Between Muzzling and burning cars … “infirmity” is the master of the situation

Between Muzzling and burning cars … “infirmity” is the master of the situation

The word “infirmity” appears to express it all. Somehow a certain equality in a term that modifies both sides, despite its absence, from the master and the slave in this situation.

Our lives as Masters and Slaves.

They are the masters and we are the slaves.

They are the powerful, the strong, the dominating, the ruthless, the controlling.

We are just followers who are harnessed for them, and for their sake: they can sacrifice us, enslave us, harness us for their interests and burn us if they wish, and set us as firewood for their warmth, after they exhaust all our benefits.

We have to accept with consent.

Keep quiet and mute.

Submissive and kneeling.

Fear, terror, and dread.

Ever since I started writing, I knew that every time, with every article, I knocked someone’s “comfort” as I knocked on the Freedom “Tank”. I was and will always believe that our liberation comes from our freedom, and our freedom requires us to enjoy a degree of awareness, knowledge, faith and dedication for what we believe in. Because free nations are built from societies whose weapons are morals and values ​​and their ability to express and defend what is their right and know how to distinguish what is their duty.

Over the years I have written without fear. Every time I was afraid, I wrote more. And every time I feared, I wrote more. I believed that writing protects and immunes. I also believed that a free human is a fearless human. And my pursuit of freedom remains and continues to be a liberation from fear that shackles. There is no freedom in chains.

A journey that is neither easy nor will it be, and it cannot be. Freedom is dearly valued, and defending it is a sustainable business.

But … does the defense of freedom deserve to die for?

Does life deserve fear, terror and intimidation?

The day before I was exposed to what I might have expected one day. 

I know that with every word I write, it is like walking on embers. I am not a fan of playing with fire, but I do not care about the flames.

 I know how to avoid combustion.

 To live requires us to mingle with risks, if we aspire to live in dignity.

I grew up as a Palestinian, who was accompanied by the word “freedom”, ever since my feet first touched the ground.

 Liberty craves my emancipation for passion to live. 

How can I anticipate liberation from occupation, while there is no freedom granted to us as people, from the leadership that struggles for our assumed liberation? How can I resent occupation, fight for my liberation when my leadership muzzles our mouths and deprive us from the basic freedom of expression to express the need for a change or to stave off corruption that surrounds us from all directions, as it is becoming a norm of living.

Despite my genuine believe and determination, always, that no matter how dissatisfied some may be from my words, and no matter how my topics disturbed the slumber of those who hold safely in their places and positions, and no matter how arguable matters are, with agreeing or disagreeing with me in some opinion and position. No matter how divert the views are, we must always maintain and adhere to that safe line of space among us that maintains and protects our differences with acceptance, tolerance and respect. Because our differences should never spoil our issues, on the contrary it is with our difference that we nourish. Especially that we are a nation that is supposed to be living under occupation. Our differences should unite us not kill us.

My car was set on fire, and the act appeared to be an act of an experienced person who knew that he only reality that exist is his act and the fire he blew. The flames of fire that spread to eat iron in moments, as if it was the only truth present in this reality.

Terrorism and the burning of everything that could reach their hands.

I think about terrorism, which has become our homeland. Between action and reaction. There are those who are terrorized and there are those who are terrorists.

I try to exclude what happened from my memory. I want to burn those moments, sweep its ashes and throw it away from me. I feel infirmed, but I also feel their infirmity. Those weak, cowardly, lurking far away, hiding and protected by their clout, their power, their weapon and their blazing bottles.

The question still twirls inside me: Will being muzzled protect us from their terrorism?

Will our silence, kneeling, turning a blind eye from the leadership corruption protect us from their power, their brutality and their oppression?

If silence was a solution, I would be the first to remain silent.

But as my life is secure and my preservation depends on the lives of those close to me. And so, I must be careful, afraid, and terrified. Likewise, their security and a free dignified life is my duty. If we all remain silent in fear, and fear from being harmed, we will not have a place to live even with submission, because they will continue to oppress and violate.

Freedom begins and ends with the ability to express.

Yes … corruption is exorbitant, and the hands of the oppressor are long and extended. But whoever wants to rot by this corruption is free to rot. And because God has bestowed on me with a very strong sense of smell I cannot cope with rotten mold.

Truth is strength. The power of oppression and intimidation, no matter how long it last, remains invalid.

And this land has been a land of truth since God leveled it to be…. 

And I am the daughter of this land.