WHAT IS YOUR IMMIGRATION STORY?
My family moved here in 1991, it was me, my mom and my dad. We immigrated here from Gaza, Palestine as a way to get a better life to have more opportunity and for our dad to provide for us. And unfortunately, the country we came from has been destabilized by multiple countries, including America and the illegal state of Israel. When I was a little kid, I would always say that I was from Jordan because my dad's side of the family got displaced from Palestine there. And my dad still has some of his family in Gaza, but most of my mom's side of the family is there. So it's frustrating because you can't really be yourself. You just go around life essentially trying to be powerful, trying to adapt to your surroundings and at the end of the day, like, you just feel empty at some point. Like, why can't I be Palestinian? Why can't I be proud to be a Palestinian? Why can't I share my food with the internet or just regular everyday people without me being labeled as the good Arab? So it's great to see other cultures here in America, but something that all the immigrants have in common is that America loves our culture but does not like us as people. For example, growing up and going into the corporate world you have to essentially hide yourself or whitewash yourself so you're palatable to others or the corporate culture, and when we no longer want to abide by that and be us, it becomes a problem.
WHAT DOES YOUR CURRENT JOURNEY LOOK LIKE?
When I would talk about my family getting murdered in Palestine by the IOF, that was a problem. When I would talk about my people getting genocided, that was a problem. And I can't raise awareness without businesses not wanting to associate themselves with me or my family; we were essentially having to teach us to adapt to our surroundings because we don't want to get in trouble. At the start of the genocide, I was working with the New World's tourism industry, tourism board, and I was also working with local supermarket rouses, and I would talk about my people and the family members I lost. I still don't really know how to process that. Those companies that I was currently contracted to work with, both dropped me for talking about Palestine because it was too hot of a topic or my account was too hot to be touched or work with. I was also calling for a boycott of Israeli-owned businesses because they also are raising money to donate to soldiers who are killing my family and my friends. And that made me think, Why work with someone and love what they do but hate them as a person? I know at the root of every person of color is a story where we all struggle with our identities and how we navigate life on an everyday basis because at any time they could kick us out if they wanted to because we're not white- it doesn't matter because we're not looked at as human. I think that's what pisses me off the most. I have everything at my fingertips here in America, but you don't feel alive like you do when you touch land that you belong in. When my wife and I take vacations now, we pick places where we can experience the indigenous population and what they do there. And that's the closest that I can feel to home because I can't go back home.
REFLECTIONS
Our dream is to just go back. Just last week, my mom sent us some pictures of our old homes and the old Gaza before it got shrunk down. Because we used to live in a region called Beit Lahm, which is like 20 minutes north of Gaza city. And I got to see all the old homes, even though like there's really not much left other than a couple of walls. I am hopeful that, thanks to the internet, there's been more focus and people are seeing Israel for what it is, and that they're just terrorists. And one day, hopefully very soon they'll collapse, and we will all get to go home. We'll probably all at that point be able to finally mourn and heal and rebuild together as a country. And finally feel connected back to our homes. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free. We are the seeds and we have grown to accept who we are and to not hide who we are.