BELONGING TO CONFLICTED TERRITORY: HAYA HADDAD: A Palestinian Israeli Citizen, Human Rights Activist

In this episode, Haya Haddad, a young, driven woman, a Christian, Palestinian, Israeli citizen, delves into her personal family and communal, historical narrative of displacement, and her multiple minority identities, all which inspire her social, humanitarian and political work. She talks about the hope for integration by understanding the collective human story.

This interview was done prior to the beginning of the war in Ukraine. While the discussion focuses on the displacement experience of the Palestinians, some of the themes, although different in detail, context and complexity, correlate with the current forced evacuation of Ukrainian citizens. I thought about this a lot while I prepared the episode to air.

Transcript

  Haya

"My belonging is totally different from yours because it depends on the narrative that you've been born into. I was told a certain narrative when I was young. For me, the truth is different than what is the truth for you. So, we're talking about  relative truths.  I belong to the olive tree. I belong  to the land that was taken from me. I belong to the traces of my village. I belong to the pain of my grandfather. I belong to my hometown that are fully Arabs.  It's a place of confusion at the end of the day, because there is no one truth.”

Nina

I'm Nina Friedman. And, this is WHEREING. WHEREING explores where we are. It is dedicated to those who believe in the inherent right of belonging and all the ways we feel we belong and connect, to ourselves, to each other, and the spaces that hold the stories where all of this comes alive. Where each experience of belonging is a work of art, created by chance or by design. Dare I ask, is belonging where you are, not what matters most? Whereing is the spatial story. Welcome.

Haya Haddad is a Palestinian citizen of Israel. She is a skilled award-winning international youth leader and advocate on issues of human rights, economic justice, and education development. A Fulbright alumni with a master's degree in international affairs, from the New School in New York city, she has extensive experience with multiple UN agencies. Impassioned by her personal and cultural story of displacement, she seems destined to one day play a big political role, focused on integration. 

Haya, I'm so delighted that you're here today. 

Haya

Thank you so much. 

Nina

Haya, I've been thinking about a particular word preparing for this conversation, and that word is context. What do I mean by context? I mean when we talk about a home, a village, a city, a country. That's the context where things happen, where people live.  I want to think about context with you in a larger way, which is the context for personal experience, for memories, the context for generational layers and potentially context for change. Where are you right now? 

Haya

I am in my home in Kafr Yasif, Western Galilee. It's hard for me to say Israel, but I'm going to say Israel, because it is the name of the country, but yeah, it's home.  I avoid  the question of where are you from, because it's hard for me to explain in seconds where I'm from, like the rest of the world or the rest of people. I wish I can say hi, I'm Sandy from Texas, but I'm not. My answer is always complicated, and I feel while answering that I'm obliged to justify my identity. So, it's hard for me to avoid the fact that I am from a place where probably the longest political conflict is taking place. I was born into this conflict and I was raised into it. So, I am a Palestinian citizen of Israel. 

Nina

This is part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. And, there's so many layers that you're now beginning to touch on, that we're going to get into much more deeply. When I was thinking about this conversation, I was thinking, when I say, where are you from?  She's going to be calling this Palestine.  I'm going to be calling it Israel. I want you to be comfortable saying where you're from. 

Haya

Yeah, exactly. To be honest, throughout my life, my answer for this question depends on the person that I'm talking with. Sometimes it's hard for people to understand, especially when I'm speaking with Americans. They're not necessarily aware of Palestine. But, when I'm speaking with someone from the Middle East, I would immediately say I'm a Palestinian without even hesitating. It's clear for them, where's Palestine, and what  is going on. I don't have to explain that I am from the 48 Arabs, or the Palestinian citizens of Israel. I would just say, I am Palestinian, period. And if I'm speaking with someone from Europe, they're probably more educated about this issue. So, it really depends, but for me, deep inside, I think  I want to reach a point where I'm explicitly saying to everybody that I am Palestinian, without a need to explain where, why and what is this complicated circumstances that have been put in in my life.

Nina

So, the name of your village is, and I want to pronounce this correctly. Is it Kafr Yasif? 

Haya

Yes, exactly. 

Nina

You said that this is in the Galilee. The Galilee is in the north part of Israel. It's very beautiful part of the country. How did your family come to Kafr Yasif? And what were the stories and memories that were handed down to you, the generational context. 

Haya

My parents ended up in Kafr Yasif  to see if, because they were ethnically cleansed from their  Palestinian village in 1948. My grandparents have been displaced, and they were forced to leave their homes. The story is that the Hagana, which back then was the Israeli military, came to Iqrit, where my parents, both of them, are originally from. It's a little bit north than Kfar Yasif  near the Lebanese borders. And, the people of Iqrit  agreed to leave peacefully because they were promised that they can come back in two weeks. And, they actually signed a document between the leaders of the community and the Hagana to leave peacefully because according to the Haganah, they wanted to use the village as a military base, and it's a very strategic place to be. The Palestinian Christians were known to be peaceful, and to avoid physical clashes. So, they left with hope that they will come back in two weeks, and they actually left most of their belongings there. My grand father who was 12 years back then,  remembers very vividly that they were beaten and banned  from coming back. The community was shattered.  So, this is the generational story, that we were displaced.  Our village was destroyed actually on Christmas Eve as a gift from the military officer. Fighting for three years, between 1948 and 1951, the people of Iqrit repeatedly tried to claim back the land, and  all their attempts were refused. So the military officers said, if they are coming back and they're not letting go, and they're not  forgetting their homes, we're going to demolish the village on Christmas Eve and focusing the fact that it's  a Christian village. It's a hundred percent Christian village. That was one of the most brutal stories. Your home is demolished  on Christmas Eve, as a gift. So, this is my story. I am one of the handful of people who are from both sides from Iqrit, my mom and my dad's side, third generation of the Nakba.  Nakba  means catastrophe in Arabic. The Israelis and the Haganah specifically, were betting on the Palestinians to move on and to forget their land and adapt, but they were very wrong. I mean, here we are, I'm third generation, and I'm still visiting there.  They only left the church there, because they can't according to the international law, demolish any churches, because it's owned by the Vatican. I visit very often. I go there and I reunite with my roots. 

Nina

Does the name Iqrit exist anymore?

Haya

Yeah, of course.  It's a very well known case because the people of Iqrit fought legally. They went to the Supreme court in Israel and they won the case. But, the Israeli military is refusing to let them back. It's  one of the most known international law cases in the Palestinian Israeli conflict. 

Nina

Who is living there now? 

Haya

No one, no one is allowed to live there. You're allowed to visit, but you're not allowed to live there. 

Nina

It's almost become like sacred land.

Haya

Yeah, exactly. They can go back as dead bodies though.  They have a graveyard there. 

Nina

Oh, that's interesting. 

Haya

Yeah.  So, my grandfather who's  still living and I wish him healthy life, I know that he wants to be buried there. 

Nina

We are listening to Haya Haddad, a young Palestinian citizen of Israel, a fervent voice for future political integration.

When I first listened to you, you were giving the graduating student commencement speech for the New School, and you were selected from the School of Public Engagement, where you were studying, in New York. In your speech you spoke about this hybrid identity and you mentioned the importance of that question. Where are you from, which you were just referring to.  This question, seems like simple question; it's a universal question, but for you, it speaks to a very strong sense of displacement and integration. You are a Christian, Palestinian, Israeli citizen. So, you belong to multiple minorities. You are a progressive woman, living in a conservative society, depending on which circles you are actually entering. How has this hybrid identity affected your experience with place, and the work that you feel called to do? Can we delve into that a little bit more deeply? 

Haya

First, I would say that I do define myself as a Christian Palestinian woman, and I hold the Israeli passport, but I'm not necessarily sure that I can say fully, I am Israeli, because Israel stands for specific values and stories and narratives that I am totally disconnected from, although  I am an Israeli citizen. I was born here and I pay taxes. I'm a very good citizen actually. But I have nothing to connect me with, for example the star of David or the Anthem of the Tikvah , and the story of  the Torah.  I'm totally alienated from the stories. But, I live here. I like the fact that you used two terms, integration and displacement, because, I feel like this displacement is my history, and integration is my present. I live a day-to-day life of integration. I have my personal  local identity, and I have my global identity, you know, as a millennial, as a young woman. I can connect with the world through different struggles, theories and values. But you know, when we talk about place and my connection to this place, it's a love, hate relationship, to be honest.  This place holds childhood. I was born here, and I had a fantastic childhood. I really was surrounded by so much love and so much support from my parents. When I come home, I feel very relieved. I feel like I'm home.  It's my comfort zone. But at the same time, home for me is divided. I mean, home is my hometown, home is my country. I bet  many of the listeners and even you, feel  that kind of pride, oh my God, I miss home. I don't have this feeling when I'm in the airplane, seeing Tel Aviv from above.  You know, I love the city. I lived there. But for me, it's very conflicted, because this place is basically where the occupation is happening, and where I was born, and where my friend is. This place holds a lot of my  life, and a lot of conflicted emotions and conflicted events.  I myself understand my ambiguous emotion towards this place, but I love it here. I can't say that I don't love it. I love it. I love to be home. I love to be in my neighborhood. I love to be in my house, in my room. So, for me, this place is my roots; is who I am. Sometimes, I explain to my friends that I feel like my house also says a lot about who I am. Like, the fact that my parents built this home from scratch and they are, self-made people, very, very invincible individuals in my eyes. There is belonging to  my home, to my neighborhood, to my community. But I would lie to you if I say that I have a sense of belonging to the country, or  to the cities, like a national belonging. I think due to the fact that I belong to multiple minorities, among them as an ethnic minority, is that I have this kind of alienation all the time. But, do I love to go and have coffee in Tel Aviv? Yes. Do I speak Hebrew? Actually, very well. But do I feel committed to what this country stands for? Absolutely not.  In my case, it's the opposite. It's basically the reason why my nation, the Palestinian nation, is suffering. You know what? I don't wish anyone to be in my place because it's a very unique, complicated, and tiring place to be in.  I definitely feel that being born into this conflict is a responsibility, and sometimes it's a burden.

Nina

I'm thinking how we become rooted in places and experiences we're born into, and the validity of that rootedness, really. Is it rooted in a tangled web? Yeah. Right. It's still that sense of root -that's what, you know, in your experience, in your body, and that creates the makeup for your life, that rootedness. Right. You feel it. It's strong. 

Haya

It is very strong, actually. Yeah. In my memory, when I was young, I remember sounds and smells and feelings. My emotional memory is so strong. Every time I go abroad and come back,  I would remember feelings, and  each smell is connected to certain feelings. It's fascinating for me because I feel like a person without a past  is a person with no future.  This is the compass of  my life, no matter how I love living abroad, no matter how I feel connected to the global environment, I still feel rooted very deeply, in my community and in my home. And you know, I try also to strengthen my connection and my belonging to the place through many factors, and  among them is the language. When I speak Arabic, I speak Arabic fully and not to integrate, many words in English, nor Hebrew. This is one way for me personally, to fight  this chance of being disoriented. I think also through that Palestinian cuisine, for example, this is one thing that keeps me connected and home.  My home is in a very calm neighborhood where we have a lot of nature around us. It's  a very quiet place. Coming back from noisy New York was a little bit hard for me. I'm used to the noise. And, especially that I moved to New York after being four years in Tel Aviv. When I moved back here in the summer, that was really interesting  to be so annoyed by the calmness. My mom said, this is where you were raised. This kind of calmness, the quiet, the silence - you used to love this. It's interesting to me how habits change, and we need a reminder to remember where we are coming from.

Nina

But I would venture to say that, that restlessness, yeah, that comes from living in an urban environment, might have a lot to do with this other restlessness that you're also speaking about. Yeah. And, that being both a place of comfort and discomfort, because it's what you also know.

Haya

Yeah. It's actually very true.  I've been exposed to both. I've been most of my life in a rural area. And, most of my twenties, I spent in an urban setting.  Both shape my identity.  There's a correlation between what you feel inside, and what you are surrounded by.

Nina

This is the point  that I'm also making, exactly. That resonance. 

Haya

Yeah, exactly. And  this resonance  actually is fascinating to me because you know,  I think when I was young, I needed this calmness, because the conflict itself was very noisy to me. The fact that I am integrating two different, almost opposite identities as a Palestinian girl who belongs to the Palestinian nation, with a Palestinian narrative, yet I am an Israeli with an Israeli ID. So there was always a challenge between what we are taught in school, in history lessons, and  to my parents narratives about the Palestinian Nakba. This conflict was itself a lot to me as a young girl.  When you are young, like, when you are 8, 9, 10, you are supposed to know where are you're  from. But, every time we would meet a stranger, I remember just hiding behind my mom. The moment  I knew how to shape an  identity, I started to go out and to be more active. Since then, my identity has been dynamic, in a way of what do I highlight more, my Christianity, my Palestinian side, the fact that I'm a woman, till I reached a point where I am balancing all these three identities into a one spectacular one. 

Nina

I'm also curious about being a woman, a progressive woman. And, you're a Christian. I'm sure you know a lot of Palestinian Arabs, Muslim as well. Right. And you travel in those circles, I would imagine. To them, you might need to explain yourself in a certain way as well, but I don't know. Can you tell me a little bit about that? 

Haya

Yeah. So, Christian Palestinians are a minority inside a minority. I mean, we are only 100,000. The Palestinian Arabs in  Israel are two millions. I was born into a majority of Muslims. You know, the society is conservative. We've never had  to explain ourselves other than the fact that since a really young age, I realized that I'm not like the majority here. Me personally, with my environment, I'm surrounded by very progressive, Palestinian Muslims.  I'm sure there are incidents of racism and of oppression. But I've never had this personally and  I have Muslim friends, close friends, actually.  It's interesting,  because you get  to celebrate Ramadan and Christmas and Easter. And when I met  Jews at university, you get to celebrate their holidays as well. This is one of the advantages of being a citizen in this context, is that you get to celebrate three religions, which is rare in this world.

Nina

That's quite wonderful. 

So, I've been to Israel about 15 times. 

Haya

Oh, wow. That's a lot.

Nina

Maybe more. And I plan to continue going. I'm American.  But when I am there, I actually feel very much at home. Actually when I leave there, I feel like a part of me is staying there. I speak Hebrew. Both my mother and my father are buried in Israel.

Haya

Really.Nina

On two different mountains in Jerusalem, and I have a huge family that immigrated  to Israel since the 1940s, and they raised families there, mostly living in Jerusalem. So, I have become very close  to it for most of my life, and I've always felt like a very welcomed outsider.  I've experienced the conflict in my way, even as an outsider, depending on when I was there. I have actually not visited my own father's grave in  more than 45 years. 

Haya

Oh, wow.

Nina

And I am not even sure how true what I'm being told is, but I have been told I can only go there in an armored car.

Haya

Really?

Nina

Yeah. That I need protection. And I have to go with strangers, that I don't even know, who have rifles, just in case something will happen to me. I'm not even sure how true that is. And, people do visit that cemetery, but the whole idea of it has made me very uncomfortable in many ways. So, I haven't visited in all these years. And when I was there  in 2014, my mother, who was living there, became ill. So, for three years I was going back and forth quite a bit, and this is a point when I really, really fell in love even more with the place, and very much with the people. This is also why I feel at home. This feeling of belonging that we're talking about, this context of personal belonging when I ask you the question, where do you feel you belong? Right. I feel like, you belong in an ambiguous place. 

Haya

And, my belonging is totally different from yours because it also depends on the narrative that you've been born into and raised into. I was told a certain narrative when I was young. For me, the truth is different than what is the truth for you. So we're talking about  relative truths. I do see why you feel home here.  Here is the home of the Jews. You feel safe.You feel you can connect with the religious symbols, with the story. If you have family here, it enhances even your connection to the place. But, my connection is different. I belong to the olive tree. I belong  to the land that was taken from me. I belong to the traces of my village. I belong to the pain of my grandfather. I belong to my hometown that are fully Arabs. We live in an indirect segregation, in Israel. There are only three binational cities, Jaffa, Acre and Haifa.  Other than this, Jews and Arabs live separately. There's almost like an undeclared segregation between us and them. It's a place of confusion at the end of the day, because there is no one truth. For you, perhaps you love Jerusalem. I can't be in Jerusalem more than 24 hours.  I can't stand the tension there. I can't stand the  aggressive attitude there.  It's too much for me. 

Nina

I understand completely what you're saying.   I'm not religious, so I'm not connecting in that way, but I find the land so beautiful, and the food, the music,  the Arabic music, as well, the melodies, the instruments. 

We are listening to Haya Haddad, a young Palestinian citizen of Israel, a fervent voice for future political integration.

The work that you've been doing or hope to do, right? You've worked with the UN in several capacities. I have this feeling you are going to be big in politics one day. 

Haya

Almost everyone expects me to be a politician sooner or later. It's going to happen. To be honest, I don't know. I'm going to start working very soon with the Swiss Embassy in Tel Aviv, working as their media analyst with highlight on security policy of Switzerland and Israel, Palestine. So it's going to be a very exciting role. 

Nina

How come you decided to work for the Swiss Embassy?

Haya

You know, Switzerland stands for a lot of human rights, international law, Geneva Convention.   There's less headache in working with the Swiss people when it comes to the Israeli Palestinian conflict, because their  opinions and their stands are well known. They're not going to change according to who is the president, or the dynamics in the Middle East. They stand for peace, and I want to be part of it. 

Nina

That sounds really fascinating. You write, as well? 

Haya

Yeah. Basically, it comes from a need to express a minority opinion that is not a mainstream opinion. And, I feel from my very specific place as again, a Christian Palestinian woman, I see things differently. And I see things in lenses that enables me to feel with the underprivileged, perhaps to highlight some issues in the society from a new perspective that hasn't been suggested or written before. I think that this is a responsibility. I tell my friends that  I want to talk about it. My friends always ask me why bring this headache to yourself? Why writing?  With publishing, there are consequences. For me, you know, it's  basic. It's  a commitment. No one entitled me to write, but I feel that I can do something with my writings. I feel that I can let another Christian Palestinian woman in this society to feel represented. She can perhaps feel that I'm speaking something on her mind. I always say  in my articles that this is my very personal opinion, but if you feel that you can identify with my opinions, you are more than welcome. But, it's really almost a moral responsibility.

Nina

The experiences that you had at the UN. Were they formative for you ? 

Haya

Oh yeah.

Nina

What did you do there? 

Haya

I worked with multiple UN agencies. My first UN experience we worked on the GCM. It's  global compact migration. Then I worked with UN OCHA, the Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. With OCHA, I was asked to work as a consultant on humanitarian crisis management in Beirut, to interview locals and policymakers there. I have the Israeli passport, and Israel and Lebanon are enemies. So, what we're going to do?  My supervisor reached out to me early on, to change my case to work on Columbia. And I refused, because I felt that I can still reach the Lebanese in a very specific tone.  I had  interviews with 23 different people from Beirut, and from the periphery of Lebanon. What we're trying to do is to shift the humanitarian system there from how to manage a crisis into a system that can anticipate humanitarian crisis. And, we worked on climate crisis specifically. Then I worked with UNDESA. It's the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, where I worked as a research assistant to the program director at the School of Public Engagement at the New School. I worked with her on the SDGs, the sustainable goals, evaluating the social affairs and the economic justice of these policies and how they are integrated in local policies. So, this is my three experiences.

Nina

So, your personal experience has become a universal application.

Haya

Yeah, exactly.  

Nina

How do we go forward with the imperfections and the fragility of the place? And does belonging also mean that I have a place that belongs to me? Ultimately it's this future context- you mentioned it in the speech that you gave that the human story is the center, and should be the center of public policy. I completely agree with that. That, that is the narrative, the human story, on all sides. Anger, the fear, the hate, they're not the full expressions of any of us. Everyone is stained.  What is that human story?   Haya, home, my context, is the place to imagine what ?

Haya

I think love. Wherever I feel loved, I'm home. When I was young ,home for me  was knowing that everything is going to be okay. Home is where you know that your dreams are going to come true because someone is believing in you and you can do it. I felt home in many places, physically in my life. I felt home in New York, in Tel Aviv, in my hometown. But, I think most importantly  that the feeling of home was installed in me by my parents. So, when I think of home, I think of love, and I can't thank my parents enough for raising me with such confidence. They believed in me so much and I couldn't be who I am today without their kind of upbringing. The fact that my mom would whisper to me, despite the fact that we are a part  of three minorities, it shouldn't be a place for victimization. It always should be a place of being a hero, and you are a hero. And I always dreamed  big dreams. , My mom always said  to me, if you want to dream, at least dream big. Know that you're going to go big. And I did.  No one encourages you to go to politics here, because obviously, it's hard to be a politician in this country. It's hard to pursue diplomacy as a Palestinian citizen, as an Arab. There are endless obstacles in my way, that my parents believed that I can overcome.  So, home for me is, whenever I'm fully myself, whenever I'm not judged who I am. Sometimes I'm still hesitant to define myself very quickly, especially when I'm surrounded by internationals or diplomats. I always ask for an extra minute  to introduce myself. Yeah, I think home is whenever I can be the three things that I love about myself, being a Christian, being a woman and being Palestinian. 

Nina

And, this sense of belonging coming from love  is not only a personal thing. It's a hope, right? Not only for the self, but in the context  of the village, in the context of the city and the context of the country, if public policy was rooted in love.

Haya

Exactly. And the human story is narrated in love also, because believe it or not, despite the, many differences between me and you, I'm pretty sure that there are a million bridges between me and you, if we focus on really what connects us as humans. I'm pretty sure that the human story is the core of our existence. Sometimes we are biased by our personal  or  political conflicts, but above all, it's a transcendental story.

Nina

Haya, Thank you for your generosity, for your passion, for your work, your future work as well. And, for your transparency and time today. 

Haya

Thank you so much, Nina. 

Nina

Dear listeners, thank you for being here. I invite you to reflect on what you've heard today and send your thoughts or stories. We would love to hear from you. Stay in touch on Facebook. Instagram and on our website, thewhereing.com. Subscribe free to Whereing wherever you get your podcasts, so that you are alerted when the next episode airs. Whereing is a pro bono initiative of Dreamland Creative Projects, which provides architectural and interior design services for the places where we live, heal, age and inspire. If you wish to have a design consultation, visit dreamlandcreativeprojects.com or email me nina@dreamlandcreativeprojects.com. Until we meet again. goodbye from Whereing.