When I first started blogging, I thought I will be reflecting on personal issues related to a divorced woman living under occupation. The relationship between divorce and occupation for women is interlinked. It interwinds in circles and in every intersection. As my writing developed into other topics that always, maybe subconsciously made the fact that I am a divorced woman a triggering point to my response to any cause that I believed needs support.
Causes of people and affairs that have no obvious representation, and if any, are hushed, quiet, and in secret.
It felt normal to speak out loudly and to address what became every issue maybe: occupation and its violation, racism, inequality, home demolitions, checkpoints, oppression, aggression… It is easy to trigger a woman who has been encountering a vicious divorce for a decade.
But I wish it was a relationship that I could stop at in linking it to my reality—a reality of a divorced woman who lives under occupation. The rest of the sentence seemed like an intellectual statement: A divorced woman living under occupation inside a patriarchal structure. Today, the statement stands with another addition that is neither intellectual nor philosophical: A reality of a divorced woman living under occupation inside a patriarchal structure that is molding in corruption.
I was thinking that fighting corruption is a way to fight for a better state. I always believed that what we are going through as Palestinians is a must-be phase in the building of states. Well, I always also believed that you cannot build a state skipping out the phase of liberation from occupation. I have to say I deserve to pay the price of believing that we should give this a try: A Palestinian state under occupation. This led us to this point of total destruction. We are like a timed bomb that we inserted ourselves and we forgot to create an exit.
Actually, they did… We the fools who agreed to replace the dream of liberation with a flag and an authority with no borders, autonomy, economics, and security. A natural result that the borders will get us into a point of suffocation. The autonomy will be practiced on us, and we will be paying the taxed of the economy to fill their pockets. Those who claim weapons to oppress us and to safeguard the occupation.
At some point I made a decision that I have to write in Arabic if I am sincere in my mission. The mission of building up on the building of a state. Standing up for our rights. Facing corruption. Addressing issues of social taboos. Representing the voice of Islam, women, nationhood in what they truly are.
It was easy to write n English to non-Arab speakers to speak about freedoms and its violations. However, I knew that speaking out to the public I address, and to the government I live under is the real act in making a difference towards building.
And yes, the margins became full pages, and topics never seized to end. The more you open up on issues, the more issues evolve rule of law, accountability, corruption, honor killing, women killing, homosexuality, CEDAW, violence, education, health sector, medical mistakes, medical facilities, political disputes, Fateh, Hamas, Da’esh.
I don’t know when I realized that I was like a loner. I looked around me and found myself alone with a few addressing the most critical issues, daring, courageously, with nothing in mind except bringing justice as a must have rule in our lives.
But from another side, I saw how much people were reading what I write. How much they were actually waiting for my articles. How much fulfilment and hope what I write gives them? Many told me that I represented the unspoken public opinion that nobody dares to address.
I know of many who are afraid to put a like or share my articles. I know how my articles are passed through inboxes on different groups like the forbidden tree.
After all, … I am a woman who in her best can be a Virgin and this is not possible…with four children surrounding me, or an Eve who can convince Adam to the unforbidden path.
I tried my best not to stop at threats. I never turned an eye to an insult that stroke to my reputation as a woman… I long time ago stopped even think of this as an insult… I must be that sexy and appealing and demanded if I have all those men or all those illicit behaviors happening from me!!! I fought to keep my appearance the way I believed it should be when addressing religion and women. I never hindered or retreated from defending a case that saw just. I wrote in defense of rivals, and I wrote in criticism of close friends. My slogan remained that I write about causes, about performance, about responsibility, and people represent causes not private figures.
I thought I was losing friends and allies in this path. Probably creating enemies from all directions but at the same time I knew well that y words were wrapped and perceived with great respect and admiration on all levels.
as freedom of expression continued to deteriorate in the Palestinian authority domain, threats became louder and closer. I insisted not to listen, but I remained careful. I refrain from going to the west bank except in full cautiousness. I equipped myself with scenarios of what to do in case anything happened. I stayed home!
I knew it was coming after the article I published in criticism of the government spokesperson some months ago. I have to say it sounded ridiculous to see the backlash of that article. After all I only criticized the spokesperson over his performance, which means I criticize the government.
I often follow closely my intuition and this time I know it was serious. Maybe it was getting more and more serious after the last time I was attacked after an article about the stealing of graves in Jerusalem. I should haven known then that the silence that accompanied that incident was just a preparation of more. I should have maybe raised my voice higher when an official said in one of the social groups “someone needs to shut this woman up”. but I always thought … stay strong woman. Don’t allow then to scare me. after all you survived the most vicious war of divorce. It couldn’t be worse… but apparently there is worse.
After all I am hitting hard on the ego of this patriarchy. I feel like holding a stick shooting in all directions into a hive full of hornets. when I assumed, I am only awakening dedicated bees?
Our Palestinian hive is nothing, but a graveyard guarded with a horizon of hornets and filled with hyenas savaging whatever is left of us. whatever is left from our integrity, pride and security.
They burnt the car… but they cannot burn my words.
Yes, it is horribly dangerous. because this time we were surrounded by the blessings and mercy of god and the quick intervention of the police… sarcastically it is the Israeli population police.
Ironically, the Israeli occupation secured me from the terror of those who are supposed to be protecting me from the occupation.
I always thought of my relationship with the Israeli occupation like the relationship with my ex husband. It is also sarcastic that my ex-husband was the first to come to help when the car was set on fire.
Should I update my position on occupation and make it a relation of a forced marriage to a rapist? Even here it sounds more human than the reality.
Sometimes a rapist husband is kinder than a family that forced such a marriage!!