One of my favorite things about myself is my mixed background. This diversity has taught me to appreciate the beauty in our differences and fueled my desire to explore other identities, which is why I chose to attend university in China. However, carrying different nationalities has shown me that prejudice is real. Your ethnicity or nationality can sometimes be the only thing people look at when they meet you. I am a Jordanian citizen, also Palestinian, born and raised in Saudi Arabia, and educated in a French European school. Unlike all my other identities that I take pride in, my Palestinian side is different, or at least, that’s what people made sure of. Being Palestinian in 2024 is not merely an identity or a nationality. It is an enthralling experience, an endangered existence, a label exposing the hypocrisy of citizens of humanity, and a title showcasing the rule of global politics over societies. Frequently, my other nationalities are overshadowed as soon as the word “Palestine” is mentioned, and suddenly, that is all anyone can see.
Over the years, I realized that I cannot escape what people call “politics” but what I call “fundamental human rights.” Saying where I am from was never a simple answer. To people who were only exposed to this country through newspaper headlines, it was a declaration of political debates, a threat to an ethnoreligious group, a complex violent upbringing, and a repulsing ideological imprint. However, to people who took the time to discover my region, meeting a Palestinian was what I was once told was “the most honorable and magical moment of their life.” Yet, it all goes back to the same idea: getting to know Palestinians through the lenses of modern-day Nakbas, or catastrophes. In today’s world, it seems like everybody has the right to feel pride in their origins and are encouraged to share that joy with others, except us. Except Palestinians. Our entire identity is weaponized and banned. Our flag and traditional clothes are “provocative,” our name is “controversial,” our stories are “complicated,” our freedom is “political,” our existence is “dangerous and causes a demographical challenge,” and our presence in our homeland is “inconvenient.” Usually, people tend to run away from politics and controversial topics, and politicizing the word Palestine ensures the presence of discomfort when it is brought up in our societies. It leaves us Palestinians with no choice but to either hide and forget our identity or fight for the representation of the other side of Palestine.
Thus, I choose to remain Palestinian. That is the choice most of us Palestinians make because of the immense beauty we find in our heritage. My Palestine, also known as the Holy Land, is a miraculous place that englobes three main divine laws: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Jerusalem holds the most sacred landmarks like the Western Wall for Jews, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for Christians, and the Dome of the Rock for Muslims. Have a look at Bethlehem, the city where Jesus was born, or Nazareth where he grew up with his mother Mary. Did you know that the oldest city in the world is Jericho? Jericho is a Palestinian city known as the earliest urban center in the world. Move to Hebron, or maybe Gaza, or let us talk about the astonishing beauty of Tubas. Speaking of which, Palestine is home to more than four UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Palestine is part of what scientists and historians call “the cradle of civilization,” as it is home to some of the greatest and earliest civilizations, as well as the first agricultural communities. Olive oil, for example, is a Palestinian specialty as many olive trees in the Holy Land are centuries old. In the Jordan Valley region, Palestinians cultivate date palm trees that give birth to sweet and nutritional dates. Grapes, almonds, oranges, grapefruits, tomatoes, mint, thyme, and sage, to name a few, are all Palestinian specialties of different cities. Moreover, my culture reflects the diversity shaped by centuries of history, traditions, and trade with populations of neighboring regions. Our rich cultural heritage can be seen, felt, and heard through our diverse types of music, our dances like Dabke, our cuisine like Musakhan, our art like traditional Palestinian embroidery also known as Tatreez, or even our literature through our brilliant thinkers, innovators, leaders, singers, or poets like Mahmoud Darwish. My people have legendary hospitality as they have always been known for their welcoming spirit toward foreigners and neighbors. Despite all the challenges, Palestinians remain resilient, kind, strong, humble, funny, smart, and full of life. With that being said, I don’t see why this unique identity of mine should be taught to lead to global political discussions.
Yes, saying you are Palestinian could bring many disadvantages, prejudice, discrimination, and baseless judgments, but I refuse to accept the normalization of the politicization of this side of my upbringing. No one will know the devastating pain of being Palestinian, nor the incredible joy our unity brings us. The world can be brutal to us, but all I think about is: if that is my experience as a partially Palestinian kid, how does it feel and what is the reality of only carrying the Palestinian identity in this awful place that people of power have created for us?
