This past December, on Christmas day, 12 folks from across the so-called United States made the journey to the West Bank of Palestine, and I had the immense privilege to be among them. This trip was organized by Sabeel, a Palestinian-Christian organization whose mission is to connect theology to liberation and justice for the oppressed, and to deepen an understanding of the Christian faith amidst occupation and violence. The organization has been hosting groups in Palestine since the 1990s in the hopes that those who come to the region will leave with calls to action, recounting the reality of Palestinian life to their communities when they return home.
As a Disabled person and a wheelchair user, I was called to come on this trip because of my understanding that our liberation is all interconnected. Like many, I have been irrevocably changed by bearing witness to the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. I have also since been awakened to a history of ethnic cleansing that has ravaged historic Palestine since the Balfour Declaration of 1917, leading to the creation of the state of Israel in 1948 — on the soil and blood of generations of Palestinians.
Coming to the land itself actualized its history and provided me with a deeper understanding of the history of state violence and colonization as it applies all across the globe. I return home with a heart ablaze, an unshaken call to action against colonial violence, and an intense desire to bring others with me.
On our first day, we met with Budour Hassan, a writer and researcher for Amnesty International. She told us that we had been invited to Palestine as their oppressors, as people whose tax dollars fund their genocide and oppression, so that we may be able to wake up, to give a voice to the oppressed and join them in solidarity. She told us that “Free People Free Palestine,” a saying meaning that we must free ourselves from our everyday American culture of normalizing colonial violence. We must tell ourselves that this is not normal or acceptable, and we must mobilize ourselves against it.
Palestine is the representation of the struggle for humanity in a world that consistently dehumanizes them. We were called by Budour to keep the fire of Palestine alive, to carry it with us wherever we go. I believe it is my responsibility as a Christian and our responsibility as human beings to reject dehumanization and oppression wherever we see it, and I am aware of the fact that every person who has been made aware of the Palestinian cause has done so because of the grace, strength and resilience of Palestinians.
That is not something to be taken lightly, and it is important to remember that, in the words of Budour, Palestinians are not superheroes. They are people who want nothing more than to live, against all odds.
The reality of life in Palestine is one of patience and weathering. The people we met would have to wake up at three in the morning in order to meet with us by 9:30 due to the checkpoints put in place by Israeli Occupation Forces. These checkpoints treat the Palestinian people like cattle; they aim to humiliate and to hinder. Being Disabled and visiting Palestine reminded me that disablement is present everywhere and, especially in Palestine, it is used as a tactic of oppression.
Even in the checkpoints, which our tour bus waited in for over an hour. This wait is actually quite short, and we were allowed through quickly at the announcement of “American tourists” by our driver. This is not at all the reality for Palestinians, who are often stopped and searched. Soldiers wield their giant automatic rifles as a father tries to make it to work on time.
Everywhere we visited, we were welcomed with the utmost hospitality. It was paradoxical and incredibly moving to be treated with such kindness, to have spreads of food placed in front of us and to be helped up stairs by the same people whose place of livelihood was raided by the occupation forces before our arrival.
We met with the owners of a storytelling center and a bookshop, both of which were raided without warning or warrant. Even with education and community under dire, life-threatening attack, Palestinians continue to educate, to create, and to rebuild.
We visited the Tent of Nations, a community farm surrounded by encroaching illegal settlements in an ongoing legal battle to maintain ownership of their land. Their exhaustion was palpable, but even more so was their determination and dedication to protecting their land and continuing to cultivate space for their community. The Tent of Nations is also seeking internationals to be in solidarity and help defend their land. For more information, visit https://tentofnations.com/volunteer/.
This trip to Palestine taught me so much about deepening my commitment to liberation and what it really means to be in solidarity: humbling yourself, listening deeply, and being moved by your grief and despair to strive for a new and better world, one that is post-colonial, community-minded and connected deeply to our roots as human beings. We must keep our eyes fixed on the oppressed in a world which is depending on us to look away. We must keep our candles lit so that more and more people will look and begin to resist oppression not only in their immediate circles, but all around the world. My parting message is one shared with us by one of our many tour guides as we looked up at him for the last time from our seats on the bus, “Don’t forget about us.”
To learn more about Sabeel and get involved on a future delegation, connect with the Friends of Sabeel North America at fosna.org.
