stuckbetweeniraqandahardplace:
This is Ali Ismaeel Abbas.
He was left orphaned after a missile from the US army obliterated his home in Baghdad. The missile killed his father, his brother, and his five-month pregnant mother.
His neighbour pulled him out, and had taken him to the hospital. Whilst he was in hospital he had begged for new hands, and threatened to commit suicide if he couldn’t get any.
He wanted to grow up and be a doctor, now his dreams have been shattered.
BAGHDAD, MON AMOUR
Salah al Hamdani
You cannot be crucified
On the side of a page
Of a story that is not your own,
Nor to the rhythm of the deaths that brood your plagues
Because there will be no cry to relieve your grief.
You cannot be crucified on the banks of the streams
Your body bleeds,
When the Euphrates washes away the secret of its soul
At the birth of a new defeat.
I know this:
No wound deserves a war.
You cannot be crucified at nightfall,
When you did not close your prayers
On the body of palm trees
Because there is no honorable assassin.
You cannot be crucified for the cinders of calamities,
For the tombs of your gods,
Or for the belief of a dying humanity.
Baghdad mon amour,
Not son, nor father, nor God,
No prophet crowned by the church will save your soul,
Not that of Mecca,
Not that of those who refuse
To share the olive trees in Palestine.
This is my notebook of war,
The years of exiles folded in a suitcase
Too long abandoned to the dreams of the convicted.
This is my share of victims,
My share of moon,
My harvest of nothingness,
My share of dust, words and cries.
This is my misfortune
Like a comma locking a line of ink.
Baghdad my love,
I was crouched in the corner of the page
In the shelter of the arid days,
Far from the torrents of blood
That carry the name of those shot with the silence of man.
Baghdad, mon amour,
Sitting like a Bedouin in a mirage
Lying on my shores, I cherished my own shroud.
Far from the cross, Fatima’s palm and the star of David
Far from their books, their wars
Wandering in the sand of the dunes,
From the steppe to the city
I drag my body from season to season,
I trail you along from the couch to the mirror, from my room to the street
Between my writing and my solitude
In the shelter of their cemeteries,
Their martyrs, their morgues.
Baghdad my love,
You cannot tremble at the threshold of these ruins of days,
A civilization trained to kill
Violated your virginity.
Baghdad, city forever rebellious against your torturer Saddam,
You cannot groan at the only revelation of this hegemony,
Those who rushed around your body at death’s door,
These “liberators” are their accomplices.
Madinat-al Salam,
City of peace,
Love in the soul of writing.
Baghdad my wound,
My father the working man died without knowing joy,
My mother mislaid her youth in the mirror
And the only witness to my first grief on your breast
Is the breath of the sand,
The starry sky and God’s gaze on the call to prayer.
I wished so much today that man had never discovered fire
And cursed it to advance so much in its own din.
This soil that gave birth to me, today put to death.
Oh mother! I want to return inside your flesh
To hear the beating of your heart,
To quench my thirst in the murmur of your breath.
Madinat-al Salam,
City of peace,
Love in the soul of writing.
Baghdad my wound,
My father the working man died without knowing joy,
My mother mislaid her youth in the mirror
And the only witness to my first grief on your breast
Is the breath of the sand,
The starry sky and God’s gaze on the call to prayer.
I wished so much today that man had never discovered fire
And cursed it to advance so much in its own din.
This soil that gave birth to me, today put to death.
Oh mother! I want to return inside your flesh
To hear the beating of your heart,
To quench my thirst in the murmur of your breath.
—salah al-hamdani, from baghdad, mon amour (via cityofbaghdad)
3ala hathi al ard, ma yusta7iku al 7ayat
“We have on this earth, what makes life worth living..” -Mahmoud Darwish
This is a revised/edited version of the previous “Back To Baghdad” post.
It was not until very recently that I realized just how costly the war in Iraq was; the human cost of the war. It was not until very recently that I discovered over 1 million Iraqis have died as a result of this war, a number that to this day I cannot fathom. The only time I have hated numbers more than in Calculus class is now, when it has contributed to the dehumanization of my people. Nothing angers me more than the world seeing my brothers and sisters as numbers. Nothing angers me more than the propaganda machine we call mainstream media, that so cleverly and brilliantly masked the realities behind the invasion and occupation of Iraq. If the implications were not so devastating, I would commend these television networks for how perfectly they portrayed Operation “Iraqi Freedom” to favor the United States, the benevolent supreme1.
As I grow older, I have developed a heightened awareness towards the implications of being both Iraqi and American. The United States has always been cast as the benevolent supreme, “helping” other countries by ruling over them and instilling their values—as if every country desires American values. I never understood the implications of these practices until I saw its effects on my homeland. I did not realize the truths behind what really went on in the war, and what my own government was really doing to my people, my blood. Don’t get me wrong, I take pride in being American and I experience freedoms and opportunities in this country that I would not otherwise be able to experience. I will always be thankful for that. But this does not mean that we should turn the other cheek, or that we should not be critical of our country when our government does something wrong. I refuse to blindly follow the hegemonic discourse I was taught in my classroom ever since I can remember.
We’ve been lied to; we’ve been told that those soldiers were protecting our country and that the casualties are simply an inevitable fact. As untrue as this is, the worst part about it all is that innocent civilians have died at the expense of “our country’s safety”. Nothing will ever compare to that.
I am an American, but my heart is in Iraq. I, like many others, feel an unbreakable bond between myself and my native homeland. I would even go as far as to say I feel a similar bond towards Palestine and other countries facing occupation and oppression. I will always have a place in my heart for my homeland, moutani. The more I learn, the more I am consumed by realized emotion. The heartbreak of my entire family evacuating Iraq out of fear and to different countries, separated from one another. The guilt of not understanding the gravity of the situation in my homeland at the age of 10. The anger of hearing of innocent men, women and children being killed for looking or acting a certain way. The sadness of the debris and catastrophe left in Iraq; a depressing aftermath of a depressing occupation.
As a friend once so eloquently put it, “I just want to hold Iraq in my hands”. I want to visit my homeland for the first time since 2002 and tell my people how sorry I am. I want to comfort them and reassure them that they are not hated. I want to tell them that not everybody supports their dehumanization and demonization, and that many people are outraged by our government’s actions. I want to make sure they know that they did nothing wrong to deserve this, because if anything, Iraqis hate Saddam and his debilitating regime more than anybody could ever fathom. If the mainstream media and the government got one thing right, it was characterizing Saddam as “The Mother of All Liars”2.
The epiphany, or realization that I experienced occurred when I came to college, and was finally surrounded by people who questioned rather than assumed. People who I could relate to that knew just how horrible of a state Iraq was in. I still feel guilty to this day, for not understanding beforehand the suffering my country was experiencing, and who was at fault.
The death and destruction of the once so beautiful Iraq was started by Saddam Hussein, and finished off by our own military. Same shit, different Saddam. I hope to visit my homeland as soon as I possibly can, but for now a girl can only dream of going Back To Baghdad.
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1. benevolent supremacy: ruling through a principle of generosity and kindness; the United States shown as leading the world into democracy and freedom
2. “The Mother of All Liars”:the manner in which the U.S represented Saddam; as a crazy, chaotic and evil liar
My transition from becoming a conflicted Arab American Muslim to a conscious one was not automatic.
Media has always had a huge influence in my life. I’ve always been a consumer in that sense, constantly doing my research online trying to learn more about whatever it was what I was interested in at the moment. One of the turning points in my life was becoming exposed to the various mediums of art that Arabs around the world would use to express themselves. Mediums such as music and comedy, which already had a large impact on my life, became much more relatable, and the various Arab and Muslim artists showed me how possible it was to express yourself in a counter-hegemonic, socially conscious way yet still please a crowd.
I had the pleasure of interviewing Iraqi Canadian rapper/MC The Narcicyst, and Palestinian American comedian Dean Obeidallah about the ways in which they use their positions to create counter-hegemonic ideas that not only influence their own communities, but also other communities. In this post, I want to focus on the artists themselves; their statements, and the ways they counter popular discourses. The majority of this post will contain their statements.
Yassin Alsalman, also known as The Narcicyst, is an Iraqi Canadian rapper who I easily related to when meeting him and later on interviewing him over email. His music transcends cultural barriers and is appealing both to those similar to him as well as those very different from him. When asked about the ways he uses music to express his Arab identity, he commented, “It might have been overwhelming if I constantly spoke on my Iraqiness and how alien I feel. How would people relate to that? So Hip-Hop gave me a tool to filter my thoughts and present them as human experiences that hopefully a large audience could relate to, compared to marginalizing myself and only focusing on Iraqis understanding me…We tend to over-present our identity, almost in defense of who we are and what we were, as opposed to being as neutral as our experience is. In some cases, we seek to prove that we are MORE Arab than those in the Arab world, because we have to be. This, of course, is something that is not necessarily true, but that we fight to balance as a representative force, because our unique qualities are balanced with our commonalities of Immigration (identity issues, displacement, questions of belonging and home, etc).”
Alsalman’s statement made me realize just how important it is to showcase the Arab identity in the correct manner; making the Arab experience diverse yet relatable will show others that Arabs and Muslims and not all that different from anybody else. His analysis of the obligation Arabs feel to over-present themselves to defend their dignity is spot-on, and his methods of creating a fair balance is perfect in the sense that other Arabs and Iraqis can relate while somebody foreign to the culture can also gain an appreciation for the work.
Alsalman also commented on the necessity of counter-hegemonic media made by Arabs themselves, explaining that, “For the longest time, we blamed that hegemonic order of thought as being the sole reason we are misrepresented in the Media, but there is always two sides to every coin. As I got older and my music/art/education started becoming clearer and more direct, I realized it was time for our generation to stop blaming and begin addressing. If we want to shape a new image for ourselves, isn’t it our duty to really create and output media? How can we counter the hegemonic order of thought with criticism only? Can we not start tipping the balance, by creating our own media and images/sounds/films? I think we’ve reached that point now in our history, a decade and some after 9/11. It’s time for us to start drawing our image ourselves, not by erasing that which is drawn of us, but by picking up the pen ourselves, and reshaping our face.”
I also interviewed prominent Palestinian American Muslim comedian Dean Obeidallah, who commented on his experiences with the display of his comedy. His comment resonated very deep within me and it also supplemented Alsalman’s statement quite well, showing me the very importance of their point. Obeidallah reaffirmed the importance of drawing the image of Arabs ourselves by saying, “In 2003 I co-founded the NY Arab-American Comedy Festival in response to the backlash of 9/11 to show Americans and especially New Yorkers a different side to Arabs - a funny, likable side! Overall, I found that most Americans are open-minded and want to learn about other cultures. Obviously there are some bigots we will never reach but overall, Americans are not hateful people and are willing to see a different side when it is shown to them. The point being that we need to be the ones to go out and define ourselves accurately - we cant expect people outside of our community to learn about us on their own. In addition, we need to be the ones telling our stories so that it is told accurately”.
Both Obeidallah and Alsalman made the crucial point that we as Arabs need to be the ones to go against the stereotypes and as Obeidallah said, “define ourselves accurately”. If not us, then who? Obeidallah also makes an important point, that Americans are for the most part open to learning about Arabs, Muslims, and other cultures in general. Many people won’t go out of their way to learn more about Arabs and Muslims, so by putting ourselves out there in a funny way, or in other creative ways such as music, people will slowly begin to learn more about Arabs and Muslims, which will make a difference in and of itself.
Tying this all back into the main point, it was mediums like this that got me interested in producing counter-hegemony of Arabs and Muslims. Listening to The Narcicyst’s music and hearing his Iraqi dialect on the tracks gave me a sense of home and relatedness, yet hearing his amazing English verses showed me that his audience goes beyond just Arabs. Listening to Dean Obeidallah’s comedy and watching as not only Arabs, but also Americans could barely breathe from laughter showed me the importance of producing an ultimate meaning, a meaning that showed people that Muslims are not so different from everyone else. This inspired me and watching and listening to people like Dean and Yassin marked a turning point in my life, where I felt obligated and excited to begin to show those around me something they were not used to, Uncommon Sense.
Growing up as an Arab American, I have always inherently supported the Palestinian cause. Being around a community of Arabs, Palestinians included, it was easy to support Palestine without even knowing much about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict at that age. Coming to college has opened my eyes and has shown me that there is an alternative perspective on the issue, and that it was a prominent one. It has made me realize that the perspective my community of Arab Americans shared was not how everybody viewed the issue. This encouraged me to learn more and decide for myself where I stood.
The more I learn about the cause, the more I find it necessary to stand in solidarity with the Palestinian people and their rights as human beings. Not only is their story an untold one, but it is also largely decontextualized1. I have found it to be my duty to shed light upon their story and their struggle.
On Wednesday April 4th 2012, a pro-Israel group celebrated “Israel’s birthday” on the Diag, known as “Birthday Bash”. The hegemonic perspective told on this day in 1948 is a joyous and celebratory one; it does not take into account the untold story on the other side of the spectrum, and this story is a brutal one. What most people do not realize is that Israel’s birthday came at a great cost to an indigenous population—the Palestinians. In fact, this day in 1948 (May 15th) is referred to in Palestinian history as “Al Nakba”, or the Catastrophe. This is the day that over 700,000 Palestinians were forcibly removed from their homes to make possible the creation of Israel. This is the day that a Palestinian will never forget, as it was the beginning of what many would call an ethnic cleansing, and ultimately what Nelson Mandela himself has referred to as a system of apartheid.
A pro-Palestinian social justice group that I am heavily involved in, Students Allied for Freedom and Equality (SAFE) decided it would only be necessary to offer students walking past the table an alternative, counter-hegemonic2 perspective to the celebration. We passed out flyers with facts written on them about the Nakba as well as about the occupation and other aspects of the conflict that mainstream media tends to leave out. Many people were interested to hear what we had to say, but we also dealt with much criticism. The criticism is quite typical, but what absolutely shocked me is how decontextualized the Palestinian narrative truly is and how much people just don’t know. It’s hard for me to blame the people themselves that carry these misconceptions, because mainstream media does such a good job of presenting one side and not the other.
When engaging in conversations with dissenting students, the most ridiculous comment I received was a student who said, “Your civilians are not civilians”, in response to a comment I made about the number of innocent Palestinian civilians killed by the Israeli government. While this student’s words can in no way speak for the collective opinion that pro-Zionists hold, it truly demonstrates how decontextualized the Palestinian narrative is. Palestinians are essentialized3, and are viewed as naturally violent terrorists who do not deserve to live. Their deaths, many of which are women and children are deemed as excusable because of these assumptions and otherizing4 characteristics. The Israelis and Jews are seen as polar opposites to the Palestinians; the Palestinians are viewed as terrorists who simply want to kill all Jews. Being an Arab American and knowing that these stereotypes5 are not accurate, it truly shocked me to see that people really do believe them.
Another comment I heard was, “I’ve been told the Quran teaches violence and that Islam is a radical, extremist religion”, in a discussion about Palestinian resistance and violence. The first issue with this statement is that it presents a conflation6 between Arabs and Muslims, and completely ignores the critical mass of Palestinian Christians living within the Palestinian territories. This comment also shows how powerful the media is—so powerful that its consumers never second-guess its content and automatically believe the discourse it spreads. In a post-9/11 era, there is plenty of anti-Muslim sentiment in the media, and these sometimes-subliminal messages are so easily carried on into the minds of viewers and consumers. Ultimately, I told that student to read the Quran himself and directed him to a library. I truly hope that one day, more people will be encourage to do so; to do their own research before making assumptions.
Overall, this day on the Diag showed me the true importance of educating others. The experience taught me that because I am Arab American, I really have no idea what goes on in the heads of others and what types of stereotypes many people carry. Doing something simple like handing out flyers in the Diag or talking to students for a few minutes about my opinion could really change how somebody views Arabs, Muslims, the Palestine/Israel conflict as well as many other things. And affecting one person, making them question their beliefs and preconceptions, makes all the difference.
1. decontextualization: taken out of context
2. counter-hegemony: resistance to the dominant ideology
3. essentialism: described with unchanging or natural characteristics
4. otherness: characterized as the polar opposite of the West/Western traits
5. stereotype: a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person or thing
6. conflation: the assumption that all Arabs are Muslim and/or all Muslims are Arab; the perception of the two identities as one
Video: Arab Spring
AMAZING video, must watch. Brought tears to my eyes and chills down my spine, so inspirational, educational and uplifting.
stuckbetweeniraqandahardplace:
For those of you who do not know, Tasneem was my best friend in Iraq. We were both got caught in the middle of crossfire, and unfortunately a bullet shot got her in her head. Not a single day passes by where I do not think of Tasneem, where I do not replay that image of a bullet penetrating…
