Do we not exist?

Palestine, or Falesteen in Arabic. When I look at globes inside my classrooms, it’s erased from the maps and avoided in conversations, a topic deemed too controversial. It feels like my own culture and identity is being erased right before my eyes.

Throughout my time at school, there were times I felt I had to hide my identity out of fear that I would be treated differently. In some of my classes I couldn’t wear my Palestine map necklace. My mom told me not to talk or write about Palestine, worried I would be targeted.

Another Palestinian student, senior Samie Alswatfa, shared very similar experiences to me, having times he felt like he needed to hide his identity.

“For me personally, when someone asks me where I’m from I would almost hesitate to say it because I know there’s a controversy around it,” Alswafta said. “Usually when I tell people, they have a brief pause or sometimes there’s a feeling of tension when I say it to people.”

I yearn to visit my home country. To see Palestine not through screens, but to live through it. To walk through the holy land of Jerusalem, stand alongside the olive trees and hold the vibrant poppy flowers in my hand. But I know it will take years to return. The constant airstrikes, destruction and displacement make it difficult. It seems like a dream just too far to reach. While I lived in Palestine for nine months when I was younger, Alswafta was never able to visit because his mom said it was too dangerous.

“I never got to see the country for myself or experience it, but in a way, I still feel very connected,” Alswafta said. “I feel the culture and through the things that are in my household. When I go to Jordan, I get almost like a glimpse of it with my relatives and seeing them.”

The closest connection I have to Falesteen is Jordan. My mom’s family, and Alswafta’s family, were displaced in the 1948 Nakba, and they were forced to flee to Jordan, joining with many other Palestinians who share the very same story of loss and survival. But their stories constitute the silence and strength that represents who we are.

“I just know that when it dates back, like toward the Nakba and where the people were kicked out of their homes that they all had gotten in like automobiles and everything happened so quick,” Alswafta said. “I know the specific story, they were holding the baby upside down and the baby couldn’t breathe and passed away because it was such a rush.”

I was told to hide my identity. But instead I wrote and wrote.

I wrote an opinion piece my sophomore year about the ongoing genocide and supporting my homeland. It’s still one of the stories that I’m most proud of, one that cannot be erased. My senior year, my entire college essay was about reclaiming my heritage. To remain close to his heritage, Alswafta speaks Arabic with his family, displays artwork and enjoys Palestinian dishes.

“For me [being Palestinian] is more than just being from a country, it’s a way of life,” Alswafta said. “It has a strong culture in itself. It’s a very historical place too, with Christianity, Islam and Judaism. There’s a lot of deep history connected to it.”

I’ve found other ways to reclaim my voice. Tatreez, traditional Palestinian embroidery, uses motifs and symbols to tell one’s own stories. Tatreez helps me feel closer to my culture, build resilience and keep my home alive in memory.

“I think I definitely have a voice,” Alswafta said. “I can educate peers around me or my friends if it’s brought up in conversation, which I’ve done before. On social media too, just spread or at least even simply repost stuff that has to do with the issue in conflict to bring the lights to other people.”

When Alswafta was younger, he would say he’s Saudi Arabian to his friends because they wouldn’t know what Palestine was. Similarly, when I was younger I would say I’m Jordanian or Middle Eastern.

“I’ll tell them I was Saudi Arabian because it was close enough,” Alswafta said. “Especially [Palestine] being removed off the maps, the US and other countries, like the UK don’t identify Palestine as a country. It’s just occupied land.”

On social media, we both see posts of Palestinian homes destroyed, livelihoods lost, families torn apart. It’s difficult to view Palestine’s ongoing struggles, feeling hopeless.

“I only see what’s happening and my heart really resonates with them, but I would hope that it resonates with everyone,” Alswafta said. “It’s not really based on where you’re from, religion or your beliefs. At the end of the day, you’re just seeing videos of innocent people being bombed. I’ve seen videos of a dad with a sifter, to sift the body, like the bones and remains of his children and his wife just to get the fragments of what’s left.”

Despite erasure and policies being put in place to replace those homes in Gaza, Palestinian spirit will prevail. I know we must exist.