Friday, May 15, 2026: "The homeland is the heart, the pulse, the artery, and the eyes. We are its sacrifice. Palestine." My great-grandfather, uncle, and aunt in Palestine. In 1938, my grandfather was born in a land called Palestine. Ten years later, unmarked soldiers would come into his village, break down doors, and steal his neighbors’ homes and lands. Suddenly, the radio wasn't calling the land Palestine anymore, marking the beginning of the Nakba (The Catastrophe), which is commemorated today. Some of his neighbors were killed, some of them were taken as prisoners to work in labor camps, and some had to move far away, confined to crumbling refugee camps in surrounding countries like Jordan and Lebanon. My great-grandmother in Palestine. 30 years later, in 1968, my grandfather's dad was shot in the head by an Israeli settler. Not only were my grandfather and his siblings having to confront the fact that their land looked and felt different now, but also that thi...
