Nora Lester Murad - The View From My Window in Palestine

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.

An Interview With Author and Activist Nora Lester Murad: Palestinian Narratives, Shared Trauma, and Moving Forward as a Community by Ramona Wadi

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This interview first appeared in The Muslim Vibe.

What we know of Palestine can be traced directly to media reports, but how much of that knowledge is traced back to the Palestinian people themselves? 

In recent years there has been a renewed emphasis on the importance of communicating Palestinian narratives, many of which have been silenced. The international community has long forced its own constructions of what Palestine is and who Palestinians are, eliminating the voices of Palestinians in the process unless these serve to substantiate a diplomacy that has enabled Israeli colonisation. Gradually, the world normalised the international community’s version of Palestine and paid less heed to the Palestinians themselves.

The recent drive to push Palestinian narratives to the helm has shifted perceptions. Palestinian refugees, for example, are no longer only perceived as part of the humanitarian paradigm but as individuals, and also a collective, who were active participants in their own history.

To heighten awareness about Palestinian narratives, the fine line between speaking for Palestinians and creating the space for Palestinian voices to be heard needed to be drawn. Equally important, what is the role of non-Palestinians with regard to Palestine? 

Nora Lester Murad’s books, “Rest in My Shade” and “I Found Myself in Palestine”, both published by Interlink Books, are examples of a non-Palestinian imparting Palestine to an international audience. Speaking to The Muslim Vibe, she discusses her positioning, understanding, empathy, and affinity with Palestine, and how these have impacted her writing about the land and the people.

Ramona Wadi: Can you speak about your experience in Palestine and how much of a role did affinity play in the publication of your two books, ‘Rest In My Shade’ and ‘I Found Myself In Palestine’?

Nora Lester Murad: My relationship with Palestine goes back almost 40 years. Finding myself in the Middle East in 1982 was a fluke. I didn’t know anything about a conflict, but people kept pushing me to take sides. As a Jew, I felt complicit, but I was too ignorant to contribute to a solution. I committed to learning about Palestinian history and culture assuming that it would be difficult for me to relate to. But it was not difficult at all.

My first Palestinian friendships formed while I was studying abroad in Cairo and Jerusalem. I married my Muslim Palestinian husband in 1989. I worked as an organiser for Palestinian rights and incorporated Palestine liberation into my antiracism work in the US. Since I developed my political and social consciousness in relation to Palestine (among other issues), if you took Palestine away from me, there would be a massive hole.

Being a mother to three Palestinian-American girls who we raised in the West Bank entrenches me in an even deeper way. I think that co-writing “Rest in My Shade” and editing “I Found Myself in Palestine” (and two novels that are yet unpublished) helped me to bridge the gaps between who I was born and who I have become. Writing also helps me fulfill an obligation I feel to bring Westerners/English readers closer to understanding Palestine on its own terms and not through the lens of a distorted Zionist narrative.

“Rest In My Shade” evokes the ongoing Palestinian trauma. Can you elaborate upon this expression and experience from your observations? 

I’m not sure I’ve ever met a Palestinian who didn’t have loss and displacement central in their sense of self. Many carry trauma from the past and ongoing oppression and fragmentation of their people into their daily lives. Innumerable times I have been advised by Palestinian friends not to hope too much, not to try too hard, not to care so deeply — because I would inevitably be disappointed.

They grew up with a lived understanding of the injustices of the world that I only learned as I grew older. But at the same time, the feeling of not belonging is one that many people can relate to. The theme of “Rest in My Shade” — the yearning for belonging and community — is central to the Palestinian people, but it is not exclusive to them. The process of co-authoring “Rest in My Shade” showed me that while Palestinian experience is particular, there are aspects that can be universally understood.

‘I Found Myself In Palestine’ invokes a more tangible account of life in Palestine from different non-Palestinian perspectives – a human, ordinary, everyday account that is overlooked due to the political implications. How does this contribute for people to understand the political and social context? 

“I Found Myself in Palestine” is unique because it is comprised of stories by non-Palestinians who are, nonetheless, members of the Palestinian community. We have an insider-outsider perspective that sheds light beyond what non-Palestinians experience when they connect with Palestine grounded solely in their own national/cultural/historic reference points. We also have perspectives that are distinct from the Palestinians we live among.

The group of 23 writers featured in “I Found Myself in Palestine” didn’t set out to explain Palestine to others. We wrote to understand our own experiences through our writing. For many of us, the process was one of healing from the pain of living between different worlds, not fully a part of any one group. I do hope, though, that reading the pieces helps readers see Palestinians as human beings like any others and to broaden their impression of Palestinians beyond that of characters on a political stage. Humanising Palestinians can’t help but improve people’s support for Palestinian human rights.

As a non-Palestinian writing about Palestine, how is the boundary between narrating Palestine and speaking for Palestinians maintained, to avoid the latter?

There is a huge body of harmful literature by non-Palestinians claiming to speak for Palestinians. I certainly don’t want any of my work to fall into that category. Palestinians can and should speak for themselves — this is at the forefront of my mind whenever I write.

First of all, I make every effort to not misrepresent myself as a Palestinian. I use both my maiden and married names. I try to be explicit that I am writing from my own social location as a white, US, anti-Zionist Jew who is part of a Palestinian family and is a long-time activist for Palestinian rights.

Second, I try to write about my own experiences and opinions. I remind myself that my own experiences and opinions are not more “correct” or valuable than a Palestinian’s, but they are just as legitimate. In other words, I don’t think we need to avoid writing or talking about Palestine. We just need to be careful that we don’t claim to represent Palestinians or imply that our interpretations are more credible than their own self-representation.

At the same time, since Palestinian voices are so often marginalised, we need to be intentional about amplifying Palestinian voices and protecting space for them to speak their own truths without qualification. Mariam Barghouti writes about this eloquently in the foreword to the book.

Nora Lester Murad’s books, “Rest in My Shade” and “I Found Myself in Palestine”, are both published by Interlink Books.

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