What I witnessed on my first trip to my homeland of Palestine this summer

For years, my father and I have dreamed about visiting our homeland –Palestine– and connecting with our people, going to our village in Safad (now known as Safed), and visiting one of our holiest sites, the Al-Aqsa Mosque.

Our family roots, our trees, our history live in our hearts, even though our family has been forcibly torn from our home.

But I never imagined my first trip home would be in the middle of a genocide that’s been livestreamed across the world. Even as I write this with tears rolling down my cheeks, Palestinians in Gaza are enduring one of the bloodiest weeks yet.

The world has witnessed the suffering and bombardment of Palestinians in Gaza, and now the people in Lebanon, on our screens daily. The images have been horrific, especially the recent ones of Palestinians being burned alive after Israel's bombing of the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Gaza.

This summer, after spending months watching this horror unfold on my phone, I made my first trip to my homeland of Palestine.

When I learned of a multi-faith delegation travelling to Palestine, I signed up. A friend and I, both Muslim and Palestinian, joined a group of Christians, Jews, Hindus, and a Buddhist to cross into occupied Palestine with Sabeel, a Palestinian-Christian group that promotes non-violent resistance in Jerusalem, and stands in solidarity with Palestinians.

Crossing the King Hussein/Allenby Bridge from Jordan with the delegation was my first experience as a Palestinian in Palestine. I do not hold a Palestinian ID in Palestine and have no family members left there.

But this is the land that lives in the hearts of my family, one that I have heard them yearn for all my life.

They were permanently displaced during the Nakba or the great “catastrophe” in 1948 when Palestinians were violently attacked and forced into exile.

Fleeing their homes in Safad and walking to Lebanon under the impression that they'd return within a week. They’ve never been able to return, as Safad is now part of Israel after it was ethnically cleansed and forcibly seized in 1948.

More than seven decades later, many of my family members are still refugees in the Ein El Hilweh refugee camp. The place I spent my summers as a child has become the target of Israel’s recent strikes.

Palestine in our hearts

Entering into Palestine and visiting at a time where the worst and most publicly documented genocide is taking place and attacks on Palestinians in the occupied West Bank by violent settlers and the Israeli military have reached at an all-time high, I remember my parents.

Both proud Palestinian refugees, they were luckier than our other family members and were able to make it to the US and started our family here. I was born and raised in Dearborn, Michigan.

But the US is also the country that has been and continues to fund the ongoing oppression of my people. By conservative estimates, the US has spent at least $22.76 billion between October 7, 2023 and September 30, 2024 on Israel's military assaults and related funding.

The genocide taking place in Gaza exposed Israel for being the apartheid state it is and the United States for building it up. When I spoke to Palestinians there, they told me how much harder life has gotten since the war on Gaza began. One woman even said, "they (Israel) make you miss the way they occupied you before October."

Where are you really from?

My American passport has my first and last name listed –Hebah Kassem. Because of my name, and only my name, I experienced a different line of questioning from Israeli security than my colleagues on the delegation.

Repeatedly asked where I was originally from, where my parents are from, if I have friends and relatives in the occupied West Bank, if I hold any other documentation in Lebanon, and where I was staying in the occupied West Bank, despite saying multiple times that I am an American and was heading to Jerusalem.

At the crossing, I saw how the Israelis were looking at me and how Palestinians were discriminated against and made to endure arbitrary “security” measures.

Our delegation went to parts of the country and visited areas most people would never go, including to the border of Gaza where we witnessed an airstrike from the bus, visited Bedouin villages under attack of settler violence, sites of home demolition, refugee camps, occupied West Bank cities that have been raided, the Tent of Nations, and more.

During my trip, one thing was very clear: every Palestinian is suffering. Palestinian businesses in both Jerusalem and the occupied West Bank are struggling to keep their doors open as tourism has significantly declined since October.

Jewish settler attacks on Palestinians and the number of Palestinians killed have increased significantly in the last couple of years.

Israel is stealing more and more Palestinian land and is escalating their demolition of Palestinian homes, like the ones we saw destroyed in Silwan, a Palestinian neighbourhood in occupied East Jerusalem.

Here, 80 percent of homes have eviction notices, with Israel strategically tearing them down, one by one.

The military has raided many of the cities and refugee camps of the occupied West Bank and have detained innocent children and teenagers daily since October 7.

While I was in Palestine, Israel's military shot in the head and killed a Turkish-American activist, Aysenur Ezgi Eygi, as she protested illegal settlements.

It also launched a large-scale raid on the occupied West Bank, closing in on Jenin, Tulkarem, Nablus, and Tubas, with raids, drone strikes, and destruction of infrastructure.

'We're next'

Palestinians are seeing the genocide taking place a few miles from their homes, and experiencing the occupation in ways they never have before. Almost every Palestinian I met said something along the lines of "we see what's happening in Gaza and Jenin, it's only a matter of time before it's our turn. They want us all dead." This broke me.

One visit that really stands out for me is when we went to the Umm al-Khair village of Masafer Yatta. The area is under settler attack in the South Hebron Hills of the occupied West Bank.

There, I spoke to one father, holding his two-year-old son Mohamed in his arms. The man said he used to have a permit to work in Israel, but it was revoked after October, a way to collectively punish all Palestinians.

The father added that in addition to not having work or money to support his family, he must also contend with settlers who steal the home's electricity and water for their chicken coops.

The Israeli settlers also steal their meat and cars, and recently killed the grandfather of the family by running over him when he tried to protect their vehicles. I played with the children and learned more about their families and cried the entire way back to the hotel.

I kept thinking about Mohamed and how he has already been robbed of his childhood and how there was so much more destruction coming his way.

Children detained

As I visited the Aida refugee camp, children surrounded me, eager to share their stories.

One boy, around 11-years-old, shared with me that the Israeli military comes in every night and detains children and that his 15-year-old brother was detained in July without any charges and they're not sure when or if he'll be released.

The military also raids the camp and throws tear gas at the families. I stumbled on a small store called the Key of Return where they take the tear gas canisters the military throws at them and olive wood to make handmade keychains, jewellery, plaques, and more.

The family-owned business resists the occupation by "taking something bad and turning it into something good," the store owner explained to me.

I stayed a few extra days in Palestine after the delegation left. I stayed in Ramallah and then went back to Jerusalem to pray Friday prayer at Al-Aqsa, with a lot of support from Palestinians who helped me find hotels, food, stores, and shuttling around the occupied West Bank and back to Jerusalem.

Checkpoint crisis

My journey home gave me a brief glimpse into the daily toll that occupation takes on Palestinians. And my exit from Palestine still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I needed to catch a flight in Amman on Monday. But on Saturdays, the bridge to Jordan is closed, a collective punishment from Israel after October. And on Sunday morning, there was an attack by a Jordanian at the King Hussein/Allenby Bridge, which resulted in the closure of every crossing into Jordan.

I was forced to stay until Monday and try to cross at the King Hussein/Allenby Bridge crossing closest to Jerusalem and only open to Palestinians.

On the way, I learned it was closed so we drove two hours north to the Sheikh Hussein/Jordan River Crossing that is only open to internationals and Israeli citizens.

On the way to the crossing, I was stopped at a checkpoint and harassed because of my name – they pointed at my name on my passport, asked if I held a Palestinian ID, and when I replied "no," they said "get out of the car."

The driver and I were asked to take my luggage out of the vehicle where they brought out sniffer dogs to search my bags and the car and were then asked to go inside to go through security. When inside, they were communicating with the driver in Hebrew that they needed my phone, which I had left in the car.

I was told to go back out to the car to get my phone, which felt like a trap. I stepped out confused, second guessing if I understood correctly and thinking they had a sniper waiting for me somewhere. The dogs were gone, the soldiers were not there, and it was very quiet.

What was only a few minutes felt like eternity as I walked over to grab my phone and walk back. Mental torture is a game the Israelis play well.

In this moment, I experienced just a fraction of the mental games they play and how much they truly hate us Palestinians. My phone was scanned, pictures of my eyes were taken, and our passports and phones were thrown back at us as we were told we were free to leave.

At no point was any explanation given as to why we were stopped, what they were looking for, or what they were doing.

I am back in the US now trying to live my "normal" life. I can’t remove the images or experiences from Palestine from my brain and I don’t want to. If anything, I am more fired up than ever to fight for the liberation of my people.

76 years of occupation – this is the worst

The Biden-Harris administration has the audacity to ask for our community’s support in the upcoming election while they continue to fund the apartheid, enable the genocide and supply the bombs dropped on people in Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, and Yemen.

As I wrote back in March, we are very clear-eyed about what is at stake this November. The Democrats have failed to hear, let alone meet our demands to end the suffering of Palestinians.

Trump has also vowed to “finish the job” in Gaza. It’s been 76 years of occupation for my people and it feels like this year has been the worst in terms of suffering and bloodshed.

We have given Vice President Harris every chance to distinguish herself from President Joe Biden’s policy and stance and to shift course towards and end the suffering of Palestinians, and she continues to fail.

This will cost her at the polls, but not as much as it has cost my people. Their blood hasn’t dried yet and I owe it to them to keep fighting for their liberation. We can’t sit ideally by while our tax dollars fuel this genocide and we can’t support candidates like Harris or Trump who are enthusiastically complicit in Israel’s ethnic cleansing.

But we can still make our voices heard by continuing to organise, making our demands clear, boycotting companies supporting Israel, and by supporting the pro-ceasefire and arms embargo candidates down ballot.

We can and will continue building the coalition committed to fighting for Palestinian liberation.