I have a few other articles I’m writing right now. Some are about anti-Zionism, some are about Judaism in general, others are neither. But I felt as though I needed to get this out first.
The above photo is from Bisan Owda’s Instagram from January 21st. The picture is accompanied by a long caption that I recommend reading, about the state of Gaza after an entire week with near-complete telecommunications blackout in the Strip. Bisan had asked for those of us around the world to participate in a week-long global strike from January 21st to the 28th.
It has been a week now since her post, and I could not get her caption out of my mind as I struck where I could for this past week. The same single sentence from the write-up found me when I comfortably ate lunch, when I prayed and studied my Jewish texts, when my eyes were closed to sleep knowing that I would wake the next morning to quiet and comfort.
Bisan wrote: “I am terrified of being killed by an occupier, and to be forgotten, one oppressed Bisan of a whole occupied people.”
And I could not help but think about what her occupiers and their sympathizers have been saying while they actively commit genocide against a native population, as they continue to claim they speak for all Jews and Jewish values.
In Judaism, it is common knowledge that there is no greater loss than for one’s memory to be erased. Death is not the end, as long as a memory exists. There is no greater insult for a Jew than for an aggressor to erase you in memory and make the whole world forget you.
And Bisan’s biggest fear is to be forgotten.
Bisan’s fear is far from unfounded; as early as October, Israel was already martyring entire families, entire bloodlines killed with a single missile in a few hours (Mushtaha). I remember opening Twitter and Instagram to see the long list of names of the families brutally murdered. No living family members to continue the family legacy, to carry stories or names on to the next generation. I thought, too, of the children, the ones doctors had to create a new classification for: WCNSF, wounded child, no surviving family (Haidar). Many of those children will never remember their parents, their families, their lineages that held endless generations of survivors that they will never know the stories of. I thought, too, about the way historic mosques, churches, libraries are being destroyed with Israel’s indiscriminate bombing, literally destroying the historical contexts in which the Palestinian people have lived (Owda 1, Owda 2).
At every turn, Israel and its Zionist sympathizers aim to erase the collective Palestinian memory. Not just individuals, but bloodlines. Not just justified resistance groups, but their potential descendants. Not just Palestinian defiance, but the sources of Palestinian resilience.
Before the genocide, Bisan was a storyteller. Her “Hakawatya” or “Storyteller” video series saw her traveling around Gaza, recounting various histories and ways of life for Palestinians before and during Israeli occupation. Over December, she began reposting those videos onto her Instagram with English subtitles. Each of those reposts began the same, with a bold disclaimer in Arabic and English proclaiming: “The Israeli army destroyed everything you will see later” (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7). Even without the warnings at the beginning, the videos serve as reminders of what Gaza had built itself to become prior to the current oppression.
Bisan built herself on telling stories about her people, and that is why her fear of being forgotten stuck to me. It stuck to me because I heard my rabbi give a sermon during Shabbat service the Friday before she posted that the greatest slight to a Jew is to erase their memory from history.
I teared up when he said that. I did not cry for myself. I did not even cry just for Bisan. I cried for all of Palestine. I cried for the land, for the people, for the memory.
Next week, we as Jews will read Parshah Mishpatim from the Torah, also knowns as Exodus 21:1–24:18. Mishpatim in Hebrew means “judgments,” as the portion deals with laws now that the Israelites have escaped Egyptian occupation and are receiving the Torah from Sinai. Nestled in this portion is Exodus 23:9, reading “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feeling of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt” (Sefaria).
It is of utmost importance that we demand a permanent ceasefire immediately. It is of utmost importance that we hold Israel accountable for its war crimes. It is of utmost importance that we remember the feeling of the stranger.
-Adonis
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