A comment to yesterdays post (read it here!), as well as the response of a close friend made me believe that perhaps I should further explain and clarify some of the things I was talking about, which relate to some of the intentions behind my writing lately.
Also, more people should comment! My friends here really want to know what people back home think of what I've been writing. I'm screening the comments, but only for safety, so unless I think that something in a comment puts me or someone else in danger, I'll post it as soon as I've read it.
As one who considers myself largely disillusioned with politics, I would not have expected this blog to turn so political. However, while I certainly have, and will surely continue to turn political at times, my biggest intention is to fight for tolerance through personal stories. There are many journalists writing about Palestine (check out Joseph Dana), I'm hoping to learn about and share the human side of things, and intend to root my writing in the daily lives of myself and those around me.
I'm well aware that objectivity is impossible, and I certainly do have an agenda, I'm not trying to wage an aggressive ideological battle as much as voice to some stories that are less often heard. I'm aware that the choice of what stories I share does, in fact reflect my views, but I'm trying not to let my beliefs blind me, and to pay attention to what I hear, not just what I want to hear.
I would also like to specify that when I refer to Palestine as a country, I am referring to to the land within the '67 borders, and the events I relate take place in what is functionally the West Bank—locations at or inside the separation wall, which is well within those borders.
Now about yesterday's post:
Edit: I've been informed that some of you are too lazy to click my link, or not reading carefully enough to see it, so here is the comment to which this post responds:
"'a narrative about fighting for respect and justice, not for the annihilation of Israelis.'
Isn't the end result the same Chandra? If people keep fighting for respect and justice, it's not that far off to think that they would not stop fighting at all. Nor will they actually learn to forgive their enemies and move on if they do not forget the the wrongdoings of the past.
"But then again, the United States believes in the same concept and the issue of power comes into play. Palestine is evil because they do not have the power to overthrow the government, while the US is good because by preaching the same type of violence, we do it for modern causes such as freedom from tyranny.
"But I do see your point that everyone, including the Palestinians need to be more engaged with their own story. It's just that when the overall message is still fighting and violence: the underlying "just" causes tend to be overshadowed."
I've heard a lot about sides (this is actually in response to other reactions, not the comment)—which side I am on, who is against who, who is against peace... The mainstream press has a tendency to portray two sides—a Palestinian one trying to violently overthrow Israel, and an Israeli one protecting their nation from those trying to destroy it. Personally, I don't think that the sides must be defined as Israelis against Palestinians. It could be defined as a struggle between those who wish to live alongside each other and those who don't.
The mainstream agenda not only silences the Palestinian voices of tolerance, but also those of Israeli leftists who believe the right wing Zionist policies are detrimental to their country as well as to Palestine, and who work alongside Palestinian protesters (google it!). I was trying to explain that this narrative of antagonistic opposition silences other existing narratives—ones that, based upon my experiences here, actually represent a far greater portion of Palestinians. These stories don't take fighting for freedom and justice to necessitate violence or the negation of a people or a nation.
When I said that Palestinians were fighting for respect and justice, not for the annihilation of Israelis, my friend Jisan alleged that these two would lead to the same end result. When I said fighting, I didn't mean violently. I wrote the post in an attempt to illuminate the fact that many of the attempts at respect and justice don't, in fact, call for violence. One of the speakers called Faisal Husseini a sword at Isreal's throat, but his tactics of fighting occupation and its injustices involved standing unarmed in front of bulldozers about to destroy the homes and farmland of Palestinian villagers in the construction of the separation wall (don't know about the wall? Check this out--or this if you like videos), and participating in negotiations.
Claiming that respect and justice for Palestinians means the annihilation of Israelis implies that the existence of the Israelis is making it impossible for Palestinians to attain these things. If this is true, than we have a completely different discussion to address. (And some do say it—those are the voices that tend to get heard in the US—the ones inspire fear for Israel's existence—but they are not the voices I've been hearing here.) But while I believe that many of the current policies do act in this way, I (as well as those who's narratives I was telling) do not believe the existence of Isreal and Palestine to be mutually exclusive.
In my short time here, I have not heard a single person call for the end of Israel. Majd explained that Israel is a reality. It's not going anywhere. What Palestinian want, she told me, is a country of their own—a country in which they can have jurisdiction over their own land, their own roads, their own immigrants (or returning refugees).
Jisan wrote, “the US is good because by preaching the same type of violence, we do it for modern causes such as freedom from tyranny
.” I've already explained that I wasn't referring to violent struggle. Additionally, I would like to ask: does this “good” fight not include causes like the protests of a number of villages who's land is still being seized by expanding settlements (look at this), or the right to control the roads in ones own country, to be able to travel them without being subject to search (I haven't experienced this yet but Majd says we've just been lucky).
Did you know that the Oslo accords gave Israel full control over about 59% of the West Ban (Area C), military presence in another 28.8% (Area A), leaving only 17.2% under full Palestinian control (Area B) (which is still subject to military raids and in and out of which Israel still has jurisdiction over movement). And it continues to seize more of it to build settlements and roads connecting them.
Majd—the one who originally voiced the impossibility of forgetting the injustices to the Palestinian people—disagrees that this attitude makes her dangerous to Israelis (she's all for living in peace and simply wants them to respect her country (perhaps by the '67 borders?) and would like to point out that she just came back from a nonviolence workshop in Italy.
Also, though though the stories I was telling were not my own, I would like to argue that personally, I do believe in the potential to forgive without forgetting, to not hold future generations responsible for the actions of their country, and to not hold an entire people responsible for the actions of a few. I think this can be applied to any side.
And really?? “Palestine is evil”???? This phrase shocked me. I can't believe that an entire country is evil, especially after being welcomed into so many homes. I think above all, I'm hoping that my stories will portray the hospitality and goodwill of the people who I've met, and that having a Palestinian flag on the wall doesn't mean one hates Israelis or Jews of Westerners—that it can also represent pride in one's heritage (and opposition to those who hold that Palestinians are not a people), love for one's country, and hope that it will gain freedom.
About the last part, I do agree that engaging with one's story is good, but I'm not saying that Palestinians need to engage with their story, I'm saying that they are doing so, and that there are Palestinian stories that we don't hear. Moreover, Palestine has to deal (I think more than many groups) with narratives about them constructed by others but much more widely voiced and accepted than their own. Faisal Husseini's son talked about the Israeli endeavor to narrate Palestine, and the acts of Palestinians which tell a different tale. My point was that most of their narratives are not heard. We tend to hear a lot of narratives relating hatred and terrorism, but if you come to Ramallah, you will hear far more about nonviolence and respect.
ter the commemoration, we headed home. The bus ride from downtown to home is usually about five minutes (if not less), but this time, the bus took a different route, winding though the streets for probably almost half an hour, giving me an impromptu tour of some of Ramallah. We drove through neighborhoods I didn't know existed, at one point squeezing by another car with only inches to spare as each braced their tires against the walls and obstacles on the sides of the road, and on another stopping as the driver patted a friend on the head to say hello. 
However, what I can tell you about my new city is that there are hills—really steep ones. They wind up, down and around and are barely wide enough for two cars, yet everyone seems to drive a million miles an hour. There are few traffic lights and no stop signs; cars often honk as they come to intersections—assumtively to alert possible cross traffic of their presence. The streets, especially in the downtown area, are full of cars, and also people—there are sidewalks, but in many cases all the people wouldn't fit, and walking on the sidewalk doesn't seem to be the trend. For one thing, there's often cars parked on them.
Ramallah seems to have a very good public transportation system. Yellow vans (as well as some of the taxis) function more or less like buses, traveling on a (somewhat) regular route and picking people up. The buses with a particular destination collect in a specific parking lot or street downtown, where they fill up and head off. The driver simultaneously careens down the narrow roads honking and passing people, collects fares, and makes change.
qual ground as far as I can tell, sharing lunch and dish duty (though one of the guys apparently tends to convince Zina and Majd to take his turn). The other day, our boss was joked that the women didn't really have independence, saying, for example, that they couldn't leave the office without his permission. Zina vehemently disagreed, and later went to the supermarket without asking.