"Identity"
Like most people in the world, I have a family, I go to school, and do other fun
and athletic activities. However, the only significant difference is that I am a Palestinian.
I consider my nationality to be my identity and foundation that shaped me into who I
am today. I was practically born into a warzone; the best memories that I could recall
from my childhood would probably be during the time of the Second Intifada. The
Second Intifada is the second uprising of the Palestinians against the Israeli Occupation
which happened when I was about 4 years old. Despite the fact that I was only 4 years
old, I can still remember the times when my mother used to hide me and my brothers
under the bed for fear we would get hit by a stray bullet, tear gas, or just Israeli soldiers
breaking into our house. I remember the feeling I used to get when my family and I used
to wait for my dad to get us food from the store when there was curfew, the feeling that
this could be the last time I would see my dad. That feeling made me realize that at this
very moment there is a thin line between life and death; the feeling that it could've
been anyone's dad out there who couldn't make it back in time before the soldiers
raided the area and began shooting again. While many children around the world went
to sleep peacefully in their beds, shooting, sirens, and screams of terror became both
my lullaby and my morning alarm clock. I still remember when a bullet was shot and
went through my parents' bedroom while we were all asleep. I recall waking up the next
morning and realizing they could have been hit. As the years progressed and the intifada
was over, my journey continued and the struggle of being a Palestinian emerged at
checkpoints, borders, and airports. I remember when I was 8 years old I had to take off
my skirt at a checkpoint because the soldiers were not convinced I was harmless; I was
furious. I have witnessed incident like this after incident like this. One of the many
incidents that are burned into my mind is the time I witnessed an Israeli soldier push a
blind diabetic elderly man to the ground at a checkpoint because he refused to let
someone help him walk through. There are countless other incidents just like this one.
I never intend to share these memories with people to show how unfortunate I
am and this situation is, but because if someone asked me what the best part of my
childhood was, I’d take them to the Second Intifada. Why? Because we only realize the
value of someone or something when we (almost) lose it. I share my story because I am
tremendously lucky and blessed to be alive and who I am today. Not only am I blessed
to be born a Palestinian, but I am so blessed that my family is still alive after living
through all of this; I am so blessed to have food on my table, clothes on my back, and a
home. These experiences became stories, and these stories became the center of my
identity. It is because of these experiences that I grew up to be a strong and courageous
person who does not fear a soldier with a weapon, war, standing out, or being proud of
my identity. You know how they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Well
that's what it's done, literally.
