My Turn
by Carol Soudah
As published in
The Palestine Chronicle
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Being a Palestinian, in particular, appeared to be a day to day disability. It was often easier to simply be an unassuming American to receive respect and dignity
I recently visited a place my family has known as home for several generations. A region I've known mostly from newspaper headlines and violent images on television. But as a Palestinian American, raised in a Catholic home, my only vision of Israel and its orphan the West Bank is one told through family tales of tradition and turmoil, and through the detached vision of journalists and politicians. It wasn't until I visited the holyland for the very first time this summer, two weeks short of my 26thbirthday, that I finally understood the intensity and passion for Palestine. It has been one thing to hear tales of joy and unrest from family, stories about someplace halfway around the world in another time. It was an entire matter altogether to experience every aspect of the country with my very own eyes, offering my own insight untainted by political agendas and family biases. Even so, I was lucky to visit the country with my family and gain a meaningful perspective from those who live and work and pray there. I entered as a stranger with connections to people and places larger than myself. I was welcomed with the help of my familial ties and guided with telling stories and experiences unique to the natives who have had the privilege of growing up in this culturally-rich land. As we visited small villages, historic places of worship, hilltop settlements and vibrant, modern cities, I noticed many opposing attributes. Israel, as a whole, is almost a contradiction in the making. It is both inconceivably ancient and very new. It is rich in history and religion, yet almost too infantile to know better. Jaffa, thousands of years old with its stone buildings, very old churches, and age-old olive trees, sits less than 10 miles from Tel Aviv, a young city with towering skyscrapers, corporate offices, and lavish condos. Roads in many smaller towns are still unpaved and homes are constructed of the same white-washed stones from centuries past, while metropolitan cities enjoy freshly paved streets and sidewalk cafes along the coast. There are people, Jews and Palestinians alike, in traditional attire, symbolizing a respect and loyalty to faith walking alongside youth in modern clothing, some even scantily dressed. Palestinians and Jews,known for never-ending feuds, in some cities work alongside each other in offices, sharing neighborhoods, schools, and languages. Even more surprising and comforting to learn were the strong similarities between Palestinian and Jewish people. Aside from their obvious similarities in physical appearance and demeanor, they share more important characteristics. They both love the same soil, share a devout conviction for their respective religions, and honor family, origin, and home. They speak their languages proudly and have even learned each other's languages in more recent years. Each side understanding the other alittle more, each side learning from the other slowly - even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. Still, though, one's identity helps or hinders quality of life for many. Who you are, where you come from, and what your religion is are all fundamental. Being a Palestinian, in particular, appeared to be a day to day disability. It was often easier to simply be an unassuming American to receive respect and dignity. For example, when driving into airport property, it is "safer" to respond as a Christian or Jew when asked religion affiliation; being Muslim is much too volatile. When passing through checkpoints, being from Los Angeles rather than Ramallah avoided further interrogation. It was better to be from halfway around the world, a foreigner, than a native of the land. Palestinians in the West Bank are estranged from almost every other part of the country designated as Israel. Despite their connections to people and history, a restricted, government- approved permit is their only temporary ticket to travel beyond. I can't conceive of a reality where an American needs special permission to go from Seattle to Chicago, ordered to return at the end of the day or fear never receiving consent again. Palestinian refugees endure similar obstacles. Imagine an American citizen who returns to the U.S. to live after living abroad only to learn that her very existence in the U.S. is no longer recognized. Her birth right to the place has been ruled nonexistent. She can visit, but not stay, and her nationality as an American is questioned at every turn. She is left with a sense of displacement, loss, and sadness. Being an American was okay once. She has memories of school and friends. She didn't have to explain where she came from at every turn and reminded she was not welcomed. Nevertheless, this is the reality for many refugees, including my very own mother. She was born in Jaffa in 1946, raised in Ramallah after 1948, and now when she returns, she is not a citizen of, well, anything. She is most certainly not an Israeli citizen; they won't have it. She can't be a Palestinian citizen, there is no such recognized entity quite yet. She is a stranger in Jaffa because she left at the age of two and was never allowed to return. In fact much of the west, north, and south surrounding the West Bank was an entirely new experience for her. Ironically, her homeland was in many ways a strange land. I, myself, struggled with roles, depending on where I was and who I interacted with. I was a Palestinian true to form in the West Bank. I spoke and dressed the part with my modest Arabic skills and conservative attire. I was an American tourist when driving through checkpoints and speaking English with a dialect that couldn't be mistaken for anything but American slang. This way I was sure never to be questioned or appear suspicious. Americans aren't suspect. They hold no hostility or resentment towards Israeli Jews. The only thing I was armed with was a camera, taking random pictures and carrying on with a harmless carelessness as only an inoffensive tourist would. Due to this, I often struggled with inconsistent identities. At times I felt as an insider, understanding the language, respecting the history, and generally fitting in. But I was also very much an outsider, ignorant of the importance for conservative attire, most words flying over my head, an anger toward the inequality among the genders, and lacking passion for land seemingly not worth my livelihood. I grew up in the U.S. with the constitution and rhetoric about ethnic equality, fairness and a slew of rights always in my back pocket. My will is my own and my beliefs, although are up for question, are mine with little restriction. I live with a confidence that the city will remain standing, with all its eccentricities, and I rely on that knowledge as I live day to day, and as I travel and return. No one interrogates me, searches my belongings, or questions my whereabouts as I drive from Burbank toNorth Hollywood. Although racial discrimination is ever present in our culture, I am never asked my ethnic affiliation for merely passing through. Israel is a long way from being equal and just and fair. There are too many discrepancies in class and race. There is a great emphasis on who is Jewish, Muslim, or Christian, and everyone is treated accordingly. Arabs are suspect in Jewish territory, Jews are untrustworthy on Arab land. Arabs who are Christian conflict with Muslim Arabs, and Orthodox Jews struggle with more secular Jews. There are visible scenes of struggle between all these factions, and mistreatments on all sides for being and believing differently. We, as Americans, would cry out racism and discrimination. They see it as an issue of protection and national security, as national pride and religious sanctity. The wounds are too deep with prolonged resolution still in the far horizon. In the end, the entire country means so much to so many, both globally and personally. For me, for my family roots, it is the center of our ancestry. No amount of restructuring, realigning of boundaries, and cultural reformation deletes this reality. When newly formed governments gather to outline the existence of a new country with a new name, they dismiss history, tradition, and memories, as if what existed before is no longer as if a new national decree erases what once was and who someone is. But human experience and struggle are ever present in people's minds and hearts, and aren't easily eradicated. Today, I am consistently torn between a hopeful expectation of peace and even coexistence between Palestinians and Jews, and utter disappointment and anger for what are obvious human rights violations in a self-proclaimed democratic state - a democracy of occupation, limited freedom, and insidious prejudice. In spite of this, I hold on to the faith that humankind can resolve yet another historical struggle. I will not leave it to government and political leaders to alleviate tension between Palestinians and Jews. Governments' commitment to their people are often compromised by greed, abuse of power, and betrayal. But, everyday people who yearn for serenity and cooperation are more effective diplomats and will ultimately prevail as the peacemakers for the sake of their livelihood and those of their children. Brief biography: Carol Soudah is a 26 year old Palestinian American who has lived in the States for 22 years. She was born in Kuwait, when her parents migrated there from the West Bank to pursue educational and job opportunities. Her family originates from Ramallah, Jaffa, Nablus, and Jerusalem. After four years in Kuwait, the entire family moved to the United States to settle permanently. Carol grew up in Los Angeles where she earned a B.A. and M.A. in Psychology from California State University, Los Angeles. She has taught Introductory Psychology at the university, and worked with college students improving the quality of their writing and composition skills. She currently works on the same campus as a promotional writer in the field of Information Technology. Carol also hopes to write about social and political issues effecting American and Palestinian communities as a freelance writer. She currently resides in Los Angeles and can be reached at csoudah@hotmail.com | |
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