I a Puerto Rican American (Puerto Rican from my bio dad and American from my mom). My step dad is Palestian along with my half brothers. He's been my step dad since I was 4 and I've been raised with the Palestinian culture since as long as I could remember. I love the culture. I got home from college last week and I just noticed how at home I felt when I got to experience it again. Would it be weird for me to practice the culture on my own or to identifying someway with the culture?

I've been wondering this considering how close they are.

As a Palestinian leaving in ksa and my parents also raised here, I’m not all that informed about Palestinian heritage. I know the basics like most cities, big cultural moments and uprisings and such from what my parents told me but most of my knowledge comes from after 48’s that’s all my family talks about when referring to our history and why everything is the way that it is but I wanna know more about my history before that and during and after. What are the best trusted resources I can learn from ??

it’s probably silly thinking about myself while our ppl are dying but I genuinely feel so guilty all the time like i could do something but I’m not. Idk what to do or how to help I can’t donate I can’t protest all I do is repost go fund me’s and talk about what’s happening online which is not enough I NEED TO HELP

Does anyone know the history of how Palestinians came to Latin America, particularly South America? I'm curious because I met a Palestinian Chilean a few months ago who mentioned that his family migrated to Chile during the Ottoman period, before the arrival of Zionists. I know Chile has a large Palestinian community, and I wish I had asked him more questions about it.

Hi, I’m Palestinian-American, GenX.
My father was born in the West Bank in 1931. (He didn’t get married and have kids until his 40s.) My cousins still live in the house he was born in, and farm the land my family owns. They sell the produce at the markets of Bethlehem and Jerusalem.

My family is well educated. (As nearly every Palestinian is)

At the time of the Nakba, my grandparents decided the best chance of survival of the family name was to separate the family. My father and one uncle were sent away to England. From there, he went to USVI, and then he went to Puerto Rico where at Fort Buchanan, he enlisted in the USArmed Services as a Palestine National. He was not a US citizen.

He served in the first integrated unit the US Army sent overseas to Korea in 1952.

After he completed his active and reserve duty, he, along with just a couple thousand other immigrants, was granted naturalization and US Citizenship.

I didn’t realize how unique our situation was until now. Because he was a citizen, he had a US Passport, and that allowed he and my mom (she is blonde, tall, and born in mid-west) to take my sister and I to Palestine and the West Bank to visit family during the 70s, 80s and until the last visit in 1995.

I was 2 during my first visit, when I wandered away on my own in Bethlehem Square.

I experienced the WB checkpoints. My father was detained outside by the IDF for 3 complete days during one visit. Kids had been throwing stones at a train so the rounded up every male in a certain vicinity. He could have showed his passport and been released, but he wanted to stay.

I remember how dad would argue with his nephews before each visit because dad wanted to rent a car instead of using a family car with Palestinian plates which limited where we could travel, and would get us stopped frequently.

One time while at my grandparents’ house, soldiers came in - said they needed to use the house for an “observation point”. They stayed for 2 days.

My mother once took a picture of soldiers at the airport. It was the first time she had seen soldiers with automatic weapons at the airport. One of them noticed, and took the entire camera. Mom was so upset because we lost all the pictures on the film, and it was our only camera.

As children, we weren’t allowed to talk about the occupation to our friends or teachers. My 5th grade teacher was Jewish, (which should not mean anything because it’s not about religion, it’s about real estate) and I wanted to ask her if she knew about the occupation but I kept quiet and learned about playing with the spinning top (dradel sp?)

The occupation wasn’t real to anyone I knew but my family..

In the 80s the Keffiyeh pattern became the international symbol of terrorism. I was terrified to tell anyone I was Palestinian. I never wore a Keffiyeh in public. Doing so would have provoked screams of anti-semitism even back then, and there was a 50% chance someone would call the cops.

In middle school, I remember watching the South Africa Apartheid protests, and I wished that Palestine would be next.

In college I started a chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine. It wasn’t anything official, I had learned that there was a group in CA and decided to start my own. 4 of my friends would sit in a room in the student union once a week. We would bring current newspapers and books about Palestine with the goal of simply teaching anyone who wandered in, about the situation. We did not march, or write letters. We didn’t ask for divestment, or any funds. I simply wanted to be an educational resource for any student who wanted to know more.

After a couple months, I was approached by the college dean and asked to shut down the group. Some kids had complained that I was “supporting terror”- which was wild. I told the dean that I just bounced a 10.00 check for snacks from Drug Mart and could barely support myself through school. I asked the 4 club members and we all refused to end the club. We didn’t advertise, solicit members, or do any campaigning. But the accusations and anger only grew. The college kept asking me to shut it down, and I kept refusing and it became a huge campus deal. The weekly student paper became involved, and for months on end articles about valid student groups, and upcoming changes were the biggest news on campus. At one point, I was assaulted on campus. (Like actually assaulted-and yes it made the student papers)

Eventually, the college board decided they had to change the rules on how student groups could be formed. So Instead of only needing 1 campus professor to endorse a student club, they changed the rules to require 4 professors to endorse any student club.

I couldn’t find 4 professors who would endorse SJP, so it shut down. (I recently found online copies of the student papers from that year, it was wild).

Other than family members, I don’t know any Palestinians, and I really need to become part of the community.

I’ve never been public about my heritage, because I’ve always needed a job and being Arab after 9/11 wasn’t something to call attention to.

I feel guilty because people don’t know us. They don’t understand that Palestine is called The Holy Land because it’s All Holy for all. They don’t know that Palestinians have a 100% literacy rate in not 1 but 2 languages! Nearly every Palestinian speaks fluent English. My grandparents spoke 4 languages, (Arabic, Turkish, English, some Hebrew) my dad spoke 5 - Spanish. Women are educated alongside men. Women can own property and are treated equally.

They don’t know that because we are from The Holy Land, we aren’t religious extremists because that would be stupid. Palestinians have greeted generations of religious pilgrims from all 3 religions. They are our customers. Why would we choose to dislike 1/3 of our customer base?

They don’t know that Palestinians can marry anyone, of any religion.

I’ve been wondering about ways to purchase land in the WB. I want to keep my family farm safe and in the family. Maybe having the deed to our land being under a US citizen would keep it safer.

Anyway, Hello. I’d love to meet you all! I couldn’t imagine a thread like this 15 years ago. But I’m grateful it is here today.

Art for Palestine 🇵🇸

Alkhaldi Mosque, located in Gaza, was known not only for its architectural beauty but also as a center of community life. Its destruction during the recent conflict highlights the tragic impact of war on cultural and religious heritage. The mosque was a symbol of resilience, hosting various community activities and serving as a refuge for those seeking solace during difficult times. The loss of such a significant landmark underscores the broader human and cultural toll of the ongoing conflict in the region.

I'm a 22 year old college student and graphic designer from the Maldives who is intrested in art, history and nearly everything in between. For a long time I have had a deep interest in the Levant region therefore I am keen to explore more and I hope to visit there at least once in my life insha'Allah.

How is everyone continuing their lives? Are you back to your normal routine and events or? I’m really really conflicted, and I feel guilty for pursuing some of my hobbies and just working toward what is supposed to be my ‘goal’.

But I keep falling each week into the pit of: “I’m doing this and that and my people are literally being slaughtered!”. And honestly I feel horrible, everyone around me including family and friends are living their lives normally, it’s just hard to not do something.

At the beginning of all this, I read 23 books in a month that are all about Palestine, politics, history, traditions, everything and anything, just to fill the gap. I did EVERYTHING you can think of, but I still feel awful.

What makes the situation even more obnoxious, is how other people just underestimate what I’m feeling, because I’m from a village that was demolished during the Nakbe ( Ajjour عجور ),so I never visited Palestine whatsoever. So the usual reaction I would get from people: “but your family doesn’t live there!”, “But you are not really Palestinian!”, “But you are safe here!”. It’s just so annoying.

How is everyone dealing with it? Please I would really appreciate any advice, I’ve come to a point where nothing makes me feel satisfied or happy, not even my own achievements.

Or soap or any other cuisine. Trying to get within a week if possible. Thanks!

The Palestinian thobe is a poem stitched in cloth, where each thread carries the soul of a people and each pattern sings of a homeland cherished and longed for. It is not merely a garment; it is an heirloom, a language in fabric, woven through centuries of love, loss, and resilience. To wear a Palestinian thobe is to wear the stories of ancestors, to carry the weight of time, the colors of the earth, and the beauty of a culture unbroken by hardship.

**The Origins: A Legacy Rooted in Time**

The history of the Palestinian thobe stretches back through the ages, its origins entwined with the earliest civilizations of the land. Long before the borders were drawn, before the conflicts and exiles, there were the Canaanites, who first laid the foundation for this enduring tradition. From their looms came the first threads, dyed with the hues of the earth—indigo from the night sky, pomegranate red from the fruit of the land, and saffron yellow from the desert sun. Over centuries, these threads absorbed the influence of Byzantines, Persians, and Ottomans, but always remained unmistakably Palestinian.

In villages across Palestine, the thobe became the canvas upon which women embroidered their lives. A young girl would learn the art of **tatreez**, not merely as a craft but as an inheritance—a sacred skill passed from mother to daughter. The thobe was more than fabric; it was a reflection of identity, a connection to the soil, the seasons, and the stories of the land. As the girl’s hands worked the needle, she stitched not just patterns but prayers, hopes, and dreams for her future.

**Tatreez: The Silent Song of the Land**

The heart of the Palestinian thobe lies in its embroidery, *tatreez*—a language of symbols, shapes, and colors, where each stitch carries meaning, and each pattern is a silent song. In Hebron, the deep crimson embroidery blooms like the roses of spring, stitched on black cloth that speaks of the richness of the earth. These bold patterns, known as *tahriri*, are filled with life and strength, echoing the rhythms of the land, where harvests flourish and families endure.

In Ramallah, the thobes carry a different song—lighter, with floral motifs and geometric shapes embroidered in vibrant greens and blues. These patterns evoke the olive trees and rolling hills, the cycles of growth and renewal, a tribute to the landscape that nurtures the people. In the north, in Galilee, the thobes are like the sea—blue and green silk threads shimmer, mirroring the waters and the sky. Every stitch reflects nature's abundance, from the olive branches to the wheat fields, a symphony of land and life.

Each region, each village, tells its own story through its unique *tatreez* patterns. And each woman, as she embroiders her thobe, adds her personal touch to the ancient designs, blending her own story into the larger narrative of her people. Through the delicate work of her hands, she speaks of her village, her family, her heart. A bride’s thobe, heavy with symbols of fertility, protection, and prosperity, tells of her hopes as she embarks on her new life. For older women, the thobe becomes a repository of wisdom and experience, a visual archive of a life lived close to the land.

**The Making: A Sacred Craft**

To create a Palestinian thobe is to engage in a sacred craft, a labor of love and patience. The process begins with the fabric itself, traditionally linen or cotton, spun by hand and dyed with natural colors from the earth. Before modern fabrics and dyes, women would use pigments from plants, flowers, and minerals, mixing the colors of the land into the cloth itself. Today, while modern textiles are more commonly used, the ancient tradition of hand-spun, naturally dyed fabric still endures in certain ceremonial thobes.

But the true soul of the thobe lies in the embroidery. Using nothing more than a needle and thread, women would create intricate, detailed designs over months or even years. The work is meticulous, each stitch carefully counted and placed, forming complex geometric patterns or natural motifs. The cross-stitch, a tiny X that forms the base of most *tatreez*, becomes a building block for larger patterns that unfold across the fabric like a field of flowers.

Each stitch is deliberate, each pattern chosen with intention. A tree might represent life and continuity; a cypress, eternity; a star, guidance and hope. These symbols, passed down through generations, link the women to their past, while also weaving a thread into their future.

**A Symbol of Resistance and Identity**

The Palestinian thobe is more than a garment; it is a symbol of identity, of a people bound to their land and their history. In times of displacement, when Palestinians were forced from their homes during the Nakba in 1948, the thobe became a mobile homeland. It was a way of carrying the past into the uncertain future, a tangible reminder of who they were and where they came from. Every stitch, every motif, was a silent act of resistance, a way to say, "We are still here."

To wear a thobe was to assert one’s Palestinian identity, especially in exile. In refugee camps, far from the olive groves and the hills of home, women continued to embroider thobes, preserving their culture in thread. It was an act of defiance, a way of keeping their connection to the land alive, even as the world tried to erase it.

**A Modern Revival: Threads of Continuity**

Today, the Palestinian thobe has experienced a revival, not just in Palestine but across the global diaspora. Younger generations are rediscovering the beauty and significance of the thobe, seeking to reconnect with their roots in a world far removed from their ancestral villages. Designers are reinterpreting the thobe, blending traditional *tatreez* with modern cuts and fabrics, making it accessible and appealing to contemporary tastes. This fusion of old and new keeps the tradition alive, allowing the thobe to evolve while still holding the essence of its heritage.

https://preview.redd.it/r6cbjrzn3zmd1.png?width=937&format=png&auto=webp&s=0dd58ba28d2b1237b35a66eec8dc23866aa26b2a

https://preview.redd.it/0enw0szn3zmd1.jpg?width=1170&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=69c1d11f37f7d4be91eccf2dc8740991c2de4323

https://preview.redd.it/neiterzn3zmd1.jpg?width=188&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7b3532765ff745a7492ed4678c3f5e931e95b213

https://preview.redd.it/4opjgptr3zmd1.jpg?width=238&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e7eb117acdaf2e080b5fa9caacc8924995b8f1d9

The thobe has also gained international attention, appearing in exhibitions and fashion shows around the world. It is celebrated as a work of art, a symbol of Palestinian endurance and creativity. But for those who wear it, the thobe remains deeply personal—a way of carrying their identity, their history, and their hope on their shoulders.

**A Garment of the Heart**

The Palestinian thobe is more than a dress. It is a story, a love letter to the land, a testament to the resilience of a people who have held onto their heritage through exile and displacement. With every stitch, the women who create these garments are weaving the past into the present, ensuring that their traditions live on. Wrapped in a thobe, one wears not just the fabric of history but the warmth of a mother’s hands, the wisdom of a grandmother’s heart, and the spirit of a people who refuse to be forgotten.

It is a garment of the heart, stitched with the soul of Palestine.