by Nahida the Exiled Palestinian
Don’t call me a Palestinian of the Palestinian Territories because it is called Palestine.
Don’t give me a fraction of my homeland and call it a solution.
Don’t give me oppression and call it peace.
Don’t give me a Bantustan and call it a home.
Don’t give me a prison and call it freedom.
Don’t draw the borders of my existence according to your whims and interests and call it a state.
My home is not a disfigured result of a till-death-do-us-part-marriage between the occupier and the champions of negotiators-for-life that yields a Bantustan on 20% of my homeland.
My home is not a “lets legitimize the Zionist racist colonization of Palestine and hope they accept us and allow us to live with them one day” tale for the sake of fame and a shoulder pat from “conditional-supporters”, while giving the Zionist usurpers a right to my land which they stole and continue to colonize… a right to my home which they destroyed and continue to destroy…. a right to my village which they ethnically cleansed and continue to do so to the rest of Palestine… a right to Palestine, the Palestine they raped and continue to rape for over 63 years, a rape they are proud of and celebrate very year while denying us even the tears and the memories and the names of the victims they massacred and the villages they erased.
My Palestine is the home that is mine since the dawn of history till the end of history.
My Palestine is the home of my ancestors, the home between the Mediterranean and the Jordan River.