Interfaith action for palestine
Salam y’all, my name is Assata, my pronouns are she/her. I’m here representing Muslim Alliance for Sexual and Gender Diversity. And in case this accent didn’t already give it away, I am based in Africatown, Alabama.
I am a Black and Indigenous Queer Shia Muslim and also a single mama to a very feral four year old who you’ve probably seen running around here somewhere. I have ACAB tattooed on my knuckles AND I bake cookies for our homeschool co-op. So I am every white Christian Nationalist’s worst nightmare.
There’s something my sitti used to say, and I’m sure she stole it from someone else, but I’m just going to credit it to her - If one person says it’s raining and one person says it’s dry, it’s not your job to quote them both. It’s your job to look out the freaking window and find out which is true.
Just by opening a window on my phone, I am able to see firsthand that it’s raining the blood of people who prayed just like me, small children who laughed just like my daughter, courageous men who loved just like my baba and women who held it all together just like my mama.
They want us to believe that “from the river to the sea” is genocide but bombing a tiny strip of land and murdering over 40,000 people is not. They want us to believe that turning an open air prison into a cemetery is a solution.
Everyone here on Turtle Island is in a non-consensual contract with genocide. We are expected to go about our daily routine - work, motherhood, chores - all while a cloud of Palestinian genocide just hovers above our head.
None of us are okay.
When they bombed the first hospital and we saw with our own eyes the body parts just scattered everywhere and the baba holding what was left of his son in a plastic bag, we thought it couldn’t get any worse. But then it did.
When we saw all of the premature babies that rotted away alone in their hospital beds, we thought it couldn’t get any worse. But then it did.
When we watched the surgeon amputate his own child’s limbs without any anesthesia, we thought it couldn’t get any worse. But then it did.
As we watched Amo Khaled saying goodbye to Reem, rooh roohi, the soul of his soul, we thought it couldn’t get any worse. But it keeps getting worse.
To those here today, I implore you not to turn away the horrific images you see that our representatives right on the land where we stand helped to create.
Bearing witness is an act of community care. They are depending on us looking away. Don’t turn away. We witness so that we may tell the truth.
Let every picture, every video, fill your body with a hunger for justice and then demand it of those in our capitol building that claim to represent us.
When you think you have hit your capacity for witnessing and sharing, ask yourself: is it your capacity you’ve hit or just the edge of your comfort zone?
True solidarity requires that we sacrifice the right to comfort that has become a cornerstone of American individualism and a central tenet of white Christian Supremacy. If you’re experiencing discomfort, it doesn’t mean you should stop. It means you’re finally getting started.
It may be 100 years later but the US will apologize for the Palestinian genocide. They may even dedicate a day to them. That’s what this country has always done.
And while apologizing they will remind us that they are good peaceful people now and it was just their bad ancestors that committed this atrocity.
The transatlantic slave trade, the massacre of Native Americans, the hundreds of thousands murdered in Afghanistan - they always apologize after every war crime while continuing to uphold this flag of peace.
Don’t let them forget. We can not let them forget. We can not let them whitewash this part of history.
As Israelis take over the homes of the Indigenous people of Palestine, aided by our tax dollars, we will be the leak in the ceiling that bursts all the pipes. We will not let them ever forget that home they stand in is colonized. They will never know peace on stolen land. We will not let them forget.
Whenever she was asked where she was from, my sitti would always say that she was Palestinian from Morocco. I never fully understood the weight that simple introduction held until 2003 when Rachel Corrie was murdered by an IDF bulldozer.
That was the defining moment when I really grasped the full picture of the occupation and what displacement really meant and it shattered my heart. It radicalized me.
This was the moment I vowed that until I took my last breath I would fight for the day when all Palestinians could say they were Palestinian from Palestine. Not Morocco, not Egypt, not Jordan, not whatever other country allowed them in - but from Palestine, the land that is rightfully theirs.
As Muslims we believe Allah is with those who are patient. Allah does not deny the prayer of the oppressed. That is why we can say we absolute certainty that from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.
We also know that only way we can survive and sustainably resist oppression is by being rooted in community.
Palestinians, as well as all other communities of resistance, particularly Black and Indigenous, have shown us that even under crippling oppression, we are able to win if we fight back as a collective.
There are devastating consequences for all of us the longer we pretend we are not all connected. The Palestinian struggle is the Black struggle, the Indigenous struggle, the Queer struggle, the motherhood struggle, the struggle of all of our faiths.
Isolation drives despair and keeps us stuck. That is how they win.
This is the moment to find your people, process in community then get organized and mobilize. They want you to go to a rally or two and post a few memes about Palestine.
What they don’t want is for you to join a revolutionary organization of your faith and devote a significant portion of your life to organizing against white Christian Supremacy, which is the driving force behind the Palestinian genocide.
Please do not leave here today without taking the next step of connecting with any group here in the fight for our collective liberation.
All systems of oppression reinforce one another, and none can be fought in isolation. Queer and Trans liberation can never come at the expense of the Palestinian people. Black liberation can never come at the expense of the Palestinian people. Indigenous sovereignty right here on Turtle Island can never come at the expense of the Palestinian people. Our struggles and our humanity are bound together.
We are here at a crossroads but it’s not the one they would like you to believe - it’s not about choosing between overt right wing fascism or a cop in office. It’s about us finally having the opportunity to drop the “lesser of two evils” facade and recognize that it’s ALL just evil. And armed with our faith, we can choose to go down the road of creating spaces beyond anti-Black, anti-Queer and Trans, anti-unhoused, and anti-poor systems and build systems of care and pathways for transformative justice to thrive.
Our Muslim community just recently commemorated Ashura, which is the 10th day of our holy month of Muharram.
If you were on the last mass call, you heard me explain the ways that this day can look very different depending on your community. But the true beauty is that despite these differences, Ashura is a day that transcends sectarian divides within the Muslim faith . Whether through fasting, mourning or reflection, Shia, Sunni and Sufi Muslims all engage the day’s significance in ways that deepen our faith and commitment to justice.
It’s a powerful reminder of unity, resilience and the enduring quest for righteousness which is what I see reflected in each of you here today as we join together as people of all faiths to relentlessly work towards an end to genocide and a liberated Palestine.
