Let us not harden our hearts
What can we possibly do in the face of so much sorrow and devastation still unfolding in Palestine? I offer a few small starting points and humbly ask for your wisdom in return.
This morning, I set out to write about my top ten books of the 21st century (à la the New York Times), but then I was scrolling on Instagram where a woman I follow shared a video from Palestine. In it, a baby boy about my son’s age was caught under a heap of rubble. One person cradled his dusty, eyes-closed but crying face, while a few other men gently tried to move the rocks from around him. I looked at that boy’s small body, and I imagined my son in his place. How could I not? They are the same size, and I have seen my son’s face screwed up in sadness and pain just like that, but for things like a blood draw in a clean and well-staffed clinic, a bee sting in our green and flourishing garden, a fall on smooth pavement, the farthest thing from rubble.
I see the video and before I close out and shut down the emotions rising in me, I pause. I think. I feel. I hold the self-preserving, heart-hardening at bay. I wonder: How is this still happening? And, god forgive me, part of me thought: how are there any children left in the wake of this constant, unyielding destruction? Why am I able to wake with my son wrapped in my arms while that mother—is that his mother?—is holding his head as gently as she can amidst unspeakable—we must speak about this—horrors.
What is wrong with the world? So many things. An uncountable number of things. Chief among them: broken political systems that fail to see and support human beings. Following close behind: too many of us have let our hearts be hardened. It is so easy to believe that we can do nothing, or that we can do next to nothing, so why even try. Or that we help our own neighbors/community, so at least we’re doing something good for someone other than ourselves. Or that since we don’t know much about Palestine or Israel, we shouldn’t speak up at all.
It is so easy to console ourselves by saying that we are the lucky ones, that we should soak up every moment of our own joy and prosperity, that we should at least make the lives of our families and friends beautiful, and we should, we should do all of these things, and sometimes we must compartmentalize so that we can go on. But we can’t turn away. We can’t forget. We can’t harden our hearts.
I am no expert in international relations. I know far less about the history of Palestine and Israel and the United States’ involvement than I should. I am not a celebrity or influencer who can raise thousands or millions of dollars to make a dent in the needs of the children and people in Palestine. I no longer teach in a Catholic high school where I was able to highlight how truly radical Jesus’s actions were in the Bible and draw parallels to the needs of today’s polarized, politicized world. I’m a stay-at-home mom in Minnesota. What can I do?
The easy answer is nothing. The easy answer is that I can worry about myself and my local community. The harder answer is the truth: I don’t really know.
I’m not trying to virtue signal, I’m not trying to make myself feel better about the little—the very little—I’ve done, but in case you also wish you could do more and don’t know what to do, I offer up these few possible actions and ask in return that if you have done something in the direction of action for the people of Palestine, that you share it with me, too. You can comment on this post, or hit reply to this email and let me know. I am going to list one or two books/follows/places to donate. There are so many more resources in every category, but in hopes of making things simple and clear, I am only going to name one or two.
Place to donate: There are many worthwhile organizations distributing funds and supplies. Here is one that I know is reputable, and that spoke to me as a mother.
The Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund
Books to read:
Minor Detail by Adania Shibli
This book is set in two parts, the first of which occurs in 1949, one year after the Nakba, where Israeli forces displaced 700,000 Palestinians. In the second part of the story, a woman in Ramallah becomes obsessed with a horrific “minor detail” of history, and decides to travel to the place where it happened. This is a spare book, a short book, a devastating stab of a book that haunts the reader long after she turns the last page—as it should.
And Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad
What I wrote in my Goodreads profile about this book: It was fascinating to read a novel set in Palestine, where the political landscape could not help but become a main force throughout the book. In the midst of daily, roiling conflict, a group of actors confront their personal and political ghosts to produce an Arabic translation of Hamlet. I loved all of the descriptions of acting, and the author’s ability to create distinct characters who interacted in ways I did not expect. Reading this book also helped me understand what daily life could be like with checkpoints, passports, and tumult when traveling between Palestine and Israel.
People/organizations to follow on Instagram:
Palestinian-American writer and clinical psychologist Hala Alyan
Jewish Voice for Peace—this organization has a pinned post that clearly explains why they are anti-Zionist and how anti-Zionism does not equal anti-Semitism. They post daily about the happenings in Palestine and offer ways to organize and support.
Poem to read:
“If I Must Die” by Refaat Alareer
Please tell me what has been helping you learn, grow, and keep your heart soft and open. I would love to learn from you.
I’ll be back later this week with my top ten books of the 21st century. Until then—
With love from my kitchen table,
Kaia