When we think about allyship, we often think of it in the context of social justice movements: a conscious decision to use our power or privilege to support those in need. In ‘Allies’ by author Dana Alison Levy, she refers to it as “a constant act – not a state of being.”
The identifying markers of allyship are in a constant state of flux, and support is not a monolith. So, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, small, or irreverent the action may be, the impact of using your voice, body or mind for the greater good cannot, and should not, be downplayed in times like these.
In the diverse tapestry of human culture and society, it is always heartwarming – especially as a Palestinian – to witness moments of unity and camaraderie that transcend geographical boundaries.
Logging onto Instagram to see the millions of protestors gathering for a singular cause is a testament to the world’s collective solidarity. The Arab world in particular, with its rich history, shared traditions and interconnected destinies, presents a beautiful example of oneness. These are our Arab brothers and sisters. And we have a unique way of seeing each other as one big family, irrespective of our differing dialects, borders, or religious differences.
In the West, you rarely see people call each other brothers, sisters or family. In fact, their entire social, economic, diplomatic and foreign policies lie entirely on the notion of individualism. This individualistic mindset can create a sense of detachment among communities, making it an alien concept to refer to those living across their borders as “brothers” or “sisters.”
Watching Rahma Zein, an Egyptian podcaster who was the face of a viral video confronting CNN’s Clarissa Ward, left me with two feelings. The first, is best described in Arabic as فشت قلبي or “fashat qalbi”, which encapsulates the emotion felt when someone alleviates the anger and frustration embedded in your heart without even realizing it. The second, was the simple realization that Rahma isn’t Palestinian. She is an Egyptian woman who harbored a reservoir of grief and pain that seeped through her eyes, much like the overwhelming emotions felt by myself and every other Palestinian for the last few weeks, if not years.
In the now-viral footage, Rahma demanded that Ward “say the truth”, and that she approaches her “like a human being”, calling out Ward, and CNN, for “misrepresenting Arabs” and “dehumanizing Arabs.”
Before Zein confronted Ward, she had spent the night sleeping in a tent at the Rafah crossing, hearing airstrikes fall on the residents of Gaza on the other side of the border. She was one of the hundreds of volunteers who were waiting for the border to open so that they could deliver aid into Gaza. “From 2:30 am, our tents would start shaking from the bombings and it wouldn’t stop. It makes you feel handicapped,” Zein recalls. “You hear the bomb, you leave your tent, and you can see, just three kilometers away, innocent civilians are being bombarded. And the worst part is that you can’t do anything about it,” she continues.
When I told Rahma I was Palestinian, she burst into tears. In that moment I witnessed profound anguish, and we sat in shared agony. Yet again, this can’t be described in English. The feeling was of قهر or qahar. This is a feeling of anger, sadness, grief, frustration, outrage and desolation all merged into one ugly but unfortunately familiar emotion.
Whilst there has been a global awakening of the unbearable conditions imposed on Palestinians, with people from different races, religions and creeds creating TikToks and taking to the streets in protest, the Palestinian cause is one that hits close to home for most of the Arab world. For 75 years, Arabic speaking countries—and their diaspora—have served as a vital cornerstone for Palestinian awareness and empathy. Over the last few weeks alone, multigenerational allies from Casablanca to Cairo have protested relentlessly as a call for urgent peace.
After Rahma’s confrontation with Ward, Zein was invited to join Piers Morgan on his talk show, ‘Uncensored’. Morgan, a renowned British broadcaster, is widely known for his explosive interviews and historic endorsement of islamophobia. In the 16-minute interview, Rahma challenged the problematic global rhetoric surrounding Arabs in favor of equality in Palestine, as well as the intentionally sensationalist slant Morgan was trying to place her within. Since airing, the interview has been viewed over 3.1 million times on YouTube, with comments across Twitter widely regarding her as “a hero” and “powerful, outspoken, courageous young woman” and “a voice to be reckoned with.”
Whilst Zein has undoubtedly gained immense recognition for her courage, she, just like any person who takes the risk of publicly supporting Palestinian liberation, has also been met with numerous threats. But Zein isn’t afraid of the consequences. “All the Palestinian mothers in the world are protecting me with their prayers,” she confesses. When asked what message she would like to deliver to Palestinians, she declares, “I promise to always do everything I can for you; I will never give up or be silenced.”
As we reel over the tragic loss of over 11,320 Palestinian lives, a grim reality unfolds where a child’s life is taken every 10 minutes, exacerbated by the deprivation of essential resources like water, electricity, and fuel.
Rahma does not need to possess a PhD in Palestinian affairs to comprehend the gravity of her moral obligation. When asked about her heartfelt characterisation of Palestinians as her brethren, she explains that their plight is a collective calamity. “These are my people; we share common values, culture, and a shared vision for the world,” she asserts.
While offering platforms for Palestinian voices is crucial, it’s equally imperative to become a voice for them when they are met with suppression, mirroring the unwavering commitment exemplified by Rahma Zein. As a Palestinian, Rahma will forever remain as my sister. I also fervently aspire to a future where communities worldwide extend their arms to embrace us, standing resolutely by our side, so that we may also call them our brothers and sisters.
