Palestine will
always be home.
This is a re-release of a zine that Malak Yassine and
I published in 2022. Our ambition, as it remains now,
was to try and shine a light on the situation in Palestine
and open up dialogue about how we can continue the
struggle to see it free and a return of the millions of
displaced Palestinian people to their land.
Interviewing Malak was an important reminder of the
length of time people have lived under occupation and
the very stark reality of the impacts that has had. It was
also a reminder of the influence that art can have in
changing perspectives, highlighting issues and ultimately
instigating revolutionary change.
In this half hour conversation we talk about the history
of the occupation of Palestine, her personal experience
of growing up in a refugee camp in Lebanon and the
incredible artwork of her great uncle - Naji al Ali.
We hope this zine serves as an introduction to the free
Palestine movement. Our plan has always been to
develop a larger project around the role of art within the
movement and to share more creative insights into the
topic. Given recent events, it feels more urgent than ever
and we plan to regularly update this zine with further
information and artwork. Ultimately, we hope this plays a
role in raising awareness of the situation so that we live in
a world where Palestine is one day free.
- Grace Kress
Editorial
Click here to
listen to our
conversation
I’m Malak Yassine, a Palestinian
Muslim girl, I grew up in Lebanon in a
refugee camp called Ein El Hilweh. My
family has been living there since the
mass exodus of Palestinians in 1948. I
grew up being told stories about how
my great-great grandparents were
uprooted from their land in Palestine,
they took everything they could carry
and walked days on end to Lebanon.
Hello again - me and Grace worked on
this zine a year ago. It was a massive
labour of love, we worked on it for
months. Back then I felt that we were
both screaming into a void. Where
barely anyone wanted to hear, listen,
or see. One of the main emotions that
I have been grappling with is the fact
that suddenly we have half a million
people marching for a Free Palestine.
It feels completely surreal. It feels like
I’m dreaming. I never thought in my life
time that would happen. As much as
world events right now feel like a never
ending cycle of doom. We have finally
lifted the veil - we are not going back.
Palestinian joy is available for us ALL to
access.
- Malak Yassine
Introduction
Illustrations by Malak Yassine
@aWholeHeartedSoul
Update
Over the last 70 or so years, what has
kept the movement of Palestine going
has been the stories we pass on from
generation to generation. Some of
you might have heard nothing about
Palestine or Palestinians in general,
and that is okay.
I don’t believe that we all have to
be up to date on every piece of
news that comes out and you might
not understand what is going on
as Palestine gets minimal news
coverage. So, we tell these stories to
keep the memory going, to ensure we
don’t gaslight ourselves into thinking
we should be okay with land being
taken away from us, for us to keep
the movement going for a day that we
return to that our ancestors left, for
us to remember the stories so we can
tell them to our children and they can
tell them to their children.
So art, photos, and stories are
part of the revolution. They are
the revolution. We have just been
convinced that artists can’t move a
needle with their creativity, but we
can move nations with just a pen,
some paper, a camera, and a wild
imagination.
So yes, I believe in telling stories,
here we begin.
Activism can
and should
involve violence
There is a whitewashed version of
activism that has been on the rise; it’s
the activism that only preaches positivity
and peace - it’s the activism that only
involves doing a quick post on Instagram
and leaving it there. To some, peace isn’t
an option. To some, a post isn’t going
to change or do anything. To some,
shouting, throwing rocks, and firing guns
is the only option. Holding people to a
western and privileged standard form
of activism isn’t fair. I can talk about this
for days and days but this is something
you will probably be contemplating for
days and that is okay. We forget that our
access to safety isn’t something others
have, and sometimes safety has to be
fought for and that is valid.
Art can start
revolutions
We often think of art as something trivial. Society
has made it into something so unimpotant and
the idea of the ‘broken and poor artist’ has been
passed on through generations. I remember
sitting on the phone with my best friend telling
her “You can’t do things with art and I hate that
- it feels like you can’t involve art and activism.”
At this time I had just finished a Masters in
Biomedical Sciences and was hit with the reality
that it wasn’t for me. I felt I had “wasted” money
and time in concluding that art is what I wanted
to do. It’s funny how life works and lessons come
up. It’s been 2 years since that conversation.
I started working with Grace on this
zine years ago. I started asking my
family about Naji Al Ali who is a
Palestinian artist and happens to be
my great uncle. I grew up being told
about his stories and artwork - his work
started the Palestinian revolution. The
answer to my dilemma of art being
impactful has been in my bloodline all
along. We have been fed this story: art
can’t be and will never be impactful.
This is a mindset that needs to be
erased as it makes us believe that real
change is far away and unobtainable,
it’s clear white supremacy at play.
There are not many stories that
make it out of Palestine without
being filtered and questioned. The
reality is that art and storytelling
are at the heart of Palestine’s
activism. When we think of activism
we tend to think of “information”
and “facts”. But we can just look at
photos and art - witness those who
dared to create and tell stories. The
idea that we have to adhere to this
tidy version of telling information
needs to move with the times that
we are visual and emotional beings.
Wondering when
we get to go home
I have never understood the concept of home, as I have
lived in Lebanon most of my childhood, and it never felt
like home.
Lebanon didn’t make it easy for us to exist, there were
many jobs we couldn’t do, schools we couldn’t go to,
and we didn’t have rights as Palestinians since we were
still seen as immigrants, even down to the fact that
Palestinians couldn’t own land or build prosperity. When
we moved to the UK I remember that when we got our ID
cards they had the words “stateless” on them. The way I
see it now is that colonisation comes into play. It brands
countries as non-existent, erasing countries and cultures.
I have family everywhere, the U.K., France, Jordan, Egypt,
Germany, Canada, USA. It’s because we got shattered into
a million pieces as people and as a culture and that is what
statelessness means. It means looking for a home and not
finding one.
For me neither feel like home. And I have accepted that
neither will ever feel like home. Home is currently occupied
by invaders; to me, that isn’t a political statement, it’s fact.
Palestine will always be home even if my feet have never
touched its ground.
- Malak Yassine
Accounts to look at:
https://www.instagram.com/palestine.poster.project/
https://www.instagram.com/ibaa.ahmed/
https://www.instagram.com/malak_mattar_artist/
https://www.instagram.com/jenanmatari/
https://www.instagram.com/hareth_palestine/
https://www.instagram.com/shut.elbit.down.leicester/
https://www.instagram.com/naseeba.khader/
Illustrations by Malak Yassine
@aWholeHeartedSoul
Angela Davis
Illustration by Shelby x Studios