EVERYONE has |
Stories of Resilience, Resistance, and Hope
Our goal with The Qissah "Storytelling Beyond Borders" podcast is to exhibit the unique stories of justice, solidarity, resilience, resistance, activism, and identity. Storytelling is a crucial tool in cultivating compassion and inspiring decisive action. Connecting stories create a narrative of our shared humanity that inspires and mobilizes communities to address global issues. Stories encourage us to recognize the humanity in others, a powerful message for a divided world. Through these stories, we are devoted to changing the narrative and taking action together. Share yours!
Sharing Stories...Creating Connections...Changing Perceptions
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In this podcast interview, Imam Dawud Walid, a prominent Black Muslim scholar and activist, shared valuable insights about America’s web of systemic racism, the Black Muslim experience, and the broader socio-political challenges faced by Muslims in America. As the executive director of the Michigan chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR-MI) and a member of the Imams Council of Michigan, Walid brings a wealth of experience from decades of work as an imam and social justice activist. His broad-ranging background—also being a Senior Fellow at Auburn Seminary and a member of the Aspen Institute Racial Justice and Religion Commission—informs his valuable perspective on issues intersecting faith, race, and justice. |
A Journey Rooted in Faith and Identity
Raised in a family where his mother's side was Christian and his father's side Muslim, he navigated complex interfaith dynamics from an early age. "I had a problem with the whole idea of Trinity," he reflected, recounting his teenage spiritual explorations. This struggle led him to Malcolm X's autobiography, which profoundly inspired him to embrace Islam fully and commit to activism. "Malcolm X's journey... put me on the path to Islam," he explained. Malcolm X's fight against racism and colonialism resonated deeply with Walid—carving his path for using faith as a catalyst for social change and against imperialism.
Systemic Racism: An Ingrained American Legacy
Walid describes America's foundation as a "tragic dichotomy," emphasizing how the quest for freedom by early settlers led to the oppression of Native Americans and enslaved Africans. "From the very roots of the United States," he noted, "there's always been a level of racism and classism" that are intertwined. Despite progress over the decades, deep-rooted issues like poverty and incarceration rates among African Americans and Native Americans persist—structurally entrenched across generations.
He emphasized that America has yet to undergo a true reckoning or reconciliation process for these foundational injustices. "There's really never been a national reckoning," he stated. He alludes to some sort of truth and reconciliation process for America—a convention adopted by several other nations suffering from the scars of unresolved injustice.
The Black Muslim Experience: History as a Guide
For Black Muslims in America, history plays a crucial role in shaping their identity and vision for the future. Walid's writings, including "Blackness and Islam" and "Centering Black Narrative: Black Muslim Nobles Among the Early Pious Muslims," aim to uplift Black Muslims by highlighting their historical contributions to Islamic civilization. His works seek to counteract wide-spread internalized racism and promote positive self-esteem among Muslims of color. "These books were written... to show these people had high spirituality," Walid explained, emphasizing their role in fostering pride and self-worth among Black Muslims.
He noted that many Muslims of African descent struggle with feelings of inferiority because of their skin color or physical features. By putting noble figures from early Islamic history who were Black or dark-skinned under the spotlight, Walid hopes to instill pride in those who see themselves reflected in these historical narratives. "These books were written...to show these people had high spirituality," he noted, hoping to promote pride and self-worth among Black Muslims.
His historical narrative also serves as an important educational tool for non-Black Muslims and non-Muslims. By displaying the diversity within early Islamic communities, Walid seeks to challenge stereotypes that often marginalize or erase the contributions of Black individuals within both religious and secular histories.
Islamophobia and Palestinian Hate: Intersecting Struggles
Walid also discussed the rise of Islamophobia post-9/11, linking it to historical Western narratives that demonize Muslims. He pointed out that this dehumanization extends to Palestinians, exacerbated by ongoing conflicts. "The roots of the oppression of African Americans in this land and Palestinians come from a similar source," he explained, tracing it back to colonial powers like Britain. This shared history has and continues to foster solidarity between African Americans and Palestinians.
Walid makes sure to note that this trend is not new. Western literature has historically portrayed Muslims as uncivilized or demonic—a narrative that gained traction during events like the Spanish Inquisition and was later reinforced through Orientalist discourse.
Navigating a Two-Party System
When discussing political engagement, Walid encouraged Muslims not to feel confined by America's two-party system. He advocated for exploring third-party options as a way to assert their political influence, particularly in swing states like Michigan. "We need to have a local emphasis," he urged, highlighting the importance of participating in local elections to effect change.
Walid pointed out that while presidential elections are significant due to their impact on foreign policy, local elections often have more immediate effects on community life—such as city council decisions affecting policing practices or school board policies influencing educational curricula. He stressed that focusing on local governance allows communities to address issues directly affecting their daily lives.
Furthermore, Walid argued that America's political landscape is more accurately described as a duopoly, rather than a two-party system. This duopoly often marginalizes third-party voices; however, strategic voting can leverage this dynamic to compel major parties to address issues important to Muslim communities. By demonstrating strong support for third-party candidates in key states like Michigan—where electoral outcomes can hinge on small margins—Muslims can push major parties to take their concerns seriously.
Globalized Injustice
Walid’s reflections on the current era of global connectivity through independent and social media capture a shift: information once obscured now finds a global audience. “The things that did not reach people very easily,” he notes, “now [are] open for the world to see.” This transparency allows international communities to witness and react in real-time to human rights abuses. Walid cites the example of the Indian government’s decision to cut off power in Kashmir under Prime Minister Modi, which sparked widespread global condemnation and mobilized protests—even in Michigan—as people appealed to officials like Senator Gary Peters to urge the restoration of Kashmir’s human rights.
Walid critiques the very system meant to uphold these rights globally, particularly the role of the United Nations. He calls out the UN’s structural limitations—rooted in the veto power of countries on the Security Council—which often paralyzes the organization’s ability to act on human rights abuses, many of which are perpetrated by those on or allied with the Security Council members.
Walid explains, “You have certain countries that hold a veto vote, and then no international action can take place.” He points to cases where this has stymied global response, such as China vetoing resolutions on the Uyghur crisis, or the U.S. blocking actions against Israel over Gaza. Walid’s insight here is that while the UN was intended as a guardian of global rights and peace, the structure itself “is one of the biggest inhibitors for true international human rights.”
Ultimately, Walid reveals the dissonance between the UN’s goals and record, arguing that its “gatekeeping” function prevents meaningful action for marginalized groups. This paradox, he suggests, undermines the UN’s original mission: “to stop another World War” and ensure universal human rights. Instead, the UN’s structure often leaves the world watching, with little recourse for international accountability.
Moving Forward Towards Sacred Activism
In his book "Towards Sacred Activism," Walid provides guidance for Muslims engaging in social justice activism through an Islamic lens. He argues that sacred activism is grounded not in public opinion but divine principles. "That which is sacred comes from Almighty God," he asserts. His perspective aligns deeply with a theory of advocacy focused on universal human rights transcending artificial borders.
Walid integrates these principles into his sermons and teachings by stressing that Muslims are called to promote good universally. "You are the best nation brought out for humankind because you enjoy what is good," he quoted from the Quran.
A Vision Beyond Borders
Ultimately, Imam Dawud Walid envisions an inclusive society where differences are embraced rather than erased. Despite the tall barriers, Walid remains hopeful about America's potential for inclusivity. He calls for Americans to view their country not as a melting pot but as a quilt—a patchwork of diverse identities coexisting harmoniously. His message is clear: "People should not have to give up who they are to be seen as good Americans.
Raised in a family where his mother's side was Christian and his father's side Muslim, he navigated complex interfaith dynamics from an early age. "I had a problem with the whole idea of Trinity," he reflected, recounting his teenage spiritual explorations. This struggle led him to Malcolm X's autobiography, which profoundly inspired him to embrace Islam fully and commit to activism. "Malcolm X's journey... put me on the path to Islam," he explained. Malcolm X's fight against racism and colonialism resonated deeply with Walid—carving his path for using faith as a catalyst for social change and against imperialism.
Systemic Racism: An Ingrained American Legacy
Walid describes America's foundation as a "tragic dichotomy," emphasizing how the quest for freedom by early settlers led to the oppression of Native Americans and enslaved Africans. "From the very roots of the United States," he noted, "there's always been a level of racism and classism" that are intertwined. Despite progress over the decades, deep-rooted issues like poverty and incarceration rates among African Americans and Native Americans persist—structurally entrenched across generations.
He emphasized that America has yet to undergo a true reckoning or reconciliation process for these foundational injustices. "There's really never been a national reckoning," he stated. He alludes to some sort of truth and reconciliation process for America—a convention adopted by several other nations suffering from the scars of unresolved injustice.
The Black Muslim Experience: History as a Guide
For Black Muslims in America, history plays a crucial role in shaping their identity and vision for the future. Walid's writings, including "Blackness and Islam" and "Centering Black Narrative: Black Muslim Nobles Among the Early Pious Muslims," aim to uplift Black Muslims by highlighting their historical contributions to Islamic civilization. His works seek to counteract wide-spread internalized racism and promote positive self-esteem among Muslims of color. "These books were written... to show these people had high spirituality," Walid explained, emphasizing their role in fostering pride and self-worth among Black Muslims.
He noted that many Muslims of African descent struggle with feelings of inferiority because of their skin color or physical features. By putting noble figures from early Islamic history who were Black or dark-skinned under the spotlight, Walid hopes to instill pride in those who see themselves reflected in these historical narratives. "These books were written...to show these people had high spirituality," he noted, hoping to promote pride and self-worth among Black Muslims.
His historical narrative also serves as an important educational tool for non-Black Muslims and non-Muslims. By displaying the diversity within early Islamic communities, Walid seeks to challenge stereotypes that often marginalize or erase the contributions of Black individuals within both religious and secular histories.
Islamophobia and Palestinian Hate: Intersecting Struggles
Walid also discussed the rise of Islamophobia post-9/11, linking it to historical Western narratives that demonize Muslims. He pointed out that this dehumanization extends to Palestinians, exacerbated by ongoing conflicts. "The roots of the oppression of African Americans in this land and Palestinians come from a similar source," he explained, tracing it back to colonial powers like Britain. This shared history has and continues to foster solidarity between African Americans and Palestinians.
Walid makes sure to note that this trend is not new. Western literature has historically portrayed Muslims as uncivilized or demonic—a narrative that gained traction during events like the Spanish Inquisition and was later reinforced through Orientalist discourse.
Navigating a Two-Party System
When discussing political engagement, Walid encouraged Muslims not to feel confined by America's two-party system. He advocated for exploring third-party options as a way to assert their political influence, particularly in swing states like Michigan. "We need to have a local emphasis," he urged, highlighting the importance of participating in local elections to effect change.
Walid pointed out that while presidential elections are significant due to their impact on foreign policy, local elections often have more immediate effects on community life—such as city council decisions affecting policing practices or school board policies influencing educational curricula. He stressed that focusing on local governance allows communities to address issues directly affecting their daily lives.
Furthermore, Walid argued that America's political landscape is more accurately described as a duopoly, rather than a two-party system. This duopoly often marginalizes third-party voices; however, strategic voting can leverage this dynamic to compel major parties to address issues important to Muslim communities. By demonstrating strong support for third-party candidates in key states like Michigan—where electoral outcomes can hinge on small margins—Muslims can push major parties to take their concerns seriously.
Globalized Injustice
Walid’s reflections on the current era of global connectivity through independent and social media capture a shift: information once obscured now finds a global audience. “The things that did not reach people very easily,” he notes, “now [are] open for the world to see.” This transparency allows international communities to witness and react in real-time to human rights abuses. Walid cites the example of the Indian government’s decision to cut off power in Kashmir under Prime Minister Modi, which sparked widespread global condemnation and mobilized protests—even in Michigan—as people appealed to officials like Senator Gary Peters to urge the restoration of Kashmir’s human rights.
Walid critiques the very system meant to uphold these rights globally, particularly the role of the United Nations. He calls out the UN’s structural limitations—rooted in the veto power of countries on the Security Council—which often paralyzes the organization’s ability to act on human rights abuses, many of which are perpetrated by those on or allied with the Security Council members.
Walid explains, “You have certain countries that hold a veto vote, and then no international action can take place.” He points to cases where this has stymied global response, such as China vetoing resolutions on the Uyghur crisis, or the U.S. blocking actions against Israel over Gaza. Walid’s insight here is that while the UN was intended as a guardian of global rights and peace, the structure itself “is one of the biggest inhibitors for true international human rights.”
Ultimately, Walid reveals the dissonance between the UN’s goals and record, arguing that its “gatekeeping” function prevents meaningful action for marginalized groups. This paradox, he suggests, undermines the UN’s original mission: “to stop another World War” and ensure universal human rights. Instead, the UN’s structure often leaves the world watching, with little recourse for international accountability.
Moving Forward Towards Sacred Activism
In his book "Towards Sacred Activism," Walid provides guidance for Muslims engaging in social justice activism through an Islamic lens. He argues that sacred activism is grounded not in public opinion but divine principles. "That which is sacred comes from Almighty God," he asserts. His perspective aligns deeply with a theory of advocacy focused on universal human rights transcending artificial borders.
Walid integrates these principles into his sermons and teachings by stressing that Muslims are called to promote good universally. "You are the best nation brought out for humankind because you enjoy what is good," he quoted from the Quran.
A Vision Beyond Borders
Ultimately, Imam Dawud Walid envisions an inclusive society where differences are embraced rather than erased. Despite the tall barriers, Walid remains hopeful about America's potential for inclusivity. He calls for Americans to view their country not as a melting pot but as a quilt—a patchwork of diverse identities coexisting harmoniously. His message is clear: "People should not have to give up who they are to be seen as good Americans.
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Dr. Ilise Benshushan Cohen’s unique work for justice— intertwining scholarship and activism— has driven her to become a prominent advocate for Palestinian rights and a vocal critic of systemic racism within the Jewish community.
Born into a family with a rich tapestry of Sephardic heritage, Dr. Cohen’s multicultural upbringing significantly shaped her worldview. “Growing up Sephardic made me deeply aware of the complexities and intersections of identity,” Dr. Cohen reflected. “It also made me acutely sensitive to issues of exclusion and the importance of inclusivity in community and all forms of activism.” Her family’s story—marked by displacement and resilience— had a significant influence on her understanding of justice. “My parents and grandparents carried the stories of migration and survival, from the expulsion of Jews from Christian Spain during the Inquisition to being welcomed to the Ottoman Empire to |
deportation to death camps during the Holocaust,” she recounted. “These stories were a constant reminder of the need to fight against oppression in all its forms.”
“Being a Sephardic, I often felt like a bridge between different worlds within the Jewish community,” she said. “This unique position allowed me to see the beauty in our diversity and the pain in our divisions.” Such deep understanding of intersectionality propelled her to address racism within the Jewish community and beyond. “The discrimination faced by Jews of Color, Sephardic, and Mizrahi Jews is often overlooked,” she noted. “It’s crucial to recognize and address these internal disparities while also fighting for Palestinian freedom and human rights and broader social justice.”
Dr. Cohen’s academic career began with a degree in Anthropology from Washington University in St. Louis, followed by an M.A and PhD from the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco. Her studies laid the groundwork for a life dedicated to challenging systemic injustices. “Anthropology taught me to see the world through multiple lenses and to question the structures that perpetuate inequality,” Dr. Cohen explained. Though a long time dedicated activist on Israel/Palestine before pursuing her Ph.D., she explains “This academic perspective naturally evolved into an even deeper commitment to activism, particularly in the context of Israel and Palestine.”
One of Dr. Cohen’s significant contributions to the activist community was co-founding the Jews of Color, Sephardi, and Mizrahi Caucus in partnership with Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP). This initiative, which later became the Black, Indigenous, and Jewish People of Color Sephardic & Mizrahi (BIJOCSM) network, aimed to amplify the voices of historically marginalized Jewish communities. “Our goal was to create a space where Jews of diverse backgrounds could share their experiences and advocate for justice together for Palestine and in our Jewish communities” she said. “It’s about ensuring that our voices are heard and our stories are told, especially in the broader context of Jewish and Palestinian solidarity.” As a Sephardic Jew, Cohen is especially concerned with ensuring all intersectional perspectives and voices are heard on this issue.
Dr. Cohen’s scholarship has always been closely linked to her activism—particularly regarding Israel’s occupation of Palestine and recognition of the ongoing Nakba. Her teachings on Middle East history, Jewish studies, and global justice issues reflect a deep grasp of the complexities and nuance at play. “We need to understand the historical context of the occupation to grasp its current realities,” she finds. “This involves recognizing the daily struggles of Palestinians and challenging the policies that perpetuate these injustices.”
Dr. Cohen has been candid about her personal experiences with racism. Her stories, along with those she has encountered through her activism, highlight the urgent need for greater awareness and action. “Racism within the Jewish community is often an unspoken issue,” Dr. Cohen noted. “By sharing our experiences, we can start to address these problems and work towards a more inclusive community.” Co-leading delegations to Palestine and Israel, meeting with nonviolent activists and human rights defenders, and being friends with Palestinians helped her recognize the extreme disparities in the region. Critically, she finds, “It's different forms of racism [that] just divide and rule, divide and conquer, and set people in their silos.” There were several times when Cohen was told she was a “traitor” or a “self-hating Jew” and that she was betraying her own identity, but she learned that loving a stranger and loving other human beings was not incompatible with her roots but aligned with the original teachings she got from her family background and Jewish education.
A key aspect of Dr. Cohen’s advocacy is distinguishing between anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. She argues that conflating the two is not only misleading but also harmful to honest discourse about Israeli policies. “Critiquing Israeli policies is not the same as being anti-Semitic,” she clarified. “We must be able to have these conversations without fear of being labeled, as it’s essential for the pursuit of justice and human rights.” Democracy depends on debate, and across history, criticism has played an indispensable role in propelling progress. She continues “it is imperative to address Israeli state violence and human rights violations, which has nothing to do with antisemitism and everything to do with the behavior of the state and its harmful policies.”
Dr. Cohen’s work with the Jews of Color, Sephardi, and Mizrahi Caucus is displayed on various platforms, including Mondoweiss. “Being featured in Mondoweiss has allowed us to reach a wider audience and engage in important conversations about race, identity, and justice,” she said. “It’s about raising awareness and advocating for systemic change.”
Throughout her advocacy, Dr. Cohen has consistently called for action. She urges people to educate themselves about the realities of the occupation, support grassroots movements, and hold governments accountable for their policies. “It’s not enough to be passively aware of these issues,” she emphasized. “We must actively engage in advocacy, support those on the front lines, and push for meaningful change.”
Beyond her work on Israel/Palestine, Dr. Cohen serves on the board of the Laurice Khoury Foundation and is on the advisory council of the Friends of the Tent of Nations. “My activism is rooted in a belief that justice and human rights are universal and that freedom for Palestinians is essential,” she said. “We must strive for a world where everyone can live with dignity and peace.”
Broadly, Dr. Ilise Cohen’s journey from activism to academia speaks to the power of blending education and advocacy in the fight for justice. As Dr. Cohen reminds us, “Each of us has a role to play in creating a more just and equitable world. It’s time to stand up, speak out, and take action.”
“Being a Sephardic, I often felt like a bridge between different worlds within the Jewish community,” she said. “This unique position allowed me to see the beauty in our diversity and the pain in our divisions.” Such deep understanding of intersectionality propelled her to address racism within the Jewish community and beyond. “The discrimination faced by Jews of Color, Sephardic, and Mizrahi Jews is often overlooked,” she noted. “It’s crucial to recognize and address these internal disparities while also fighting for Palestinian freedom and human rights and broader social justice.”
Dr. Cohen’s academic career began with a degree in Anthropology from Washington University in St. Louis, followed by an M.A and PhD from the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco. Her studies laid the groundwork for a life dedicated to challenging systemic injustices. “Anthropology taught me to see the world through multiple lenses and to question the structures that perpetuate inequality,” Dr. Cohen explained. Though a long time dedicated activist on Israel/Palestine before pursuing her Ph.D., she explains “This academic perspective naturally evolved into an even deeper commitment to activism, particularly in the context of Israel and Palestine.”
One of Dr. Cohen’s significant contributions to the activist community was co-founding the Jews of Color, Sephardi, and Mizrahi Caucus in partnership with Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP). This initiative, which later became the Black, Indigenous, and Jewish People of Color Sephardic & Mizrahi (BIJOCSM) network, aimed to amplify the voices of historically marginalized Jewish communities. “Our goal was to create a space where Jews of diverse backgrounds could share their experiences and advocate for justice together for Palestine and in our Jewish communities” she said. “It’s about ensuring that our voices are heard and our stories are told, especially in the broader context of Jewish and Palestinian solidarity.” As a Sephardic Jew, Cohen is especially concerned with ensuring all intersectional perspectives and voices are heard on this issue.
Dr. Cohen’s scholarship has always been closely linked to her activism—particularly regarding Israel’s occupation of Palestine and recognition of the ongoing Nakba. Her teachings on Middle East history, Jewish studies, and global justice issues reflect a deep grasp of the complexities and nuance at play. “We need to understand the historical context of the occupation to grasp its current realities,” she finds. “This involves recognizing the daily struggles of Palestinians and challenging the policies that perpetuate these injustices.”
Dr. Cohen has been candid about her personal experiences with racism. Her stories, along with those she has encountered through her activism, highlight the urgent need for greater awareness and action. “Racism within the Jewish community is often an unspoken issue,” Dr. Cohen noted. “By sharing our experiences, we can start to address these problems and work towards a more inclusive community.” Co-leading delegations to Palestine and Israel, meeting with nonviolent activists and human rights defenders, and being friends with Palestinians helped her recognize the extreme disparities in the region. Critically, she finds, “It's different forms of racism [that] just divide and rule, divide and conquer, and set people in their silos.” There were several times when Cohen was told she was a “traitor” or a “self-hating Jew” and that she was betraying her own identity, but she learned that loving a stranger and loving other human beings was not incompatible with her roots but aligned with the original teachings she got from her family background and Jewish education.
A key aspect of Dr. Cohen’s advocacy is distinguishing between anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. She argues that conflating the two is not only misleading but also harmful to honest discourse about Israeli policies. “Critiquing Israeli policies is not the same as being anti-Semitic,” she clarified. “We must be able to have these conversations without fear of being labeled, as it’s essential for the pursuit of justice and human rights.” Democracy depends on debate, and across history, criticism has played an indispensable role in propelling progress. She continues “it is imperative to address Israeli state violence and human rights violations, which has nothing to do with antisemitism and everything to do with the behavior of the state and its harmful policies.”
Dr. Cohen’s work with the Jews of Color, Sephardi, and Mizrahi Caucus is displayed on various platforms, including Mondoweiss. “Being featured in Mondoweiss has allowed us to reach a wider audience and engage in important conversations about race, identity, and justice,” she said. “It’s about raising awareness and advocating for systemic change.”
Throughout her advocacy, Dr. Cohen has consistently called for action. She urges people to educate themselves about the realities of the occupation, support grassroots movements, and hold governments accountable for their policies. “It’s not enough to be passively aware of these issues,” she emphasized. “We must actively engage in advocacy, support those on the front lines, and push for meaningful change.”
Beyond her work on Israel/Palestine, Dr. Cohen serves on the board of the Laurice Khoury Foundation and is on the advisory council of the Friends of the Tent of Nations. “My activism is rooted in a belief that justice and human rights are universal and that freedom for Palestinians is essential,” she said. “We must strive for a world where everyone can live with dignity and peace.”
Broadly, Dr. Ilise Cohen’s journey from activism to academia speaks to the power of blending education and advocacy in the fight for justice. As Dr. Cohen reminds us, “Each of us has a role to play in creating a more just and equitable world. It’s time to stand up, speak out, and take action.”
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Raised in Bethlehem and Jerusalem, Jonathan Kuttab's early life was marked by the political upheaval of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. After his family moved to the United States following the Six-Day War, Kuttab pursued a law degree from Virginia Law School and later practiced on Wall Street. However, the pull of his homeland—torn apart by decades of conflict—was too strong to resist, and he returned to East Jerusalem to dedicate his life to advocacy, co-founding the Palestinian human rights group Al-Haq and leading the legal negotiations of the Cairo agreement.
The Complexity of Conflict: Root Causes and Narratives Kuttab's perspective on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is informed by both his personal experiences and his professional expertise as a human rights lawyer. He identifies the conflict's root cause as the competing claims to the land by two distinct groups: Palestinians, who have lived on the land for centuries, |
and Zionists, who insisted on escaping European persecution by establishing a Jewish state—ironically by persecuting the indigenous Palestinian population.
This fundamental clash of narratives—one that views the land as historically and rightfully Palestinian and another that sees it as a necessary refuge for Jews, but “at the expense” of Palestinian land rights—has fueled decades of violence. Kuttab finds that both narratives are mutually exclusive, making it difficult for either side to fully acknowledge the other's claims.
Addressing Denial and Acknowledging Suffering
What follows from this clash is the widespread denial of Palestinian suffering by some segments of the international community. Kuttab emphasizes that this denial is often anchored in the view that Jews, as victims of historical persecution, have an unquestionable right to a state in what is now Israel, regardless of the consequences for Palestinians.
"When you talk to people like that," Kuttab advises, "you have to be patient, you have to understand the narrative they were told...But you have to show them that narrative is not the correct one. You have to tell them that there is another side of the story."
Kuttab believes that recognizing and respecting the suffering of both Israelis and Palestinians is crucial to any meaningful resolution. He stresses the urgent need for a narrative that supports human dignity on both sides, rather than one that cascades division and violence.
Christian Zionism
Kuttab also highlights the overlooked impact of Christian Zionism on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Christian Zionism—the belief that the Bible mandates the gathering of Jews in the Holy Land as part of a divine plan leading to the end times and the Second Coming of Jesus— according to Kuttab, is inherently dangerous, not only to Palestinians but to Jews as well. He describes Christian Zionism as fundamentally anti-Semitic, as it views the gathering of Jews in Israel as a precursor to their eventual annihilation, save for a small group that will convert to Christianity. Despite its harmful theology, Christian Zionism has become a powerful political force, funneling substantial international military support to Israel. The United States, for example, has provided billions of dollars in military aid, driving disastrous strikes against innocent civilian populations. "Christian Zionists don't love Jews; they want to use them to fulfill a prophecy," Kuttab asserts. This unholy alliance—driven by a desire to hasten the apocalypse—exacerbates the conflict and undermines efforts toward a peaceful resolution.
The Failure of the Two-State Solution and the Path Forward
For many years, the two-state solution has been touted as the most viable resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. However, Kuttab argues that this solution is no longer feasible due to the grim reality on the ground, where Jewish settlements have expanded into occupied territories all over the West Bank (OPT).
"Many people thought that partition, the two-state solution, is a way... But that compromise does not work," Kuttab says. "Because there are Jewish settlers living all over the West Bank and Gaza occupied territories…they have to find a way for them to live together in equality and dignity and human rights."
Kuttab's vision for a just peace transcends beyond the two-state solution. In his book, he advocates for a single state where both Israelis and Palestinians can live together with equal rights, dignity, and security. This approach, he believes, is the only way to address the root causes of the conflict and to build a future where both peoples can coexist peacefully.
Kuttab's work spans multiple organizations that focus on both the immediate needs of Palestinians living under occupation and the long-term goal of achieving peace. He acknowledges that the enormous suffering on both sides is exacerbated by the availability—and international importation—of weapons.
"I don't believe in violence," Kuttab states firmly. "I believe we must find a different way to resolve our problems through international law, through negotiations, through accommodation, through understanding."
Kuttab likens nonviolence to the seeds of a tree that take time to grow. It requires patience, care, and dedication, but he believes it is ultimately more powerful than violence. His commitment to nonviolence—driven by a belief that change is possible even against overwhelming odds—reflects a rare and much-needed conviction in the power of peaceful resistance.
An Encouraging Appeal to Action
Despite the ongoing conflict and the many obstacles to peace, Kuttab remains hopeful for the future. He believes that human beings cannot live in a state of perpetual war, and that eventually, people will have to learn to live together in peace and equality. This view is supported by history as well, since various conflicts—Apartheid in South Africa, Rwanda Genocide, and the Northern Ireland conflict—were resolved by a willingness to confront difficult truths and challenge entrenched narratives.
"I have great hope because I don't think human beings can live in a continuing state of war, and of selfishness, and of racism, and discrimination," Kuttab says. "Eventually people have to learn to live together."
As Kuttab continues advocating for a just peace, his message is clear: the future of Israel and Palestine depends on the ability of both peoples to see each other as human beings deserving of respect, dignity, and the right to live in peace.
This fundamental clash of narratives—one that views the land as historically and rightfully Palestinian and another that sees it as a necessary refuge for Jews, but “at the expense” of Palestinian land rights—has fueled decades of violence. Kuttab finds that both narratives are mutually exclusive, making it difficult for either side to fully acknowledge the other's claims.
Addressing Denial and Acknowledging Suffering
What follows from this clash is the widespread denial of Palestinian suffering by some segments of the international community. Kuttab emphasizes that this denial is often anchored in the view that Jews, as victims of historical persecution, have an unquestionable right to a state in what is now Israel, regardless of the consequences for Palestinians.
"When you talk to people like that," Kuttab advises, "you have to be patient, you have to understand the narrative they were told...But you have to show them that narrative is not the correct one. You have to tell them that there is another side of the story."
Kuttab believes that recognizing and respecting the suffering of both Israelis and Palestinians is crucial to any meaningful resolution. He stresses the urgent need for a narrative that supports human dignity on both sides, rather than one that cascades division and violence.
Christian Zionism
Kuttab also highlights the overlooked impact of Christian Zionism on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Christian Zionism—the belief that the Bible mandates the gathering of Jews in the Holy Land as part of a divine plan leading to the end times and the Second Coming of Jesus— according to Kuttab, is inherently dangerous, not only to Palestinians but to Jews as well. He describes Christian Zionism as fundamentally anti-Semitic, as it views the gathering of Jews in Israel as a precursor to their eventual annihilation, save for a small group that will convert to Christianity. Despite its harmful theology, Christian Zionism has become a powerful political force, funneling substantial international military support to Israel. The United States, for example, has provided billions of dollars in military aid, driving disastrous strikes against innocent civilian populations. "Christian Zionists don't love Jews; they want to use them to fulfill a prophecy," Kuttab asserts. This unholy alliance—driven by a desire to hasten the apocalypse—exacerbates the conflict and undermines efforts toward a peaceful resolution.
The Failure of the Two-State Solution and the Path Forward
For many years, the two-state solution has been touted as the most viable resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. However, Kuttab argues that this solution is no longer feasible due to the grim reality on the ground, where Jewish settlements have expanded into occupied territories all over the West Bank (OPT).
"Many people thought that partition, the two-state solution, is a way... But that compromise does not work," Kuttab says. "Because there are Jewish settlers living all over the West Bank and Gaza occupied territories…they have to find a way for them to live together in equality and dignity and human rights."
Kuttab's vision for a just peace transcends beyond the two-state solution. In his book, he advocates for a single state where both Israelis and Palestinians can live together with equal rights, dignity, and security. This approach, he believes, is the only way to address the root causes of the conflict and to build a future where both peoples can coexist peacefully.
Kuttab's work spans multiple organizations that focus on both the immediate needs of Palestinians living under occupation and the long-term goal of achieving peace. He acknowledges that the enormous suffering on both sides is exacerbated by the availability—and international importation—of weapons.
"I don't believe in violence," Kuttab states firmly. "I believe we must find a different way to resolve our problems through international law, through negotiations, through accommodation, through understanding."
Kuttab likens nonviolence to the seeds of a tree that take time to grow. It requires patience, care, and dedication, but he believes it is ultimately more powerful than violence. His commitment to nonviolence—driven by a belief that change is possible even against overwhelming odds—reflects a rare and much-needed conviction in the power of peaceful resistance.
An Encouraging Appeal to Action
Despite the ongoing conflict and the many obstacles to peace, Kuttab remains hopeful for the future. He believes that human beings cannot live in a state of perpetual war, and that eventually, people will have to learn to live together in peace and equality. This view is supported by history as well, since various conflicts—Apartheid in South Africa, Rwanda Genocide, and the Northern Ireland conflict—were resolved by a willingness to confront difficult truths and challenge entrenched narratives.
"I have great hope because I don't think human beings can live in a continuing state of war, and of selfishness, and of racism, and discrimination," Kuttab says. "Eventually people have to learn to live together."
As Kuttab continues advocating for a just peace, his message is clear: the future of Israel and Palestine depends on the ability of both peoples to see each other as human beings deserving of respect, dignity, and the right to live in peace.
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Rene Lichtman, born in 1937, is a man whose life story is woven from the threads of history’s darkest and most resilient moments. As a hidden child during the Holocaust, Lichtman survived the horrors of Nazi-occupied France. Today, he is a vocal critic of what he terms the “ongoing Israeli genocide in Gaza,” drawing unsettling parallels between his own experiences and the current plight of Palestinians.
Rene Lichtman’s early years were marked by a series of harrowing events that would shape his identity and future activism. During the Nazi invasion of France in 1940, his father, a volunteer in the French Foreign Legion, was killed in the first weeks of the war. Anticipating the potential danger, Rene’s father had already arranged for him to be hidden with a Catholic family outside Paris. His mother, unable to speak French and a recent immigrant, stayed in Paris and also went into hiding as the Germans began rounding up Jews. |
From the ages of two to seven, Rene lived with the LaPage family, a time he describes as deeply secretive. “I never went out, I never did anything social, I never had any friends,” he recalls. Rene’s isolation was total, designed to protect his identity. When the war ended, his biological mother returned, but to young Rene, she was a stranger. This disconnection is a common thread among hidden children of the Holocaust, many of whom struggled to reconcile their fragmented pasts.
Lichtman’s journey to America at age 13 further complicated his sense of identity. Settling in Brooklyn, a culturally rich and predominantly Jewish neighborhood, he learned Yiddish and embraced a secular Jewish identity. Despite his stepfather’s religious leanings, Rene found solace and self-expression in art. Encouraged by public school teachers, he attended a special art high school in New York, which helped him forge a new sense of self.
His dual passions for art and politics took root during this time. Influenced by his father’s political views, which he later learned were left-wing, Rene began to understand the complexities of social justice. His experiences in the segregated South while serving in the U.S. Army only heightened his awareness of racism and injustice, further fueling his lifelong commitment to civil rights. “I witnessed the segregation of the South firsthand. In the late 1950s, while stationed nearby…I vividly remember having KKK people in my unit, Nazis and racists. I was acutely aware of the pervasive racism. The people who hated black people also hated people like me. They hated all kinds of foreigners”, Rene reflected.
Rene Lichtman’s activism truly began to flourish in the 1960s. After his service in the army and involvement in the Vietnam War protests, he moved to Detroit to make a film about black workers. This marked the beginning of his deep engagement with both the civil rights and antiwar movements. His political consciousness, shaped by the intersection of his Jewish heritage and his experiences in America, led him to view struggles for justice as interconnected.
In 1991, a pivotal moment occurred when Rene attended a conference of child survivors of the Holocaust. This gathering, which brought together over 1600 people from around the world, made him acutely aware of his own childhood experiences and the importance of Holocaust education. He became a co-chair of the Hidden Children and Child Survivors of Michigan and a founding member and Vice President of the World Federation of Jewish Child Survivors of the Holocaust. His mission was to share his story and educate others about the Holocaust, emphasizing tolerance, empathy, and the dangers of stereotyping.
For Lichtman, the lessons of the Holocaust are not confined to the past. In recent years, he has been a vocal critic of Israeli actions in Gaza, drawing controversial parallels between the Holocaust and the current situation. " I see these parallels that are just so scary between what's going on in Gaza publicly with the military leaders and compared to the way the Holocaust against the Jews played out”. Just an instance, humiliating Jews during the Holocaust was the first step. The Israeli military does it publicly. These 18–19-year-old kids laugh after they destroy somebody's house; it's so tragic. In terms of genocide, the military leaders in Israel and the politicians have used the same type of language, and they openly say, "We're going to eliminate electricity and water, and we're going to destroy the housing and the hospitals." Well, no wonder the world the international community says, ‘This is genocide,’ Rene says, highlighting the dehumanization and violence inflicted upon Palestinians. “Israel has become pariah in in the world , the image is shattered because of what it's done publicly and said publicly and the charges of genocide and ethnic cleansing. All of that is true,” Rene further stated. His outspoken stance has made him a divisive figure within his own community, often labeled as a traitor or self-hating Jew. Reflecting on the popular narrative that a pro-Palestine stance equates to anti-semitism, Rene says, “I grew up with anti-Semitism, and the way I knew it, it was anti-Jewish, and didnt have anything to do with the Zionist state”. As a Jew who has experiences countelss instances of anti-Semitism throughout his entire life, he remarks,“ It’s not anti-Semitism, it's something else, it's anti Israel, it's anti Zionist and you can't conflate the two terms”.
In December 2023, Rene made headlines by lying down at an intersection in Farmington Hills, holding a sign that read, “Never Again for Anyone.” This act of protest against the ongoing violence in Gaza led to his removal as a speaker from the local Holocaust museum, where he had shared his story for many years. Yet, Rene remains undeterred. He continues to challenge Jewish institutions to take a stand against what he views as a new genocide, urging them to apply the lessons of the Holocaust to current humanitarian crises.
Rene Lichtman’s life is a testament to the power of memory and the imperative of speaking out against injustice. As a child survivor of the Holocaust, his early experiences imbued him with a profound understanding of the dangers of hatred and intolerance. As an adult, his activism has spanned decades and continents, driven by a steadfast commitment to justice for all people.
In reflecting on his journey, Rene emphasizes the importance of not being a bystander. “There were three categories of people in those days: the victims, the perpetrators, and the bystanders. When we speak to audiences, we always say, don’t be a bystander. Take a position, stand up for your neighbor.”
Rene Lichtman’s story is not just one of survival but of relentless advocacy for a world where “Never Again” applies to everyone. His courage in confronting uncomfortable truths and his dedication to educating future generations ensure that the lessons of the past remain relevant and urgent today.
Lichtman’s journey to America at age 13 further complicated his sense of identity. Settling in Brooklyn, a culturally rich and predominantly Jewish neighborhood, he learned Yiddish and embraced a secular Jewish identity. Despite his stepfather’s religious leanings, Rene found solace and self-expression in art. Encouraged by public school teachers, he attended a special art high school in New York, which helped him forge a new sense of self.
His dual passions for art and politics took root during this time. Influenced by his father’s political views, which he later learned were left-wing, Rene began to understand the complexities of social justice. His experiences in the segregated South while serving in the U.S. Army only heightened his awareness of racism and injustice, further fueling his lifelong commitment to civil rights. “I witnessed the segregation of the South firsthand. In the late 1950s, while stationed nearby…I vividly remember having KKK people in my unit, Nazis and racists. I was acutely aware of the pervasive racism. The people who hated black people also hated people like me. They hated all kinds of foreigners”, Rene reflected.
Rene Lichtman’s activism truly began to flourish in the 1960s. After his service in the army and involvement in the Vietnam War protests, he moved to Detroit to make a film about black workers. This marked the beginning of his deep engagement with both the civil rights and antiwar movements. His political consciousness, shaped by the intersection of his Jewish heritage and his experiences in America, led him to view struggles for justice as interconnected.
In 1991, a pivotal moment occurred when Rene attended a conference of child survivors of the Holocaust. This gathering, which brought together over 1600 people from around the world, made him acutely aware of his own childhood experiences and the importance of Holocaust education. He became a co-chair of the Hidden Children and Child Survivors of Michigan and a founding member and Vice President of the World Federation of Jewish Child Survivors of the Holocaust. His mission was to share his story and educate others about the Holocaust, emphasizing tolerance, empathy, and the dangers of stereotyping.
For Lichtman, the lessons of the Holocaust are not confined to the past. In recent years, he has been a vocal critic of Israeli actions in Gaza, drawing controversial parallels between the Holocaust and the current situation. " I see these parallels that are just so scary between what's going on in Gaza publicly with the military leaders and compared to the way the Holocaust against the Jews played out”. Just an instance, humiliating Jews during the Holocaust was the first step. The Israeli military does it publicly. These 18–19-year-old kids laugh after they destroy somebody's house; it's so tragic. In terms of genocide, the military leaders in Israel and the politicians have used the same type of language, and they openly say, "We're going to eliminate electricity and water, and we're going to destroy the housing and the hospitals." Well, no wonder the world the international community says, ‘This is genocide,’ Rene says, highlighting the dehumanization and violence inflicted upon Palestinians. “Israel has become pariah in in the world , the image is shattered because of what it's done publicly and said publicly and the charges of genocide and ethnic cleansing. All of that is true,” Rene further stated. His outspoken stance has made him a divisive figure within his own community, often labeled as a traitor or self-hating Jew. Reflecting on the popular narrative that a pro-Palestine stance equates to anti-semitism, Rene says, “I grew up with anti-Semitism, and the way I knew it, it was anti-Jewish, and didnt have anything to do with the Zionist state”. As a Jew who has experiences countelss instances of anti-Semitism throughout his entire life, he remarks,“ It’s not anti-Semitism, it's something else, it's anti Israel, it's anti Zionist and you can't conflate the two terms”.
In December 2023, Rene made headlines by lying down at an intersection in Farmington Hills, holding a sign that read, “Never Again for Anyone.” This act of protest against the ongoing violence in Gaza led to his removal as a speaker from the local Holocaust museum, where he had shared his story for many years. Yet, Rene remains undeterred. He continues to challenge Jewish institutions to take a stand against what he views as a new genocide, urging them to apply the lessons of the Holocaust to current humanitarian crises.
Rene Lichtman’s life is a testament to the power of memory and the imperative of speaking out against injustice. As a child survivor of the Holocaust, his early experiences imbued him with a profound understanding of the dangers of hatred and intolerance. As an adult, his activism has spanned decades and continents, driven by a steadfast commitment to justice for all people.
In reflecting on his journey, Rene emphasizes the importance of not being a bystander. “There were three categories of people in those days: the victims, the perpetrators, and the bystanders. When we speak to audiences, we always say, don’t be a bystander. Take a position, stand up for your neighbor.”
Rene Lichtman’s story is not just one of survival but of relentless advocacy for a world where “Never Again” applies to everyone. His courage in confronting uncomfortable truths and his dedication to educating future generations ensure that the lessons of the past remain relevant and urgent today.
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Lori Ajlourny's story is one of resilience, rich cultural heritage, and steadfast activism. Born to a Palestinian family from Ramallah, her narrative intertwines personal family history with the broader historical events of the Nakba and the ongoing struggles faced by Palestinians. Through her journey, Lori provides a powerful testimony of her family's experiences, the vibrant culture of pre-1948 Palestine, and her unwavering commitment to Palestinian activism in the United States.
Lori's family hails from Ramallah, a town meaning "God's Hill," known for its scenic beauty and pleasant weather. The Ajlourny family has roots in Ramallah dating back to the mid-1700s, as meticulously documented in their family tree. Lori's ancestors lived prosperous lives, with her great-grandfather serving as a priest and bishop, frequently traveling between Jerusalem and Ramallah. Her father's family were successful merchants, selling fine linens from Egypt to visitors in Jerusalem, while her mother's family were farmers, cultivating oranges, pomegranates, and olives. |
Palestine before 1948 was a vibrant, thriving country with populous cities like Jerusalem, which was a hub for Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Lori recounts a harmonious coexistence among different religious communities, with bustling markets, schools established by Quakers, and a rich tapestry of music, dance, and food that brought people together. Following the fall of the Ottoman Empire during World War I, much of the Arab world, including Palestine, was under the rule of the League of Nations. Despite being under British authority, Palestinian culture thrived, with talents like Tatreez (traditional Palestinian embroidery) being passed down from generation to generation.
The peaceful life of Lori's family, like many others, was shattered by the advent of Zionism and the subsequent events leading up to the Nakba in 1948. Lori emphasizes the distinction between Judaism and Zionism, noting the harmonious relations that previously existed between Jews, Christians, and Muslims in Palestine. However, the political agenda of Zionism sought to establish a Jewish state, which led to the forced displacement of Palestinians.
Lori shares poignant stories from her family, highlighting Palestinians who welcomed European Jewish refugees who came to Palestine from all over Europe during 1945. Lori is proud to say that "almost every family opened their doors, opened their arms to a Jewish refugee family”. My mother's family took in Polish Jews and welcomed them, and we lived in the same house with them, helping them get on their feet.
But there were many horrible stories of refugees who later betrayed their host Palestinians and began forcibly taking over Palestinian homes. One such story featured her nearby neighbor who left their home to do business in Jerusalem. After returning home a couple of days later, they discovered that their home locks had been changed, their belongings were gone, and they were kicked out of their own home. Hundred and thousands of homes were taken this way by force. "And then suddenly, the Palestinians found themselves refugees in their own country," Lori reflected.
Just before the Nakba, on November 29, 1947, the United Nations General Assembly adopted Resolution 181, also known as the partition resolution, to divide Great Britain's former Palestinian mandate into Jewish and Arab States, which was done without any consent or representation of Palestinians, entirely duplicitously and conducted behind the Palestinians' backs.
The Nakba marked the violent theft of Palestinian land, resulting in the death and displacement of countless Palestinians. "Palestinians were sent to the roads walking whatever they could carry on our back. These Zionists took their homes fully furnished. Even the food left inside that people couldn't carry, Zionists ate". Lori cited. Lori's parents, fortunately, managed to return to their homes in Ramallah, but hundreds and thousands were not so lucky.
One such atrocity during this time is known as the massacre of Deir Yassin. During this massacre, Zionist militants aided by the British rounded up hundreds and hundreds of Palestinian brutally killed them. Over 740 villages and 40 vibrant towns were destroyed during Nakba.
Following the Nakba, Lori's family found themselves living under harsh occupation conditions. "My parents could not move, none of the people could move from point A to point B without papers. You couldn't go to school unless you had papers allowing you to go to school. You couldn't conduct your businesses now because businesses were either taken away from you, drowned out", Lori narrated. Her grandfather, unable to provide for his family, started a linen business that took him to Europe and the United States. Lori's father had to quit school to support the family, a testament to the dire circumstances they faced. "Occupation didn't give him a choice. Zionism didn't give him a choice", Lori noted. During this time, her father and mother got married. Eventually, the family decided to immigrate to the United States in search of better opportunities.
Despite the challenges of being immigrants, Lori's parents worked tirelessly to build a better life. They preserved their Palestinian culture and traditions, founding the American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine. This organization grew significantly, fostering a strong sense of community among Palestinians in the United States and supporting various initiatives back home, like funding a hospital and orphanage in Ramallah. Lori's family has a long history of activism, with the American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine, playing a crucial role in organizing protests and raising awareness about the Palestinian cause. Lori recalls participating in protests from a young age, a tradition that continues to this day. "What breaks my heart is that we are still protesting; things have gotten worse. This genocide, people think, started on Oct.7, 2023. I am living proof to tell you it started in 1945 and has continued ongoing harsh occupation and apartheid conditions since then", Lori gloomily said.
She underscores the importance of legislative activism, urging people to contact their Congress members to effect change through laws and policies. Lori's message is clear: "This is not a war; this is genocide." Lori emphasizes that a war takes two parties to fight equally. Occupation and apartheid in Palestine have manifested through sanctions and walls built to cage Gaza's occupants.
Lori mentions that thanks to Jewish people who disengage from the Zionist agenda and real-time reporting from civilians on the ground, "the world's eyes are opening to the Zionist government in Israel that is committing these horrible acts of terrorism of violence, of ethnic cleansing and genocide." The struggle for Palestinian rights is ongoing, and it is through education, activism, and unity that justice and peace can be achieved.
She highlights the contributions of prominent Palestinian figures who continue to advocate for the rights of Palestinians worldwide, such as Dr. Edward Said, congresswoman Rashida Tlaib, the Hadid family, and Dr. Hanan Ashrawi, one of Lori's greatest heroes. Famous cartoonist Naji Al-Ali drew the symbolic figure of Handala, which represents one of the Nakba refugees. Another important symbol is the key, which represents the right of Palestinians to return to their homes.
Lori Ajlourny's story is a powerful reminder of the resilience and strength of the Palestinian people. Her family's journey from Ramallah to the United States is a testament to their enduring spirit and unwavering commitment to their heritage and cause. Through activism and the preservation of their rich culture, Lori and her family continue to inspire future generations to stand up for justice and equality for Palestinians everywhere.
The peaceful life of Lori's family, like many others, was shattered by the advent of Zionism and the subsequent events leading up to the Nakba in 1948. Lori emphasizes the distinction between Judaism and Zionism, noting the harmonious relations that previously existed between Jews, Christians, and Muslims in Palestine. However, the political agenda of Zionism sought to establish a Jewish state, which led to the forced displacement of Palestinians.
Lori shares poignant stories from her family, highlighting Palestinians who welcomed European Jewish refugees who came to Palestine from all over Europe during 1945. Lori is proud to say that "almost every family opened their doors, opened their arms to a Jewish refugee family”. My mother's family took in Polish Jews and welcomed them, and we lived in the same house with them, helping them get on their feet.
But there were many horrible stories of refugees who later betrayed their host Palestinians and began forcibly taking over Palestinian homes. One such story featured her nearby neighbor who left their home to do business in Jerusalem. After returning home a couple of days later, they discovered that their home locks had been changed, their belongings were gone, and they were kicked out of their own home. Hundred and thousands of homes were taken this way by force. "And then suddenly, the Palestinians found themselves refugees in their own country," Lori reflected.
Just before the Nakba, on November 29, 1947, the United Nations General Assembly adopted Resolution 181, also known as the partition resolution, to divide Great Britain's former Palestinian mandate into Jewish and Arab States, which was done without any consent or representation of Palestinians, entirely duplicitously and conducted behind the Palestinians' backs.
The Nakba marked the violent theft of Palestinian land, resulting in the death and displacement of countless Palestinians. "Palestinians were sent to the roads walking whatever they could carry on our back. These Zionists took their homes fully furnished. Even the food left inside that people couldn't carry, Zionists ate". Lori cited. Lori's parents, fortunately, managed to return to their homes in Ramallah, but hundreds and thousands were not so lucky.
One such atrocity during this time is known as the massacre of Deir Yassin. During this massacre, Zionist militants aided by the British rounded up hundreds and hundreds of Palestinian brutally killed them. Over 740 villages and 40 vibrant towns were destroyed during Nakba.
Following the Nakba, Lori's family found themselves living under harsh occupation conditions. "My parents could not move, none of the people could move from point A to point B without papers. You couldn't go to school unless you had papers allowing you to go to school. You couldn't conduct your businesses now because businesses were either taken away from you, drowned out", Lori narrated. Her grandfather, unable to provide for his family, started a linen business that took him to Europe and the United States. Lori's father had to quit school to support the family, a testament to the dire circumstances they faced. "Occupation didn't give him a choice. Zionism didn't give him a choice", Lori noted. During this time, her father and mother got married. Eventually, the family decided to immigrate to the United States in search of better opportunities.
Despite the challenges of being immigrants, Lori's parents worked tirelessly to build a better life. They preserved their Palestinian culture and traditions, founding the American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine. This organization grew significantly, fostering a strong sense of community among Palestinians in the United States and supporting various initiatives back home, like funding a hospital and orphanage in Ramallah. Lori's family has a long history of activism, with the American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine, playing a crucial role in organizing protests and raising awareness about the Palestinian cause. Lori recalls participating in protests from a young age, a tradition that continues to this day. "What breaks my heart is that we are still protesting; things have gotten worse. This genocide, people think, started on Oct.7, 2023. I am living proof to tell you it started in 1945 and has continued ongoing harsh occupation and apartheid conditions since then", Lori gloomily said.
She underscores the importance of legislative activism, urging people to contact their Congress members to effect change through laws and policies. Lori's message is clear: "This is not a war; this is genocide." Lori emphasizes that a war takes two parties to fight equally. Occupation and apartheid in Palestine have manifested through sanctions and walls built to cage Gaza's occupants.
Lori mentions that thanks to Jewish people who disengage from the Zionist agenda and real-time reporting from civilians on the ground, "the world's eyes are opening to the Zionist government in Israel that is committing these horrible acts of terrorism of violence, of ethnic cleansing and genocide." The struggle for Palestinian rights is ongoing, and it is through education, activism, and unity that justice and peace can be achieved.
She highlights the contributions of prominent Palestinian figures who continue to advocate for the rights of Palestinians worldwide, such as Dr. Edward Said, congresswoman Rashida Tlaib, the Hadid family, and Dr. Hanan Ashrawi, one of Lori's greatest heroes. Famous cartoonist Naji Al-Ali drew the symbolic figure of Handala, which represents one of the Nakba refugees. Another important symbol is the key, which represents the right of Palestinians to return to their homes.
Lori Ajlourny's story is a powerful reminder of the resilience and strength of the Palestinian people. Her family's journey from Ramallah to the United States is a testament to their enduring spirit and unwavering commitment to their heritage and cause. Through activism and the preservation of their rich culture, Lori and her family continue to inspire future generations to stand up for justice and equality for Palestinians everywhere.
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Pranay Somayajula, a second-generation Indian American, was raised in the liberal environment of the Twin Cities in Minnesota. Growing up in a politically aware household, Pranay's initial activism was centered around domestic issues, particularly influenced by Bernie Sanders' presidential campaigns.. However, his focus shifted dramatically during his college years in Washington, D.C.
"It wasn't really until I came to college in 2018 and started here in Washington, D.C., that I began to get more involved with Palestine solidarity activism," Pranay explains. His engagement with Jewish peers who were re-examining their own identities and political beliefs catalyzed his introspection on his identity as a Hindu American. The rise of Hindu nationalism in India— particularly under the Modi government—and the alarming increase in anti-Muslim violence, further lit fire his activism. |
Pranay's academic work and his dissertation on preventive detention in India provides a broader lens into issues of state repression and human rights violations. "Preventive detention is essentially a policy of detaining people without charging them with a crime, ostensibly to prevent potential future crimes. This raises significant human rights concerns," Pranay notes. His research traces the genealogy of India's preventive detention laws back to the colonial era, highlighting a disturbing continuity in the use of these powers to suppress dissent.
"These laws were introduced by the British in the 1800s to suppress the anti-colonial movement, and this pattern has persisted in post-independence India," Pranay explains. The misuse of preventive detention laws under the guise of anti-terrorism, particularly the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA), has been a significant tool for the Indian government to silence activists, journalists, and protesters. "The state has used these laws as a devastating tool to shut down any opposition or dissent," Pranay asserts. Ironically, the Indian government has weaponized these preventative detention laws against the very protestors that object to preventative detention laws in the first place—suspending India into a self-reinforcing cycle of power asymmetries, abuses from leadership, and illiberal institutions.
Drawing parallels between Kashmir and Palestine, Pranay highlights the similarities in their struggles for self-determination and liberation. "The Indian government has explicitly stated its intention to replicate an 'Israel-like model' in Kashmir," Pranay points out. This involves using Israeli military technology and tactics, further entrenching the militarization and human rights violations in Kashmir. "Kashmiris, like Palestinians, have been denied their fundamental right to self-determination," he emphasizes.
In recent years, the strategic partnership between India and Israel has deepened significantly. This collaboration encompasses various domains, including but not limited to defense and disinformation campaigns. Following the events of October 7th, there has been a surge in anti-Palestinian and pro-Israel content emanating from Indian far-right online communities. These disinformation efforts echo the existing anti-Muslim narratives pushed by Hindu nationalists. As Pranay notes, “WhatsApp fake news factories and troll farms that are usually pushing out anti-Muslim pro-BJP propaganda in India are now creating massive quantities of anti-Palestinian and pro-Israel content.”
India has become one of the largest recipients of Israeli arms, with the relationship solidifying under Prime Minister Modi. Notably, the Adani Group operates as the only factory outside Israel producing the Hermes 900 drone for the IDF, highlighting the lucrative nature of this partnership. “The only factory in the world producing [the Hermes 900 drone] outside of Israel is in India, because Elbit Systems, the Israeli arms manufacturer, has a significant investment stake from Adani.”
In the US, Hindu nationalist groups, such as the Hindu American Foundation, have aligned with Zionist organizations, adopting tactics to counter criticism by promoting the concept of "Hindu phobia." This term—crafted to parallel the weaponization of anti-Semitism by pro-Israel lobbies —aims to suppress dissent and criticism of the Indian government and Hindutva ideology. “This term [Hindu phobia], which was not even widely used until a few years ago, is now weaponized to create a false idea that widespread, systemic discrimination exists, making it ‘Hindu phobic’ to criticize the Indian government or Hindutva,” according to Pranay.
Pranay further delineated the historical connections between different nationalist ideologies. "The early ideological fathers of Hindutva openly praised Hitler and the Nazis," Pranay reveals. The founders of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the core organization of the Hindutva movement, traveled to Italy in the 1920s to learn from the Italian fascists. "They replicated the fascist model in India, creating what historian Benjamin Zachariah calls 'the world's longest-running fascist movement,'" Pranay notes.
The parallels between Zionism and Hindutva are striking—both are ethno-nationalist movements that seek to establish a homeland for a chosen national community at the expense of others. "Both movements promote a unified national identity, often at the cost of marginalizing or oppressing other communities," Pranay explains. This includes a maximalist territorial vision, with Zionism's vision of Greater Israel and Hindutva's vision of Akhand Bharat (Undivided India), encompassing territories transcending their current borders.
Pranay sees his work as part of a larger historical continuum of advocating for justice. "We're not leading anything by any means; we're part of a lineage of resistance against colonialism and fascism," he humbly states. Acknowledging the privilege of being in the diaspora, Pranay emphasizes the importance of supporting those on the ground in India who face greater risks (especially with preventative detention in place). "We're in a privileged position, but our allies in India are risking their lives to fight back against fascism," he says.
He further persists that "our movement against Hindutva is an opportunity for us to educate people about the relationship not just the parallels but the interconnected relationship between Zionism and how these ideas, these movements, and these ideologically material ideologies materially support each other and Co constitute each other's violence and oppression and the ways that the arms trade links repression and violence in India and Israel the way that this anti-Muslim hate and bigotry links these movements. I hope people recognize how these issues are part of a much larger struggle for liberation, collective liberation".
Looking ahead, Pranay envisions continuing his advocacy work, driven by an undying passion for justice and human rights. "Everything we do is in service of and in solidarity with those on the ground," he concludes.
"These laws were introduced by the British in the 1800s to suppress the anti-colonial movement, and this pattern has persisted in post-independence India," Pranay explains. The misuse of preventive detention laws under the guise of anti-terrorism, particularly the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA), has been a significant tool for the Indian government to silence activists, journalists, and protesters. "The state has used these laws as a devastating tool to shut down any opposition or dissent," Pranay asserts. Ironically, the Indian government has weaponized these preventative detention laws against the very protestors that object to preventative detention laws in the first place—suspending India into a self-reinforcing cycle of power asymmetries, abuses from leadership, and illiberal institutions.
Drawing parallels between Kashmir and Palestine, Pranay highlights the similarities in their struggles for self-determination and liberation. "The Indian government has explicitly stated its intention to replicate an 'Israel-like model' in Kashmir," Pranay points out. This involves using Israeli military technology and tactics, further entrenching the militarization and human rights violations in Kashmir. "Kashmiris, like Palestinians, have been denied their fundamental right to self-determination," he emphasizes.
In recent years, the strategic partnership between India and Israel has deepened significantly. This collaboration encompasses various domains, including but not limited to defense and disinformation campaigns. Following the events of October 7th, there has been a surge in anti-Palestinian and pro-Israel content emanating from Indian far-right online communities. These disinformation efforts echo the existing anti-Muslim narratives pushed by Hindu nationalists. As Pranay notes, “WhatsApp fake news factories and troll farms that are usually pushing out anti-Muslim pro-BJP propaganda in India are now creating massive quantities of anti-Palestinian and pro-Israel content.”
India has become one of the largest recipients of Israeli arms, with the relationship solidifying under Prime Minister Modi. Notably, the Adani Group operates as the only factory outside Israel producing the Hermes 900 drone for the IDF, highlighting the lucrative nature of this partnership. “The only factory in the world producing [the Hermes 900 drone] outside of Israel is in India, because Elbit Systems, the Israeli arms manufacturer, has a significant investment stake from Adani.”
In the US, Hindu nationalist groups, such as the Hindu American Foundation, have aligned with Zionist organizations, adopting tactics to counter criticism by promoting the concept of "Hindu phobia." This term—crafted to parallel the weaponization of anti-Semitism by pro-Israel lobbies —aims to suppress dissent and criticism of the Indian government and Hindutva ideology. “This term [Hindu phobia], which was not even widely used until a few years ago, is now weaponized to create a false idea that widespread, systemic discrimination exists, making it ‘Hindu phobic’ to criticize the Indian government or Hindutva,” according to Pranay.
Pranay further delineated the historical connections between different nationalist ideologies. "The early ideological fathers of Hindutva openly praised Hitler and the Nazis," Pranay reveals. The founders of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the core organization of the Hindutva movement, traveled to Italy in the 1920s to learn from the Italian fascists. "They replicated the fascist model in India, creating what historian Benjamin Zachariah calls 'the world's longest-running fascist movement,'" Pranay notes.
The parallels between Zionism and Hindutva are striking—both are ethno-nationalist movements that seek to establish a homeland for a chosen national community at the expense of others. "Both movements promote a unified national identity, often at the cost of marginalizing or oppressing other communities," Pranay explains. This includes a maximalist territorial vision, with Zionism's vision of Greater Israel and Hindutva's vision of Akhand Bharat (Undivided India), encompassing territories transcending their current borders.
Pranay sees his work as part of a larger historical continuum of advocating for justice. "We're not leading anything by any means; we're part of a lineage of resistance against colonialism and fascism," he humbly states. Acknowledging the privilege of being in the diaspora, Pranay emphasizes the importance of supporting those on the ground in India who face greater risks (especially with preventative detention in place). "We're in a privileged position, but our allies in India are risking their lives to fight back against fascism," he says.
He further persists that "our movement against Hindutva is an opportunity for us to educate people about the relationship not just the parallels but the interconnected relationship between Zionism and how these ideas, these movements, and these ideologically material ideologies materially support each other and Co constitute each other's violence and oppression and the ways that the arms trade links repression and violence in India and Israel the way that this anti-Muslim hate and bigotry links these movements. I hope people recognize how these issues are part of a much larger struggle for liberation, collective liberation".
Looking ahead, Pranay envisions continuing his advocacy work, driven by an undying passion for justice and human rights. "Everything we do is in service of and in solidarity with those on the ground," he concludes.
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In this episode of the "Storytelling Beyond Border" podcast, Jeyda Muhammad, a Princeton University student, talked about her involvement in the college encampments movement for Palestinian liberation. Jeyda, an architecture student, shared her journey from growing up in a Black Muslim family steeped in activism to becoming a vocal advocate for Palestinian rights. "I grew up in a Black Muslim family where knowledge of Black history and activism was very present every step of the way," Jeyda recounted. "A large part of Islam and being Muslim is service, so I was very accustomed to volunteer opportunities and community service." |
Her upbringing in Baltimore, MD—in a community that emphasized solidarity and support— naturally led Jeyda to activism. The catalyst for her involvement in Palestinian advocacy came in the aftermath of the October 7th attacks, when she observed a noticeable rise in Islamophobia on campus. "Immediately, I was like, 'Oh my God, they're going to retaliate with the power of the United States.' There was enough historical precedent to assume so, and it started happening. I knew we had to do something," she said.
The college encampment at Princeton began as a response to this increasing tension. The encampment—initially set up in a prominent outdoor area of the campus—quickly became a hub of activity, community, and activism. "I was there the next day to see what was going on, who was speaking, and how I could help," Jeyda recalled. "Princeton has a culture of using expertise to benefit the community, and the encampment was proof of that."
The encampment featured tables of food donations, a liberation library, and continuous programming with speakers, including Princeton alumni and Palestinian journalists. It provided an indispensable safe space for students to express their identities and support for Palestine. "The encampment really created a physical space where you could go and feel safe in your identity as a person," Jeyda emphasized.
Diversity was a cornerstone of the encampment, with people from various faiths, ethnicities, and backgrounds coming together. "We had rabbis come and speak at rallies, and there were counter-protesters screaming at us. The rabbis stood up for us, talking about Judaism and Zionism. We felt a lot of solidarity with the Jewish community that supports Palestinian activists," Jeyda said.
Despite the challenges—including harassment and discrimination—Jeyda and her peers remained undeterred. "A lot of that is daily life as a Black Muslim woman. Wearing a kufiyah doesn't make a difference to me; it lets everyone around me know that I support Palestine," she explained. "Black and brown students are being disproportionately targeted, but it doesn't dissuade us. If anything, it encourages us more."
Faculty support also played a significant role. Some professors spoke at rallies, supported students on social media, and offered advice. "It's nice because it feels like we're not alone," Jeyda noted. "I hope their bravery inspires other faculty to do the same."
One of Jeyda's most impactful contributions was using her architecture skills to create an installation visualizing the destruction in Gaza. Working with the National Organization for Minority Architecture Students, she helped design an installation featuring 300 hanging rocks, each representing 1,000 destroyed homes. "Amongst the hanging rocks, we also hung stories of different people who have shown resilience in the midst of tragedy," Jeyda described. "There were a lot of tears at the installation opening, which to me is evidence of creating a safe space for people to see these stories and understand the scale and depth of what's happening."
As the movement continues, Jeyda hopes for a future where such activism is no longer as necessary. She instead hopes for a future where students assume a democratic power to pressure administrators in power for policies that accurately represent them. "I hope we don't need to be activists for much longer. I hope the US stops funding the genocide and that it ends soon," she said. "My hope is that students on college campuses can pressure people in power enough to take a stand and stop the genocide." After all, a college campus exists only because of the students that bring diverse perspectives and bring learning to life—it’s only fair that these students have a say in where their tuition money is funneled.
Jeyda's commitment to justice and her innovative use of architecture to bring the plight of Palestinians to the foreground is a testament to the power of student activism—Princeton students were in the driver’s seat. "Our courage will inspire more students to become involved, to learn, and to participate in making this world a place where we can all walk around without fear of being harassed or bombed," she concluded.
The college encampment at Princeton began as a response to this increasing tension. The encampment—initially set up in a prominent outdoor area of the campus—quickly became a hub of activity, community, and activism. "I was there the next day to see what was going on, who was speaking, and how I could help," Jeyda recalled. "Princeton has a culture of using expertise to benefit the community, and the encampment was proof of that."
The encampment featured tables of food donations, a liberation library, and continuous programming with speakers, including Princeton alumni and Palestinian journalists. It provided an indispensable safe space for students to express their identities and support for Palestine. "The encampment really created a physical space where you could go and feel safe in your identity as a person," Jeyda emphasized.
Diversity was a cornerstone of the encampment, with people from various faiths, ethnicities, and backgrounds coming together. "We had rabbis come and speak at rallies, and there were counter-protesters screaming at us. The rabbis stood up for us, talking about Judaism and Zionism. We felt a lot of solidarity with the Jewish community that supports Palestinian activists," Jeyda said.
Despite the challenges—including harassment and discrimination—Jeyda and her peers remained undeterred. "A lot of that is daily life as a Black Muslim woman. Wearing a kufiyah doesn't make a difference to me; it lets everyone around me know that I support Palestine," she explained. "Black and brown students are being disproportionately targeted, but it doesn't dissuade us. If anything, it encourages us more."
Faculty support also played a significant role. Some professors spoke at rallies, supported students on social media, and offered advice. "It's nice because it feels like we're not alone," Jeyda noted. "I hope their bravery inspires other faculty to do the same."
One of Jeyda's most impactful contributions was using her architecture skills to create an installation visualizing the destruction in Gaza. Working with the National Organization for Minority Architecture Students, she helped design an installation featuring 300 hanging rocks, each representing 1,000 destroyed homes. "Amongst the hanging rocks, we also hung stories of different people who have shown resilience in the midst of tragedy," Jeyda described. "There were a lot of tears at the installation opening, which to me is evidence of creating a safe space for people to see these stories and understand the scale and depth of what's happening."
As the movement continues, Jeyda hopes for a future where such activism is no longer as necessary. She instead hopes for a future where students assume a democratic power to pressure administrators in power for policies that accurately represent them. "I hope we don't need to be activists for much longer. I hope the US stops funding the genocide and that it ends soon," she said. "My hope is that students on college campuses can pressure people in power enough to take a stand and stop the genocide." After all, a college campus exists only because of the students that bring diverse perspectives and bring learning to life—it’s only fair that these students have a say in where their tuition money is funneled.
Jeyda's commitment to justice and her innovative use of architecture to bring the plight of Palestinians to the foreground is a testament to the power of student activism—Princeton students were in the driver’s seat. "Our courage will inspire more students to become involved, to learn, and to participate in making this world a place where we can all walk around without fear of being harassed or bombed," she concluded.
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In an enlightening conversation with Matthew Clark, a Michigan-based American Jew and activist, we delved into his personal journey of self-discovery and transformation. Matt's story is one of introspection, critical thinking, and a deep commitment to justice. From his upbringing in a community where support for Israel was synonymous with Jewish identity to his current activism for Palestinian liberation, Matt's evolution offers valuable insights into the complexities of identity and activism. In his early years, Matt grew up in an environment where being Jewish and supporting Israel were inseparable concepts. Like many American Jews, he initially saw no distinction between his religious identity and his support for the state of Israel, saying “If you explained to me during first couple of decades of my life what even the concept of an anti-Zionist Jew is, I probably would have looked at you like you're from another planet”. However, as he matured and began to
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critically examine the political landscape, he started to question the implications of Zionism.
A pivotal moment in Matt's journey was his participation in the Birthright Israel trip at the age of 21. Initially viewed as a cultural immersion experience, the trip exposed him to a one-sided narrative that omitted the realities of Palestinian life. This realization planted the seeds of doubt in Matt's mind, leading him to explore alternative perspectives.
When asked about his motivation to speak out on behalf of the Palestinian people, Matt drew a direct connection to his Jewish identity. He emphasized the importance of standing with oppressed communities, citing the historical persecution of Jews as a driving force behind his activism. Matt passionately argued that the principle of "never again" should extend to all peoples, including Palestinians who face systemic oppression. Additionally, Matt addressed the common tactic of equating criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism, highlighting the flaws in this narrative. He emphasized the distinction between legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and bigotry towards Jewish people. Drawing from his own experiences of anti-Semitism, Matt asserted that advocating for Palestinian rights does not equate to hostility towards Jews. He called for a nuanced understanding of the complex issues at hand, urging fellow Jews to challenge ingrained beliefs and engage in honest dialogue.
Discussing the religious dimension of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Matt emphasized the historical coexistence between Jewish and Muslim communities that was much more positive than in Christian Europe. While providing some examples, he included, “when Jerusalem became a Muslim city which was conquered by the caliph Omar in the 7th century, he brought Jews back into the city as the Christian Romans had kicked them out. Jewish golden age flourished in Al Andalus, now Spain, for hundreds of years under Muslim rule. Jews had some of the greatest cultural accomplishments in Jewish history and were treated better than anywhere else in Europe”. He debunked the notion of an inherent religious conflict, instead framing the issue as a modern-day colonization and occupation. He stressed the importance of educating others about this nuanced perspective, highlighting the need for a shared understanding among Jews and Palestinians.
Matt shared his involvement in the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement as a means of addressing Palestinian oppression. Drawing parallels to the South African anti-apartheid movement, he underscored the importance of strategic boycotts in holding accountable entities complicit in human rights abuses. He emphasized the diverse skill sets that individuals can contribute to the BDS movement, highlighting his own legal background in identifying targets for boycotts.
Reflecting on the current state of affairs, Matt expressed optimism about the growing movement for Palestinian liberation. He highlighted the increasing number of Jewish voices joining the cause and emphasized the importance of solidarity in achieving a free Palestine. Despite the challenges ahead, he remains committed to advocating for justice and equality for all peoples.
Matt’s journey from Zionism to activism serves as a powerful testament to the transformative power of critical thinking and empathy. His story challenges us to confront ingrained beliefs, engage in difficult conversations, and work towards a more just and equitable world. As Matt continues to raise his voice for Palestinian rights, he inspires others to do the same, reminding us that change is possible through collective action and unwavering dedication to justice.
A pivotal moment in Matt's journey was his participation in the Birthright Israel trip at the age of 21. Initially viewed as a cultural immersion experience, the trip exposed him to a one-sided narrative that omitted the realities of Palestinian life. This realization planted the seeds of doubt in Matt's mind, leading him to explore alternative perspectives.
When asked about his motivation to speak out on behalf of the Palestinian people, Matt drew a direct connection to his Jewish identity. He emphasized the importance of standing with oppressed communities, citing the historical persecution of Jews as a driving force behind his activism. Matt passionately argued that the principle of "never again" should extend to all peoples, including Palestinians who face systemic oppression. Additionally, Matt addressed the common tactic of equating criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism, highlighting the flaws in this narrative. He emphasized the distinction between legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and bigotry towards Jewish people. Drawing from his own experiences of anti-Semitism, Matt asserted that advocating for Palestinian rights does not equate to hostility towards Jews. He called for a nuanced understanding of the complex issues at hand, urging fellow Jews to challenge ingrained beliefs and engage in honest dialogue.
Discussing the religious dimension of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Matt emphasized the historical coexistence between Jewish and Muslim communities that was much more positive than in Christian Europe. While providing some examples, he included, “when Jerusalem became a Muslim city which was conquered by the caliph Omar in the 7th century, he brought Jews back into the city as the Christian Romans had kicked them out. Jewish golden age flourished in Al Andalus, now Spain, for hundreds of years under Muslim rule. Jews had some of the greatest cultural accomplishments in Jewish history and were treated better than anywhere else in Europe”. He debunked the notion of an inherent religious conflict, instead framing the issue as a modern-day colonization and occupation. He stressed the importance of educating others about this nuanced perspective, highlighting the need for a shared understanding among Jews and Palestinians.
Matt shared his involvement in the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement as a means of addressing Palestinian oppression. Drawing parallels to the South African anti-apartheid movement, he underscored the importance of strategic boycotts in holding accountable entities complicit in human rights abuses. He emphasized the diverse skill sets that individuals can contribute to the BDS movement, highlighting his own legal background in identifying targets for boycotts.
Reflecting on the current state of affairs, Matt expressed optimism about the growing movement for Palestinian liberation. He highlighted the increasing number of Jewish voices joining the cause and emphasized the importance of solidarity in achieving a free Palestine. Despite the challenges ahead, he remains committed to advocating for justice and equality for all peoples.
Matt’s journey from Zionism to activism serves as a powerful testament to the transformative power of critical thinking and empathy. His story challenges us to confront ingrained beliefs, engage in difficult conversations, and work towards a more just and equitable world. As Matt continues to raise his voice for Palestinian rights, he inspires others to do the same, reminding us that change is possible through collective action and unwavering dedication to justice.
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In a recent storytelling podcast interview, Jaike Spotted Wolf—a prominent voice in the fight for Native American rights—shared her compelling life story. Born into the Hidatsa and Mandan tribes, with lineage also tracing back to the Assiniboine and Fort Peck Sioux of Montana and North Dakota, her experiences are marked by resilience, awakening, and advocacy.
"Growing up in southern Idaho, there wasn't a lot of race, there wasn't a lot of forgiveness, but there was a lot of trauma happening within our region," Spotted Wolf recalls—painting a vivid picture of her childhood in a predominantly white, Christian upbringing. Reflecting on her first visit to the Fort Peck Reservation at the age of 16, she describes the profound contrast between her upbringing and the harsh realities of reservation life. She discusses the stark disparity between civilizations, resources, and opportunity. |
As she entered her late 20s and early 30s, Jaike Spotted Wolf's awareness deepened, bringing her to fight against the intergenerational trauma perpetuated by centuries of oppression. "The reasons that I was experiencing such scarcity in my life was directly related to the scarcity that my Native American father had experienced his whole life," she explains.
In many ways, the legacy of colonization is still carried through native American communities. Many indigenous people have died on reservations, as the American government restricts critical resources and directly causes economic issues. There are only “6 grocery stores in a 500 square foot mile in Fort Peck,” she says, illustrating just how scarce basic commodities are in reservations. The absence of any “safety net” or mutual aid organization drives Natives to resort to drug dealing, violence, and other well-documented effects of poverty. As a result, a handful of children from these families are stolen every year from reservations and sold to white couples. Native parents were told they are “unfit” for parenting, and their children were sent hundreds of miles away into the foster system.
Throughout the late stage of colonization, using eminent domain, the government took more land than what was offered in several treaty agreements—cementing a generational cycle of depression and trauma throughout communities. Despite these atrocities throughout modern history, the US government hasn’t offered any substantive reparations and, adding insult to injury, continues to restrict essential resources from a suffering population.
Jaike Spotted Wolf draws parallels between these modern struggles with resources and the past policies of Ulysses S Grant. Buffalo were a crucial source of life—used for clothing, tools, and making food—and Grant took advantage. He ordered the killing of Buffalo for the sake of “dividing the Native American tribes and turning them against each other.” Central to many indigenous worldviews is the fact that natives leave a legacy and prepare their children to take care of the earth for the “next 7 generations.” This entrenched connection to nature is what also differentiates Western culture from indigenous cultures, according to Spotted Wolf.
That lands more along the lines of our belief system and our connection to nature our connection to that we prioritize children even where white culture does not do that. Westernized culture has children specifically to leave a legacy but not because they understand that you prepare the earth and you take care of the earth for the next 7 generations and the children are vital in all of that has done its job to really end what we know of Native American culture.
Jaike Spotted Wolf also emphasizes the shared struggles of marginalized peoples fighting for autonomy and recognition, particularly Palestinians and Native Americans. "They're both called savage. They're considered the unholy," she observes, emphasizing the role of language—leveraged by powerful leaders—in vilifying both groups. Both groups have existed for thousands of years; nonetheless “they are not only fighting for their rights, they are fighting for their lives.”
Despite the pervasive challenges faced by Indigenous communities, Spotted Wolf remains steadfast in her commitment to advocacy. While Palestinians have rightfully received noticeable attention in media and policy spheres, she says, Native American injustices are too often forgotten—consigned, by a majority of Americans, to the dustbin of oppressive history.
As the interview drew to a close, Spotted Wolf leaves listeners with a powerful call to action, reminding us that the struggle for Indigenous rights is not a remnant of the past but an urgent moral imperative of our time. "We have the passion, we have the desire, which counts for a lot of it," she finds, urging us to join the fight for justice and equality of opportunity.
In many ways, the legacy of colonization is still carried through native American communities. Many indigenous people have died on reservations, as the American government restricts critical resources and directly causes economic issues. There are only “6 grocery stores in a 500 square foot mile in Fort Peck,” she says, illustrating just how scarce basic commodities are in reservations. The absence of any “safety net” or mutual aid organization drives Natives to resort to drug dealing, violence, and other well-documented effects of poverty. As a result, a handful of children from these families are stolen every year from reservations and sold to white couples. Native parents were told they are “unfit” for parenting, and their children were sent hundreds of miles away into the foster system.
Throughout the late stage of colonization, using eminent domain, the government took more land than what was offered in several treaty agreements—cementing a generational cycle of depression and trauma throughout communities. Despite these atrocities throughout modern history, the US government hasn’t offered any substantive reparations and, adding insult to injury, continues to restrict essential resources from a suffering population.
Jaike Spotted Wolf draws parallels between these modern struggles with resources and the past policies of Ulysses S Grant. Buffalo were a crucial source of life—used for clothing, tools, and making food—and Grant took advantage. He ordered the killing of Buffalo for the sake of “dividing the Native American tribes and turning them against each other.” Central to many indigenous worldviews is the fact that natives leave a legacy and prepare their children to take care of the earth for the “next 7 generations.” This entrenched connection to nature is what also differentiates Western culture from indigenous cultures, according to Spotted Wolf.
That lands more along the lines of our belief system and our connection to nature our connection to that we prioritize children even where white culture does not do that. Westernized culture has children specifically to leave a legacy but not because they understand that you prepare the earth and you take care of the earth for the next 7 generations and the children are vital in all of that has done its job to really end what we know of Native American culture.
Jaike Spotted Wolf also emphasizes the shared struggles of marginalized peoples fighting for autonomy and recognition, particularly Palestinians and Native Americans. "They're both called savage. They're considered the unholy," she observes, emphasizing the role of language—leveraged by powerful leaders—in vilifying both groups. Both groups have existed for thousands of years; nonetheless “they are not only fighting for their rights, they are fighting for their lives.”
Despite the pervasive challenges faced by Indigenous communities, Spotted Wolf remains steadfast in her commitment to advocacy. While Palestinians have rightfully received noticeable attention in media and policy spheres, she says, Native American injustices are too often forgotten—consigned, by a majority of Americans, to the dustbin of oppressive history.
As the interview drew to a close, Spotted Wolf leaves listeners with a powerful call to action, reminding us that the struggle for Indigenous rights is not a remnant of the past but an urgent moral imperative of our time. "We have the passion, we have the desire, which counts for a lot of it," she finds, urging us to join the fight for justice and equality of opportunity.
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Equity, justice, and peace are the ideals that activists work towards to create a better world for generations to come. For Felicia Eaves, this manifests through her extensive work across various movements, including environmental and climate justice, health equity, and anti-militiarism. Born in Kentucky, and raised in Evansville, Indiana, Eaves recalls having core experiences early on in her life that align with her work today. When she was a young child, her father was a student at the University of Evansville, allowing her to hear about topics discussed in his classes, such as the Civil Rights Movement. These stimulating conversations paired with books written by figures like James Baldwin and Malcolm X, and weekly issues of the Ebony magazine cultivated an awareness and understanding of black history. Eaves’ journey as an activist did not truly start until she was an undergraduate at the University of Southern California (USC) San Diego.
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Angela Davis, a proud alum of USC San Diego and an iconic black leader spoke at her school on multiple occasions during Eave’s time there. “One day”, says Eave, “a lightbulb went on in my brain.” Inspired by Davis, Eaves sought to become involved, and help address issues in her community as well as other marginalized communities.
As a black activist inspired by the Black Panthers, Eaves draws many connections between the struggles of African Americans and those of Palestinians. The Black Panthers have a list of principles by which they would guide themselves, and they saw themselves in solidarity with other people who were oppressed, including Palestinian people. Upon visiting Palestine in 2008, Eaves saw parallels between the brutality of the Jim Crow era in the United States, and the blatant discrimination and injustice Palestinians face each day. Despite these similarities and the rich history of black and Palestinian solidarity, ignorance has been prevalent amongst some. “We have been indoctrinated by the intersection of Christian nationalism and Zionism, that is the primary reason why we dont see a lot of black people joining in with the Palestinian cause”, says Eaves. Thankfully, this modern narrative has steadily been changing. Social media has risen as a powerful tool and acted as a hindrance to the cycle of “political white noise”, as Eaves calls it. Discussing the cyclicity of conflict, she says, “The Israel-Palestine conflict has been the poltiical white noise of our lives in the world, especially in the US. We hear about it, and we go on. Thats been a forever kind of thing since the beginning.” Social media has allowed for atrocities to be seen and heard in real time, from a first-person view. “People I know who would have never said anything about this movement are saying something about it now”, Eaves remarks. This rapid increase in awareness has manifested through efforts by advocates like Eaves, as well as organizations such as Black for Palestine and Black Christians for Palestine.
Reflecting on why it’s so important for black Americans and Americans in general to be involved in the movement to free Palestine, Eaves emphasizes the fact that all of our struggles are intertwined with Palestine’s occupation. “We as United States tax paying citizens are complicit and have been complicit in this issue”, says Eaves. The United States sends more money for military aid to Israel than to any other nation. Just within these last few months, the Biden administration has sent another $14 billion that has gone to the arms and destruction that the Israelis have imposed on the Palestinian people. Drawing a significant connection between the height of the Black Lives Matter movement and the Israel-Palestine conflict, Eaves mentions that the Israeli government invites U.S. police chiefs to Israel for training. The ways in which the U.S. police departments handle enforcement has been taught by the Israeli army, which can be seen through the brutalities people endure at the hands of U.S. police, and Israeli soldiers.
Eaves envisions a future where Palestinians and African Americans can enjoy peace, justice, and liberation. With optimism, she says “I may not live to see it but I hope that at some point we can look at each other as human beings and not look at each other through the lens of race, or ethnicity, or from a divisive lens, and look at each others hearts”. Eaves calls on all of us to join her in her efforts to free Palestine, “I just hope that the little bit of work that I’m able to do will help move the needle in some way towards a life of liberty and justice for allI, I’m just doing the best that I can, and I hope that people will join me and others to the best they can.” Eaves’ inspiring words resonate deeply and inspire us to join the right side of history.
As a black activist inspired by the Black Panthers, Eaves draws many connections between the struggles of African Americans and those of Palestinians. The Black Panthers have a list of principles by which they would guide themselves, and they saw themselves in solidarity with other people who were oppressed, including Palestinian people. Upon visiting Palestine in 2008, Eaves saw parallels between the brutality of the Jim Crow era in the United States, and the blatant discrimination and injustice Palestinians face each day. Despite these similarities and the rich history of black and Palestinian solidarity, ignorance has been prevalent amongst some. “We have been indoctrinated by the intersection of Christian nationalism and Zionism, that is the primary reason why we dont see a lot of black people joining in with the Palestinian cause”, says Eaves. Thankfully, this modern narrative has steadily been changing. Social media has risen as a powerful tool and acted as a hindrance to the cycle of “political white noise”, as Eaves calls it. Discussing the cyclicity of conflict, she says, “The Israel-Palestine conflict has been the poltiical white noise of our lives in the world, especially in the US. We hear about it, and we go on. Thats been a forever kind of thing since the beginning.” Social media has allowed for atrocities to be seen and heard in real time, from a first-person view. “People I know who would have never said anything about this movement are saying something about it now”, Eaves remarks. This rapid increase in awareness has manifested through efforts by advocates like Eaves, as well as organizations such as Black for Palestine and Black Christians for Palestine.
Reflecting on why it’s so important for black Americans and Americans in general to be involved in the movement to free Palestine, Eaves emphasizes the fact that all of our struggles are intertwined with Palestine’s occupation. “We as United States tax paying citizens are complicit and have been complicit in this issue”, says Eaves. The United States sends more money for military aid to Israel than to any other nation. Just within these last few months, the Biden administration has sent another $14 billion that has gone to the arms and destruction that the Israelis have imposed on the Palestinian people. Drawing a significant connection between the height of the Black Lives Matter movement and the Israel-Palestine conflict, Eaves mentions that the Israeli government invites U.S. police chiefs to Israel for training. The ways in which the U.S. police departments handle enforcement has been taught by the Israeli army, which can be seen through the brutalities people endure at the hands of U.S. police, and Israeli soldiers.
Eaves envisions a future where Palestinians and African Americans can enjoy peace, justice, and liberation. With optimism, she says “I may not live to see it but I hope that at some point we can look at each other as human beings and not look at each other through the lens of race, or ethnicity, or from a divisive lens, and look at each others hearts”. Eaves calls on all of us to join her in her efforts to free Palestine, “I just hope that the little bit of work that I’m able to do will help move the needle in some way towards a life of liberty and justice for allI, I’m just doing the best that I can, and I hope that people will join me and others to the best they can.” Eaves’ inspiring words resonate deeply and inspire us to join the right side of history.
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The people who came before us often shape our values, our perspectives, and our experiences. Their stories give us the courage and strength we need to shape our own legacy. This rings true for Nadia, an activist and Palestinian Canadian who is inspired by her family’s powerful history. The Nakba, the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians in 1948, violently impacted families, cities, and history forever. Prior to 1948, in the 30s, there was a steadily increasing number of Jewish immigrants to Palestine. As people began to notice this rapid change in their towns and cities , concerns grew among Palestinian people. Among these people were Nadia’s paternal and maternal families. Her great-grandfather was a well-known figure in the region, and had connections to Arab leaders. His family began to fear that there was going to be an ethnic cleansing and expulsion of the land. Palestine had already been colonized by the British, but with Israel as a new potential colonizer , they were unsure of what the occupation
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would entail. Even in 1918, Nadia’s great-grandfather recognized that Zionism as an ideology would lead to catastrophic outcomes for Palestinians and others. He wrote a letter to the British and warned others long before 1948.
On her mother’s side, Nadia’s family was involved in resisting these changes. Her mother’s cousin, who was a young child at the time, recalls that they were able to acquire some weapons and fight against the Israeli army to reduce the violence and cleansing that had begun. They cleaned and organized rusted weapons and bullets and organized gauze and wound dressing. As they were lacking the sufficient resources and power in comparison to the Israeli army, they attempted to protect the city of Al-Ramla by building a trench around it. A temporary truce was made and the trench protected them for a while, but the Israeli army grew more powerful, eventually overtaking the city. In May of 1948, the Tantura Massacre took place. Horrifying and devastating stories of the massacre spilled into Al-Ramla and other neighboring cities, contributing to growing fear and uncertainty in Palestinian citizens. Underlying the terror and unease was a remaining desire and willingness to fight for the city. The Arab armies agreed to fight, but to Nadia’s family’s dismay, they decided not to follow through with the plan.
Al-Ramla had fallen, and it was in the hands of the Israeli colonizers. The next day, the citizens of Al-Ramla were to be picked up in trucks and buses, and thrown at the border in Jordan. Within each truck was an unknown Palestinian person who had been severely beaten with a bag over their head. The Israeli soldiers used this imagery as a tactic to demonstrate the fate of the citizens if they attempted to escape and to instill fear in them. Once they arrived at the border of Jordan, they were thrown out of the vehicles and forced to run across to the other side as Israeli soldiers shot at them. The innocent people that were ripped from their homes were forced to start their lives from scratch. Following this violent displacement, many Palestinians lived as stateless refugees in Jordan without any form of identification. Fortunately, Nadia’s maternal family was able to obtain Jordanian passports.
On her father’s side, a pivotal event took place in January 1948. Her grandfather’s brother, who was the eldest male in the family, was a smart and accomplished man who was loved by everyone. One day as he went to work, the Haganah set-up a car explosion near his workplace, resulting in an explosion that demolished the building he worked in. Despite people being stuck under the rubble and severely injured, the British wouldn’t allow any Palestinians to see to the wounded. Days later, the family had found that their beloved family member had died under the rubble. When he was found, his body was still warm, indicating that he didn't die from impact, but from the cruelty of the oppressors that prevented aid from arriving to those wounded following this terrorist attack. . As attacks became more frequent in Jaffa, Nadia’s family planned to escape to Lebanon. The journey was grueling as the sea was choppy, there were high winds, and the family was traveling with a young child at the time. Nadia’s grandfather, who was now the eldest following his brother’s passing, was responsible for his family of about 15 to 20 people. They faced tremendous hardship, as they had no money and no property. Consequently, they lived in separate places for a while. After moving from Baalbek, to Beirut, then to Ramallah, and to Jerusalem, Nadia’s paternal grandparents were able to lead a more stable life in Beirut.
Nadia’s parents met in Jordan where she was born and raised until age nine, when her family immigrated to North America. She recalls feeling much more connected to her Palestinian roots while living in Jordan. Her parents made sure to remind her of their roots by putting a Palestinian map on the wall, and using symbols and images that were reminiscent of Palestine around their home. Nadia’s recounts that there was a shift in her connection to her roots in college. She says “I just wanted to learn more about the history outside of the stories that I was told”. She began reading Ilan Pappé’s The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine in an attempt to educate herself so that she could effectively educate others.
Hearing her family members recount their Nakba stories allowed Nadia to feel more connected to the cause to fight for Palestinian liberation. With an air of determination, Nadia describes how her grandparents’ resilience, through their hardships, keeps her fighting for Palestinian liberation:“On days where its feeling difficult because of the genocide in Gaza, I try to remind myself that my grandparents had so much strength in what they lived through”. Additionally, her parents’ efforts to keep her family connected to their roots allowed her to get involved in advocacy. Her activism manifests in various ways. Nadia calls representatives and writes letters and emails. She also acknowledges the value of education, and distributes educational flyers, as many people in the West have learned a warped history. Nadia also collaborates with organizations, as she believes that change can be made with collective action. As an activist of Palestinian descent, Nadia experiences prejudice from individuals as well as larger scale bias from the media and government. She says that a lot of selective history is taught, and she urges us to challenge these preconceived notions. Telling the stories of Palestinians allows us to rehumanize a people that has been dehumanized. Nadia envisions a liberated Palestine where everyone can enjoy freedom, self-determination, and dignity regardless of race, religion and other identity markers. She says, “My ultimate hope is that, someday, Palestinians [on the ground] will have the opportunity and the voice to say what they want [to see in a free Palestine]”
On her mother’s side, Nadia’s family was involved in resisting these changes. Her mother’s cousin, who was a young child at the time, recalls that they were able to acquire some weapons and fight against the Israeli army to reduce the violence and cleansing that had begun. They cleaned and organized rusted weapons and bullets and organized gauze and wound dressing. As they were lacking the sufficient resources and power in comparison to the Israeli army, they attempted to protect the city of Al-Ramla by building a trench around it. A temporary truce was made and the trench protected them for a while, but the Israeli army grew more powerful, eventually overtaking the city. In May of 1948, the Tantura Massacre took place. Horrifying and devastating stories of the massacre spilled into Al-Ramla and other neighboring cities, contributing to growing fear and uncertainty in Palestinian citizens. Underlying the terror and unease was a remaining desire and willingness to fight for the city. The Arab armies agreed to fight, but to Nadia’s family’s dismay, they decided not to follow through with the plan.
Al-Ramla had fallen, and it was in the hands of the Israeli colonizers. The next day, the citizens of Al-Ramla were to be picked up in trucks and buses, and thrown at the border in Jordan. Within each truck was an unknown Palestinian person who had been severely beaten with a bag over their head. The Israeli soldiers used this imagery as a tactic to demonstrate the fate of the citizens if they attempted to escape and to instill fear in them. Once they arrived at the border of Jordan, they were thrown out of the vehicles and forced to run across to the other side as Israeli soldiers shot at them. The innocent people that were ripped from their homes were forced to start their lives from scratch. Following this violent displacement, many Palestinians lived as stateless refugees in Jordan without any form of identification. Fortunately, Nadia’s maternal family was able to obtain Jordanian passports.
On her father’s side, a pivotal event took place in January 1948. Her grandfather’s brother, who was the eldest male in the family, was a smart and accomplished man who was loved by everyone. One day as he went to work, the Haganah set-up a car explosion near his workplace, resulting in an explosion that demolished the building he worked in. Despite people being stuck under the rubble and severely injured, the British wouldn’t allow any Palestinians to see to the wounded. Days later, the family had found that their beloved family member had died under the rubble. When he was found, his body was still warm, indicating that he didn't die from impact, but from the cruelty of the oppressors that prevented aid from arriving to those wounded following this terrorist attack. . As attacks became more frequent in Jaffa, Nadia’s family planned to escape to Lebanon. The journey was grueling as the sea was choppy, there were high winds, and the family was traveling with a young child at the time. Nadia’s grandfather, who was now the eldest following his brother’s passing, was responsible for his family of about 15 to 20 people. They faced tremendous hardship, as they had no money and no property. Consequently, they lived in separate places for a while. After moving from Baalbek, to Beirut, then to Ramallah, and to Jerusalem, Nadia’s paternal grandparents were able to lead a more stable life in Beirut.
Nadia’s parents met in Jordan where she was born and raised until age nine, when her family immigrated to North America. She recalls feeling much more connected to her Palestinian roots while living in Jordan. Her parents made sure to remind her of their roots by putting a Palestinian map on the wall, and using symbols and images that were reminiscent of Palestine around their home. Nadia’s recounts that there was a shift in her connection to her roots in college. She says “I just wanted to learn more about the history outside of the stories that I was told”. She began reading Ilan Pappé’s The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine in an attempt to educate herself so that she could effectively educate others.
Hearing her family members recount their Nakba stories allowed Nadia to feel more connected to the cause to fight for Palestinian liberation. With an air of determination, Nadia describes how her grandparents’ resilience, through their hardships, keeps her fighting for Palestinian liberation:“On days where its feeling difficult because of the genocide in Gaza, I try to remind myself that my grandparents had so much strength in what they lived through”. Additionally, her parents’ efforts to keep her family connected to their roots allowed her to get involved in advocacy. Her activism manifests in various ways. Nadia calls representatives and writes letters and emails. She also acknowledges the value of education, and distributes educational flyers, as many people in the West have learned a warped history. Nadia also collaborates with organizations, as she believes that change can be made with collective action. As an activist of Palestinian descent, Nadia experiences prejudice from individuals as well as larger scale bias from the media and government. She says that a lot of selective history is taught, and she urges us to challenge these preconceived notions. Telling the stories of Palestinians allows us to rehumanize a people that has been dehumanized. Nadia envisions a liberated Palestine where everyone can enjoy freedom, self-determination, and dignity regardless of race, religion and other identity markers. She says, “My ultimate hope is that, someday, Palestinians [on the ground] will have the opportunity and the voice to say what they want [to see in a free Palestine]”
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Huwaida Arraf, a Palestinian American attorney, activist, and co-founder of the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), shared her journey and vision for the Palestinian cause in our recent storytelling interview, emphasizing the importance of global solidarity.
Born to parents who fled occupied Palestine in search of a better future, she grew up with a keen awareness of the injustices faced by her people. Recognizing the privilege, she had received, Arraf felt a “tremendous responsibility to give back and contribute to the liberation struggle” of her fellow Palestinians.
After graduating from college, Arraf accepted a job with a conflict resolution program in Jerusalem. However, she quickly became disillusioned by conventional conflict resolution programs, which she felt failed to address the root causes of oppression. In response, she co-founded the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) in 2001 during the Second Intifada, aiming to provide Palestinians with grassroots support against Israeli occupation.
In contrast to conflict resolution-oriented programs, which cast a negative light on political work for Palestinians, ISM directly attempts to dismantle “structures of oppression that tear people apart.” “I was there, and I was working with Palestinians protesting, and Israelis killing many unarmed protesters, mainly bullet wounds to the chest and head area. And, sadly, as we see, even today, nobody did anything about it. Nobody held Israel accountable,” Arraf says. ISM aims to bolster Palestinian civil society resistance by garnering international support. It encourages individuals worldwide to witness, stand in solidarity, strategize, and participate in popular resistance against the unjust and violent policies enforced by the Israeli military. Arraf highlights that by employing nonviolent resistance and direct action, ISM challenges the oppressive structures (such as home demolitions, tree uprooting, checkpoints, etc.) maintained by the Israeli state and helps amplify Palestinian voices on a global scale. The focus is on the universal right to freedom, which has been denied to Palestinians for over 75 years.
Arraf recounts that the Free Gaza movement emerged as a response to the extreme blockade on Gaza since 2007, leading to dire conditions for its 2 million inhabitants. Israel controls everything going in and out, severely restricting aid, medical treatment, and economic activity. In 2008, peace activists sailed to Gaza to expose the Israeli policy of collective punishment, with the first successful attempt drawing attention to the cause. Subsequent efforts faced challenges, and a 2010 flotilla carrying 700 people and over 10,000 tons of aid was attacked by the Israeli military, causing the death of 10 activists who were shot and killed by Israeli soldiers.
Speaking on the current situation in Gaza, Arraf describes it as a full-scale genocide, documented by Palestinians in the hope of international intervention. Despite millions mobilizing against Israel's actions, Western powers continue to support it, exposing a scary state of the international legal order.
Arraf underscores the need to confront the weaponization of antisemitism to silence Palestinians and advocates of Palestinian freedom. She stresses the difference between Zionism, a political ideology, and Judaism and advocates for equality and freedom for all people in historic Palestine. She emphasizes the role of education, advocacy, and grassroots organizing in challenging narratives of religious conflict and promoting a shared understanding between Jewish and Palestinian communities.
Drawing parallels with historical liberation movements, Arraf participated in actions inspired by the US Civil Rights Movement—such as the Palestinian Freedom Rides—to highlight the similar forms of discrimination and segregation experienced by Palestinians. Her work in the United States involves legal, political and grassroots advocacy, and she cites the impact that mass grassroots campaigns have had on increasing congressional support for a ceasefire resolution, among other things.
Looking to the future, Huwaida envisions a Palestine where all people—regardless of ethnicity or religion—enjoy equal rights and dignity. She calls for a world where the lessons of Palestine serve as a catalyst for global solidarity and the realization of universal human rights.
Born to parents who fled occupied Palestine in search of a better future, she grew up with a keen awareness of the injustices faced by her people. Recognizing the privilege, she had received, Arraf felt a “tremendous responsibility to give back and contribute to the liberation struggle” of her fellow Palestinians.
After graduating from college, Arraf accepted a job with a conflict resolution program in Jerusalem. However, she quickly became disillusioned by conventional conflict resolution programs, which she felt failed to address the root causes of oppression. In response, she co-founded the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) in 2001 during the Second Intifada, aiming to provide Palestinians with grassroots support against Israeli occupation.
In contrast to conflict resolution-oriented programs, which cast a negative light on political work for Palestinians, ISM directly attempts to dismantle “structures of oppression that tear people apart.” “I was there, and I was working with Palestinians protesting, and Israelis killing many unarmed protesters, mainly bullet wounds to the chest and head area. And, sadly, as we see, even today, nobody did anything about it. Nobody held Israel accountable,” Arraf says. ISM aims to bolster Palestinian civil society resistance by garnering international support. It encourages individuals worldwide to witness, stand in solidarity, strategize, and participate in popular resistance against the unjust and violent policies enforced by the Israeli military. Arraf highlights that by employing nonviolent resistance and direct action, ISM challenges the oppressive structures (such as home demolitions, tree uprooting, checkpoints, etc.) maintained by the Israeli state and helps amplify Palestinian voices on a global scale. The focus is on the universal right to freedom, which has been denied to Palestinians for over 75 years.
Arraf recounts that the Free Gaza movement emerged as a response to the extreme blockade on Gaza since 2007, leading to dire conditions for its 2 million inhabitants. Israel controls everything going in and out, severely restricting aid, medical treatment, and economic activity. In 2008, peace activists sailed to Gaza to expose the Israeli policy of collective punishment, with the first successful attempt drawing attention to the cause. Subsequent efforts faced challenges, and a 2010 flotilla carrying 700 people and over 10,000 tons of aid was attacked by the Israeli military, causing the death of 10 activists who were shot and killed by Israeli soldiers.
Speaking on the current situation in Gaza, Arraf describes it as a full-scale genocide, documented by Palestinians in the hope of international intervention. Despite millions mobilizing against Israel's actions, Western powers continue to support it, exposing a scary state of the international legal order.
Arraf underscores the need to confront the weaponization of antisemitism to silence Palestinians and advocates of Palestinian freedom. She stresses the difference between Zionism, a political ideology, and Judaism and advocates for equality and freedom for all people in historic Palestine. She emphasizes the role of education, advocacy, and grassroots organizing in challenging narratives of religious conflict and promoting a shared understanding between Jewish and Palestinian communities.
Drawing parallels with historical liberation movements, Arraf participated in actions inspired by the US Civil Rights Movement—such as the Palestinian Freedom Rides—to highlight the similar forms of discrimination and segregation experienced by Palestinians. Her work in the United States involves legal, political and grassroots advocacy, and she cites the impact that mass grassroots campaigns have had on increasing congressional support for a ceasefire resolution, among other things.
Looking to the future, Huwaida envisions a Palestine where all people—regardless of ethnicity or religion—enjoy equal rights and dignity. She calls for a world where the lessons of Palestine serve as a catalyst for global solidarity and the realization of universal human rights.
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In the bustling streets of New York City, amid the towering structures of the Midtown/East Side of Manhattan, Joshua Feinstein's journey as a peace activist commenced over two decades ago. A native New Yorker with a spirit for social justice, Joshua found himself drawn to activism, particularly against the backdrop of the Bush Administration's invasion of Iraq. Presently, as an advocate for both the Jewish community and proudly Pro-Palestinian, Joshua urges us to join him “on the right side of history”.
Born into a Jewish family, Joshua's upbringing was imbued with a strong sense of Jewish identity and values, rooted in his heritage as the son of a Holocaust survivor. Yet, like many aspects of life, his upbringing also had its blind spots. |
Raised with the belief that Israel's existence was sacrosanct and beyond question, Joshua's worldview underwent a seismic shift in 1995, following the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. Rabin's pursuit of peace with Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat shattered Joshua's preconceived notions when he learned that Rabin was killed not by an Arab, but by a fellow Jew influenced by divisive rhetoric. Reflecting on this pivotal moment, Joshua recounts, "The equation didn’t add up. Why would one Jew kill another Jew?" This cognitive dissonance ignited a journey of introspection and questioning that challenged the very foundations of his identity. Over three decades later, his evolution as a peace activist continues to unfold, shaped by a commitment to justice and a resolute determination to confront uncomfortable truths.
Joshua's journey has not been without its challenges, particularly within his own family and community. Despite ideological differences with his staunchly pro-Israel mother, Joshua maintains a deep respect and love for her. They are still very close, and Joshua acknowledges the complexity of her experiences as a Holocaust survivor. While disagreements persist, he emphasizes the importance of maintaining familial bonds amidst divergent viewpoints, recognizing the generational divides that shape perspectives.
As Joshua's activism expanded beyond the confines of New York City to his current residence in Michigan, his efforts to promote peace within the Jewish community have garnered attention. Adopting a pragmatic approach, he identifies three distinct camps within the community: those with open eyes, entrenched supporters of Zionist ideology, and individuals in the middle ground. It is within this middle ground that Joshua focuses his efforts, engaging in dialogue and advocacy to challenge misconceptions and promote a deeper understanding of the realities in Israel-Palestine.
Addressing the pervasive tendency to conflate criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism, Joshua emphasizes the crucial distinction between opposing an ideology and harboring hatred towards a people. With a steadfast commitment to combating anti-Semitism while advocating for Palestinian rights, he underscores the importance of discernment in navigating complex geopolitical narratives. He says, “To be an anti-zionist is merely saying I do not support the state of Israel because it runs itself in an apartheid fashion”.
In confronting media distortions and the influence of organizations like the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), Joshua highlights the power of social media and grassroots activism in amplifying marginalized voices and challenging dominant narratives. Recognizing the uphill battle against well-funded lobbying efforts by wealthy and influential people in power, Joshua remains undeterred, driven by a vision of justice and equality for all.
Looking to the future, Joshua's vision for the Israel-Palestine relationship centers on empowering Palestinians to shape their own destiny and reclaim their autonomy. With unwavering resolve, he stands in solidarity with the Palestinian struggle for freedom, declaring, "Free Palestine." Joshua Feinstein's journey serves as a testament to the power of individual transformation and collective action in the pursuit of peace and justice.
Joshua's journey has not been without its challenges, particularly within his own family and community. Despite ideological differences with his staunchly pro-Israel mother, Joshua maintains a deep respect and love for her. They are still very close, and Joshua acknowledges the complexity of her experiences as a Holocaust survivor. While disagreements persist, he emphasizes the importance of maintaining familial bonds amidst divergent viewpoints, recognizing the generational divides that shape perspectives.
As Joshua's activism expanded beyond the confines of New York City to his current residence in Michigan, his efforts to promote peace within the Jewish community have garnered attention. Adopting a pragmatic approach, he identifies three distinct camps within the community: those with open eyes, entrenched supporters of Zionist ideology, and individuals in the middle ground. It is within this middle ground that Joshua focuses his efforts, engaging in dialogue and advocacy to challenge misconceptions and promote a deeper understanding of the realities in Israel-Palestine.
Addressing the pervasive tendency to conflate criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism, Joshua emphasizes the crucial distinction between opposing an ideology and harboring hatred towards a people. With a steadfast commitment to combating anti-Semitism while advocating for Palestinian rights, he underscores the importance of discernment in navigating complex geopolitical narratives. He says, “To be an anti-zionist is merely saying I do not support the state of Israel because it runs itself in an apartheid fashion”.
In confronting media distortions and the influence of organizations like the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), Joshua highlights the power of social media and grassroots activism in amplifying marginalized voices and challenging dominant narratives. Recognizing the uphill battle against well-funded lobbying efforts by wealthy and influential people in power, Joshua remains undeterred, driven by a vision of justice and equality for all.
Looking to the future, Joshua's vision for the Israel-Palestine relationship centers on empowering Palestinians to shape their own destiny and reclaim their autonomy. With unwavering resolve, he stands in solidarity with the Palestinian struggle for freedom, declaring, "Free Palestine." Joshua Feinstein's journey serves as a testament to the power of individual transformation and collective action in the pursuit of peace and justice.
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Why is activism essential? Lebanese-American activist Mariam Alboustani would argue that it is fundamentally about humanity. Growing up in Kuwait and later moving to Lebanon at the age of ten, Alboustani’s formative years were profoundly influenced by the Israeli occupation of Lebanon. Ongoing conflict and war, driven by Western colonialism, shaped her perspective on the world and global issues. In June 1982, Beirut faced a three-month siege by Israel, resulting in a scarcity of necessities, bombings, and massacres that claimed thousands of lives. Despite Israel’s subsequent withdrawal to the south, a significant portion of Lebanon remained under occupation, defining Alboustani’s upbringing. In her thirties, she immigrated to the United States.
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Alboustani’s lived experiences parallel the current hardships in Palestine, following 75 years of Israeli occupation. She emphasizes that she “sees through the lens” of the Palestinians, having been conscious of the injustice inflicted upon Palestine since childhood— apartheid, violence, and more. While the media often portrays the conflict as complex, Alboustani simplifies it as a clear matter of right and wrong, stating, “It is wrong to occupy a country, bomb civilians, implement apartheid, and create two sets of laws for different ethnicities.” For her, the interconnectedness of the injustice and oppression she experienced during her upbringing reflects a broader form of injustice against people.
Upon immigrating to the United States in her thirties, Alboustani, after engaging in conversations about discrimination against Palestinians with her Jewish partner in Detroit, Michigan, sought to make a change. Researching organizations that encouraged collaboration between Jewish and Palestinian voices led her to the Jewish Voice for Peace. Alboustani insists “For the Palestinians to have a just future, both the Jewish and Palestinian communities need to come together and sit at the table”. Having been a member for 5 years, her commitment to having inclusive and productive conversations about injustice against Palestinians stems from her values. She believes that as human beings, we cannot be complacent when we see wrongdoing.
Reflecting on her hope for Palestine, Alboustani recalls the pivotal moment in May 2000 when the Israeli forces withdrew from all Lebanese territories. She describes it as “the story of the underdog who triumphed because they had a strategy, a vision, and it was their right”. Alboustani believes that this could be Palestine’s destiny as well. The activist encourages both youth and adults to speak up no matter the size of their platform or lack thereof. “Education is key”, possessing the power to enact change.
Upon immigrating to the United States in her thirties, Alboustani, after engaging in conversations about discrimination against Palestinians with her Jewish partner in Detroit, Michigan, sought to make a change. Researching organizations that encouraged collaboration between Jewish and Palestinian voices led her to the Jewish Voice for Peace. Alboustani insists “For the Palestinians to have a just future, both the Jewish and Palestinian communities need to come together and sit at the table”. Having been a member for 5 years, her commitment to having inclusive and productive conversations about injustice against Palestinians stems from her values. She believes that as human beings, we cannot be complacent when we see wrongdoing.
Reflecting on her hope for Palestine, Alboustani recalls the pivotal moment in May 2000 when the Israeli forces withdrew from all Lebanese territories. She describes it as “the story of the underdog who triumphed because they had a strategy, a vision, and it was their right”. Alboustani believes that this could be Palestine’s destiny as well. The activist encourages both youth and adults to speak up no matter the size of their platform or lack thereof. “Education is key”, possessing the power to enact change.
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In the bustling city of Birmingham, Michigan, Lori-Kamleh Ajlouny, a dedicated Christian Palestinian activist, and a long time Birmingham Public School employee, has spent her life championing Palestinian rights and promoting shared understanding among diverse communities.
Lori's roots trace back to Ramallah, Palestine. After moving to the United States, her parents were deeply committed for their children to maintain their Palestinian identity through traditions and culture. Her parents became very involved with the Ramallah community and with them were founders of an organization called American Federation of Ramallah Palestine. This was the pathway to preserve their Palestinian heritage. |
Growing up in Birmingham, Michigan without an Arab community, she and her siblings faced the harsh reality of being the only Arab family in her neighborhood. They did not feel welcomed in a community with zero diversity. They faced many challenges. She and her siblings were labeled with derogatory terms — “dessert-monkey” “camel jockey” “sand n—--” making Lori and her family feel like outsiders. People called her family “clan-ish” because they participated in large cultural festivities and celebrated holidays with their greater family members. . These cultural celebrations often led her neighbors to make police calls. However, Lori's mother responded to police with grace, offering them heaping plates of their traditional Palestinian food—which would later transform these calls of duty into friendly encounters.
It wasn't until college, when she joined the Organization of Arab Student OAS at Wayne State University, that Lori found a platform to dispel derogatory stereotypes surrounding Arabs and Arab culture. Her dedication to educating others continued growing and was fueled by the injustices experienced by Palestinians—particularly the Israeli claim to Jerusalem barring any and all Palestinians not already living in Jerusalem access to their Holyland by the late 1990’s. Not only was access denied, but by 2002 the “Wall” was completed completely cutting off the West Bank with 703 check-points within.
“It was one of the worst feelings I ever remember having,” Lori said. “Back then and today, Palestinians do not have a right to pray in Jerusalem.” Denied access, Palestinians risk arrest and endure cruel detention in cells simply for seeking a connection to their sacred space.
In 2014, Lori and her own family attempted to attend the annual AFRP Convention held that year in Palestine. Upon entry all Palestinians are led to an Israeli checkpoint where there are armed soldiers with automatic weapons. As the family of four, two adults and their two young sons aged six and eight approached their turn to enter, an Israeli officer checked her husband's Austrian passport, and easily let him through. Seconds later, as the guard checked the other passports. Lori and her two children were denied entrance, and Lori was escorted by two armed soldiers into detention. After 21 hours in a small cubical, without food or water, with one soldier after another, one officer after another interrogating her about her motive for coming to Israel, and at a point of exhaustion, Lori asked a plain clothes soldier “Do you have children?” The soldier responded, “Yes, two. I want my children to grow up without the fear of violence from Palestinians—in a peaceful environment.” She gently responded, “So do I. You see those children out there, they are mine. They are six and eight years old, maybe similar to your two children. So you see, we are not so different, you and I. We share a common desire for our children to be raised in a world without bias, hatred and violence. We want the same thing for our children, to live in a world where we understand and respect each other's differences and come together with similarities.” Her experience demonstrates that we can all find common ground in our core values—peace, equality, and justice—during even the most divided times.
Lori coincidentally ran into this guard four weeks later on a Palestinian/Israeli beach. The sand was split in two sections, divided by a rope between Palestine and Israel borders. As Lori walked up to the guard on the Israeli side, she said “You see my children—they're playing in the ocean and your two children are as well. They could play together. There's no rope in the sea, there's only a rope in the sand.”
Drawing connections between justice movements in South Africa, the Black Lives Matter movement in the United States, and the ongoing struggle in Palestine, Lori also emphasizes the interconnectedness of global fights for equality.
Eleven years ago, Lori also became a part of the National Jewish Voice for Peace.“I joined because authentic Jews want the same things that Palestinian want—justice, freedom, and equality—to unite.” These people understood the peaceful principles enshrined into their “beautiful religion” and sought amity around the world. Today, Lori collaborates with activists across communities to demand for an end to apartheid and a final armistice in the middle east. “It is devastating—beyond tragic—that the current conflict is costing us 25,000 Palestinian lives,” she said.
Lori’s message, on behalf of Palestinians, to diverse communities across the world is worth sharing: “See us as human beings, and then you will see us from our hearts. Maybe this simple act will bring about the change we need.”
It wasn't until college, when she joined the Organization of Arab Student OAS at Wayne State University, that Lori found a platform to dispel derogatory stereotypes surrounding Arabs and Arab culture. Her dedication to educating others continued growing and was fueled by the injustices experienced by Palestinians—particularly the Israeli claim to Jerusalem barring any and all Palestinians not already living in Jerusalem access to their Holyland by the late 1990’s. Not only was access denied, but by 2002 the “Wall” was completed completely cutting off the West Bank with 703 check-points within.
“It was one of the worst feelings I ever remember having,” Lori said. “Back then and today, Palestinians do not have a right to pray in Jerusalem.” Denied access, Palestinians risk arrest and endure cruel detention in cells simply for seeking a connection to their sacred space.
In 2014, Lori and her own family attempted to attend the annual AFRP Convention held that year in Palestine. Upon entry all Palestinians are led to an Israeli checkpoint where there are armed soldiers with automatic weapons. As the family of four, two adults and their two young sons aged six and eight approached their turn to enter, an Israeli officer checked her husband's Austrian passport, and easily let him through. Seconds later, as the guard checked the other passports. Lori and her two children were denied entrance, and Lori was escorted by two armed soldiers into detention. After 21 hours in a small cubical, without food or water, with one soldier after another, one officer after another interrogating her about her motive for coming to Israel, and at a point of exhaustion, Lori asked a plain clothes soldier “Do you have children?” The soldier responded, “Yes, two. I want my children to grow up without the fear of violence from Palestinians—in a peaceful environment.” She gently responded, “So do I. You see those children out there, they are mine. They are six and eight years old, maybe similar to your two children. So you see, we are not so different, you and I. We share a common desire for our children to be raised in a world without bias, hatred and violence. We want the same thing for our children, to live in a world where we understand and respect each other's differences and come together with similarities.” Her experience demonstrates that we can all find common ground in our core values—peace, equality, and justice—during even the most divided times.
Lori coincidentally ran into this guard four weeks later on a Palestinian/Israeli beach. The sand was split in two sections, divided by a rope between Palestine and Israel borders. As Lori walked up to the guard on the Israeli side, she said “You see my children—they're playing in the ocean and your two children are as well. They could play together. There's no rope in the sea, there's only a rope in the sand.”
Drawing connections between justice movements in South Africa, the Black Lives Matter movement in the United States, and the ongoing struggle in Palestine, Lori also emphasizes the interconnectedness of global fights for equality.
Eleven years ago, Lori also became a part of the National Jewish Voice for Peace.“I joined because authentic Jews want the same things that Palestinian want—justice, freedom, and equality—to unite.” These people understood the peaceful principles enshrined into their “beautiful religion” and sought amity around the world. Today, Lori collaborates with activists across communities to demand for an end to apartheid and a final armistice in the middle east. “It is devastating—beyond tragic—that the current conflict is costing us 25,000 Palestinian lives,” she said.
Lori’s message, on behalf of Palestinians, to diverse communities across the world is worth sharing: “See us as human beings, and then you will see us from our hearts. Maybe this simple act will bring about the change we need.”
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In a recent episode of Storytelling Beyond Borders, we had the privilege of engaging in a heartfelt conversation with Pastor Brandi Hebert, a dynamic individual whose journey of faith and commitment to justice has been a guiding force in her life. Pastor Brandi resides in Princeton Junction, NJ, with her husband of 18 years, Noel, and their 16-year-old twins, Gehrig and Eliana. Before transitioning to her current role as Associate Pastor at Lutheran Church of God's Love in Newtown, PA, Brandi enjoyed a career in theatre and later the building materials industry.
Pastor Brandi's journey into faith and justice is rooted in her understanding of Christian and Hebrew scriptures, where justice is seen as synonymous with God.
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This deep connection between faith and justice has shaped her perspective on living a life of discipleship within the Christian tradition. Brandi explains that a commitment to justice can take on various forms, from engaging in social service opportunities to fostering lives of sharing and mutuality. Reflecting on her journey, Brandi shared a transformative experience witnessing the creation of La Convivencia, an interfaith social justice non-profit founded by her friend Tasneem Sultan. This initiative allowed her to witness the power of people coming together, transcending faith traditions and cultural backgrounds to address the issues impacting their communities. As a pastor, Brandi strives to connect individuals' faith with their daily lives, encouraging them to see their neighbors as a global community. Her commitment to loving God and neighbors extends to economic and social implications, shaping how individuals allocate their time, talents, and resources for the benefit of others.
Brandi addressed the complexities of the current situation in the Middle East. As a Christian, she laments the violence, decrying terrorist attacks, and actively listening to the pain emanating from affected regions. Her hope lies in global calls for peace and humanitarian aid. Pastor Brandi also advocates for embracing the multiplicity within the universal, respecting and understanding others' perspectives on God. Her commitment to creating opportunities for diverse worship experiences stems from personal encounters that emphasized the compatibility of different faith traditions.
Lutherans recognize the ongoing journey of understanding scripture, and Brandi emphasizes the importance of not interpreting scriptures in ways that harm or deny rights to others. Holding conflicting beliefs in tension, she maintains that a life of faith is a journey, always growing with new understandings. Addressing the misconception that social justice is solely a political issue, Brandi asserts that religion and politics are intertwined. Engaging in dialogue and navigating differences of opinion, she believes, is crucial for building a peaceful community.
Pastor Brandi Hebert's journey serves as a beacon of hope, illustrating the profound impact faith can have on individuals and their ability to engage with global issues. From her diverse career background to her active involvement in community initiatives, Brandi's commitment to justice and compassion inspires us to embrace the interconnectedness of our global community and work towards a more just and compassionate world.
Brandi addressed the complexities of the current situation in the Middle East. As a Christian, she laments the violence, decrying terrorist attacks, and actively listening to the pain emanating from affected regions. Her hope lies in global calls for peace and humanitarian aid. Pastor Brandi also advocates for embracing the multiplicity within the universal, respecting and understanding others' perspectives on God. Her commitment to creating opportunities for diverse worship experiences stems from personal encounters that emphasized the compatibility of different faith traditions.
Lutherans recognize the ongoing journey of understanding scripture, and Brandi emphasizes the importance of not interpreting scriptures in ways that harm or deny rights to others. Holding conflicting beliefs in tension, she maintains that a life of faith is a journey, always growing with new understandings. Addressing the misconception that social justice is solely a political issue, Brandi asserts that religion and politics are intertwined. Engaging in dialogue and navigating differences of opinion, she believes, is crucial for building a peaceful community.
Pastor Brandi Hebert's journey serves as a beacon of hope, illustrating the profound impact faith can have on individuals and their ability to engage with global issues. From her diverse career background to her active involvement in community initiatives, Brandi's commitment to justice and compassion inspires us to embrace the interconnectedness of our global community and work towards a more just and compassionate world.
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It is a human reflex to feel numb. We’ve all felt it. Powerless. Paralyzed. Desensitized. So many intense emotions that boil inside you—unable to escape—but suppressed to a sour cooling point. Crowded by so many issues of significant scale, today’s young Americans feel helpless as they are guided by the hand of quietism, passivity, and normalization.
Mary Hanna, the operations manager of the Meta Peace Team and Melody Arnst, the development coordinator of the Meta Peace Team, hope to halt this cycle of normalization. “If you’re feeling isolated and alone, the first that comes to your mind is, what can I do?” Melody says. After traveling to West Bank and many other conflict hotspots around the world, Mary finds that “one person really can make a difference.” |
Mary recalls a particularly compelling story when a Palestinian boy no older than 7 years old was nearly arrested by the police for throwing stones during a protest. His family greeted the Meta Peace International Team with a deep appreciation for their protection and presence. When Mary had to leave, she was “waiting for this family to beg for more protection…but instead they threw a celebration.” According to Mary, “they were so grateful for one night of peace without worrying about taking their child.” It was at this moment that she realized “it was worth every penny and hour to go there…even knowing that she won’t change the course of the conflict.’
Mary shows us that “it's important to take opportunities of peace, solace, and caring.” Though the media constantly covers the ripple effect of shootings, conflicts, and outgoing trauma, it often ignores the ripple effect of individual and community-wide healing efforts. “A single act can have an impact much beyond the local community,” Melody says. Efforts at the individual level can unravel to state and national reform, but too often, the American media leverages a different strategy to profit from public attention: “If it bleeds, it leads.”
Beyond reworking the media, Mary asks young people to adopt a daily practice that makes them feel like their most genuine, caring selves. Melody finds that effort translates to impact and that “we need to teach young people about how they can better make a difference.” In this way, the path to ending America’s vicious cycle of desensitization and normalization starts at the individual-impact level.
Mary shows us that “it's important to take opportunities of peace, solace, and caring.” Though the media constantly covers the ripple effect of shootings, conflicts, and outgoing trauma, it often ignores the ripple effect of individual and community-wide healing efforts. “A single act can have an impact much beyond the local community,” Melody says. Efforts at the individual level can unravel to state and national reform, but too often, the American media leverages a different strategy to profit from public attention: “If it bleeds, it leads.”
Beyond reworking the media, Mary asks young people to adopt a daily practice that makes them feel like their most genuine, caring selves. Melody finds that effort translates to impact and that “we need to teach young people about how they can better make a difference.” In this way, the path to ending America’s vicious cycle of desensitization and normalization starts at the individual-impact level.
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Igniting Change: Tackling the Shortcomings of Public Education in the U.S.What are the first steps to solving generational, systemic social justice issues? For Asquith Clarke II, the healing process begins with truth.
Since he was a child, Asquith has been passionate about helping people. Initially dreaming of saving lives as a doctor, Asquith is pursuing a career as a truth-teller, which, in his own words, is "embracing and learning about the full history of my ancestors that isn't whitewashed." As a truth-teller, Asquith hopes to advocate for diverse, inclusive, and equitable education globally. |
As a college student, Asquith understands the shortcomings of public education in the U.S. and how disparities in education affect students personally. He has experienced the difference between his under-resourced school in Brooklyn, New York, and the violence and lack of motivation present there, and the opportunities and unique challenges at better-funded suburban schools in New Jersey. In Brooklyn, he recalls, "there was just so much work and so little guidance… you were trying to succeed in a system that was ultimately trying to fail you."
Asquith hopes to address the fundamental issues in the public school system. These goals connect directly to his passion for truth-telling. Both in education and social justice environments, Asquith believes that the first step toward healing is acknowledging trauma and the reality of our history. "If we want to change the future," he says, "we have to understand our past."
Asquith's vision of an aware and engaged school system and the public is clear in his work with various groups, where he advocates for inclusive, supportive, and research-based work. He hopes his advocacy work can ignite change through while serving justice to the movements and histories it shares and avoid reinforcing any harms or issues the groups intend to aid in solving.
Asquith hopes to address the fundamental issues in the public school system. These goals connect directly to his passion for truth-telling. Both in education and social justice environments, Asquith believes that the first step toward healing is acknowledging trauma and the reality of our history. "If we want to change the future," he says, "we have to understand our past."
Asquith's vision of an aware and engaged school system and the public is clear in his work with various groups, where he advocates for inclusive, supportive, and research-based work. He hopes his advocacy work can ignite change through while serving justice to the movements and histories it shares and avoid reinforcing any harms or issues the groups intend to aid in solving.
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Injustice isn’t easy on the human mind. It’s often numbing, draining, and depressing. When we so passionately fight for reform, only to see an issue persist, we become hopeless. Kim Redigan was raised during the devastating Vietnam War. Many of her neighbors and friends passed away in service. As such, her road to social justice was “grounded in her own personal experience.”
At 11 years old, Kim struggled with severe depression. She initially channeled her sadness and confusion through poetry. But when world conditions became too painful, she, like many, resorted to alcohol. Drinking was a long and arduous journey, but eventually, |
she found recovery. Kim came to realize that “our world is in denial of its brokenness and…violence.” Today, she finds that drinking was her violence and wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. Just as worldwide atrocities hurt her, alcohol hurt the people she loved.
Now, Kim is a high school teacher that works rigorously to engage her students in current events, social justice, and community participation. She writes for the Meta Peace Team’s quarterly and Pax Christi newsletters. Kim also coordinates LGBTQ+ protests and human rights groups at the Mexican border. Most importantly, she has done invaluable work for Detroit’s water security, which is led by example of indigenous communities.
Amid a war in Ukraine and the mental aftereffects of the pandemic, Kim believes that we need more of the arts and poetry to express our feelings. This helps us channel our burning anger and draining depression into a creative outlet. Art can also bring communities together, decreasing the loneliness brought by the pandemic. Societies need to recover from divisions, numbness, and depression.
Gone are the negative thoughts of Kim’s past. Today, she hopes. She hopes for a brighter future with more creativity and community. And she advocates. She advocates for a more equitable world with peace and justice.
Now, Kim is a high school teacher that works rigorously to engage her students in current events, social justice, and community participation. She writes for the Meta Peace Team’s quarterly and Pax Christi newsletters. Kim also coordinates LGBTQ+ protests and human rights groups at the Mexican border. Most importantly, she has done invaluable work for Detroit’s water security, which is led by example of indigenous communities.
Amid a war in Ukraine and the mental aftereffects of the pandemic, Kim believes that we need more of the arts and poetry to express our feelings. This helps us channel our burning anger and draining depression into a creative outlet. Art can also bring communities together, decreasing the loneliness brought by the pandemic. Societies need to recover from divisions, numbness, and depression.
Gone are the negative thoughts of Kim’s past. Today, she hopes. She hopes for a brighter future with more creativity and community. And she advocates. She advocates for a more equitable world with peace and justice.
WE SHARE STORIES AND WRITE TO
INFORM, EDUCATE, AND ORGANIZE COMMUNITIES FOR
SOCIAL CHANGE!
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