The story of Palestine is woven into every fiber of my being. My story begins with my father, who, at just 18 years old, left the West Bank—its ancient stone homes, olive groves, and spirited communities—to seek refuge and opportunity in America. Yet even across an ocean, he carried Palestine with him. Through his memories and stories, it became part of me, too—an inherited resilience and hope that pulsed through each generation.
I first encountered the power of erasure in eighth grade. My geography teacher, Mr. Smith, assigned us a paper: “Write about your parents’ homeland.” With pride, I wrote, “My father is from Palestine.” His response was immediate: “Palestine doesn’t exist,” he said, erasing my heritage with a single sentence. I was compelled to write about Jordan instead. This moment, seemingly minor, foreshadowed a broader denial that has defined Palestinian experiences for decades.
The denial my teacher showed is not an anomaly. It mirrors the ongoing erasure faced by Palestinians around the world. The Nakba—Arabic for “catastrophe”— refers to the forced displacement of over 700,000 Palestinians in 1948. Many lost not just their homes, but entire communities, orchards, and generational traditions. What began more than 70 years ago is not confined to history books; for millions, the Nakba continues. A 2021 report by Human Rights Watch emphasized that Palestinians endure a system of oppression and discrimination, pointing to the inhumane blockade in Gaza and ongoing settlement expansion in the West Bank. Amnesty International and other human rights organizations have similarly highlighted the daily atrocities—bombings, forced evictions, and collective punishment—that define life for many Palestinians.
Nowhere is this more evident than in Gaza, home to nearly two million Palestinians, making it one of the most densely populated areas on Earth. Under a protracted blockade, Gazans face acute shortages of food, clean water, and medical supplies—conditions the United Nations has repeatedly warned could render Gaza uninhabitable. This is genocide on its face. Israel is starving children to death while bombarding their “safe zone” tents nightly with advanced U.S. military technology, including AI-driven weaponry. The global community’s failure to intervene is a moral failing of staggering proportions.
Here in the United States, however, conversations about Palestinian suffering often get drowned out by powerful lobbyists such as AIPAC. Legislation that silences dissent or demonizes pro-Palestinian activism has found support among some of our most influential policymakers. In a glaring assault on free speech, it is actually illegal in many states to boycott Israeli businesses—an act clearly protected under the First Amendment—yet we remain free to boycott our own country’s goods. Thankfully, public servants like Illinois State Representative Abdelnasser Rashid are working to repeal these unconstitutional measures and restore our right to protest.
For a city known as “Little Palestine,” Chicago seems a natural leader in championing Palestinian rights. Our community is proud and vibrant. Yet disturbing instances of censorship still happen right under our noses. Not long ago, a CPS student was asked to remove a hoodie that simply read, “Support Palestine.” That small act of silencing reflects a much larger struggle: the denial of the right to exist openly—to name oneself and one’s homeland without fear of dismissal or punishment.
In our schools, we have a moral responsibility to resist complicity in erasure. Education should be about expanding horizons and fostering empathy,
not enforcing silence. History lessons must include Palestinian narratives—both their struggles and
their resilience—so students can learn from lived experiences, not just from selectively curated textbooks.
Administrators, teachers, and policymakers can begin by:
1. Revisiting Curricula
Incorporate primary sources and testimonies from Palestinians, alongside historical accounts from leading historians and human rights organizations. Offer context on 1948, 1967, and the ongoing occupation, empowering students to engage with multiple
perspectives.
2. Encouraging Student Voices
Review dress codes and free speech policies to ensure they do not inadvertently stifle expressions of cultural identity or political solidarity. Support student clubs and advocacy groups that foster dialogue, respectful debate, and learning.
3. Facilitating Community Partnerships
Invite Palestinian community leaders and speakers into classrooms. Host intercultural events and forums where students can ask questions, share stories, and challenge misconceptions in a constructive environment.
4. Engaging Policymakers
Urge elected officials to meet with local Palestinian organizations, educators, and students. Encourage them to understand firsthand the impact of restrictive policies and the urgent need for justice and accountability.
This is not simply about taking a political stance; it is about affirming the basic humanity of an entire people. As educators and administrators, we have an obligation to model compassion, critical thinking, and a commitment to human rights. In Illinois—home to the largest Palestinian population in the United States—our moral imperative is clear: we must stand against the forces that silence Palestinian narratives and perpetuate injustice, both abroad and in our own school hallways.
