Reading Group Week 10
Hello. This is the last week of If I Must Die: Poetry and Prose. If you haven't had a chance to share pieces from the book that struck you, this is a great week to share your thoughts.
I'd love to hear your thoughts in the Signal group chat, or on social media if you feel up for it, or however else you feel like sharing.
Readings
I'd like us to read the following pieces this week, finishing the book:
- Al-Aqsa Flood, Day 20
- What It's Like When Israel Bombs Your Building
- Israel's Claims of "Terrorist Activity" In a Children's Hospital Were Lies
- Drenched
- On the Resilience of the Palestinian Community
- I Teach English Poetry
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Reflections
Al-Aqsa Flood, Day 20
You know what the word I have been saying to my children, that I have been repeating to my children in the past week?
"Eat less, drink less." And every time I feel that this is going to be my last work, my last sentence to my children, to my kids.
I'm personally well off. Every day I bring home chocolate, candies, everything they want. Fruit, vegetables. But now nothing of this is there in the market, in the shops. The shelves are empty. And I keep telling them, "drink less, eat less." This is where we are here.
Over the past few weeks I've been reflecting on what must have been an impossible balance of shielding his children from the violence that was all around them, from the siege and the deprivation and the ongoing violence and apartheid. And I was noticing how desperately he wanted to give his children everything, to give them a future where they didn't have to fear what was overhead, or a future where his daughter could think about optical illusions, like that little girl he met in the US.
It's devastating to go from reading about that, just a few weeks ago, to reading him recount telling his children to "eat less, drink less". And worse, as he says, to think that these might be the last words he says to them. To know that these are some of the last words that he shared before his murder is utterly heart-wrenching on top of everything else.
What it's like when Israel bombs your home
The big question Palestinian households debate is whether we should sleep in the same room so when we die we die together, or whether we should sleep in different rooms so some of us may survive.
The answer is always that we need to sleep in the living room together. If we die, we die together. No one has to deal with the heartbreak.
When I first read this, I needed to take a break for a little while.
"The big question Palestinian households debate", he said.
At first, you might think he's going to say that the big question is whether you're a "sweet breakfast" or a "savory breakfast" household.
Or you might think he's going to say the big question is whether your household puts toilet paper over vs under.
Or maybe, dubiously, there's a debate about whether your household takes shoes off in the home vs leaves them on.
The big question Palestinian households debate isn't any of that; the question Palestinian households debate is how to distribute people around the home at night - do you all wish to die together, or try to spread apart in the hope that some people might survive an Israeli airstrike?
It's a question almost too nauseating to think through, but to have to come to any conclusion is dizzying. And yet, as Refaat says, this is something Palestinian families all have to decide. Of course it's necessary to answer this question. And of course every family makes plans, makes arrangements, for this horrible scenario.
On the Resilience of the Palestinian Community
As Palestinians, no matter what comes of this, we haven't failed. We did our best. And we didn't lose our humanity.
I remember during the first days of the Israeli genocide, I went to a shop and bought powdered milk. Another person said, "Can I have one of these?" And the shopkeeper said, "Sorry, it's the last one." And we almost fought. I told him, "No, you take it." And he said "There's no way I can." And I said, "I have one at home. Please take it." You must be familiar with how Arabs always fight at the cashier at restaurants, beating each other up to pay. It was beautiful—the man insisting he's not going to take it, and me insisting to give it to him. But he turned it down, declined politely, at the end.
I can think of so many car rides home from restaurants as a kid, parents in the front seats and my sisters and me in the back; my mom and especially my dad griping and complaining about how annoying it was when someone else won that day's fight to pay the bill (or alternatively, occasionally, being pleased with themselves when they were successful).
One time, at the end of dinner with several cousins' families, one of my uncles got up to use the restrooms.
Or so we thought - it was a lie! In reality, he snuck off to find the waiter and pay for dinner without giving anyone else a chance to fight over it.
I really think people felt like a line was crossed. Some people were mad as hell; I think that was the first time I saw one of my aunts really yell at her brother. Others thought it was pretty funny - but of course it was wrong; nobody crossed my aunt.
After that day, whenever he got up to use the restrooms at a restaurant, all of our parents eyed him with a (joking) suspicion.
I know it's not really uniquely Arab to fight over the check like this; I shared this story with my partner (whose parents immigrated from China), who immediately remembered the same sorts of fights at restaurants growing up in Canada - the voices of the grown-ups escalating until they're damn near yelling at each other, pushing each other's credit card or cash out of the way and their own into the waiter's hands.
(I still think my uncle took first prize for outright sneakiness, for what it's worth)
But the part I find so funny and charming about this is the timing; Refaat was telling this story about a trip to the store two months after it happened. Refaat was still talking about it. He wasn't just talking about it; he was bringing it up unprompted.
I find it strangely aspirational that Refaat held this kind of frustration over this kind of thing. It was such a genuine, earnest, slightly absurd, and totally reflective illustration of the kind of person he evidently was. The kind of people Palestinians are.
When I shared Refaat's passage with my partner, she said "Refaat strikes me as a really funny person". We could have said this at many points over the last few weeks, but now, before I wrap up reading this book for the first time, I want to say... yes, he was definitely subtly hilarious.
His sense of humor was so witty, sharp, at times sarcastic and dry; but it seemed to belie a deep and hopeful optimism for humanity - a desperate, abiding wish not to be surveilled but seen; not to be scrutinized but understood.
And so Israel murdered him.
Share your reflections
This is the last week that we'll really be able to talk about this book, so if you want to post in response to the threads that I'm sharing here, I'd love to hear from you.
If you'd like to chat with me and/or the rest of the people in the Signal group chat, I'd love to see you there.
Otherwise, let's chat on Saturday at 12pm ET, during the weekly video chat. On Saturday I ended up doing a short reading of "Death 247 in Gaza" and we talked about Star Trek.
... We were on topic, honest.
Other news
Hossam Shabat
Hossam Shabat was a journalist in Gaza. You almost certainly had seen some of his work over the past year and a half. He was a college student in his third year before his studies were derailed by Israel's scholasticide and genocide. He reported on what was happening in Gaza and observed and thanked students in the US and around the world last year for protesting against their universities directly profiting from the apartheid and genocide of Palestinians.
Hossam had avoided seeing his mother because he was worried that his proximity would endanger her. He finally saw her for the first time in more than a year in February, during a "ceasefire" (the one during which hundreds of Palestinians continued to be massacred).
Israel killed Hossam Shabat today.
Israel also killed Mohammed Mansour, another journalist, today.
Israel has killed more than 170 journalists in the past year and a half. No other conflict in modern history has seen as many journalists targeted and killed as Palestinian journalists have seen. It is unprecedented.
Steven Thrasher
Last week, Northwestern University informed Dr. Steven Thrasher that he would be denied tenure. The letter referenced poor teaching performance, apparently not bothering to square that claim against the teaching evaluations he had over the years, which consistently recorded that he was an excellent instructor who routinely went above and beyond for his students. You can read more about this in Dr. Thrasher's statement here.
If you're in academia (or if you're not) you can sign a letter in support of Dr. Thrasher here:
Here's a letter you can sign to oppose the denial of tenure, already signed by some of the writers, thinkers, professors and activists I respect the most in the world https://forms.gle/Rn9Rmq5fQUhqjZjA6
— Steven W. Thrasher is here to protect students (@thrasherxy.bsky.social) 2025-03-20T16:36:35.953Z
Momodou Taal
8 days ago, Momodou Taal, a PhD student at Cornell, filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration to attempt to halt the program of deporting Palestinian students and other activists. The Department of Homeland Security subsequently issued a deportation order for Momodou, in an attempt to expeditiously deport him before his court date.
I’m suing Trump.
— Momodou ✊🏿 (@MomodouTaal) March 16, 2025
This is my statement: pic.twitter.com/sw9Uv1F4YY
You can read his recent interview with Momodou here (Mondoweiss).
STRIKE!: Histories and Futures of Activism at UM
There's a teach-in at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Sessions today include...
- The 1970s Latino Struggle and Beyond
- Diversity, Democracy, and Higher Education
- U-M Faculty Activism in the late-20th Century
- Legacies of Cooking and Caring in Social Movements
Tomorrow's sessions include:
- Lessons learned from the #BBUM Movements
- An Abridged History of the Trotter Center
- Learning from the Past to Organize in the Present
- Coalition Building Workshop with MESA
and others, as well as a a film screening and a discussion about policing and student activism at the University of Michigan
If you happen to be in the area, say hi. I'm wearing a mask and writing this email literally right now lol
Don't let despair overwhelm you
I don't want you to read these stories and updates to make you feel hopeless, or to cause panic that leads to paralysis; I want you to see what happened to Mahmoud Khalil and Hossam Shabat. I want you to see what's happening to Momodou Taal and Dr. Thrasher, and to Ranjani Srinivasan. I want to help expand the horizon of your options and to urge you to see so many of these avenues that are available to us.
People around you might be whispering to themselves, and to you, to "keep your head down" or "don't stick your neck out" and they might get through these next few years. These people are deluded. They'll get you killed, and they know it, and they're fine with it. These people want you dead if it buys them a little bit of time.
I want you to see what's happening and see both an urgency to do something within your power and abilities, and also to see a vast multitude of somethings that you can do to make life more difficult for the people seeking to hurt not just your comrades and colleagues, but you personally.
Try not to dwell on comparing yourself against what other people are doing:
If you can't file a lawsuit, that's okay.
If you can't do court support, that's okay.
If you can't attend a teach-in, that's okay.
If you can't retweet Palestinians' gofundme campaigns, that's okay.
But think hard; think deeply - what can you do to protect people, and what can you do to slow down and derail people committing violence? Anything you can imagine is worth exploring. Anything that slows them down is worth doing.
Buy the book (and the next)
One last call: Now is absolutely the time to order the next book: Perfect Victims and the Politics of Appeal by Mohammed El-Kurd. Books ordered through the Workshops 4 Gaza fundraiser raise money for Palestinians through The Sameer Project.
If you've already bought the book somewhere else, or if you have extra funds, if you can donate directly to help Palestinians get food, shelter, and clothes, please donate directly to the Sameer Project.
If you have extra capacity to donate, you can also donate to Sudan Funds, a project to get money to Sudanese people, who are also struggling to survive a genocide.
Support the reading group
You can also support the reading group if you have a few dollars to spare per month. Don't worry if you can't support, but if you can, it would definitely help.
On that note, I want to thank Vagrant for upgrading their membership this month and helping to support the costs of running the reading group. Thank you so much.
Thank you
I want to thank you for getting to the end of this email. For that matter, I want to thank you for getting to the end of this book with me. This has been one of the more emotionally difficult pieces for us (all of two books, I realize), but it has also been one of the more difficult things for me to read in my life. And I'm grateful for all of you who have been here with me. Thank you.
Okay. Stay safe, and try to make life harder for oppressors.