Nora Lester Murad - The View From My Window in Palestine

Censorship of Palestinians is So Normal, Even Antiracists Don’t See It

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This guest post exploring censorship of Palestinian children’s books was first published on Betsy Bird’s blog on School Library Journal.

www.IdaInTheMiddle.com

I started researching censorship of Palestinian children’s books out of concern that my forthcoming young adult novel, Ida in the Middle, could be attacked or banned because the protagonist is a Palestinian-American. Ida is an 8th grader who faces ridicule and bullying at school and finds her strength by connecting with the struggle for self-determination happening in Palestine. Ida’s experiences in her Massachusetts school are loosely based on my youngest daughter’s junior year about which she says, “I didn’t feel like they kicked me out because they had never included me in the first place.” I later spoke with many Palestinian kids with shocking stories of racism, exclusion and invisibility in US schools all of whom thought they were the only one – because no one talks about anti-Palestinian racism.

Palestinians aren’t on the radar of most advocates for marginalized books

What I’m finding in my research about censorship of Palestinians is concerning. Although advocates of intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn stand up (appropriately so!) for books about Black, brown and queer communities, the intense, multilayered censorship of Palestinians goes virtually unchallenged – and, in fact, unnoticed. Simply put, Palestinians and their literature are invisible to organizations like the American Library Association, National Coalition Against Censorship, and the National Council of Teachers of English, among others. A good example of this is PEN America’s oft-cited report, America’s Censored Classrooms, which doesn’t even mention Palestinians, although there is a barrage of legislation targeting them, and overwhelming documentation of censorship of Palestinians.

For example, earlier this month, Independent Jewish Voices (IJV) released a detailed, 97-page study of harassment, intimidation and repression against Palestinians in education that includes interference in hiring, classroom surveillance, restrictions on campus groups, demands for the censure or dismissal of pro-Palestinian faculty and students, and obstruction of pro-Palestinian events. They found that the constant and increasing harassment creates a “chilly” environment which threatens academic freedom, muzzles scholarly production, obstructs academic careers, encourages mendacious and malicious discourse, and stifles legitimate protest. More than that, they paint a picture of life for many Palestinian teachers and students that is painful and unfair.

The IJV report focuses on Canadian higher education.  Here at home, Palestine Legal, a Chicago-based nonprofit co-published a study with the Center for Constitutional Rights in 2015 called, “The Palestine Exception to Free Speech” showing the same tactics are used in the United States. In nearly 100 pages and with accompanying videos, they explore a range of silencing tactics that are pervasive across US higher education institutions, including monitoring and surveillance, falsely equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism, unfounded accusations of support for terrorism, official denunciations, bureaucratic barriers, administrative sanctions, cancellations and alterations of academic and cultural events, threats to academic freedom, lawsuits and legal threats, and more. In the US, as in Canada, simply being Palestinian seems a provocation, which is hard enough for adults, but imagine being a Palestinian student facing this type of racism in school?

Information about attacks on Palestinians in education is anecdotal but abundant

Although no one seems to be systematically tracking the impact of censorship of Palestinians in K-12 education in the US, there is abundant evidence of harassment aiming to censor Palestinian and pro-Palestinian voices. For example, the Liberated Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum Consortium (LESMCC) has been slapped with a lawsuit because of their inclusion of Palestinians in the curriculum, and teachers not limited to the LESMCC teachers are experiencing administrative harassment in the form of tens if not hundreds of public records requests, not to mention threats to individuals and institutions.

In a separate incident, Palestinian-American teacher, Natalie Abulhawa, was fired from a private, all-girls school called Agnes Irwin for social media posts that were nearly a decade old and were found on a known Islamophobic site, according to the Council on American Islamic Relations. 

Attacks on Palestinian books also happen. In a well-known case, a NY bookstore was attacked  for their support of the picture book P is for Palestine (Bashi Goldbarg, self-published), and a Hannukah reading of the book organized by anti-zionist Jews was attacked by right-wing Israel supporters. 

More recently, Kayla Hoskinson, a librarian in Philadelphia was disciplined for an antiracist post that mentioned Rifk Ebeid’s picture book, Baba, What Does My Name Mean? (self-published) and references to Ebeid’s book and the works of Palestinian poet laureate Naomi Shihab Nye were censored.

Another recent library censorship case occurred in San Francisco over ideas about Zionism and racism. San Francisco Public Library canceled an art exhibit and public event when organizers refused to remove text that ACLU lawyers said was protected by the First Amendment. The library’s explanatory statement said: “… the Library retains the right to determine the suitability of any proposed exhibition to be included in the Library’s exhibition program. The Library also reserves the right to reject any part of an exhibition or to change the manner of display.” But if a library has the right to reject any part of an exhibition, they also have the right to include it, despite pressure from politically-motivated interest groups.

Librarian Kayla Hoskinson talks about the chilling effect of this kind of censorship. 

“Attacks against librarians and teachers for including Palestine in their curriculum are definitely noticed by our colleagues. Some are unafraid to move forward with me to plan and host programs about Palestine. More colleagues, though, see what happened to me and don’t want the trouble. Even if they agree, they know they will not be supported against attacks. ALA really needs to re-develop policies and guidelines about neutrality in the field.”

Very few children’s books about Palestine are being published

But when it comes to traditional bans–the listing of books that are forbidden in schools and libraries–attacks on Palestinian books seem more opportunistic and ad hoc rather than systematic and ambitious like the ones directed against Black, brown and queer books.

This may be because there are so few books about Palestine. For example, the Diverse Book Finder studied over 2000 picture books published since 2002 and found only 3% fell into the broad Middle Eastern category. How few of those are Palestinian?

In a study I’m currently doing with several Palestinian teachers to produce a framework that educators and librarians can use to evaluate books involving Palestine, we found that a full 40% of our sample of books about Palestine authored by Palestinians were self published, indicating that censorship is happening before publication. This means that fantastic children’s books like Tala Fahmawi’s self-published Salim’s Soccer Ball get only limited visibility and lack the library-attractive credibility that comes along with being traditionally published.

Sadly, the problem is not merely one of oversight or negligence. In a webinar called “Translating Palestine,” translator Sawad Hussain said she had been told outright by some editors that they are afraid to work with Palestinian authors lest they be seen as too political or publishing “too many Palestinian authors.” Translator Marcia Lynx Qualey said that even books accepted for publication are often “bulletproofed,” which she described as scrubbed of content Palestine’s opponents would claim is offensive.  

Palestine is a taboo topic due to fear and politicization

My publisher, Interlink Books, founded by Palestinian-American Michel Moushabeck has provided a much-needed pathway for Palestinian books and books about Palestine to reach US readers, yet he too has faced challenges. Most recently, Malak Mattar’s Sitti’s Bird: A Gaza Story (2022) has been unable to get a single mention or review in trade publications and mainstream media, unlike all the other picture books he’s published. Moushabeck says, “It’s because it’s a Palestinian story of trauma. We knew this would happen because the same thing happens to all our titles written by Palestinians. Some editors do not assign books by Palestinians for review–especially ones they deem controversial or think can get them into trouble.”

The consequences of the censorship of Palestinian children’s books goes far beyond the impact on Palestinian authors and Palestinian children. As the ALA’s Unite Against Book Bans campaign says, without books:

“Students cannot access critical information to help them understand themselves and the world around them. Parents lose the opportunity to engage in teachable moments with their kids. And communities lose the opportunity to learn and build mutual understanding.”

American Library Association

Applying principles of intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn to Palestinian topics

For the ALA and other librarians and educators who advocate for intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn, Palestine should be with others at the frontline of the struggle. Some even argue that Palestine is the litmus test of antiracists’ commitment to rights for all. For this reason, I hope organizations like the American Library Association, the National Coalition Against Censorship, PEN America, the NCTE and others who librarians and educators look to for leadership will become proactive in rejecting the violent silencing and criminalization of Palestinian voices. I hope they will step forward to demand intellectual freedom, the freedom to teach and the right to learn not only for some, but for those who most need to be uplifted in order to be heard, including Palestinians.

Narratives of Belonging: A Convo at the Build Palestine Summit 2022 among Nora Lester Murad, Aline Batarseh and Besan Abu-Joudeh

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This 30-minutes conversation is a warm exchange about the complexities of living in relation to Palestine for Palestinians who live in the diaspora and non-Palestinians who have joined the community (like me!). Aline Batarshe, Executive Director of Visualizing Palestine, Besan Abu-Joudeh, Founder of Build Palestine, and I speak personally about the challenges and joys of staying being part of the Palestinian struggle for visibility, dignity and rights in the United States.

Interview with Ahed Tamimi, an Icon of the Palestinian Resistance

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This review of They Called Me a Lioness and interview with Palestinian heroine Ahed Tamimi and Dena Takruri was first published by The Markaz Review.

Ahed Tamimi, an icon of Palestinian resistance is presently studying law at Birzeit University. She travels and speaks to activists and supporters around the world, always sharing the Palestinian demand for liberation.

They Called Me a Lioness: A Palestinian Girl’s Fight for Freedom; memoir/biography by Ahed Tamimi and Dena Takruri; Penguin Random House 2022; ISBN 9780593134580

By Nora Lester Murad

Ahed Tamimi and Dena Takruri’s book, They Called Me a Lioness: A Palestinian Girl’s Fight for Freedom (One World, 2022) quotes an Israeli interrogator trying to coerce information from stoic, 16-year-old Ahed: “Who? Is your father behind you? Or is it your mother who’s behind you?” “Who? Who is behind you?”

In 2017, Ahed was charged with assaulting an Israeli soldier, though family members point out that she wasn’t arrested until the video went viral, so she was most likely targeted because she humiliated the Israeli government.

Once the video of Ahed slapping and kicking a soldier went viral, two previous videos of her standing up to soldiers in her West Bank village of Nabi Saleh got new circulation, including one of 11-year-old Ahed threatening soldiers after her big brother was arrested and one of 14-year-old Ahed biting a soldier who attacked her little brother.

Ahed had become a heroine, not only in Palestine, but around the world.

When I talk to Ahed, she deflects all questions about herself, always using the pronoun “we,” referring to the collective Palestinian people.

“A reluctant heroine,” Dena Takruri corrects me when we talk about her experience co-authoring the book. “It was never about her. It was about the message.”

They Called Me a Lioness is published by Penguin Random House.

It’s true. When I talk to Ahed, she deflects all questions about herself, always using the pronoun “we,” referring to the collective Palestinian people. (We spoke in Arabic, with me apologizing several times. I recorded our interview and my husband, who is Palestinian, translated it with me.)

“‘Hero’ is a big word,” Ahed says, “and it comes with lots of responsibility. You can’t just say it casually. It’s a word that can change your life. But all of us in Palestine are heroes. We all live under the same occupation, the same injustice, and we all resist. Every single one of us is a hero inside, and that hero comes out when the time is right.”

Ahed’s videotaped interrogation shows the Israelis finally realized the threat posed by the heroine Ahed Tamimi. They were no longer laughing the way they did when she fake punched soldiers at age 11.

Though only 16 at the time, she was interrogated without the presence of her parents, lawyer, or even a female soldier. They inappropriately commented on her appearance and threatened her family and friends, but Ahed refused to talk.

“Who? Is your father behind you? Or is it your mother who’s behind you?” “Who? Who is behind you?”

The interrogators could not have known the significance of their question.

If the Israelis were to read Ahed and Dena’s book, they would understand that behind the lioness, Ahed Tamimi, stands an entire pride.

“Ahed mentions many girls and women in the book, and she credits all of them for their resistance and for enabling hers,” Dena continues.

I ask Ahed who is behind her, and her voice gets even stronger.

“Behind me? Behind me is the natural response to occupation — to reject it. Behind me are my mother and father who taught me to resist the occupier, and my grandmother who instead of telling me fairy tales about Layla and the wolf told me stories about how to resist the occupation. Behind me are the people all around me, the people I love, who I can lose in any minute. Behind me is an entire generation that I don’t want to live through the same experience that I did.”

Ahed is proud of her pride.

Nariman, Ahed’s mother, has been arrested more than six times and has held the family together during her husband’s more than nine arrests. Nariman was arrested and served eight months along with Ahed for incitement, since she filmed and shared the video of Ahed that went viral.

“If I hadn’t seen my mother demonstrate, get arrested, and be wounded, maybe I wouldn’t have done what I did and maybe my brothers and I wouldn’t be the way we are. Seeing my parents confront the soldiers helped us to believe that like them, we can defend our land and our country,” Ahed says.

Then she quickly adds: “But all Palestinian mothers are like mine, and all Palestinians are like us. Of course, there are some people who are controlled by fear. But most people are active and do things to resist the occupation, and this is not limited to our village, Nabi Saleh. Nabi Saleh just gets more media attention. But really, the same thing that is happening in Nabi Saleh is happening all over Palestine.”

Marah, Ahed’s best friend and cousin, was beside her throughout her growth. In the book, Ahed described how Marah was there at age six when the two girls joined a large group of kids running away from Israeli soldiers to Marah’s house where they packed themselves in a closet trembling in fear, only to tumble out onto a soldier’s combat boots when the house was searched. She was still there a decade later, the day Ahed  emerged from her eight months in jail to a heroine’s welcome.

Janna Jihad, Ahed’s younger cousin, started reporting from Nabi Saleh and Palestinian cities across the West Bank when she was just seven years old. She has amassed hundreds of thousands of supporters across various social media channels. In the book, Ahed says, “The sight of an innocent little Palestinian girl reporting on the suffering of other children and adults under occupation moved people. It compelled them to open their eyes to the countless injustices perpetrated by Israel.”

Ahed credits Palestinian activist, academic and elected representative Khalida Jarrar, who taught classes to all the young Palestinian girls in prison, for her successful graduation from high school. More importantly, she credits Khalida for helping her develop a larger vision and strategy for Palestinian society. In the book, Ahed says:

We must ensure that when we finally do achieve liberation [from Israel], we’re not left with a society that’s full of corruption and inequity. It’s imperative that we fight for women’s rights, to ensure that we have full equality between women and men. We need to get rid of traditional mentalities that judge girls and women through the lens of shame. We also need to fight for better employment opportunities for our youth and find ways to get them involved in the political process. Why should those holding political office be predominantly old men? They’ve consistently proven themselves incapable and irrelevant.

Ahed’s aunt, Manal, an early and consistent leader in Nabi Saleh’s popular resistance, has been arrested multiple times, shot, beaten and strip-searched, yet she continues to speak out about feminist resistance.

Even Ahed’s grandmother, Tata Farha (to whom the book is dedicated), features prominently in her political development. In the book Ahed says:

Tata Farha’s bedtime tales were all real-life stories that taught us the history of our family, of the village, and of Palestine. Many reflected the hell and heartbreak she and our people had lived through. All of her stories were educational. They not only shaped my imagination, but also revealed to me the generational trauma that’s embedded in our DNA.

There was no way I could get Ahed to speak about herself or acknowledge anything significant about herself, her family or her village. Even when I asked about the challenges of being labeled a hero, she gave others credit, uplifting those around her.

“Maybe in other parts of the world, people get upset and they go to a psychologist. For me, I don’t go to a psychologist, I go back to the people who understand me because they are living the same experience and they have seen it and already know all the details. They stand by me and help me more than anyone else. I get my strength from them. Wherever I go, I find them next to me.”

After all she’s been through, she still has hope. Ahed lifts everyone’s spirits. —Dena Takruri

Even if Ahed won’t admit it, there is something particularly inspirational about her. I ask Dena, who has spent years following Ahed and countless hours co-writing the book with her, to explain what it is.

“As a journalist, I’ve interviewed many people, and it’s rare that I feel electrified. It’s her poise, conviction, power and strength. After all she’s been through, she still has hope. Ahed lifts everyone’s spirits.” Dena Takruri, a prominent journalist and proud Palestinian in her own right, has also become part of Ahed’s pride, standing with her to protect the group and its territory. The book they’ve co-written is a kind of roar, one that the rest of us creatures in the forest would be smart to heed.

Palestinian Erasure Starts in Preschool—With Sesame Street’s Endorsement

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This article about how children’s literature represents Palestine and Palestinians was first published by Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting.

Many children in the United States will never meet a Palestinian in person, and if they do, they may need to overcome the negative images and stereotypes that pervade popular culture: terrorist, religious extremist, misogynist, etc. For this reason, books are a critical if underused opportunity for kids to learn about the people of Palestine.

Palestinians are important because they are human beings, and also because they play a  central role in US foreign policy in the Middle East, and are a major focus of US financial and military resources. If US kids are to grow up to be responsible global citizens, they must understand Palestinian experiences and perspectives, among others.

Are US kids getting good insight about Palestinians from books? My ongoing research project examining kids’ books involving Palestine has already yielded some interesting findings: Even the youngest children are subjected to narratives that erase Palestinians.

Erasure through appropriation

Rah! Rah! Mujadara!, for example, is a 12-page board book for ages 1–4 that has an attractive tagline: “Everybody likes hummus, but that’s just one of the great variety of foods found in Israel among its diverse cultures.”

There’s a subtlety in that tagline that may be lost on some. While diversity is acknowledged, it is represented only within the Israeli sphere, without its own history and separate identity.

This is a political position that  jibes with Israel’s intentional deployment of the term “Israeli Arabs” to refer to Palestinians with Israeli citizenship, whom Israel wants to incorporate as an Israeli minority, fragmenting them from the larger Palestinian community and from their national identity.

Since Palestinians represent 20% of the citizens of Israel and about 50% of the people who live under Israeli control, readers should expect to see them included. And it is possible that the girl on the top left of the cover is meant to be a Muslim Arab, despite the inauthentic way her headscarf allows her bangs to show.

Newbies to the the Israeli/Palestinian narrative war may also not realize that food is an active battleground. Palestinians consider Israel’s claiming of hummus and falafel, among other foods, to be cultural appropriation.

Palestinians, therefore, are likely to consider both the people and the food appropriated  when the same girl is featured behind the text:

Blow, slow.

Taste. Whoa!

Brown fa-LA-fel,

big green mouthful!

Respectful Jewish and Jewish Israeli chefs acknowledge this violence, and counter it by giving credit where credit is due. Since the state of Israel is not even 75 years old, any food with a longer pedigree must have been originated by someone else. But while Kar-Ben Publishing is surely aware of this contention, they either choose to ignore it or intentionally intend to steer readers towards the Israeli narrative—by hiding the Palestinian one.

Cultural appropriation is taken to a new level in Israel ABCs: A Book About the People and Places of Israel (Holly Schroeder, Picture Window Books, 2004).

On page 5, titled “B is for Bedouin,” the text reads: “Bedouins are Arab people who come from Israel’s deserts.” In fact, Bedouins lived on and cultivated land that is now in the State of

Israel for hundreds of years prior to the establishment of the state, and have been systematically discriminated against since. The book’s use of the words “Israel’s deserts” imply that the land belonged to Israel before Arab Bedouins arrived. This is an easy-to-miss example of text that implies that not only does the land belong to Israel, but so do the indigenous Bedouins.

Erasure through deception

Unfortunately, the erasure of Palestinian reality continues in books for older children. I looked at introductory books about Israel for ages 7–11 years, including All Around the World Israel (Kristine Spanier, Jump!, 2019) and Travel to Israel (Matt Doeden, Lerner Publishing, 2022).

These books share a shocking but easily overlooked flaw: Their covers feature a photo of East Jerusalem alongside the title “Israel.” East Jerusalem is the Palestinian side of the city, previously administered by

Jordan and illegally annexed by Israel following its occupation in the 1967 War. Again, the uninitiated may not realize the significance of linking the state of Israel to East Jerusalem in the minds of readers, and might even think it positive that Israel is making Palestinian areas visible.

However, Israel’s widely condemned annexation of East Jerusalem is illegal under international law. In 1980, Israel declared the “unified” Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, but until Donald Trump moved the US embassy to Jerusalem, not a single country in the world followed suit.

Moreover, Israel has used every possible administrative and military tool available to make East Jerusalem unlivable for Palestinians, in an effort to get them to leave so their land can be repurposed for Jewish use. These cover photos not only fail to acknowledge the reality of life for Palestinian Jerusalemites, they deceptively cover it up.

Putting East Jerusalem on the cover of books about Israel jibes with Israel’s narrative that Jerusalem belongs to Israel, and not to Palestine or the Palestinians, and helps preempt fair and open negotiations

about the final status of Jerusalem as promised in the 1993 Oslo Accords.

Erasure through both-sidesism

Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street (Christy Peterson, Lerner Publishing, 2021) also has a problematic cover, but, consistent with the rest of the book, it is a type of distortion/erasure that can be called “both-sidesism.” The cover is split, with half showing Palestinian East Jerusalem (though a less iconic photo than the Dome of the Rock) and the other half showing an Israeli beach.

Inside, the book continues with this “both sides” approach, starting by teaching children how to say hello in both Hebrew and Arabic (pages 4–5).  This “both sides” approach makes a nice visual while hiding Israel’s disrespect for Arabic and Arabic speakers, which is clear in the fact that Arabic had been an official language of Israel until it was officially downgraded in the 2018 Jewish Nation State Law.

Presenting “both sides” is a device used to appear neutral, which conjures a sense of objectivity and truth. It is also a way to stake a claim to antiracism and respect. For example, page 11 says that Jerusalem is “special to people of many religions,” over a  photo of Palestinian school girls, some wearing the Muslim hijab.

But presenting Palestinians only as linguistic and religious minorities of Israel, and not as a national group in and of itself, is an Israeli narrative tactic that dehumanizes  Palestinians and undermines readers’ ability to understand Israel. While appearing respectful of diversity, the text and photo cleverly omit that Israel is an explicitly, self-declared Jewish state, that enshrines Jewish supremacy over non-Jews (and the corresponding inequality of Palestinians) by saying, in law, that only Jews have the right to self-determination.

Palestine literally erased

Where in the world is Palestine? Nowhere, according to Sesame Street‘s map.

While maps can be controversial when presenting Israel and Palestine, there is one fact that is not controversial: The West Bank and Gaza Strip are not part of Israel. The population of the West Bank and Gaza Strip are not citizens of Israel, and the idea of Israeli annexation of the West Bank has been rejected internationally, including by United Nations officials. Despite this, page 6 of Welcome to Israel With Sesame

Street incorrectly displays a map of Israel (“and Surrounding Area”) including the West Bank and Gaza Strip in the same shade of yellow. The outlines of the occupied Palestinian territory are visible but not labeled. (Notably, the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights is shown as part of Syria.)

While Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street is not the worst of the books I reviewed, it stands out to me because of the Sesame Street branding. Librarians tell me they rely more on reviews than branding when purchasing or recommending books, but as a mom myself, I think parents—and kids—do pay attention to the stamp of credibility that the Sesame Street imprimatur gives to educational materials. Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street illustrates how branding can help to obfuscate rather than illuminate the information we need as global citizens to be constructive problem-solvers.

The Sesame Street brand, and the nonprofit Sesame Workshop that owns it, has previously been criticized for compromises they’ve made in order to address funding shortfalls and stay in business in an increasingly difficult market. Supporters argue that licensing has long been a part of their funding model, and doesn’t necessarily contradict the educational mission that Sesame Workshop has committed to.

Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street, however, is not harmless. It uses subtle messages to contribute to erasure and distortion of Palestinians, which should cause concern among people who care about the educational reputation of the brand. Unfortunately, Sesame Workshop failed to respond to my several inquiries about this book.

Incorporating Palestinian voices

US children will be lucky if they see a book or two mentioning Palestinians in their entire  educational careers—so the books they read should be good! There are a few books that offer some age-appropriate information about Palestinians, like ones referenced in Rethinking Schools and listed by the National Council for the Social Studies. These books contribute to an important educational objective—to help students of all ages understand that the world is diverse, that different groups have different experiences, that conflicts and wars hurt people, and that US taxpayers play a role in that. Publishers can do better by incorporating Palestinian voices into their commitments to center diverse voices and by taking a stand to protect and promote Palestinian children’s book writers.

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