Forever in Us Rania Odeh
“You can take Palestinians out of Palestine, but you can’t take Palestine out of Palestinians”- I’ve never resonated with anything more in my life. I haven’t been to Palestine in 14 years, but my connection to the land and its people is undying.
their burden, because watching them suffer was too much to bear. There came a point where everyone in Gaza accepted that these may be their final days, and it was the most heart-breaking thing. Our family members started comforting us, telling us to take care of our mental health and not to worry about them because they’re accepting of God’s plans for them. It was at that point that my anguish surpassed my fear of public speaking, and I volunteered to speak at the rally for Palestine in my city, Perth, Australia because I knew that no one else felt as deeply as I did.
Whenever tensions rise in any parts of historic Palestine, Gazans already anticipate that they’ll bear the consequences. I remember holding my breath when the tensions in Al Aqsa Mosque were rising, because this time felt different. I’ve never seen so much attention on Palestine, and for the first time Israel didn’t have a scapegoat to justify it’s crimes – until it decided to flip the script and drag Hamas into the center of it all. The 11 days of horror that ensued afterwards are ones I’ll never forget.
The survivor’s guilt was all consuming, but I had to remind myself that in a battle, not all soldiers are sent to the battlefield. I had the privilege to use my voice to spread awareness: so I picked up the microphone and let my Palestinian tongue take the lead. My legs were shaking and my heart was racing, but in that moment nothing mattered except the message I was so desperately trying to preach- and thousands of protesters resonated with it. The sense of community and belonging on that day is something that will stay with me forever.
I vividly recall a conversation I had with my cousin a day or two after Israel started bombarding Gaza with rockets. I shared my fears that this will escalate to the same level it did in 2014, when Israel attacked Gazans by air, land and sea. She tried to comfort me by saying there'll be a ceasefire soon-there always is after a day or two. She told me that it can’t possibly get any worse than it already is, because between the blockade, the Coronavirus, and indiscriminate airstrikes…they’ll all surely die.
We may not be in Palestine, but Palestine is forever in us.
My protest speech was posted online, and subsequently, a journalist reached out to me for an interview. I was invited to speak at a second rally, and was later approached by community members praising me for my efforts and encouraging me to use my voice more and to consider mentoring Palestinian youth for future events. I’ve never been one to chase the spotlight, but this was never about me. When my cousin saw the videos from the protests, she told me that it felt comforting to know that the Palestinians in the diaspora haven’t forgotten about them. I was baffled that this was a common belief in Gaza. The rest of the world may have turned their backs on Palestine, but how could we? We may not be in Palestine, but Palestine is forever in us.
Instead, it got worse. My cousins’ group chat turned into a platform to check attendance after each blast. Our TV was on Aljazeera Live 24/7, watching the events unfold in real-time. I’d wake up multiple times throughout the night, not waiting for my eyes to adjust to my phone screen before frantically checking for updates from my family and friends. I have never felt so helpless in my life. I started telling my cousin that I wished I was there to share 9
