‬ﻓﻳﺅﺗﻰ ﺑﺎﻟﺭﻣﻝ ﻣﻥ ﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻻ ﻳﺑﺗﻌﺩ‬ ‫ﻛﺛﻳﺭﺍ ً ﻋﻥ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﺳﺗﺧﺭﺝ ﺍﻟﻘﻠﻲ ﻣﻥ ﻧﺑﺎﺕ ﻳﻛﺛﺭ ﻓﻲ ﺗﻠﻙ ﺍﻟﺟﻬﺎﺕ ﺃﻻ ﻭﻫﻭ‬ ‫ﻧﺑﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﺣﻣﺽ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﺭﺣﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺛﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﺗﺧﻠﻁ ﺍﻷﻣﻼﺡ ﺍﻵﻧﻔﺔ ﺍﻟﺫﻛﺭ ﺑﺎﻟﺭﻣﻝ ﺑﻧﺳﺑﺔ ‪ 3‬ﺇﻟﻰ ‪،2‬‬ ‫ﻭﻳﺣﻣﺹ ﺍﻟﻣﺯﻳﺞ ﻓﻲ ﻣﻘﻠﻰ ﻛﺑﻳﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻧﺣﺎﺱ ﺗﺑﻠﻎ ﻣﺳﺎﺣﺔ ﻗﺎﻋﺩﺗﻪ ﺳﺗﺔ ﺃﻣﺗﺎﺭ‬ ‫ﻣﺭﺑﻌﺔ ﻓﺗﺗﺣﺩ ﺫﺭﺍﺕ ﺍﻟﻘﻠﻲ ﻭﺍﻟﺭﻣﻝ ﺑﺎﻟﺣﺭﺍﺭﺓ‪ ،‬ﺛﻡ ﻳﻧﻘﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺭﻛﺏ ﺍﻟﻧﺎﺗﺞ ﻋﻧﻬﻣﺎ‬ ‫ﺇﻟﻰ ﺃﺗﻭﻥ ﻛﺑﻳﺭ ﻟﺻﻬﺭﻩ‪ ،‬ﻭﺑﻌﺩ ﻣﺭﻭﺭ ﻣﺩﺓ ﻻ ﺗﻘﻝ ﻋﻥ ﻋﺷﺭﻳﻥ ﻳﻭﻣﺎ ً ﺗﻛﻭﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺣﺭﺍﺭﺓ ﺧﻼﻟﻬﺎ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺃﺷﺩﻫﺎ ﺑﺻﻭﺭﺓ ﺩﺍﺋﻣﺔ ﻳﺗﺣﻭﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺯﻳﺞ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻣﺎﺩﺓ ﻟﺯﺟﺔ‬ ‫ﺗﻌﺭﻑ ﺑﺎﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﻣﺻﻬﻭﺭ‪ .‬ﻳﺗﺭﻙ ﺍﻷﺗﻭﻥ ﺑﻌﺩ ﺫﻟﻙ ﻟﻳﺑﺭﺩ‪ ،‬ﻭﻋﻧﺩﻫﺎ ﻳﺗﺷﻘﻖ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺭﻛﺏ ﻣﻥ ﺗﺄﺛﻳﺭ ﺍﻟﺭﻁﻭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻳﻣﺗﺻﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻬﻭﺍء‪ .‬ﻳﺯﻥ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﻣﺻﻬﻭﺭ ﻣﻥ‬ ‫ﺃﺭﺑﻌﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺳﺑﻌﺔ ﺃﻁﻧﺎﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﻭﺍﺣﺩﺓ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻭﻟﻣﺎ ﻟﻡ ﻳﻛﻥ ﻟﺩﻯ ﺻﺎﻧﻌﻲ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺁﻻﺕ ﺣﺩﻳﺛﺔ ﺃﻭ ﻗﻭﺍﻟﺏ ﺧﺎﺻﺔ‪ ،‬ﻓﻘﺩ‬ ‫ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﻋﻣﻠﻳﺔ ﺻﻧﻊ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺗﺣﺗﺎﺝ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻣﻬﺎﺭﺓ ﻭ َﺟ َﻠﺩ‪ ،‬ﺇﺫ ﺗﺅﺧﺫ ﻛﺗﻝ ﺻﻐﻳﺭﺓ ﻣﻥ‬ ‫ﻗﻁﻌﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭﺓ ﻭﺗﺻﻬﺭ ﻓﻲ ﻓﺭﻥ ﺧﺎﺹ ﻣﺻﻧﻭﻉ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ ﻭﺗﺣﻭﻝ‬ ‫ﺇﻟﻰ ﺧﺭﺯ ﺃﻭ ﺻﺣﻭﻥ ﺃﻭ ﻏﻳﺭﻫﺎ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻭﻣﻥ ﺛﻡ ﻳﻠﻭﻥ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺑﻣﺯﺟﻪ ﺑﻛﻣﻳﺎﺕ ﻣﻥ ﺃﻛﺳﻳﺩ ﺍﻟﻧﺣﺎﺱ ﻭﺍﻟﺭﺻﺎﺹ‬ ‫ﻭﺣﺟﺭ ﺍﻟﻣﻐﻧﻳﺳﻳﻭﻡ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺟﻭﺩ ﺑﻛﺛﺭﺓ ﻓﻲ ﺗﻠﻙ ﺍﻷﻧﺣﺎء ﻭﺗﺿﺎﻑ ﺇﻟﻳﻪ ﻧﺳﺏ‬ ‫ﺃﺻﺑﺣﺕ ﻣﻌﺭﻭﻓﺔ ﺑﺎﻻﺧﺗﺑﺎﺭ ﻋﻧﺩ ﺻﺎﻧﻌﻳﻪ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻭﻗﺩ ﻋﺯﻑ ﺃﻫﻝ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻋﻥ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﻁﺭﻳﻘﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻘﻠﻳﺩﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺻﻧﻊ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﻣﻧﺫ‬ ‫ﻗﺭﺍﺑﺔ ﺃﺭﺑﻌﻳﻥ ﺳﻧﺔ ﻟﻁﻭﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺩﺓ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺗﺗﻁﻠﺑﻬﺎ‪ ،‬ﻭﻟﻘﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺣﻁﺏ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺟﻭﺩ ﻓﻲ ﺗﻠﻙ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺟﻬﺎﺕ‪ ،‬ﻭﺍﺳﺗﻌﻳﺽ ﻋﻧﻬﺎ ﻭﻋﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺍﺩ ﺍﻷﻭﻟﻳﺔ ﺑﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﻣﻛﺳﺭ ﻳﺟﻣﻊ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﺩﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭﺓ ﻭﻟﺗﺑﺩﺃ ﺑﺫﻟﻙ ﻣﺭﺣﻠﺔ ﺃﺧﺭﻯ ﺟﺩﻳﺩﺓ ﻓﻲ ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺍﻟﺧﻠﻳﻠﻲ‪.‬‬

‫‪Photo by Padres Hana‬‬

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People of Palestine Ahmad Jamhour

People of Palestine is a project by Ahmad Jamhour, PACC’s Content Management Intern, a very active member of the community, and a talented photographer. This August, he launched his photography project “People of Palestine” which highlights Palestinian American youth in the Greater New York Area. The photos can be viewed on his Instagram @peopleofpalestinenj. We will be featuring his project throughout volume five of Falastin.

Maryam Abukwaik “To be a Palestinian in diaspora for me means to be mixed with other stories, other cultures and other narratives. It means being on the outside. My diaspora experience is always being asked for solutions instead of how I feel inside. I want people to see that I am Palestinian.

But I am also South Asian. Neither of those identities come first. I am a woman. I am Muslim. I have a blue passport that tells me I belong to the United States but I know that I do not belong here. I know that I am a settler while also having land stripped from me across an ocean. I know that I carry generational trauma but the direct occupation is something I have never experienced for a long period of time. I am complicit in another, older occupation. This is Palestine in diaspora for me. It is entrenched in being oppressed while being an oppressor. It looks like fighting my own people sometimes, being told I have to choose my identity, forced into small boxes of other people‘s minds and it all gets to me. Diaspora has taught me to define myself on my own terms and who I want to be within all my identities. It’s taught me Photo by Ahmad Jamhour to confront fear by designating it only to God. Diaspora is painful but I realize now I can only thank it for the lessons it’s given me.”

Barry Mahmoud “Being Palestinian to me means more than just knowing how to do Dabka and having a flag in your Instagram bio. Growing up in a Palestinian household with two falahi parents made me into the person I am.

Palestine is more than just a label, it’s a part of me. Living outside of the homeland is supposed to make keeping my identity difficult but, thanks to the strength of this community, it’s hard not to have Palestine on your mind at least 100 times throughout your day. I attended public schools and lived in Clifton my entire life, yet at times I feel I have a stronger connection to my culture than those living abroad. Whenever I visit Beit Anan, my home town, many are surprised by how “the American'' is so immersed in his balad and its people. Even here, my parents often receive compliments over how strong my Arabic is and how great of a dancer I am, and I thank them for giving me the push to ensure that their identity lives on through me and the ones who will come after me.”

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour 11

Massara Haseeb on TikTok, Tatreez, and Tradition Reem Farhat Like millions of people across the world, artist and student Massara Haseeb’s life was completely turned inside out after the pandemic hit. In early March, Haseeb and her sister were busy preparing for an upcoming trip to Washington D.C. to attend a conference. She was working out her schedule with her internship and making arrangements to make up for the days she’d be gone. Haseeb had been planning the trip for months. Mere days before they were set to leave, she received word that the conference, and subsequently her trip, was canceled due to concerns about the coronavirus.

A few days later, she received a phone call from the human resources department at her internship.

“Sorry to let you know, but we’re going to have to let you go,” said the woman on the line, with no greeting or pleasant exchange.

And in one fell swoop, both her internship and spring break plans had been abruptly cancelled, leaving Haseeb unsure about the months to come.

However, Haseeb did not let herself wallow for long.

Photo provided by Massara Haseeb According to Joanna Barakat, an artist and photographer who founded “The Tatreez Circle,” an online platform centered around the practice of Palestinian embroidery, tatreez is “far more than a decorative embellishment, but a language of its own.”

“I feel like I went through the five stages of grief in one hour,” she said.

“Besides telling the onlooker which village a woman was from, her embroidery revealed many personal characteristics, such as her socioeconomic background, marital status, religion, and spiritual beliefs,” she said.

She decided to use her time to explore her art.

This eventually led to her starting her own business, “Massara’s Products,” where she sold handmade bookmarks with a Palestinian twist. She was quickly flooded with orders in a response that went beyond any of her expectations.

Nearly every Palestinian woman has a thobe, a traditional hand-embroidered Palestinian dress, in her closet. They’re worn at weddings and community events, and every woman is gifted one when she gets married to wear on her “henna,” a traditional party that takes place the day before Palestinian weddings. These dresses are often matrilineal and passed down from mother to daughter. Making a single one could take months, and historically, the dresses with the most embroidery on them were a

Haseeb’s bookmarks are covered with intricate Palestinian embroidery called “tatreez.” Tatreez is a centuries long practice that has been passed down from generation to generation. The patterns include flowers, wheat, and other shapes intricately weaved into fabric. Palestinians across the diaspora have created programs and workshops in order to preserve the practice and teach it to newer generations.

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symbol of status because the more tatreez visible on a gown, the more expensive it is.

refugees fleeing Palestine after the Nakba in 1948, a mass exodus of Palestinians from their land, most of them came seeking economic opportunity as a result of the Israeli occupation. Growing up in such a robust community meant that Haseeb had no shortage of ties to her identity. She believes connecting to one’s roots is essential.

For Haseeb, this practice keeps her connected to her Palestinian traditions.

“I like to represent my culture as much as possible. Learning tatreez was a really good way to preserve the culture and do something that would help me feel like I was tied back to my roots,” Haseeb said.

“Being tied to our roots is so important because if we don’t have our culture and we don’t have our traditions, what do we have? Our land is being taken from us, so it is important for me to represent Palestine in any way that I can,” she said.

By making tatreez bookmarks, Haseeb found a way to make this centuries-long practice fit in one’s pocket.

Before starting tatreez, Haseeb was making Palestinian-themed art. She started a series where she recreated notable Western paintings with a Palestinian twist. Among those, she recreated “Starry Night” with the skyline of Jerusalem and the “Girl with a Pearl Earring” with a woman dressed in traditional Palestinian clothes.

Haseeb answered the zoom call from her bedroom, where girly tones of grey and light pink graced her covers. She excitedly pulled out her firstever bookmark and one she made more recently to show the difference. Her first one was made over a year ago. It had three large olive green and yellow flowers lined up vertically in the middle, with olive green stitching around the borders. She brought it closer to the camera to show the stitches, which she described as “uneven” and “bulky.”

Haseeb first learned tatreez in December of 2018 while attending the MAS-ICNA convention, an annual national convention in Chicago for Muslim Americans. There, she met Jumana Al-Qawasmi, the founder of Watan, an art studio and shop dedicated to educating about Palestinian heritage and culture.

Al-Qawasmi was holding tatreez lessons and gave Haseeb cloth and thread to practice. It was after this convention that Haseeb went home and made her first-ever bookmark.

To any untrained eye, the first bookmark would seem fine, beautiful even. It wasn’t until she brought it side by side to one of her newest bookmarks that the change became tangible. Her newest bookmark, a simple white base with sky blue embroidery shaped in a snowflake-like pattern, is clean with near-perfect stitches. Seeing them side by side, it becomes clear: she is an artisan who has mastered her craft.

She briefly thought about making and selling these bookmarks, but pushed the idea aside because of how time consuming it would be. One bookmark takes around four and a half hours to embroider, and, at the time, Haseeb was searching for an internship related to her studies.

Her appreciation for tatreez is a combination of her love for her Palestinian identity and her passion for art. Haseeb was born and raised in the suburbs of Chicago and both her parents come from villages in Palestine. Her father is from a village called Arraba and her mother is from a village called Betunia, which is right outside the city of Ramallah. Her suburb is home to a thriving Palestinian population.

Many of the Palestinians there also have ties to Betunia, and there is even a Betunia Cultural Center right outside the city.

Haseeb is in her last semester at the Illinois Institute of Technology. She said that people often assume she’s majoring in something creative like fashion or art. But she chose a different route for herself and decided to major in mechanical engineering, a field she calls “glorified problem-solving.”

According to Haseeb, her background as an artist has influenced her engineering more than the other way around.

According to Mazen Dola, the president of the Palestinian American Club in Bridgeview, Illinois, the Greater Chicago Area is home to over 17,000 Palestinians from Betunia. While many of them were

“I feel like just having that creative aspect and (Continued on page 14)

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“After working on the 40 orders I had, I learned a lot of things. I learned that the bookmarks are taking me too long to do, I was charging way too little for a handmade item that was taking so long, and there needs to be a more convenient way for me and for customers to be able to order things. That’s when I decided to create a website and I thought that a website would justify me raising my prices because it would feel a little bit more official,” she said.

(Continued from page 13)

being able to think about things a little more creatively gives me an advantage when it comes to designing things,” Haseeb said.

When Haseeb finally secured an internship, it was abruptly ended due to the pandemic. At first, she threw herself into her artwork, utilizing TikTok to help promote her work. She describes the growth she’s had on the platform “insane.” On July 27, she posted a video onto TikTok of a painting she had made to honor George Floyd. Within less than a few days, the video went viral, amassing over 700,000 views in weeks.

She offers a wide range of colors and has a five dollar upcharge for each additional color. Each bookmark comes with a handwritten note thanking customers for their purchase and asking them to send images of their bookmarks to her Instagram.

“TikTok is like nothing I’ve used before. I’ve been trying to grow on my Instagram since 2014 and I have been using it for six years and I am barely at 2,000 and it took me so long to do that. Here I am on TikTok, I’ve had it for like four or five months, and I’m almost already at 6,000 followers,” she said.

Her customers are made up of young people from the ages 18-25, and to her surprise, come from a wide range of backgrounds. At first, she expected her consumer base to be made up of other Palestinians wanting a piece of their culture. And while that does make up a part of who buys her products, she was shocked to see that a majority of them weren’t Palestinian or even Arab. Many people just wanted to support her small business and had a love for the culture and embroidery.

What she loves about the platform is that it offers all users equal opportunity.

“Since TikTok has a ‘following page’ and a ‘for you page’ where you don’t necessarily have to be following people to view their content, I feel like everybody gets a chance. Everyone’s content gets boosted,’’ Haseeb said.

Haseeb has plans to start selling prints of her artwork on the site, but for now is focusing on tatreez. And when she’s ready to unveil her next product, she plans to promote it to her TikTok followers.

Her passion and excitement for the future makes one thing clear: Massara’s Products is just getting started.

It’s this algorithm that led to her almost immediate success with her embroidery business. Towards the end of March, Haseeb posted a picture of a bookmark she had made for herself on her Instagram, asking if anyone would be interested in purchasing one. She got a few orders, mostly from friends and family. But later, in mid July, she decided to post her bookmarks on Twitter and TikTok to reach more people.

“I thought the Twitter posts would get maybe 30 retweets and I’d get maybe one or two orders. I didn’t expect much. But 300 retweets and 38,000 views on TikTok later, I had almost 40 orders overnight,” she said.

Her immediate thoughts were that she needed to cap her orders, because otherwise she didn’t know when she’d be able to create them all. She also said she’s had to learn a lot about starting her own business as she goes.

Photo provided by Massara Haseeb 14

‫ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﺳﻛﺎﻛﺎ‬

‫ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬

‫ﺳ ْﻠﻔِﻳﺕ‪ ،‬ﻋﻠﻰ ﺧﻁ ﺇﺣﺩﺍﺛﻲ ﻣﺣﻠﻲ ﺷﻣﺎﻟﻲ‬ ‫ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺗﻘﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺷﻣﺎﻝ ﺷﺭﻕ ﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ َ‬ ‫‪ 167.88‬ﻡ‪ ،‬ﻭﺧﻁ ﺇﺣﺩﺍﺛﻲ ﻣﺣﻠﻲ ﺷﺭﻗﻲ ‪ 171.30‬ﻡ‪ ،‬ﻭﺗ[ﺭﺗ[ﻔ[ﻊ ﻋ[ﻥ ﺳ[ﻁ[ﺢ‬ ‫ﺳ ْﻠﻔِﻳﺕ ‪ 5‬ﻛﻡ‪ ،‬ﻭﺗﺑﻠﻎ ﻣﺳﺎﺣ[ﺗ[ﻬ[ﺎ ﺍﻟ[ﻛ[ﻠ[ﻳ[ﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺑﺣﺭ ‪ 700‬ﻡ‪ .‬ﺗﺑﻌﺩ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻋﻥ ﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ َ‬ ‫‪ 5311‬ﺩﻭﻧﻣﺎً‪ ،‬ﻭﻣﺳﺎﺣﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﻧﻁﻘﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺑﻧ[ﻳ[ﺔ ﻓ[ﻳ[ﻬ[ﺎ ‪ 216‬ﺩﻭﻧ[ﻣ[ﺎً‪ ،‬ﻭﺗ[ﺣ[ﻳ[ﻁ ﺑ[ﻬ[ﺎ‬ ‫ﺳﻭﻑ‪ .‬ﻭﺗﺑﻌﺩ ﻋﻥ ﻣ[ﺩﻳ[ﻧ[ﺔ‬ ‫ﺳ ْﻠﻔِﻳﺕ ﻭﺍﻟﺳﺎﻭﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﻠﺑﻥ ﺍﻟﺷﺭﻗﻳﺔ ﻭ َﻣ ْﺭ َﺩﺍ ﻭ َﻳﺎ ُ‬ ‫ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻲ َ‬ ‫ً‬ ‫ﻧﺎﺑﻠﺱ ‪ 27‬ﻛﻳﻠﻭ ﻣﺗﺭﺍ ﺣﻳﺙ ﺗﻘ[ﻊ ﻋ[ﻠ[ﻰ ﺭﺃﺱ ﺟ[ﺑ[ﻝ ﻭﺗﺷ[ﺭﻑ ﻋ[ﻠ[ﻰ ﺍﻟﺳ[ﻬ[ﻭﻝ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﺗﻼﻝ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻳﺑﻠﻎ ﻋﺩﺩ ﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﺗﺟﻣﻊ ﺣﺳﺏ ﺗﻌﺩﺍﺩ ﺍﻟﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﻭﺍﻟ[ﻣ[ﺳ[ﺎﻛ[ﻥ ﻭﺍﻟ[ﻣ[ﻧ[ﺷ[ﺂﺕ –‬ ‫‪ 912 ،2007‬ﻓﺭﺩﺍ ً ﻣﻧﻬﻡ ‪ 492‬ﺫﻛﺭﺍ ً ﻭ‪ 420‬ﺃﻧﺛﻰ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﺑﻠﻎ ﻋﺩﺩ ﺍﻷﺳ[ﺭ ‪153‬‬ ‫ﺃﺳﺭﺓ‪ .‬ﻳﺫﻛﺭ ﺃﻥ ﺃﺻﻝ ﺃﻫﺎﻟﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻳﻌﻭﺩ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻗﺑﻳﻠﺔ ﺑ[ﻧ[ﻲ ﻋ[ﻁ[ﻳ[ﺔ ﺍﻟ[ﺣ[ﺟ[ﺎﺯﻳ[ﺔ‬ ‫)ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﺗﻘﻳﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺗﺑﻭﻙ ﻭﻧﺎﺣﻳﺗﻬﺎ ﺑﺎﻟﺣﺟﺎﺯ( ﻭﻟﻬﻡ ﺃﻗﺎﺭﺏ ﻓﻲ ﻓﺎﺭﺓ ﻭﺣﻼﻭﺓ ﻭ‬ ‫ﻛﻔﺭ ﻧﻌﻣﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺷﺭﻗﻲ ﺍﻷﺭﺩﻥ‪ .‬ﻳﻌﻭﺩ ﺗﺎﺭﻳﺦ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺍﻟﻘﺩﻳﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺇﻟ[ﻰ ﺳ[ﻧ[ﺔ‬ ‫‪785‬ﻫـ‪ ،‬ﺑﻳﻧﻣﺎ ﺃﻧﺷﺋﺕ ﻣﺩﺭﺳﺗﻬﺎ ﺑﻌﺩ ﺍﻟ[ﻧ[ﻛ[ﺑ[ﺔ ﺑ[ﺎﻻﺷ[ﺗ[ﺭﺍﻙ ﻣ[ﻊ ﻗ[ﺭﻳ[ﺔ ﻳ[ﺎﺳ[ﻭﻑ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺟﺎﻭﺭﺓ ﻟﻬﺎ‪ .‬ﻭﺗﺷﺭﺏ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻣﻥ ﻳﻧﺑﻭﻋﻳﻥ‪ :‬ﻧﺑﻊ ﺍﻟﻌﻳﻥ ﻭﻧﺑﻊ ﺍﻟﻘﺻﺏ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻧﺷﺎﻁﺎﺕ ﺍﻻﻗﺗﺻﺎﺩﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﺯﺭﺍﻋﻳﺔ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻳﺑﻠﻎ ﻋﺩﺩ ﺍﻟﻣﻧﺷﺂﺕ ﺍﻻﻗﺗﺻﺎﺩﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻣﻠﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺎﻉ ﺍﻟ[ﺧ[ﺎﺹ ‪ 34‬ﻣ[ﻧ[ﺷ[ﺄﻩ‬ ‫)ﻭﻓﻘﺎ ً ﻟﺗﻌﺩﺍﺩ ‪ ،(2007‬ﻭﻳ[ﻌ[ﻣ[ﻝ ﻓ[ﻳ[ﻬ[ﺎ ‪ 69‬ﻋ[ﺎﻣ[ﻼً ﻣ[ﻧ[ﻬ[ﻡ ‪ 52‬ﺫﻛ[ﺭﺍ ً ﻭ ‪17‬‬ ‫ﺃﻧﺛﻰ‪ .‬ﻛﻣﺎ ﻳﻭﺟﺩ ﻓﻳﻪ ﻣﺯﺭﻋﺗﺎﻥ ﻟﻠﺣﻳﻭﺍﻧﺎﺕ ﻭﺍﻟﻁﻳﻭﺭ‪.‬‬

‫ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﺳﻛﺎﻛﺎ‬ ‫ﻋﺩﺳﺔ ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬

‫ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﺳﻛﺎﻛﺎ‬ ‫ﻋﺩﺳﺔ ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬ ‫‪15‬‬

Cultural Cultivation and Assimilation Layla Odeh

Growing up, I remember cringing whenever a family event approached, specifically a wedding. I always would think of a classic couple of questions: “Who are these people?” and “When are we going home?” All the memories I have from weddings or related events would come from photographs, not memories from my personal experience. Yet, I remember experiencing my first traditional Palestinian event from the comfort of my own home at about eleven years old.

shopping for wedding decorations, it is an opportunity to make arrangements that further their bonds with one another. Yet, the wedding is not the only occasion in need of extravagance.

There are many traditions that characterize a Palestiniain wedding. A Palestinian marriage could not get underway without the joyous sounds of the ululation or zaghareet. Zaghareet expresses the happiness and joy felt by both sides of the family, specifically of the women as they are usually the ones performing the zaghareet. It typically symbolizes the commencement of the celebration or event.

My cousin was getting engaged to a Palestinian whose family was deeply rooted in tradition. I was in awe of the amount of gold presented to her and Henna is a popular art observed by multiple culthe traditional dresses his tures, mainly Indian, Pakisisters, aunts, and mother “Gold necklaces, bracelets, and an- stani, and various African had worn for the occasion.

The house was bustling with klets are commonly worn to events communities. For Palestinian wedding ceremonial events, pride and joy as the DJ such as the henna night and wedding the henna designs are simple played Arabic music while the women chimed in by and are worn by women from both patterns, yet extremely intricate at the same time. Henna singing folk songs. I rememsides of the family. “ is applied during the Henna ber backyard gatherings afnight, which occurs the night terwards filled with laughter and the taste of mansaf before the wedding ceremony and is a gathering inupon my lips as our families got to know one anothvolving food and dancing. The women dance in harer. Such occasions became more than a matter of mony to old folk songs while some decorate the photos for me and instead led to a desire to look bride’s hand with intricate patterns of henna. deeper into these traditions.

As mesmerizing as the henna is to guests, the traditional dress, or thobe, worn by the bride for the occasion is expected to be more mesmerizing. The Palestinian thobe displays a sense of affinity to the bride’s identity through its embroidered patterns, or tatreez, typically in black and red. In older generations, the thobe represented the bride’s social class in heritage, ancestry, and affiliations. Some brides wear ones passed down to them from their mother or grandmother.

When it comes to sticking to tradition from a Palestinian perspective, the timeline leading up to marriage entails many customs passed on from generation to generation. The happiness which resonates from these customs and traditions manifests the joyous spirits of our ancestors. Its ordained and detailed planning makes for years of memories to come.

In the time leading up to the wedding, both sides of the family meet up and get to know one another. Whether it's participating in late-night gettogethers called sahra or engaging in last-minute

The bride must look her best at such events mentioned above, and the guests make it a priority to look their absolute best as well. Women sometimes 16

more proactive in educating themselves, the knowledge can expand beyond the diaspora and help make more allies.

adorn themselves in traditional dresses accompanied by embellished headdresses. The most common headdress worn is called al-suffeh and is lined with gold coins all around the head. If the emphasis on adornment was not enough within the clothing, its importance in jewelry particularly sets apart the Palestinian customs of wedding events from other countries. Jewelry and other accessories play an important role in Palestinian women's attire. Gold necklaces, bracelets, and anklets are commonly worn to events such as the henna night and wedding and are worn by women from both sides of the family. It is also a common Palestinian tradition that gold is gifted to the bride as wishes of extended health, happiness, and prosperity from the groom's and her families. The gift of gold is symbolic because there is no exchanging of rings in traditional Palestinian weddings.

Growing up in a suburb which lacked diversity, I often found myself incorporating my identity into projects and conversations to educate my peers and friends at school on the subject of Palestine and my identity as a Palestinian. When I was younger, I remember being shy each time I had to present or create a project about my heritage because no one was familiar with Palestine. By sticking with my parents and allowing them to assist in these projects, their joy and pride in their Palestinian heritage would kindle my own admiration in the years to come.

Instead of complaining about having to attend weddings for my family members or drive a distance away to attend a community event, I learned over the years that moments like these are the ones my ancestors would have taken pride in. As such, I envision what I would want future generations of the diaspora to know and take from their Palestinian identity.

When the wedding ceremony arrives, the bride and groom's entrance is met with a zaffeh. The zaffeh formally announces that the marriage celebration is about to begin and is the first moment the groom sees the bride in her wedding dress. A parade of family members of women performing the Zaghareet and men playing the tablah or Middle Eastern percussion instrument make up the zaffeh. Yet, the tablahs and zaghareet are not the only means of expression that engulf the guests with excitement. Dabke, a Levantine folk dance, is a combination of line dancing and circle dancing often performed at Palestinian weddings. The men link hands in celebration and perform synchronized footwork, specifically stomping, while oftentimes rotating in circular motions. A tablah is also the center of attention because it creates the rhythm to be followed in the synchronization present in dabke.

The Palestinian tradition is seen most prominently in such joyous occasions as weddings, yet preserving customs and embracing the beauty of them in other ways is something to keep in mind. Tradition serves as a connection to the ancestors one never had the chance to meet first hand; instead, their stories and memories are passed down to generations to teach identity. As the Palestinian diaspora only continues to grow in the West, keeping the culture alive becomes more imperative. Young members of the Palestinian diaspora must increase their knowledge of tradition and history to preserve our identity. If members within the community become

Artwork by Melina Sobi IG: melinasobi.art 17

The Silenced Native Religious Rights Fatimah Alhomeidany

Originally written for Study in Religious Text with Dr. Clatterbuck at Montclair University The Ramapough Lenape Nation is a tribe located near the Ramapo Mountains in New Jersey that have faced several obstacles in an attempt to righteously practice their freedom of religion. A plot of land, located in Mahwah, N.J. between the Ramapo Hunt and Polo Club Association, has been heavily argued about in regards to who owns it and what it should be used for. The Ramapough primarily use it to practice their culture and religion, while the gated community that it is located in, known as the Polo Club, have expressed their disinterest in letting the Ramapough people express their religious customs as they find them to be very loud and disruptive.

The Polo Club say this land is legally a residentially zoned plot and should not be used for religious ceremonies. Meanwhile, the Ramapough state that they should be able to express freedom of religion without fear of receiving race-based discrimination.

These concerns for the safety of their land and their identities prompted them to band together as a community and protest against these oil pipelines. Luckily, their efforts did not go in vain. It was announced in July 2020 that the Dakota Access Pipeline would be shut down for environmental review, and would be completely emptied from oil by August 5. Needless to say, this was a success for the Ramapough Nation.

Going back to the fight for maintaining the SRS Prayer Camp, the Ramapough people have received multiple fines and have been involved in lawsuits claiming the land is not theirs to use. Neighbors have been reporting the Ramapough to the police because they saw signs posted on what is believed to be private property and vans parked in prohibited areas. Tensions between the township of Mahwah and the Ramapough people have increased since, with allegations stating the Ramapough do not have the necessary permits to move soil and build teepees, and the township possibly removing their teepees by force. This proves that the neighbors were abusing their privilege to eradicate the Ramapough and dismiss their rights as human beings.

The space that is being debated, known as Split Rock Sweetwater Prayer Camp, has seen many battles in regards to rights and religious freedom.

Around April 2016, #nodapl was trending on Twitter to protest the possible oil pipeline, known as the Dakota Access Pipeline, that would cross the camp and ruin their water supply. On top of that, the threat that President Trump and his campaign posed on the tribal community could affect their living conditions since Trump is seen as an opponent to the Ramapough. This is the second time a proposed pipeline intersected with the SRS Prayer Camp. Back in 2014, Pilgrim Pipeline Holdings planned to create a pipeline that ran from Albany, N.Y. to Linden, N.J. to supply more petroleum to places that do not have direct access to it. This was a huge risk for the Ramapough because of the potential safety hazards that could come as a result, along with tainted drinking water. Beyond environmental impacts, the Ramapough have spiritual concerns as well. Their spiritual connection to the Earth provides them with an obligation to keep their lands and waters safe.

These zoning laws make it especially hard for Native Americans to practice their beliefs. Needless to say, both sides went to court and the jury was in favor of the Ramapough nation. However, this is not the only example of the lack of freedom of religious expression amongst the Native American community. Ask yourself this: if we as a society have collectively claimed that today’s world is more advanced and accepting of people from different cultural backgrounds compared to colonial times, why are Native Americans still unable to fully engage in their religious ceremonies without having to fear repercussions? What can the general public do to raise (Con nued on page 21)

18

Traditions Marah Siyam

Tradition, the thread cutting the lines on my palm the way wire cuts through clay.

generations that have gone astray before me.

Tradition, the gold coins imprinting on my forehead as I jump up and down in celebration.

Whether my legs forget the way home or not, my Grandmother's tea leaves have already seeped enough in the water.

Whether these coins are seen as greed or not, they are another girl’s security fund, college fund, security blanket. Let the girls have the gold, they might need it one day to match the gold in their souls.

Tradition, not the music at weddings but the tears of a mother watching her eldest leave.

Tradition cannot be explained, written down, or studied. It is learned through warm embraces, neighbors offering breakfast to the travelling family next door, mothers telling stories of their fathers to their sons, fathers telling the stories of their mothers to their daughters. The flavors of your childhood are not accidental, the familiar scent you cannot name is not your mind playing tricks, the heat you feel on the side of your face is the sun from your homeland trying to reach you.

Whether she is leaving for school or for marriage, the house of her parents is more than a street address, but a plot of land thousands of miles away stained with her dusty footsteps.

Tradition, is universal but the universe I’ve been born into welcomes me with pages filled on how to love and respect my elders.

Whether the words slip off my tongue or not, the consistency of hospitality hangs around my wrist like a pair of keys. Although time may strip me of these customs, some needed to be buried with the

Tradition can be explained, written down, and studied, if done so through love and time, organically, naturally, and with respect.

Artwork by Nisrin Shahin IG: @Nisrin.Shahin

19

A Dream Deferred, Then Found Again Israa Mohammed Jamal

This is a story of grinding poverty, the strangling confines of rigid patriarchy and narrowed options due to lack of education. This also is a story of a dream stolen, then pursued and achieved 31 years later.

Nahla Abu Dagga is now 47 years old, with eight children, two daughters and six sons, ranging in age from 10 to 30. But this story starts when Nahla was just 16. It was 1987 and the First Intifada was raging across the Palestinian territories, including Gaza. Nahla’s older sister secured a job in Saudi Arabia and their father was in a quandary: he wanted to protect his older daughter by traveling with her to her new home, but how could he leave Nahla without the supervision of a man? His solution became pushing Nahla into marriage, thus having her dropout of high school to become a wife. Her husband, four years older, had at least finished secondary school, but his own family’s need for financial support meant university was not an option. Instead, he found manual-labor work in Israel, the land of his occupier. The work paid better than what could be found at home; however, that option has since been foreclosed by the ever-tightening Israeli blockade.

Abeer married into a family in which her father-inlaw insisted she stay at home instead of pursuing her education. A girl going out of the home alone is not “appropriate,” said her husband.

In Abeer’s case, however, her husband was abusive in other ways as well. This is when her father’s attitude about education and marriage began to change. He joined Nahla in supporting Abeer when she left her husband and moved back home. When their youngest daughter, Zohoor, was ready to complete high school, her parents united in supporting her desire for further education.

This time, however, it was Nahla’s turn too.

Thirty years after Nahla was forced to leave high school before completing the final tawjihi exam, she joined Zohoor so they could take it together. For Zohoor, the exam determined the subject she would study in university. For Nahla, it’s a dream fulfilled.

“We all worked to persuade our dad that Mom should take the exam with me,” says Zohoor. “We said we would help her at home and my brothers would help pay the expenses. When he finally agreed, I was over the moon with happiness for her—and for me. The final year of high school is really hard and it was so great to have my mom truly by my side.”

Nahla was a clever and distinguished student, and she tried several times to persuade her husband to let her return to school. Instead, he believed her focus should be on home and family: her life thus revolved around cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry and raising her children.

“This is the society in which I was raised,” shrugged Nahla. “I had to put my dreams behind me and focus on my children. But I always paid attention to who received the best tawjihi results each year, and when top students lived near me, I made it a point to congratulate them. I lived vicariously through them.”

Nahla’s children did their best to support their mother and help her as she studied. Abeer, who had studied to complete her own tawjihi in secret and then went on to university, coached her in English along with her brother Anas. Another son, Ismail, who completed a university degree in computer science, helped her study technology. This was particularly needed, since it wasn’t a subject when she was still in high school. Zohoor studied everything with her mom, saying she felt like they had become

Despite Nahla’s belief in the importance of education and her own regrets, she watched as her husband pushed their oldest daughter, Abeer, in the same direction. Before she could finish high school, 20

“twin sisters.”

This story was republished and edited with permission from We Are Not Numbers, a Gaza based non profit dedicated to sharing the stories of Gazans to audiences all over the world. To read more of Israa’s work and other We Are Not Numbers writers visit www.wearenotnumbers.org

On each day of studying, the two would complete their household chores then retreat to Zohoor’s bedroom. If Nahla left for any reason, Zohoor called her back; she found that she could concentrate the best with her mother in the room. When Zohoor was confused about a subject or problem, Nahla explained it to her and vice versa.

“Everyone got involved!” laughs Zohoor. “My friends loved her a lot and my teachers encouraged her too. Everyone who knows her cheered her on.”

And then came the day when the results were announced: Nahla, 95%; Zohoor, 91%. Many hugs, dancing and singing were shared among Nahla’s children, daughters-in-law and grandchildren.

Now what? Nahla isn’t done. Both she and Zohoor have registered to attend Gaza’s Al-Aqsa University—with the daughter choosing interior design and the mother pursuing Islamic studies. In fact, Nahla is already thinking about getting her Master’s degree and Ph.D.!

With Zohoor’s friends saying “My mother should complete her studies too!” Nahla is encouraging them to do so as well. In Nahla’s words, “It is never too late to achieve your dreams. You just must have determination and persistence. I hope I can be a good role model for every woman who has left her dream of education behind. We can challenge our circumstances! We can do it!”

Nahla (Left) and Zohoor (Right) graduate high school together

(Continued from page 18)

our support. Make sure you elect people in our government that have openly spoken out about Native American freedom and hold them accountable for the promises they make. It’s important we make sure their voices are heard and they receive an equal amount of treatment and benefits. Remember, silence is compliance.

awareness on Native American suppression of freedom?

For starters, we cannot move and adapt as a society if people do not learn about what is happening to minority-groups. Stay connected with the news! Actively post your voice and use your platform of privilege to bring attention to Native tribes who need 21

Eyes Opened Ramez Hayek

Scared, the sound of your heartbeat is as loud as the sound Of the gunshot that is about to shoot the bullet of your eternal sleep.

Whispering sounds, crying noises, scared expressions.

Similar shades of the color of the pain that your eyes will always glimpse Throughout the journey you take.

You feel the sand wind whispering and shouting to your ears The crying sounds of your dead family, -you stand still Waiting for your body to get wiped away by that same greedy wind, Just to feel satisfied.

Nothing happens, though, you are just left Alone like emptiness Alone like abandonment Alone like blankness Alone like me.

All the pieces of the puzzle are put into place except for one… me.

I’m the light in this dark, but I can’t find my own sight.

I see images of bodies falling like my harsh tears, People dying by the same bullets that are yet to be shot at me, Eyes crying, reflecting the death of their lonely children in front of the same eyes.

Eyes opened just to witness their small house shattered into incomplete pieces.

Blood screams so loud as you stare at your mother’s corpse trembling hard, Losing its last inch of life.

Different images, Two eyes, A single person, but million stories that are narrated.

The heavy chains of these dark memories became hemmed inside a locked place That you can never enter again.

Your emotions are replaced by a deep painful void that erases your identity Feeling exactly like a real fake.

You walk quickly, so you do not make a sound, But with each step you take, you feel the sad wind following you, And with each move you make, the rush of sounds in your ears gets louder As the moon gets darker.

Minutes after, you hear them coming closer and closer, You try to hide, but the dark presence still persists stronger than ever.

You glimpse the lonely margins of the cursed heaven you are about to enter.

Crimson blood all over your body, Similar to the blood of the dead children who are washed off Like the memories of that night.

Eyes closed, Soul taken, Doors shut.

Eyes closed just to see darkness; the darkness of the dead.

Cold like the old, Gone to the stone, Dead like red, End like the eyes you are about to shut.

22

Person of PACC: An Interview with Raed Odeh Falastin Staff Every issue, Falastin highlights a different member of the PACC community as the “Person of PACC.” This issue, we are incredibly honored to be highlighting Raed Odeh. He is a PACC board member, one of the founders of CAFA (a coalition for raising awareness about drugs in our community), a South Paterson business owner and well-connected community member.

What inspires your work in the community?

When I think about this question I am flooded with many thoughts and memories. I have been a part of this community for more than thirty years and have experienced many things. Having all this knowledge of all the things going on in the community inspires me to be there for those who need help and drives me to make a change. I want to live in a community that not only encourages taking care of one's physical well-being, but that also focuses on emotional and mental health. With that being what inspires me is knowing that failure is not an option because failing the community means failing my family and my children. We fail them by not giving them the opportunity to grow up in an environment where they feel at home and instead we face the reality of having them feel like outsiders in their own community. We need to foster a clean and safe environment for our children and their children to not only grow up in, but to prosper in. Part of this is the need to address the growing drug issue in our community. I am motivated to do everything in my power to help educate the parents of our community on ways to detect this issue and methods to educate our children on what exactly they are getting themselves into by messing with drugs.

need more energy. In regards to the drug problem in our community, we need more help from people who have lived through drug abuse and these difficult situations to tell their stories and help those in the same situations. We do not want to keep finding ourselves falling into that same cycle. As a community, we can and will do better.

What is your favorite Palestinian tradition?

My favorite Palestinian tradition is rooted in learning about our history. It excites me to pick up a book about my hometown and learn more about our culture and tradition. It also excites me to pick up a traveling brochure and see all the different places I can visit when I am overseas. I enjoy watching shows on the old Palestinian stories and folktales that are told. I regularly watch movies that expose the true embodiment of the oppression that is happening in my country, Palestine. It is upsetting to watch, but it is far more important to show people and truly understand what's going on on the ground. These movies and stories also capture important moments in history that are critical to preserve for generations to come.

What do you think our community needs most?

First and foremost, we need security and safety.

Secondly, we need to learn how to work together to help pick each other up when they have fallen. We need to find ways to help each other grow out of bad habits and not mask one another's faults. We need to provide our community members with support and help to address their struggles. The reality is that we can never have enough help and we will always 23

PACC thanks YOU Thank you for supporting us by picking up this magazine!

If you have any suggestions and/or contributions, please reach us at falastin@paccusa.org. We are always looking for new content and artwork!

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388 Lakeview Ave, Clifton, NJ 07011 // www.paccusa.org // info@paccusa.org // 973-253-6145

FALASTIN

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