EVERYONE has |
Stories of Resilience, Resistance, and Hope
Our goal with "The Qissah: Storytelling Beyond Borders" podcast is to showcase the unique stories of justice, solidarity, resilience, resistance, activism, and identity. Each episode features influential activists and scholars who share distinct perspectives and narratives on racial justice, human rights, and Indigenous Peoples' issues.
Storytelling is a vital tool for cultivating compassion and inspiring decisive action to tackle pressing issues. By connecting stories, we create a narrative that reflects our shared humanity, motivating and mobilizing communities to address global challenges. These stories encourage us to recognize the humanity in others, delivering a powerful message in a divided world. Through these narratives, we are committed to changing the conversation and taking action together.
Storytelling is a vital tool for cultivating compassion and inspiring decisive action to tackle pressing issues. By connecting stories, we create a narrative that reflects our shared humanity, motivating and mobilizing communities to address global challenges. These stories encourage us to recognize the humanity in others, delivering a powerful message in a divided world. Through these narratives, we are committed to changing the conversation and taking action together.
Sharing Stories...Creating Connections...Changing Perceptions
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Her grandmother’s English, Bianca Mabute-Louie says, was nonexistent. In San Gabriel Valley, a Los Angeles suburb where Cantonese billboards outnumber English ones and grocery stores stock bitter melon alongside Frosted Flakes, this wasn’t a liability. “She did not cooperate,” Mabute-Louie says. “She went her own way.”
This refusal — to bend, to translate, to disappear — is the gravitational center of Bianca Mabute-Louie’s work. A sociology PhD candidate at Rice University and author of award-winning book Unassimilable: An Asian Diasporic Manifesto for the Twenty-First Century, she argues that assimilation isn’t just a personal choice but a political act. One that demands complicity with a country built on stolen land, imperial violence, and the myth of meritocracy. Her grandmother’s life, she insists, offers a different path: belonging through defiance. |
The Suburbs and Assimilation
San Gabriel Valley is often described as an ethnic enclave. Mabute-Louie calls it a counter-narrative. Growing up there, she saw how immigrant communities thrived not by mirroring American norms but by rewriting them. “This suburb exists because it unapologetically catered to its immigrant generation,” she says.
But the dichotomy was stark. By day, Mabute-Louie attended a private school in a wealthier part of Los Angeles County — a place she terms a “PWI WAA” (Predominantly White Institution With Asian Adjacency). “The power relations don’t change,” she notes. “They’re assimilating, often colonizing sites”.
Safety for her was found in the density of the immigrant community. Yet even this sanctuary was haunted by history. Her great-grandfather migrated during the Chinese Exclusion Act, died in San Francisco, and never returned to his family. “Everything comes back to racial capitalism and imperialism,” she says. The Opium Wars destabilized southern China; the U.S. extracted labor while denying belonging. Assimilation, in this light, isn’t a ladder but a trap.
The Model Minority Myth
The model minority myth has often been used to pit Asians against Black folks, she says, pointing to the case of Peter Liang, the Chinese American officer who killed Akai Gurley. When some Chinese Americans rallied around Liang, demanding the same impunity white cops receive, they missed the plot. “We internalize this need to be perfect,” she observes. “Even in activism, we fear showing up messy”.
When the conversation turns to Palestine, Mabute-Louie doesn’t flinch. She notes how Asian Americans also internalize model minority expectations in progressive spaces. “Even folks who really care about social justice…and the genocide in Gaza" sometimes struggle because of "the ways that we've internalized the model minority myth. We have to show up perfectly in activism too and that's not the point of being in fights for collective liberation….people are going to mess up."
This perfectionism, she argues, is a byproduct of scarcity politics. Refugees from U.S. wars in Southeast Asia compete with H1B visa holders for resources. Affirmative action debates fracture coalitions. Progressive spaces demand ideological purity. “Solidarity isn’t about perfection,” she insists. “It’s about staying in the contradictions”.
The Cost of Conscience
Advocacy comes with critical costs, as organizations sacrifice major funding opportunities over their conscience. Mabute-Louie cites 18 Million Rising, a grassroots Asian American group that lost major funding for supporting Palestinian liberation. Smaller nonprofits, she adds, have turned down grants from foundations tied to the ADL, which has targeted student protests.
For communities already navigating the violence of assimilation, divestment from empire can feel existential. “To be here is to participate,” Mabute-Louie acknowledges. Refusal takes active work — materially, mentally.
Pedagogy as Resistance
In her classrooms, Mabute-Louie swaps end-of-term research papers for op-eds. “I want students to take a stand and say it with their chest,” she says. The goal isn’t just analysis but action — a rejection of the “banking model of education” that treats students as passive vessels. Her assignments ask them to translate academic jargon into community art, to bridge theory and praxis. This approach mirrors her broader politics. When students grieve — for Gaza, for climate collapse, for a world that feels terminally broken — she offers the tools to take a stance.
The Persistence of Refusal
What gives Mabute-Louie hope isn’t policy wins or institutional validation. It’s the stubbornness of everyday resistance. Students booing university presidents. Journalists documenting genocide despite targeted killings. Small nonprofits choosing integrity over funding.
Her grandmother’s legacy, she argues, is a blueprint. In a country that conflates belonging with assimilation, refusal becomes its own form of citizenship. Not the kind that fits on a passport, but the kind that builds sanctuaries in the unlikeliest of places: a suburb where no one learns English, a classroom where grief fuels creation, a protest where solidarity outweighs complicity.
Broadly, Mabute-Louie’s work orbits a simple question: What does it mean to belong to a country built on stolen land and stolen labor? Her answer, drawn in part from grandmother’s life, is that belonging isn’t something to be granted. It’s something to build — through refusal, through care, through communities that nourish rather than erase.
San Gabriel Valley is often described as an ethnic enclave. Mabute-Louie calls it a counter-narrative. Growing up there, she saw how immigrant communities thrived not by mirroring American norms but by rewriting them. “This suburb exists because it unapologetically catered to its immigrant generation,” she says.
But the dichotomy was stark. By day, Mabute-Louie attended a private school in a wealthier part of Los Angeles County — a place she terms a “PWI WAA” (Predominantly White Institution With Asian Adjacency). “The power relations don’t change,” she notes. “They’re assimilating, often colonizing sites”.
Safety for her was found in the density of the immigrant community. Yet even this sanctuary was haunted by history. Her great-grandfather migrated during the Chinese Exclusion Act, died in San Francisco, and never returned to his family. “Everything comes back to racial capitalism and imperialism,” she says. The Opium Wars destabilized southern China; the U.S. extracted labor while denying belonging. Assimilation, in this light, isn’t a ladder but a trap.
The Model Minority Myth
The model minority myth has often been used to pit Asians against Black folks, she says, pointing to the case of Peter Liang, the Chinese American officer who killed Akai Gurley. When some Chinese Americans rallied around Liang, demanding the same impunity white cops receive, they missed the plot. “We internalize this need to be perfect,” she observes. “Even in activism, we fear showing up messy”.
When the conversation turns to Palestine, Mabute-Louie doesn’t flinch. She notes how Asian Americans also internalize model minority expectations in progressive spaces. “Even folks who really care about social justice…and the genocide in Gaza" sometimes struggle because of "the ways that we've internalized the model minority myth. We have to show up perfectly in activism too and that's not the point of being in fights for collective liberation….people are going to mess up."
This perfectionism, she argues, is a byproduct of scarcity politics. Refugees from U.S. wars in Southeast Asia compete with H1B visa holders for resources. Affirmative action debates fracture coalitions. Progressive spaces demand ideological purity. “Solidarity isn’t about perfection,” she insists. “It’s about staying in the contradictions”.
The Cost of Conscience
Advocacy comes with critical costs, as organizations sacrifice major funding opportunities over their conscience. Mabute-Louie cites 18 Million Rising, a grassroots Asian American group that lost major funding for supporting Palestinian liberation. Smaller nonprofits, she adds, have turned down grants from foundations tied to the ADL, which has targeted student protests.
For communities already navigating the violence of assimilation, divestment from empire can feel existential. “To be here is to participate,” Mabute-Louie acknowledges. Refusal takes active work — materially, mentally.
Pedagogy as Resistance
In her classrooms, Mabute-Louie swaps end-of-term research papers for op-eds. “I want students to take a stand and say it with their chest,” she says. The goal isn’t just analysis but action — a rejection of the “banking model of education” that treats students as passive vessels. Her assignments ask them to translate academic jargon into community art, to bridge theory and praxis. This approach mirrors her broader politics. When students grieve — for Gaza, for climate collapse, for a world that feels terminally broken — she offers the tools to take a stance.
The Persistence of Refusal
What gives Mabute-Louie hope isn’t policy wins or institutional validation. It’s the stubbornness of everyday resistance. Students booing university presidents. Journalists documenting genocide despite targeted killings. Small nonprofits choosing integrity over funding.
Her grandmother’s legacy, she argues, is a blueprint. In a country that conflates belonging with assimilation, refusal becomes its own form of citizenship. Not the kind that fits on a passport, but the kind that builds sanctuaries in the unlikeliest of places: a suburb where no one learns English, a classroom where grief fuels creation, a protest where solidarity outweighs complicity.
Broadly, Mabute-Louie’s work orbits a simple question: What does it mean to belong to a country built on stolen land and stolen labor? Her answer, drawn in part from grandmother’s life, is that belonging isn’t something to be granted. It’s something to build — through refusal, through care, through communities that nourish rather than erase.
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When we talk about Kashmir, we often hear about territorial disputes, geopolitical tensions, and occasional flare-ups between nuclear-armed neighbors.
What gets lost in these discussions is a fundamental reality that scholar Ather Zia emphasizes repeatedly: Kashmir is home to 8 million people whose voices have been systematically silenced. "We're not talking about a sweater, we're not talking about wool, we're not talking about a region that's a territory between India and Pakistan," she says. "We're actually talking about a region that has been a swath of a region in itself and of itself historically." This framing--seeing Kashmir as a place of people rather than merely contested territory—is central to understanding the depth of the crisis. It's also key to grasping why this story remains so stubbornly under-told in international media. |
Ather Zia brings remarkable credentials to this conversation. A political anthropologist, poet, short fiction writer, and columnist, she serves as an Associate Professor in the Department of Anthropology and Gender Studies at the University of Northern Colorado Greeley. Her book "Resisting Disappearances: Military Occupation and Women's Activism in Kashmir" won the 2021 Public Anthropologist Award. She was also featured in the Femilist 2021, a list of 100 women from the Global South working on critical issues.
But her path to becoming a scholar wasn't direct. "I kind of had to become 2-3 different people and personas," she explains. "I was a journalist, and I also worked briefly in the Kashmir government as a civil servant." These multiple professional identities offered her unique vantage points. She observed Kashmir "from the questioning point of view as journalists do, from the bureaucratic point of view, as what bureaucrats do behind the scenes."
Her generation came of age during a pivotal moment - when Kashmir's armed resistance began in the late 1980s and early 1990s. This awakening led her and others to question the "cosmetic peace" of their childhood. "It was very, it was on the surface. And it was not true peace. It was more that there was not a lot of direct military aggression, even though the military was everywhere."
A HISTORY DELIBERATELY OBSCURED
One of Zia's most compelling insights concerns the systemic erasure of Kashmir's history. "Kashmiris usually are not taught their own history. We either study Indian history or we also study world history," she explains, calling this "an ailment of sorts" common in post-colonial countries. "So, you don't really know your own history."
Her generation began seeking out this suppressed knowledge, discovering that "we are a deeply oppressed nation... Our history has been erased." They uncovered evidence of resistance movements dating back to 1947 and earlier - to the 1930s and even into the 18th and 19th centuries. This history challenged the "sterile form of history and very sterile form of education" that had been imposed on them for decades, according to Zia. Why this erasure? The historical narrative was controlled by "pro-India politicians, pro-India writers... who received state patronage." Meanwhile, those with alternative perspectives "were pushed to the sidelines. Everyone else was exiled. Everyone else had been self-exiled."
KASHMIR'S DIVIDED REALITY AND THE END OF AUTONOMY
The Kashmir region today exists in a divided state. "There are two sides to Kashmir at this moment," Zia explains. "One is the Pakistan-administered Kashmir also called Azad Kashmir, meaning an independent Kashmir... And the other side is the Jammu and Kashmir and Indian administered Kashmir. Just to kind of like connect to its history, it's also occupied by India, and it is held by India."
These aren't merely administrative distinctions but fundamentally different political realities. The United Nations has long recognized Kashmir as a disputed territory, though as Zia notes, the Kashmir question was "later downgraded as India, Pakistan question" - itself an erasure of Kashmiri identity and agency.
The Indian-administered portion operated under Article 370, which granted special autonomous status. But this arrangement, Zia argues, was deeply flawed from the beginning. "It was a Trojan horse that was brought into Kashmir and which slowly and steadily brought in Indian laws that criminalize Kashmiri's resistance and Kashmir's, you know, demand and political movement for independence."
The August 2019 revocation of Article 370 by India's BJP government marked what Zia calls "the culmination of that erosion." But she's quick to point out that while the BJP implemented this change overtly, previous "secular" Indian governments had been gradually undermining Kashmir's autonomy for decades - just more discreetly.
LIFE UNDER OCCUPATION: MILITARIZATION, SURVEILLANCE, AND SILENCING
The current reality in Kashmir is stark. "It's one of the world's most, highest, and densest militarized zone. More than 700,000 Indian soldiers are inside the region," Zia states. This overwhelming military presence manifests in constant surveillance: "There're so many bunkers. There is like so much surveillance all the time. There are drones. There are all kinds of video surveillance, there's all kinds of physical patrolling."
Since 2019, the repression has intensified dramatically. "All kinds of human rights activism, all kinds of political activism has been criminalized inside Kashmir, especially if it implicates India." Even public mourning has been restricted. When Syed Ali Gallani, an elderly resistance leader under house arrest for a decade, died in 2021, "they did not allow a public funeral, and they actually imposed a curfew... he was buried in the dark of night, early morning and his grave is not even marked. There is surveillance on his grave."
The criminalization extends to even the most basic forms of expression. "You can't even like a social media post on social media that might go against Indian dispensation, Indian powers. [Either] you're put in jail, or you're suspended."
The term infrastructural “development” takes on Orwellian dimensions in occupied Kashmir. Zia describes an “infrastructural colonial project” where hydroelectric initiatives and land banks serve as weapons of dispossession. “The army has to declare any kind of land as strategically useful, and they can push anyone from office,” she explains, detailing how military fiat overrides centuries-old land rights. The scale staggers: “You have almost the size of Dallas that is inside Kashmir, that is under the occupation of direct physical appropriation by the Army.”
During the 2025 Pahalgam massacre aftermath, security forces weaponized architecture itself: “Ten houses were bombed. More than 10 houses who… belonged to the alleged militants”
But the violence is also surgical. Domicile laws allow non-Kashmiris—including retired soldiers—to claim residency, while infrastructure projects like the “land banks for industrial use” fracture communities. Zia maps a chilling progression: “Demolition rises, encroachment rises, as well as appropriation for various infrastructure projects.” The valley’s ecology, once its pride, now betrays it; hydroelectric dams drown ancestral farms under the banner of progress.
THE WOMEN AT THE FOREFRONT OF RESISTANCE
Among the most powerful threads in Zia's scholarship is her focus on the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP), a movement led primarily by women seeking answers about their missing loved ones. "The disappearances mostly stayed with me because I saw a lot of people as I was growing up and even from the family getting disappeared and never coming back," she recounts.
The APDP was led by Parveen Ahangar, a mother whose son disappeared, along with human rights lawyer Pervez Amroz. Their monthly protests resembled funeral processions - a powerful embodiment of mourning that refuses closure.
This movement raised profound questions about India's democratic claims. "How can a democratic country be called consistently and historically democratic if it was doing what it was doing inside Kashmir? And disappearances are really the most harrowing. You just pick a person and [make them disappear]. No one asks questions."
The APDP's work also challenges simplistic narratives about gender in Muslim societies. "How is it that they are gaining this public platform and that the society is looking up to them even when they have a lot of struggles with the social patriarchy," Zia asks, noting how these women navigate both local patriarchy and military occupation.
Since 2019, however, even this movement has been effectively silenced. "The APDP have been raided…They are under deep, deep oppression."
THE PALESTINE PARALLEL: SETTLER COLONIALISM
Zia further draws compelling parallels between Kashmir and Palestine—connections, she argues, go beyond superficial similarities. "Kashmiris are, as I've also called it, they have an affect solidarity with Palestine," she explains.
Both regions face settler colonial projects. In Kashmir, this takes the form of "domicile laws" allowing non-Kashmiris who have served in the region (including ex-army and police officers) to establish permanent residence. "The army has to declare any kind of land as strategically useful, and they can push anyone from office... So, you have almost the size of Dallas that is inside Kashmir, that is under the occupation of direct physical appropriation by the Army."
The similarities extend to methods of control: "Checkpoints, targeted bombings, you know, all kinds of things that you see in surveillance... it's the same military-industrial complex." She notes that connections between Israel and India date back to the 1950s, not merely recent developments. Both liberation struggles face similar international reception: "Kashmiri resistance is seen as terrorism. Palestinian resistance is seen as terrorism."
CULTURAL SILENCING: THE ERASURE OF EXPRESSION
Kashmir is known as "emerald amongst pearls because of its verdant, lush valley surrounded by mountains." Kashmir's rich cultural heritage - its literature, poetry, and folk traditions - is also under threat. "Throughout all of that, what really has happened to Kashmir is that it has been seen as a territory, a beautiful land without the people in a way," Zia observes.
Since 2019, creative expression has faced unprecedented repression. Zia founded Kashmir Lit, a webzine for Kashmiri literature, in 2008. But now, "more and more people are asking me to take their writing down from it and including poetry."
This cultural silencing represents a profound loss. "We are these people who have had the longest tradition of song and lyrics, different forms of you know, theater, we also have street theater that is like huge and then spoken word. But at this moment, all of that is kind of, you know, people are huddling, and people are silenced."
BREAKING THE SILENCE: CENTERING KASHMIRI VOICES
Why does Kashmir's story remain so marginalized globally? Zia points to structural factors: "I think the silence is because they are both Kashmir and Palestine, they are connected to the larger power structures.”
The solution begins with questioning dominant narratives. "Unless and until we question those new colonial orders which maraud and which go and conquer indigenous people... we're not going to see from the point of view of the indigenous peoples and we're going to call the indigenous people as terrorists."
For those seeking to understand Kashmir, Zia's advice is direct: "Start with Kashmiris. The stories that Kashmiris have been telling for the last 70 years and in the last 30 years they have rendered those stories in English for the global audiences."
REFRAMING THE STORY FROM TERRITORY TO PEOPLE
Kashmir isn't just a conflict zone or a disputed territory—it's home to millions of people with their own history, culture, aspirations, and voices. Our failure to center those voices in our discussions perpetuates both their silencing and our own ignorance. As international tensions flare again between India and Pakistan following the recent Pahalgam attack, Zia's perspective becomes even more urgent: Don't forget the Kashmiris themselves.
The world's understanding of Kashmir will remain fundamentally incomplete until we learn to see beyond national interests and geopolitical frames to the human story at the heart of this decades-long struggle.
But her path to becoming a scholar wasn't direct. "I kind of had to become 2-3 different people and personas," she explains. "I was a journalist, and I also worked briefly in the Kashmir government as a civil servant." These multiple professional identities offered her unique vantage points. She observed Kashmir "from the questioning point of view as journalists do, from the bureaucratic point of view, as what bureaucrats do behind the scenes."
Her generation came of age during a pivotal moment - when Kashmir's armed resistance began in the late 1980s and early 1990s. This awakening led her and others to question the "cosmetic peace" of their childhood. "It was very, it was on the surface. And it was not true peace. It was more that there was not a lot of direct military aggression, even though the military was everywhere."
A HISTORY DELIBERATELY OBSCURED
One of Zia's most compelling insights concerns the systemic erasure of Kashmir's history. "Kashmiris usually are not taught their own history. We either study Indian history or we also study world history," she explains, calling this "an ailment of sorts" common in post-colonial countries. "So, you don't really know your own history."
Her generation began seeking out this suppressed knowledge, discovering that "we are a deeply oppressed nation... Our history has been erased." They uncovered evidence of resistance movements dating back to 1947 and earlier - to the 1930s and even into the 18th and 19th centuries. This history challenged the "sterile form of history and very sterile form of education" that had been imposed on them for decades, according to Zia. Why this erasure? The historical narrative was controlled by "pro-India politicians, pro-India writers... who received state patronage." Meanwhile, those with alternative perspectives "were pushed to the sidelines. Everyone else was exiled. Everyone else had been self-exiled."
KASHMIR'S DIVIDED REALITY AND THE END OF AUTONOMY
The Kashmir region today exists in a divided state. "There are two sides to Kashmir at this moment," Zia explains. "One is the Pakistan-administered Kashmir also called Azad Kashmir, meaning an independent Kashmir... And the other side is the Jammu and Kashmir and Indian administered Kashmir. Just to kind of like connect to its history, it's also occupied by India, and it is held by India."
These aren't merely administrative distinctions but fundamentally different political realities. The United Nations has long recognized Kashmir as a disputed territory, though as Zia notes, the Kashmir question was "later downgraded as India, Pakistan question" - itself an erasure of Kashmiri identity and agency.
The Indian-administered portion operated under Article 370, which granted special autonomous status. But this arrangement, Zia argues, was deeply flawed from the beginning. "It was a Trojan horse that was brought into Kashmir and which slowly and steadily brought in Indian laws that criminalize Kashmiri's resistance and Kashmir's, you know, demand and political movement for independence."
The August 2019 revocation of Article 370 by India's BJP government marked what Zia calls "the culmination of that erosion." But she's quick to point out that while the BJP implemented this change overtly, previous "secular" Indian governments had been gradually undermining Kashmir's autonomy for decades - just more discreetly.
LIFE UNDER OCCUPATION: MILITARIZATION, SURVEILLANCE, AND SILENCING
The current reality in Kashmir is stark. "It's one of the world's most, highest, and densest militarized zone. More than 700,000 Indian soldiers are inside the region," Zia states. This overwhelming military presence manifests in constant surveillance: "There're so many bunkers. There is like so much surveillance all the time. There are drones. There are all kinds of video surveillance, there's all kinds of physical patrolling."
Since 2019, the repression has intensified dramatically. "All kinds of human rights activism, all kinds of political activism has been criminalized inside Kashmir, especially if it implicates India." Even public mourning has been restricted. When Syed Ali Gallani, an elderly resistance leader under house arrest for a decade, died in 2021, "they did not allow a public funeral, and they actually imposed a curfew... he was buried in the dark of night, early morning and his grave is not even marked. There is surveillance on his grave."
The criminalization extends to even the most basic forms of expression. "You can't even like a social media post on social media that might go against Indian dispensation, Indian powers. [Either] you're put in jail, or you're suspended."
The term infrastructural “development” takes on Orwellian dimensions in occupied Kashmir. Zia describes an “infrastructural colonial project” where hydroelectric initiatives and land banks serve as weapons of dispossession. “The army has to declare any kind of land as strategically useful, and they can push anyone from office,” she explains, detailing how military fiat overrides centuries-old land rights. The scale staggers: “You have almost the size of Dallas that is inside Kashmir, that is under the occupation of direct physical appropriation by the Army.”
During the 2025 Pahalgam massacre aftermath, security forces weaponized architecture itself: “Ten houses were bombed. More than 10 houses who… belonged to the alleged militants”
But the violence is also surgical. Domicile laws allow non-Kashmiris—including retired soldiers—to claim residency, while infrastructure projects like the “land banks for industrial use” fracture communities. Zia maps a chilling progression: “Demolition rises, encroachment rises, as well as appropriation for various infrastructure projects.” The valley’s ecology, once its pride, now betrays it; hydroelectric dams drown ancestral farms under the banner of progress.
THE WOMEN AT THE FOREFRONT OF RESISTANCE
Among the most powerful threads in Zia's scholarship is her focus on the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP), a movement led primarily by women seeking answers about their missing loved ones. "The disappearances mostly stayed with me because I saw a lot of people as I was growing up and even from the family getting disappeared and never coming back," she recounts.
The APDP was led by Parveen Ahangar, a mother whose son disappeared, along with human rights lawyer Pervez Amroz. Their monthly protests resembled funeral processions - a powerful embodiment of mourning that refuses closure.
This movement raised profound questions about India's democratic claims. "How can a democratic country be called consistently and historically democratic if it was doing what it was doing inside Kashmir? And disappearances are really the most harrowing. You just pick a person and [make them disappear]. No one asks questions."
The APDP's work also challenges simplistic narratives about gender in Muslim societies. "How is it that they are gaining this public platform and that the society is looking up to them even when they have a lot of struggles with the social patriarchy," Zia asks, noting how these women navigate both local patriarchy and military occupation.
Since 2019, however, even this movement has been effectively silenced. "The APDP have been raided…They are under deep, deep oppression."
THE PALESTINE PARALLEL: SETTLER COLONIALISM
Zia further draws compelling parallels between Kashmir and Palestine—connections, she argues, go beyond superficial similarities. "Kashmiris are, as I've also called it, they have an affect solidarity with Palestine," she explains.
Both regions face settler colonial projects. In Kashmir, this takes the form of "domicile laws" allowing non-Kashmiris who have served in the region (including ex-army and police officers) to establish permanent residence. "The army has to declare any kind of land as strategically useful, and they can push anyone from office... So, you have almost the size of Dallas that is inside Kashmir, that is under the occupation of direct physical appropriation by the Army."
The similarities extend to methods of control: "Checkpoints, targeted bombings, you know, all kinds of things that you see in surveillance... it's the same military-industrial complex." She notes that connections between Israel and India date back to the 1950s, not merely recent developments. Both liberation struggles face similar international reception: "Kashmiri resistance is seen as terrorism. Palestinian resistance is seen as terrorism."
CULTURAL SILENCING: THE ERASURE OF EXPRESSION
Kashmir is known as "emerald amongst pearls because of its verdant, lush valley surrounded by mountains." Kashmir's rich cultural heritage - its literature, poetry, and folk traditions - is also under threat. "Throughout all of that, what really has happened to Kashmir is that it has been seen as a territory, a beautiful land without the people in a way," Zia observes.
Since 2019, creative expression has faced unprecedented repression. Zia founded Kashmir Lit, a webzine for Kashmiri literature, in 2008. But now, "more and more people are asking me to take their writing down from it and including poetry."
This cultural silencing represents a profound loss. "We are these people who have had the longest tradition of song and lyrics, different forms of you know, theater, we also have street theater that is like huge and then spoken word. But at this moment, all of that is kind of, you know, people are huddling, and people are silenced."
BREAKING THE SILENCE: CENTERING KASHMIRI VOICES
Why does Kashmir's story remain so marginalized globally? Zia points to structural factors: "I think the silence is because they are both Kashmir and Palestine, they are connected to the larger power structures.”
The solution begins with questioning dominant narratives. "Unless and until we question those new colonial orders which maraud and which go and conquer indigenous people... we're not going to see from the point of view of the indigenous peoples and we're going to call the indigenous people as terrorists."
For those seeking to understand Kashmir, Zia's advice is direct: "Start with Kashmiris. The stories that Kashmiris have been telling for the last 70 years and in the last 30 years they have rendered those stories in English for the global audiences."
REFRAMING THE STORY FROM TERRITORY TO PEOPLE
Kashmir isn't just a conflict zone or a disputed territory—it's home to millions of people with their own history, culture, aspirations, and voices. Our failure to center those voices in our discussions perpetuates both their silencing and our own ignorance. As international tensions flare again between India and Pakistan following the recent Pahalgam attack, Zia's perspective becomes even more urgent: Don't forget the Kashmiris themselves.
The world's understanding of Kashmir will remain fundamentally incomplete until we learn to see beyond national interests and geopolitical frames to the human story at the heart of this decades-long struggle.
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What would it take to challenge the values that shaped your identity? For Miko Peled, a former Zionist raised by key figures in Israel’s establishment as a state, it meant facing uncomfortable truths and breaking societal norms. Miko’s remarkable transformation as a global human rights advocate offers a glimpse into the necessary work that allows one to challenge ingrained beliefs to fight for justice. Miko is a renowned author, speaker, and human rights activist born and raised in Israel. As the founder of the Palestine House of Freedom in Washington, D.C., Miko has dedicated his life to advocating for justice in Palestine, supporting the Palestinian call for the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement, and promoting equal rights across historic Palestine. Miko's first book, "The General's Son: Journey of an Israeli in Palestine," details his family's history in Palestine and his personal |
evolution into a defender of Palestinian rights. He is also the author of "Injustice: The Story of The Holy Land Foundation Five."
Miko’s activism and outspoken advocacy have earned him both admiration and controversy. His journey, deeply rooted in his Zionist upbringing, is a story of transformation marked by critical self-reflection, challenging encounters, and a commitment to justice. Describing what a Zionist ideology means to him, Miko says it is rooted in the claim that Jewish people around the world have a right to live in Palestine, because they are a nation rather than a religious group. Miko dispels this notion, clarifying that “Jewish people do not have a common language, culture, or country… They don’t look alike, but they share a religion”. He also asserts that Zionists delegitimized Palestinians, Arabs, and Muslims, thus weaponizing them and weaponizing anti-Semitism. This campaign allows for anyone standing against the state of Israel as anti-Semitic, a narrative that continues to be perpetuated.
Miko’s family history is inextricably tied to the founding of Israel. His grandfather was a signatory of the Israeli Declaration of Independence, and his father served as a high-ranking general in the Israeli army. Growing up in Jerusalem, Miko was surrounded by historic Zionist figures and imbued with the ideology that shaped the state of Israel.
“This background was very Zionist,” Miko explained. “Not just my immediate family, but my extended family were all heavily involved in the creation of Israel. These were people of action who believed strongly in the Zionist cause.”
Miko argues that since the creation of the Zionist state in Palestine, apartheid has been perpetrated on the Palestinian people, with ethnic cleansing and genocide beginning even before the state's formation in 1948. And these crimes—apartheid, ethnic cleansing, and genocide—have been integral to Israel's regime from the start, and all are recognized as crimes against humanity.
Miko’s transformation began gradually, catalyzed by direct interactions with Palestinians. He recounted that growing up in Israel, he lived in a deeply segregated society where Jewish Israelis and Palestinians were isolated from one another. Schools, neighborhoods, and even cultural identities were strictly divided, fostering ignorance and prejudice.
“Even though I grew up in Jerusalem, a city shared by Palestinians and Israelis, there was no effort to connect the two sides,” Miko recalls. “The country is extremely segregated, and this segregation is very effective.” Breaking this barrier, Miko began meeting Palestinians in the United States and in Palestine. These interactions fundamentally shifted his understanding of the region’s history and reality. He realized that he wasn’t born in Israel, but in Palestine. He grew up in a “colonial bubble” created by his family and others like them. He remarks that once he took the journey of seeing and hearing Palestinians, there was no going back. He couldn’t unsee the truth…. Miko discusses the significance of October 7th, 2023, the day that Palestinians stood up and rose against Israel. Palestinians in Gaza endured years of brutality and death from curable causes, including cold and starvation. Despite being in one of the most oppressed, bombed, and poorest regions of the world, Palestinians demonstrated that the “entire military and intelligence apparatus of the state of Israel… is merely a paper tiger”.
Miko’s decision to embrace Palestinian advocacy came with personal costs. His anti-Zionist stance strained his relationships with family and his broader community. After October 7th, Miko rejected the Zionist narrative completely, causing a familial fracture that may or may not mended in the future. Critics have accused him of betraying his heritage and the values he was raised to uphold. Miko, however, remains resolute, guided by his moral compass and his belief in justice.
By challenging Zionism, Miko seeks to deconstruct a narrative that he believes has perpetuated systemic injustice against Palestinians. His activism aligns him with movements for equality and human rights, values that transcend national or ideological boundaries. He says that “Palestine is the issue of our time”, as just as South African apartheid and the Civil Rights Movement were issues. Miko emphasizes the legacy that we will all leave behind for our children and grandchildren, saddened by the thought of people having to explain their support for genocide to future generations.
Miko and his father served in the Israeli army, which he describes as a “glorified terrorist organization”. He remarks that the Israeli army has a positive worldwide reputation, which is negated by a closer look at how it functions and what it has done. He asserts that Palestinians are typically accused of terrorism, but the major cause of violence is the Israeli military. He underlined, “the entire existence of Israeli military is to terrorize the Palestinian people and to terrorize the countries surrounding Palestine”.
Through his books, lectures, and advocacy, Miko inspires global audiences to critically examine the Israel/Palestine conflict. As a proponent for a one-state solution, with equal rights for all Israelis and Palestinians in historic Palestine, his assertion is simple — “The two-state solution is today only brought up by people who are either ignorant of the reality in Palestine or like to allow this onslaught of violence against the Palestinians to continue”. He believes that a one-state solution is ideal, because it will allow for justice for Palestine, as well as improve the lives of Israeli Jews. Regarding The U.S. government’s funding and support of Israel, Miko describes the idea of negotiating a ceasefire as absurd, because “they are intent on completing the genocide and they will not stop”. He instead suggests that we need to demand severe sanctions and an absolute arms embargo. He advocates for humanitarian aid for Palestinians in Gaza from the U.S. 6th Fleet, emphasizing how imperative it is that U.S. citizens demand it, stating, “It has to be severe… nobody else is going to demand it if we don’t demand it”. In addition to making demands of the U.S. government, Miko encourages us to take the time to learn about the conflict because it is our responsibility as members of the human race to stand with Palestine. He highlights the resources available online.
Miko’s story is a testament to the transformative power of dialogue and the courage it takes to confront deeply ingrained ideologies. Miko’s journey underscores the importance of listening to marginalized voices, breaking down barriers of segregation, and pursuing justice for all. His message resonates with anyone striving for a world where equality and compassion prevail over division and oppression.
Miko’s activism and outspoken advocacy have earned him both admiration and controversy. His journey, deeply rooted in his Zionist upbringing, is a story of transformation marked by critical self-reflection, challenging encounters, and a commitment to justice. Describing what a Zionist ideology means to him, Miko says it is rooted in the claim that Jewish people around the world have a right to live in Palestine, because they are a nation rather than a religious group. Miko dispels this notion, clarifying that “Jewish people do not have a common language, culture, or country… They don’t look alike, but they share a religion”. He also asserts that Zionists delegitimized Palestinians, Arabs, and Muslims, thus weaponizing them and weaponizing anti-Semitism. This campaign allows for anyone standing against the state of Israel as anti-Semitic, a narrative that continues to be perpetuated.
Miko’s family history is inextricably tied to the founding of Israel. His grandfather was a signatory of the Israeli Declaration of Independence, and his father served as a high-ranking general in the Israeli army. Growing up in Jerusalem, Miko was surrounded by historic Zionist figures and imbued with the ideology that shaped the state of Israel.
“This background was very Zionist,” Miko explained. “Not just my immediate family, but my extended family were all heavily involved in the creation of Israel. These were people of action who believed strongly in the Zionist cause.”
Miko argues that since the creation of the Zionist state in Palestine, apartheid has been perpetrated on the Palestinian people, with ethnic cleansing and genocide beginning even before the state's formation in 1948. And these crimes—apartheid, ethnic cleansing, and genocide—have been integral to Israel's regime from the start, and all are recognized as crimes against humanity.
Miko’s transformation began gradually, catalyzed by direct interactions with Palestinians. He recounted that growing up in Israel, he lived in a deeply segregated society where Jewish Israelis and Palestinians were isolated from one another. Schools, neighborhoods, and even cultural identities were strictly divided, fostering ignorance and prejudice.
“Even though I grew up in Jerusalem, a city shared by Palestinians and Israelis, there was no effort to connect the two sides,” Miko recalls. “The country is extremely segregated, and this segregation is very effective.” Breaking this barrier, Miko began meeting Palestinians in the United States and in Palestine. These interactions fundamentally shifted his understanding of the region’s history and reality. He realized that he wasn’t born in Israel, but in Palestine. He grew up in a “colonial bubble” created by his family and others like them. He remarks that once he took the journey of seeing and hearing Palestinians, there was no going back. He couldn’t unsee the truth…. Miko discusses the significance of October 7th, 2023, the day that Palestinians stood up and rose against Israel. Palestinians in Gaza endured years of brutality and death from curable causes, including cold and starvation. Despite being in one of the most oppressed, bombed, and poorest regions of the world, Palestinians demonstrated that the “entire military and intelligence apparatus of the state of Israel… is merely a paper tiger”.
Miko’s decision to embrace Palestinian advocacy came with personal costs. His anti-Zionist stance strained his relationships with family and his broader community. After October 7th, Miko rejected the Zionist narrative completely, causing a familial fracture that may or may not mended in the future. Critics have accused him of betraying his heritage and the values he was raised to uphold. Miko, however, remains resolute, guided by his moral compass and his belief in justice.
By challenging Zionism, Miko seeks to deconstruct a narrative that he believes has perpetuated systemic injustice against Palestinians. His activism aligns him with movements for equality and human rights, values that transcend national or ideological boundaries. He says that “Palestine is the issue of our time”, as just as South African apartheid and the Civil Rights Movement were issues. Miko emphasizes the legacy that we will all leave behind for our children and grandchildren, saddened by the thought of people having to explain their support for genocide to future generations.
Miko and his father served in the Israeli army, which he describes as a “glorified terrorist organization”. He remarks that the Israeli army has a positive worldwide reputation, which is negated by a closer look at how it functions and what it has done. He asserts that Palestinians are typically accused of terrorism, but the major cause of violence is the Israeli military. He underlined, “the entire existence of Israeli military is to terrorize the Palestinian people and to terrorize the countries surrounding Palestine”.
Through his books, lectures, and advocacy, Miko inspires global audiences to critically examine the Israel/Palestine conflict. As a proponent for a one-state solution, with equal rights for all Israelis and Palestinians in historic Palestine, his assertion is simple — “The two-state solution is today only brought up by people who are either ignorant of the reality in Palestine or like to allow this onslaught of violence against the Palestinians to continue”. He believes that a one-state solution is ideal, because it will allow for justice for Palestine, as well as improve the lives of Israeli Jews. Regarding The U.S. government’s funding and support of Israel, Miko describes the idea of negotiating a ceasefire as absurd, because “they are intent on completing the genocide and they will not stop”. He instead suggests that we need to demand severe sanctions and an absolute arms embargo. He advocates for humanitarian aid for Palestinians in Gaza from the U.S. 6th Fleet, emphasizing how imperative it is that U.S. citizens demand it, stating, “It has to be severe… nobody else is going to demand it if we don’t demand it”. In addition to making demands of the U.S. government, Miko encourages us to take the time to learn about the conflict because it is our responsibility as members of the human race to stand with Palestine. He highlights the resources available online.
Miko’s story is a testament to the transformative power of dialogue and the courage it takes to confront deeply ingrained ideologies. Miko’s journey underscores the importance of listening to marginalized voices, breaking down barriers of segregation, and pursuing justice for all. His message resonates with anyone striving for a world where equality and compassion prevail over division and oppression.