mahmoudpuur

[mahmoudpuur]

🐴🚀 I'm not there yet , but I think my Palestinian ancestors would be smiling if they saw me like this. (bij Essaouira, Morocco) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChVFUgTMGx7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Naji Al-Ali wrote: “The child Handala is my signature, everyone asks me about him wherever I go. I gave birth to this child in the Gulf and I presented him to the people. His name is Handala and he has promised the people that he will remain true to himself. I drew him as a child who is not beautiful; his hair is like the hair of a hedgehog who uses his thorns as a weapon. Handala is not a fat, happy, relaxed, or pampered child. He is barefooted like the refugee camp children, and he is an icon that protects me from making mistakes. Even though he is rough, he smells of amber. His hands are clasped behind his back as a sign of rejection at a time when solutions are presented to us the American way.“

Handala was born ten years old, and he will always be ten years old. At that age, I left my homeland, and when he returns, Handala will still be ten, and then he will start growing up. The laws of nature do not apply to him. He is unique. Things will become normal again when the homeland returns.

I presented him to the poor and named him Handala as a symbol of bitterness. At first, he was a Palestinian child, but his consciousness developed to have a national and then a global and human horizon. He is a simple yet tough child, and this is why people adopted him and felt that he represents their consciousness.”

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On 22 July 1987, Naji al-Ali was assassinated in London by being shot in the face and mortally wounded.Naji al-Ali died five weeks later in hospital.

The film traces his life and work from his birth in Galilee to his death in London.

It examines the forces that shaped Naji as an artist and as a human being, and shows how his experiences mirror that of other exiled Palestinians.

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“I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air.

Certain conditions continue to exist in our society which must be condemned as vigorously as we condemn riots.

But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard.

And what is it that America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the Negro poor has worsened over the last few years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice, equality, and humanity.

And so in a real sense our nation’s summers of riots are caused by our nation’s winters of delay. And as long as America postpones justice, we stand in the position of having these recurrences of violence and riots over and over again.”

Martin Luther King Jr: “Social Justice and Progress are the absolute guarantors of riot prevention”

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The Palestine Reader

The following is a collection of articles, essays, and books on Palestine. These are not introduction texts to the question of Palestine or the Palestinain-Israeli “conflict”. If you need one read The Palestine-Israel Conflict by Gregory Harms and Todd Fery. Further, this is not an “unbiased” or “neutral” readng list. Everything listed below is counter-hegemonic. I feel absolutely no need to provide anything from the Zionist or Israeli point-of-view when that is the dominant narrative. With that said, I believe this provides a diverse, but in no means comprehensive, overview of the discourse on Palestine. A continuously updated page of this list can be found here.

On Theory

Orientalism by Edward Said

Orientalism Reconsidered by Edward Said

The Question of Palestine by Edward Said

Reading Said in Hebrew by Ella Shohat

Notes on the “Post-Colonial” by Ella Shohat

On History

History of Palestine by Dr. Mohsen Mohammed Saleh

Sabra and Shatila: September 1982 by Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout

Peace and its Discontents by Edward Said

On Being Palestinian

What It Means to be Palestinian by Dina Matar

A Narrative of Palestinian Dispossession by Samia Costandi

The Palestinian Exile as Writer by Jabra I. Jabra

My People Shall Live by Leila Khaled

Memoirs, 1948 Part I by Fauzi Al-Qawuqji

Memoirs, 1948 Part II

Palestinian Identity and the Performance of Catastrophe by Ihab Saloul

On Zionism

Zionism from the Standpoint of its Victims by Edward Said

Zionism from the Standpoint of its Jewish Victims by Ella Shohat

Jewishness and the Critique of Zionism by Judith Butler

The Invention of the Mizrahim by Ella Shohat

Jewish Fundamentalism in Israel by Israel Shahak and Norton Mezvinsky

Jewish History, Jewish Religion by Israel Shahak

The Ends of Zionism by Joseph Massad

The Persistence of the Palestinian Question by Joseph Massad

On Imperialism and Settler Colonialism in West Asia by Jamil Hilal

The Hidden History of Zionism by Ralph Schoenman

How the Zionists Took Over Palestine by Adel Safty

Imperial Israel and the Palestinians by Nur Masalha

After Zionism by Antony Loewenstein and Ahmed Moor

On the Holocaust

Respecting the Holocaust by Howard Zinn

The Holocaust: Learning the Wrong Lessons by Boaz Evron

The Victimhood of the Powerful by Jennifer Peto

On Media

Propaganda, Perception, and Reality by William A. Cook

Israeli Cinema an interview with Ella Shohat

Israeli Cinema by Ella Shohat

Palestinian Cinema by Nurith Gertz and George Khleifi

On Al Nakba

The 1948 Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine by Ilan Pappe

The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine by Ilan Pappe

The Saga of Deir Yassin

The Fall of Lydda by Spiro Munayyer

Returning to Kafr Bir'im

How Palestine became Israel by Stephen Hallbrook

The Palestinian Exodus of 1948 by Simha Flapan

Why Did the Palestinians Leave by Walid Khalidi

Selected Documents on 1948

The Limits of the New Israeli History by Joel Beinin

On Genocide

Genocide or Erasure of Palestinians by Kathleen and Bill Christison

Israel’s Slow-Motion Genocide in Occupied Palestine by Steve Lendman

Ongoing Palestinian Genocide by Gideon Polya

The Lessons of Violence by Chris Hedges

The Brutal Siege of Gaza Can Only Breed Violence by Karen Koning AbuZayd

The Olive Trees of Palestine Weep by Sonja Karkar

Slouching toward a Palestinian Holocaust by Richard Falk

Gaza is Dying by Patrick Cockburn

Israeli Immunity for Genocide by Andrea Howard

Palestinian Misery in Perspective by Paul De Rooij

A Slow, Steady Genocide an interview with Tanya Reinhart

Gaza’s Holocaust by Dr. Elias Akleh

Genocide Hides Behind Expulsion by Adi Ophir

The British in Palestine, A Conveniently Forgotten Holocaust by Robert Fisk

European Collusion in Israel’s Slow Genocide by Omar Barghouti

Genocide in Gaza by Ilan Pappe

Genocide Among Us by Curtis F. J. Doebbler

Bleaching the Attrocities of Genocide by Kim Petersen

The Rape of Palestine by William A. Cook

Israel Plots Another Palestinian Exodus by Jonathan Cook

Slow Motion Ethnic Cleansing by Uri Avnery

Disappearing Palestine by Jonathan Cook

The Problem With Israel by Jeff Halper

Gaza in Crisis by Noam Chomsky and Ilan Pappe

Drying Out the Palestinians

Israel’s Latest Assault on Gaza by Norman Finkelstein

To Gaza I Did Not Go by Gideon Levy

Gaza, the World’s Largest Open-Air Prison by Noam Chomsky

The Most Humane Little Checkpoint by Amira Hass

On BDS

BDS: Winning Justice for the Palestinian People

Why Boycott Israeli Universities?

The Necessity of Cultural Boycott by Ilan Pappe

Companies Supporting Israeli Occupation

On Solutions

Two-State Illusion by Ian S. Lustick

Relative Humanity: The Essential Obstacle to a One-State Solution by Omar Barghouti

Where Now For Palestine? by Jamil Hilal

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Free Black History Library

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Hitting the play button begins a scene that has played out in Syria thousands of times over the past five years. It’s dark and men are frantically yelling. A young child in shorts is passed between the arms of his rescuers from a building. He’s caked in dust. The left side of his face is smeared with blood.

He doesn’t make a sound.

The man on the ground, in a yellow vest, holds him tight as he walks away. The boy wraps his right arm around the man’s shoulder as he’s whisked into a waiting ambulance. He looks back outside as he’s placed on an orange seat, alone, next to orange cabinets and an orange first aid kit.

He doesn’t make a sound.

The man who carried him in bends down to get a walkie talkie and then leaves. Another man with a camera focuses on the boy. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt with a cartoon character. His hands are placed calmly on his thighs. His right eye is wide open, the other eye less so. He looks to the doors of the ambulance, toward the voices. He blinks and looks away.

In a moment of pure horror, the boy lifts his left hand to his face, runs his fingers through his hair and then back down the side of his face before dropping it down. He looks at the palm of his hand and, unsure what to do, turns it over and wipes it on the seat. He feels the seat from front to back, front to back.

He doesn’t make a sound.

Continue Reading

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Seems so complicated to escape fateAnd you can never understand ‘til we trade places

2pac

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One night, I make all three sleep in the same bedroom with us, hoping to increase the odds they’ll survive if a shell hits one of the empty rooms in our house. But then the next night, I’ll separate them, thinking that if I divide my children they won’t all die in an attack.

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27 june - 10.000 people march for Palestine in Rotterdam!

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Dutch children have taken part of a short movie to protest against the continuing Israeli bombings of Palestinian civilians; children in particular. In a short video by filmmaker Abdelkarim El-Fassi, eight Dutch children tell the story of eight Palestinian children killed by Israel.  Since the year 2000, we allow Israel to murder one Palestinian child every 3 days. Stop the killing of Palestinian children, start sharing this video!

#doyoucare

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mahmoud, i got the horse. s.

tara road (sheba cartography)

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On the morning of the assassination we all sat longer than usual drinking our Turkish coffee on the balcony. As always Ghassan had many things to talk about, and we were always ready to listen. That morning he was telling us about his comrades in the PFLP (Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine) and then him and his sister Fayzeh began to talk about their childhood in Palestine … Before leaving for his office, he fixed the electric train for our son Fayez and his two cousins. The three of them were playing inside the house that morning. Lames, Ghassan’s niece, was to go down-town with her uncle for the first time since she had arrived from Kuwait with her mother and brothers one week before; she was going to visit her cousins ​​in Beirut - she never got there. Two minutes after Ghassan and Lamees had kissed us good-bye there was a dreadful explosion. All the windows in the house were blown out. I ran down, only to find the burning remains of our small car. We found Lamees a few meters away, Ghassan wasn’t there. I called his name - then I discovered his left leg. I stood paralyzed, while Fayez knocked his head against the wall and our daughter Laila cried again and again: ‘Baba, Baba …’ Still I had a small hope that maybe he was only seriously injured They found him in the valley beside our house and took him away I had no chance to see him again. Usamah sat beside the body of his dead sister, telling her, ‘Don’t worry, Lamees, you’ll be all right and you’ll teach me English again, like before …’ In the evening our little Laila told me: ‘Mama, I asked Baba to take me in the car and buy chocolate, but he was busy and gave me a bar he had in his pocket. Then he kissed me and told me to go home. I sat on the steps of our house to eat the chocolate, and then there was a big bang. But Mama, it wasn’t his fault - the Israelis put the bomb in Baba’s car.

Anni kanafani (via momo33me)

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Son of the holy land, king of the slums

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When you’re a child of immigrant parents you know the amount of resistance you put up in an effort to blend in with your surroundings. Whatever they may be. Then time passes and you slowly come across those very things you’ve been voiding. Maybe it’s a song your parents...

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Marcel Khalife - Ummi

I long for my mother's bread My mother's coffee Her touch Childhood memories grow up in me Day after day I must be worth my life At the hour of my death Worth the tears of my mother. And if I come back one day Take me as a veil to your eyelashes Cover my bones with the grass Blessed by your footsteps Bind us together With a lock of your hair With a thread that trails from the back of your dress I might become immortal Become a God If I touch the depths of your heart. If I come back Use me as wood to feed your fire As the clothesline on the roof of your house Without your blessing I am too weak to stand. I am old Give me back the star maps of childhood So that I Along with the swallows Can chart the path Back to your waiting nest.