Being in Palestine just three weeks ago and seeing what has happened since I’ve left there has really woken me up to what it exactly means to be Palestinian.
During my visit to Palestine, I was originally denied access into the country even though I am a born US citizen. My Palestinian ethnicity was enough for Israel to deny me entrance essentially telling me that I was born wrong. They stamped the denial right on my passport. I had to call the embassy and my family and waste a day on the border just to be given two weeks to stay and no allowance to travel outside of the Ramallah area.
This is nothing.
I’m lucky. I was fortunate enough to be born in America. Isn’t that a sad thing to say? To feel fortunate because you were displaced from your motherland?
It really kills me to see what my people who live in Palestine, especially Gaza region, are going through. In the year 2014.
I’m tired of half condemnations and double standards. The world cares enough to acknowledge it but it appears that humanity doesn’t care enough to stop it.
It makes me cry. I was just there. And now I think about how easily life could’ve been so different for me. There’s a certain guilt that exists inside me because of this. Life has proven to be unfair.
Seeing what’s happening out there, as a Palestinian, it really makes you feel that your life is not as valued as another life.
Palestinian lives are apparently expendable.
I realize now how important it is to be Palestinian. I need to make the most out of who I am and shine as brightly as I can. I need the world to see and hear me.
To listen to us.