As Gazans, we are constantly reminded of our confinement - whether it's the physical borders that trap us in a tiny strip of land or the invisible barriers that prevent us from entering the world beyond. According to Plestia Alaqad, her life has become defined by visa rejections and endless hours spent waiting at airport counters. She recounts how Palestinian passports are treated with suspicion, as if written in an alien language.
For Alaqad, this is not just a personal struggle but a collective one. The world's response to Palestine's plight is characterized by double standards - we are seen as a security risk only when we're alive, yet our humanity becomes visible only through suffering. The tragedy of Gaza, often framed as a humanitarian crisis, overshadows the daily struggles of its residents.
As Alaqad notes, winter in Gaza has become synonymous with displacement and hardship. Thousands of families huddle together for warmth, their tents not designed to withstand the elements. It's a stark contrast to the romanticized notion of Palestinian life that often prevails in international discourse.
Beyond the confines of Gaza, Palestinians face another form of confinement - identity politics. Alaqad wonders aloud how someone with a Western passport can enjoy unfettered freedom, while she needs mountains of paperwork simply to prove her existence. This dichotomy exposes the hypocrisy and prejudice that underlies global attitudes toward Palestine.
Ultimately, Alaqad poses a haunting question: where should we go if we're no longer welcome in our own homeland? The world seems more fearful of us as refugees than it is of the wars and genocides that create such displacement. As she channels the iconic Palestinian poet Darwish, we are left to wonder - what lies beyond the last sky?
The plight of Palestinians serves as a stark reminder of the arbitrary boundaries that separate nations and peoples. We exist on the periphery, our humanity constantly negotiated by the world at large. Until we're seen, until we're heard, until we're recognized not just as victims but as living, breathing beings with a place in this shrinking world, it's hard to imagine a way forward.
For Alaqad, this is not just a personal struggle but a collective one. The world's response to Palestine's plight is characterized by double standards - we are seen as a security risk only when we're alive, yet our humanity becomes visible only through suffering. The tragedy of Gaza, often framed as a humanitarian crisis, overshadows the daily struggles of its residents.
As Alaqad notes, winter in Gaza has become synonymous with displacement and hardship. Thousands of families huddle together for warmth, their tents not designed to withstand the elements. It's a stark contrast to the romanticized notion of Palestinian life that often prevails in international discourse.
Beyond the confines of Gaza, Palestinians face another form of confinement - identity politics. Alaqad wonders aloud how someone with a Western passport can enjoy unfettered freedom, while she needs mountains of paperwork simply to prove her existence. This dichotomy exposes the hypocrisy and prejudice that underlies global attitudes toward Palestine.
Ultimately, Alaqad poses a haunting question: where should we go if we're no longer welcome in our own homeland? The world seems more fearful of us as refugees than it is of the wars and genocides that create such displacement. As she channels the iconic Palestinian poet Darwish, we are left to wonder - what lies beyond the last sky?
The plight of Palestinians serves as a stark reminder of the arbitrary boundaries that separate nations and peoples. We exist on the periphery, our humanity constantly negotiated by the world at large. Until we're seen, until we're heard, until we're recognized not just as victims but as living, breathing beings with a place in this shrinking world, it's hard to imagine a way forward.
honestly, how many times can one get rejected for a visa? i mean plestia alaqad is literally living her best life over here waiting at airport counters all day every day... meanwhile the rest of us just wanna chill and travel like we're not stuck in this tiny strip of land. 
but seriously, how many times do ppl need to see the same struggles before they start calling out the hypocrisy? it's like, yeah, we get it, gaza is a humanitarian crisis, BUT what about all the daily struggles of its residents? can't we just see beyond the 'tragedy' and acknowledge that people are just trying to survive over here? 
. It's like, can you even imagine having to deal with visa rejections and being treated like an outsider just because of where you're from? It's crazy how the world can be so accepting of people from other countries, but suddenly becomes super suspicious when it comes to Palestinians 
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And what's with this idea that Palestinian life is only "humanitarian" when they're suffering? It's like, can't we see them as people, too? 
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I guess it just goes to show how messed up our priorities are when it comes to dealing with conflicts like this.
Maybe then we could start talking about a real solution to this whole thing...
can't we just see them as human beings who deserve to live with dignity?
& dont even get me started on identity politics 
its like ppl think the world is a safe space for some but not 4 others 
& dont even get me started on identity politics 
. It's crazy how people can be so suspicious of someone just because of their nationality. I mean, what if I had a friend from Gaza who just moved here and they're having trouble getting basic stuff done? Would I want to make it harder for them too? 
. Like, we know that life in Gaza isn't easy, but do we really have to paint it with a brush of perpetual sadness? Can't we see the beauty and strength of Palestinian culture too? 
no need for all that paperwork and visa drama... now it's like u gotta have connections or pay a fortune just to get outta ur own country 
instead of seein them as human beings 4 real 
I mean, come on, if Palestinians can't even get a visa without being treated like an alien 
, what's the point of having a passport? It's like they're asking for permission just to exist in their own country. And don't even get me started on identity politics - it's like, hello, we're human beings too! Can't we just be recognized as such without all the drama and paperwork? 
It's not all rainbows and unicorns, trust me. I've seen the lines at Gaza's airports, I've talked to people who have lost loved ones in these conflicts. It's real life, folks, not just a PR stunt 
I mean, have you seen the pics of Gazans trying to travel abroad? It's like they're speaking a different language 
The whole visa rejection thing is just so frustrating. And yeah, I totally get what she means about identity politics... it's like, who gets to decide what "Palestinian" even means? 
Like, how can we address these systemic issues and create a more inclusive world where everyone can live freely? 
. I mean, can you blame them for feeling trapped? It's like the whole world is playing a game of "let's see how much suffering we can inflict before someone gets tired". And yeah, visa rejections are ridiculous - who needs a fancy passport to prove they're human, right? 
Not exactly the most reassuring message.
And what's with the double standards, you know? We're seen as a security risk when we're alive but only see our humanity when things get really tough. It's like, don't they realize that people just want to live their lives in peace?! 
You know, try to spread a little awareness and understanding. We need more of that in this world!
. It's like we're living in a world where people are still being treated like they're not even worth recognizing 
. Until we can see Palestinians as more than just victims, but as living beings with their own stories and struggles, I don't think we'll ever move forward 
but it really hits home when she says we're seen as refugees instead of human beings. We need to see beyond the borders and treat everyone equally 
. What's the point of even having a passport if it's just gonna get rejected 
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. And honestly, it's so tired when people frame Gaza as this exoticized, romanticized place... have you ever been there? It's not all sunshine and rainbows, trust me 
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