Lessons learnt by a Palestinian-American.


"Physically, the Israelis had won; all those broken lives and all those smashed buildings and all that destroyed infrastructure do not suggest that the Palestinians have "prevailed" (to use a "Bushite" word). But strategically, the Palestinians have won. They are still in Gaza." -Robert Fisk 

Photos by Eloisa d’Orsi 

Operation Protective Shield

Summer 2014

Gaza, Palestine 

(via lifeisliterallylimited)

I recently tore my ACL. 

First serious injury I’ve ever had. First surgery I’ll ever need. 

Every day I wake up knowing that it’s still another 6 to 9 months before I can run, play tennis, or hike again. 

I’m trying to see this as an opportunity to focus on things that I’ve pushed to the side in the past. Things that I love, but never made time for. 

My art. My writing. My ideas. 

If I can stay focused, I will get through this in no time, and hopefully have even more opportunities once I have recovered. 

Behind the Gate.


This picture embodies a moment that has followed me up until today, two years after it was taken, and that, although I’m certain I will experience much worse, will follow me for the rest of my life. 

We all have moments where the past comes back, whether it’s triggered by something we hear or see, or if it simply flashes through our minds unexpectedly. I remember this moment, and this day. I remember pressing my forehead against this gate, and grasping it with my hands. I watched my tears drop on the iron bars, and through my foggy eyes I stared at this taxi just meters away. I remember the terrible emptiness in my stomach, where I felt my freedom had been ripped out of me, leaving a gaping hole in my existence. I remember when I realized that these bars were stronger than my frustration. I remember when “so close, yet so far” became a sick, terrible sword piercing through my heart. I remember asking my father why God was doing this to us. 

No matter how vividly you remember your nightmares, your horror before waking can never again be relived. My brokenness is only a memory now. 

I do not know what drove me to take this picture. With my thoughts even more chaotic than my surroundings, I cannot imagine how I thought to snap what was before me. To be completely honest, I don’t now how I had the strength to pull my phone out of my pocket. I remember everything about this moment, except for that. 

Although I believe this experience changed me for the rest of my life, nothing is more significant than what came to follow. As clung to the gate, with my last bits of strength pouring out of my eyes, I looked over at my cousin. “See what you are feeling now? In Gaza, this is what I feel every day.”

I looked down at the sand, and quickly realized the answer to my own question. Why did God allow this to happen to me? To show me a small fraction of the agony that Palestinians are forced to live through. 

The following morning, I unknowingly walked out of my grandmother’s house for the last time. We made it across the Rafah border that afternoon.

"You’ve learned," He said. "Now go tell the world."