It has been a year of heartbreak, a year of horror, a year of hell. I know I am not alone when I say that this has been the very worst year of my life. I have lost friends, I have lost job opportunities and, most of all, I have lost my faith in humanity.
But, before I get into that, let me fulfil my duty as a good diaspora Palestinian and recite the obligatory incantation: I condemn Hamas, I condemn Hamas, I condemn Hamas. We Palestinians, you see, are not allowed to open our mouths without someone demanding we denounce violence and condemn Hamas. And then we are told to shut our mouths, to stay silent, while the very same people demanding we decry violence salivate over our deaths and celebrate murder on an unimaginable scale.
Anyone an Israeli kills is an act of self-defence. Anyone an Arab kills is an act of terrorism. These are the rules we must all abide by.
The US has never been shy about how much it hates Arabs. But ever since 7 October that hatred has shot to such disturbing new levels that I no longer feel at home in this country. Were it not for the fact that I have built a life and a family here, I would get the hell out. Why would I want to stay in a country where Palestinians are so dehumanised that elected officials such as Senator Lindsey Graham can fantasise about dropping an atomic bomb on Gaza – a place where half of the population are children – without facing any meaningful censure? Where John Fetterman, who is my senator, openly mocks pro-Palestinian protesters and seems to take immense joy in our pain.
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