Life Through Her Eyes: 43

Here I am at 5 am sitting in the bus that will drive me to Jericho where I will cross the boarderand go through 3 checkpoints to get to Jordan and then take a 12 hour flight to Tanzania to tell people from all around the world about the struggles I face as a Palestinian female living in the West Bank. I had it mapped out, I was gonna talk about the limitation of movement, and how my education is limited and controlled my the occupation, I will also bring up the restricted health system we struggle with on day to day basis.That all changed 3 hours when I got to the occupations checkpoint before crossing to Jordan when I was taken about of the line, interrogated, striped down completely with 2 “men” and a female IDF soldier eyeing me. And then ordering me to open up my bags and them clearing itout on the floor for me to pick up - I’m still naked- I try to fight back when I quickly I’m hit which brings me to my knees. somehow I feel shame and self disgust. How do I stand tall with a head held up high and tell people about the way they violated me in, why should I. So they can feel sorry for me? No! Somehow I feel lucky that they let me go, they could’ve killed me, detained me, took pictures of me. They could’ve not let me go through. They could’ve easily raped me, just like they do to the Palestinian prisoners. I’m one of the lucky ones? No!Somehow my story is not extraordinary, everyday all over Palestine these things and worse have been and are happening, I’m just a number in the statistics now? No!I get to T anzania and I couldn’t bring myself to talk to people the first day, I spent it drinking and smoking, trying to get through this week so I can get home.Then I remembered the way back in is the same way out! Oh fuck.After my 5th wine glass, an Arab from Lebanon approached me, I thought I’d feel happy and relived, but I didn’t I felt a stranger to myself so how can I feel fine around anyone else.Finally the gathering is over, time to get back home.And somehow I’m dreading it. The only feeling I remember is that “I do not want to cross thatborder”i made it home, and still don’t want to cross that border, I’m still having trouble looking in theeyes of my family and friends. I’m still struggling a month later.Every time I’m asked about that gathering, I say “it was fun” and every time it stings.

About the Author 

Rand is a 26-year-old Palestinian. She is the youngest of four children; she finished her undergraduate studies at Bir Zeit University, Ramallah, Palestine. During her university years, Rand grew more interested in the humanitarian structure and the Palestinian cause from a humanitarian point of view. Through volunteering and networking, Rand received many pieces of training in crisis management, and emergency navigation, as well as, humanitarian structure, signature, and localization allowing her to employ her knowledge in her career and as a volunteer with many local and international humanitarian organizations. Moreover, Rand is a very expressive artistic person who attempts to share her human experience through pen and brush. She is captivated by sunsets and Palestinian beauty.

All photos in the series are by Rand.