The Diverse Bookshelf

Ep55: Etaf Rum on literary empathy, performative reading & Palestine

December 05, 2023 Samia Aziz Season 1 Episode 55
Ep55: Etaf Rum on literary empathy, performative reading & Palestine
The Diverse Bookshelf
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The Diverse Bookshelf
Ep55: Etaf Rum on literary empathy, performative reading & Palestine
Dec 05, 2023 Season 1 Episode 55
Samia Aziz

On today’s show, I’m joined once again by super talented writer, Etaf Rum. Etaf has written 2 powerful novels, A Woman is No Man, and most recently, Evil Eye. Her work is an intricate look into the lives of immigrant Palestinian families, dealing with serious themes of inter-generational trauma, identity, mental health, belonging, family, motherhood and so much more.  

As we recorded today’s episode, Israel has been relentlessly attacking Gaza, Palestine for over 50 days. 20,000 people have been killed, including 8,000 children and 1.7 million people have been displaced from their homes.  There is an increase in the spread of disease, and people are struggling to find enough food to eat or clean water to drink. With ruthless attacks on hospitals, the healthcare system has collapsed, and premature babies and Palestinian men, women and children are dying without adequate healthcare. Etaf Rum, a Palestinian-American woman herself has been vocally supporting the Palestinian cause and demands for an urgent and permanent ceasefire, but has come under fire by some of her readers, raising huge questions around whether or not readers are truly understanding the stories Etaf is telling around Palesine, the Nakba of 1948, inter-generational trauma and occupation.

On the show this week, Etaf talks about what she has experienced in her own life and in the reader community since October 7th. We talk about literary empathy, performative reading, inter-generational trauma, understanding mainstream narratives about Israel and Zionism and why these are harmful, and how the liberation of us all are inter-linked.

I'm grateful to Etaf for joining me on the show again today, and I hope you take something meaningful away from this conversation.

I'd really appreciate it if you could rate, follow, subscribe and like, as it really helps more people discover my show. Come connect with me on social media - I'd love to hear from you.

www.instagram.com/readwithsamia
www.instagram.com/thediversebookshelfpod 

Support the Show.

Show Notes Transcript

On today’s show, I’m joined once again by super talented writer, Etaf Rum. Etaf has written 2 powerful novels, A Woman is No Man, and most recently, Evil Eye. Her work is an intricate look into the lives of immigrant Palestinian families, dealing with serious themes of inter-generational trauma, identity, mental health, belonging, family, motherhood and so much more.  

As we recorded today’s episode, Israel has been relentlessly attacking Gaza, Palestine for over 50 days. 20,000 people have been killed, including 8,000 children and 1.7 million people have been displaced from their homes.  There is an increase in the spread of disease, and people are struggling to find enough food to eat or clean water to drink. With ruthless attacks on hospitals, the healthcare system has collapsed, and premature babies and Palestinian men, women and children are dying without adequate healthcare. Etaf Rum, a Palestinian-American woman herself has been vocally supporting the Palestinian cause and demands for an urgent and permanent ceasefire, but has come under fire by some of her readers, raising huge questions around whether or not readers are truly understanding the stories Etaf is telling around Palesine, the Nakba of 1948, inter-generational trauma and occupation.

On the show this week, Etaf talks about what she has experienced in her own life and in the reader community since October 7th. We talk about literary empathy, performative reading, inter-generational trauma, understanding mainstream narratives about Israel and Zionism and why these are harmful, and how the liberation of us all are inter-linked.

I'm grateful to Etaf for joining me on the show again today, and I hope you take something meaningful away from this conversation.

I'd really appreciate it if you could rate, follow, subscribe and like, as it really helps more people discover my show. Come connect with me on social media - I'd love to hear from you.

www.instagram.com/readwithsamia
www.instagram.com/thediversebookshelfpod 

Support the Show.

Samia Aziz:

Hello and welcome to the Diverse Bookshelf with me, Samia Aziz. On this show, I interview incredible authors doing a deep dive into important themes and issues while talking all things books. On today's show, I'm joined once again by super talented writer, Etaf Rum, who has written two powerful

novels:

A Woman is No Man, and most recently, Evil Eye. Her work is an intricate look into the lives of immigrant Palestinian families, dealing with serious themes of intergenerational trauma, identity, mental health, belonging, family motherhood, and so much more. As we record today's episode, Israel has been relentlessly attacking Gaza for over 50 days. 20,000 people have been killed, including 8000 children, and 1.7 million people have been displaced from their homes. There is an increase in the spread of disease and people are struggling to find enough food to eat or clean water to drink. With ruthless attacks on hospital, the healthcare system has collapsed and premature babies and Palestinian men, women and children are dying without adequate healthcare. Etaf Rum, a Palestinian American woman herself, has been vocally supporting the Palestinian cause and demands for an urgent and permanent ceasefire, but has come under fire by some of her readers, raising huge questions around whether or not readers are truly understanding the stories Etaf is telling around Palestine, the Nakba of 1948, intergenerational trauma and occupation. I'm so glad she is my guest today. Hello Etaf, welcome back to the diverse bookshelf. I'm so happy to have you here. Cannot wait to speak to you again. How are you doing?

Etaf Rum:

I'm doing okay. Just heartbroken and in shock but trying to you know process what's happening and and figure out like how to best be of service.

Samia Aziz:

Absolutely. I completely empathise and share your sentiments and so much grief and pain. Since October 7, obviously, but the situation in Palestine is not new. We're talking about decades of oppression and occupation and the relentless killing over the years as well. But obviously, you are Palestinian American, your heritage is Palestinian, and, you know, I really want to create a space for you. And for us really to talk about what it's really like for you. So obviously today at time of recording, I believe we're on day 55 of the war on Gaza. And we've seen the killing of over 20,000 people 8000 of whom are children. And there are really no words. I don't think we'll ever have enough words to express the grief and the pain. And I think a lot of shame as well, about what we're witnessing unfold. But I just want to talk a little bit about what this time has been like for you. What have you been experiencing? What what are some of the things that you've gone through? And what are what are you thinking?

Etaf Rum:

You know, you summed it up so accurately, it really doesn't feel like there are adequate words to describe the insanity of what's happening. I think many Palestinians at this time, have been used to for decades, being gaslighted in their trauma, and being made to feel that their traumas Palestinian isn't real or it's exaggerated, or, you know, the wider world just has so much misinformation about the cruelty and injustice that Israel has been enforcing upon Palestinians for decades, to the point where now for us as Palestinians, we're witnessing this worldwide, this catastrophe, this catastrophe that we don't even have any words for. And what really makes it so difficult, I think is the fact that we are still somehow trying to convince the world of our humanity, despite the outrageous, obvious injustice, apartheid, genocide violence, there's there's really no mellowing down of this blatant violence and injustice against Palestinians. And yet, somehow it's still unambiguous. You know, somehow, we are still being fed with all this misinformation that dehumanises what's happening or tries to make Palestinians and Muslims everywhere look like they are terrorists, that they are deserving of this that Israel has a right to defend itself. All of these terms, that is the hardest pill to swallow has been this, I think for me personally, but for many Palestinians that I know and that I admire, that's what we're struggling with. Why are we still in this position where we have to defend our right to live in dignity? Why is that so difficult? Why is that so incomprehensible? In terms of another dehumanising aspect of the situation is that we as Palestinians are having to go above and beyond to showcase our dead and to plead for empathy to plead for understanding to plead for the Western and the wider world, to have empathy and to look into the misinformation, you know, which which in itself is dehumanising. The fact that while we are grieving, we are also having to showcase our dead, and record everything and, share everything that we are trying to share to get sympathy. It's just, bizarre to think that this is what we've required a people to do, and yet still cannot seem to empathise and understand where they're coming from and their struggles. Yeah absolutely, and how easy it is for us to

Samia Aziz:

Yeah, exactly. And I think this is one of the things that I have struggled with the most as well. But in order to understand that, a people is being persecuted or suffering, we shouldn't have to have them showcase their trauma in the worst possible way, and to show the worst possible things, just so people can feel empathy, like if someone is telling you that they're being killed, and that they're being that they're living under occupation, and that, you know, all of these things are happening, it should be enough for us to know that this is happening to feel sympathy instead of needing the evidence and needing the evidence of the worst possible, as well. I think that a lot because I work in the charity sector, this comes up for me a lot. Like we shouldn't have to show people living in the worst possible situation, in order to understand that poverty is a problem. Or to understand that people don't have food to eat, like we shouldn't have to show absolutely starving faces, for example. And I think the same goes here. It doesn't need to be that someone has to be going through the worst thing imaginable. For you to sympathise with them, even though that is exactly what is happening in Palestine. And actually, when you were talking earlier about people, not sympathising and not understanding and not listening to you and not believing you. It made me think a lot about the fact that also what seems to be happening is when we are talking about people that are being killed and their suffering, we're telling really romanticised stories about their lives and I'm sure are true. But I feel a little bit like, not everybody is good. And not everybody is going to be like a loving parent or, you know, a studious child. Regardless of how nice or how good a person is, they are still deserving of life - they still do not deserve to be the victim of a genocide. They don't deserve to be killed and have their houses attacked and lose their family. It's almost as if we're qualifying they have to qualify in order to be saved. Does that make sense? disqualify a group of people just by the language that we use, and the way that the way that we paint them in the media and the news the words like we as Palestinians are always referred to at with in barbaric, animalistic terms and are always viewed as less than or portrayed as less than that we can't even imagine what it means to be Palestinian without Islamophobic images, being front and centre, a man with a turban being front and centre. Like we were no longer humans, we're no longer people we are just like caricatures and and who has the power and who is drawing these caricatures? I think that's the question that we have to ask ourselves now that what's happening in Palestine is forcing us to consider who is telling the stories, who is in charge of what stories are shared, and what stories are censored and what the characters in the stories look like. It's not and it's not us. We are not as a people in charge. We are being fed information that's due to certain agendas. Absolutely. It's not just about it's about who is benefiting from a certain narrative being told or certain, images being portrayed? Certainly not the people of Palestine. They're not benefiting from that at all. And yeah, honestly, I'm just, you know, even listening to you speak, I'm just so devastated by everything going on. And also, just there's so many layers, I think of grief and of pain and of disbelief about what is happening. And, you know, you live in the States, and I'm in the UK, and we're having to listen to our leaders justify what's being happened, and for them to legitimise it. And that I think, is one of the most difficult pills to swallow right now. Is that how can we live in a world where the most powerful handful of white men essentially, and well, we've got a brown Prime Minister, but still tell us that this is fine. And in an almost, in these exact words, that this is not going to stop? And I just think that that is really difficult as like a as a world we live in right now.

Etaf Rum:

Yeah, because it doesn't make any sense. You know, it's something that I've been thinking about personally, a part of me has died in Gaza as well. I don't think that I'm the same person anymore, because all of a sudden, all of the facade of our daily life is exposed. And either you're willing to look at it, and you're willing to see that we are as a society being manipulated. And it might be a bit easier for me as a Palestinian to see that, because it's something that I've witnessed my whole life, the attempts to erase us and to erase the generations that have come before us. But now we're seeing this genocide, on TV. On our phones live, we see just the extent of the cruelty and the injustice of it. And we see that no one is stopping it because of the powers that be that are benefiting from the war that are benefiting from the violence, the agendas that are happening that we don't even know about. We see the silencing of our voices, the censoring of our voices on social media, we see that firsthand. So it's really hard. It's almost impossible not to have a shift in perspective after this, whether you're Palestinian or not, unless you're totally asleep, how can you not then reflect back on your own life and in the ways that you've been blind, and that you've been fed propaganda? And the amount of misinformation and just just how much people don't know, I think is also the scary part. We are being manipulated in so many, it's so many layers, it's not just Palestine and Israel, there's a lot of layers. I think this is the tip of the iceberg. That's waking people up.

Samia Aziz:

Absolutely. And there is I mean, there is although the mainstream narrative is hasn't changed, and actually it has just become so kind of like, boisterous and unapologetic in its downright, you know, sort of support for genocide. There is mass protests, that I mean, on a level that I haven't really seen in my life up until now. And even just the conversations that are happening there is there is this shift, and there is this sort of inability to ignore or for so many people what is going on? And you hope that there is change, and I believe that maybe there are things that we're not quite seeing, and we're not quite, you know, had had these things not happened, what the situation would be right now. But obviously, until there's a permanent ceasefire and an end to the blockade, it's not nearly enough. What we are seeing, but it is really interesting to see at least on on a sort of like away from the mainstream, the way that then the narrative and the understanding and the awakening is changing. But I wanted to take a moment because obviously you're an amazing author. And you have two books out in the wild, which we have spoken about on the show before, A Woman Is No Man, and Evil Eye. And I know that you've had a really bizarre reaction from some of your readers. And I just wondered if you could just talk us through what's been going on and kind of like how that's made you feel and what you think about it.

Etaf Rum:

On October 11, or the first the first week of October I made a statement supporting Palestinians and denounced the killing of Palestinian citizens and denouncing the actions of Israel. That is a stance that comes natural to me as a person that is interested in the human rights and humanity of all people, not just Palestinian people, but of all people. And as someone that is the survivor or granddaughter of the Nakba, who's grown up on stories of Israel's mistreatment, bombardment and occupation of Palestinians for over 75 years now. So this, this is my identity and who I am, the occupation is something that is discussed in both of my books. And we see the impact of this trauma on the families in both of my novels. And that's really the heart of why I write, you know, discussing this post trauma, it's not really post trauma, because it's still happening, but discussing the effects of the intergenerational trauma on these families. And so, when I received are started receiving these messages of hate and shock that I am standing for Palestinians everywhere, it really blew my mind. What was interesting to me was how easy it was for the people that were reading my stories, to, to view Palestinians as villains as oppressors and to feed into the stereotypes of Palestinians. How easy that came very easily to them, you know, because that's, that's the image of Palestine, unfortunately, and that's the image of Arab men, is, oh, these violent oppressors. And my stories do talk about the some of the dark aspects of a, culture that is a direct product of occupation and oppression and powerlessness, and how that powerlessness perpetuates in our lives, how it starts in the powerlessness of men and then is trickled down into the powerlessness of women and how that powerlessness stems from the violence and oppression of the Israeli occupation. How both of both of the families in my novels, both of the families are refugees in Palestine, both of them have endured the Nakba. Both of them are coming to this country in an attempt to search for a better life and an attempt to actually have a home that is theirs. And although my novel does this discuss some of the dark consequences and aspects of that trauma and have that trauma perpetuates. It was a shock to me that my readers were only able to see that part. Because that was that the narrative of Palestinian men being aggressive, or the narrative of domestic abuse, that was easier to swallow, because it was more in line with the narrative that they've been fed in this country. But they weren't able to actually really read the story. And so the Israeli occupation and the end of the occupation and the violence of Palestinians, and the way that trauma has really - sorry, I it's just, I'm just baffled. I just, I don't understand. And the conclusion that I've come to is that reading and literature can only do so much, especially when we are discussing a group of people who have been actively mis portrayed, and stereotyped and dehumanised that despite the books that my readers were reading, and despite claiming to empathise with our stories, they actually didn't empathise with our stories, because if they did empathise with our stories, that they would understand why me as a Palestinian author would want to advocate for the innocent lives of Palestinians who have been under occupation for 75 years. The fact that they couldn't see that they could only see oh, yeah, the Palestinian women are victims. That's the only part they could see. They couldn't really see the part where, okay, but who are the oppressors? They couldn't see that part, to me tells me that we have a lot of work left to do.

Samia Aziz:

I know it's tough. I know that you obviously, you wanted to tell certain stories, and we talked about this last time as well about how about how sometimes it can be it can feel so difficult when you're telling stories about your community that don't always highlight the best people. And, you said right, the other time as well, that although you have a male protagonist, at least, especially in a woman is no man who is violent and who is really harmful to his wife and the other woman in his family. But you also demonstrated that there are lots of other kinds of people as well which is See, which is the reality of life, there are always going to be people that are good and bad. But that what you really want people to take away is to understand the impacts of intergenerational trauma when you are from a community that is so heavily persecuted, and I'm, honestly, I'm so gutted. I have been so gutted to see the way that people have, in the face of what's going on right now have been relating or not relating to your work, because it really really blows my mind. For them, for anybody to assume that your book was all your work has been a way for you to call out your community for something or not support Palestinians, because of, you know, a dark part of some people's experiences and things that happen. It's really, really upsetting. And so you wrote about it, you wrote an article about literary empathy and performative reading. And I found it so fascinating and so interesting, because I often think that reading can really be an act of resistance, and a form of activism, if done correctly, but we don't see enough of that, and we're seeing it in Palestine. But this isn't the first time that this has happened. And the reader community has like rushed to reading books by certain authors, whether they're black people, or whether they're Muslims or women. But when it comes to actually engaging with the real life struggles, they fail to take their empathy that they felt while reading out into the real world. And I wondered if you could just take a moment and just talk about this idea of literary empathy and performative reading.

Etaf Rum:

I think that the problem that we come up with, with empathy is that or performative, empathy and literature is that so often with all of the movements for human rights, that are encouraging us to read beyond our horizons, and to educate ourselves through literature through, you know, walking in a character's shoes, and imagining and envisioning how it would feel like to live their life is that we are still entering those stories with our prejudice and our bias. And so, even though we are claiming to have empathy, it's still distorted with our presumptions. And I say that because most of the feedback that I've gotten, you know, the people that, you know, banned my abandoned my books, or reached out to other people to ban my books, their first responses, what do you mean, I thought, your books, I thought you are standing up for these Palestinian women, against the barbarism of Palestinian men. Like that's all they saw. You know, they, they didn't really read the novel, you know, with a critical thinking mind. You know, as authors when we write stories, they're new, they're new, they're hopefully, they are nuanced portrayals. They are not just what you see on the page. You have to think deeply and critically, and then reflect back on your own biases and prejudices and ask yourself the deeper questions. But for the readers that we're unable to do that, that we're unable to humanise with Palestinians. And we're unable to understand their culture and their history and how that history has been rooted in occupation and violence, and how that occupation and violence then trickles down into domestic home. And it's passed down through generations. And that sometimes it's very messy and uncomfortable, but it's a truth that we need to have conversations about. But for those people that were unable to see the depths of that, and only see the very, very, very simple narrative of domestic abuse is happening in some Palestinian homes, which means that Palestinian men are barbaric, just like the media says they are, and that they have every right to be murdered by Israel, because they're not real people. What a simple way to look at a very complicated situation that you clearly did not open your mind and your heart when you were reading the literature. You were performatively reading it, you're performatively reading it to say, Oh, I empathise so much with your people. Oh my god, I can't believe those women. They have to live like that. You're not reading. You're giving me performative pity. You're not actually reading. And that's it. that's something that, you know, in every interview and in every book club reading, and in every event, I have to preface every one of my events with a speech with a speech that says, hey, this is just one story. I am writing about about one story, because my voice, my voice wants to have these uncomfortable conversations. My life experiences have led me down a path to where I want to talk about these uncomfortable in justices in that are rooted in our homes. And in our culture, I want to uncover them. But for an ignorant reader or a reader that is coming into our stories with performative empathy. They're just latching on to anything that stereotypical and only seeing that and not allowing themselves to dig, to dig deeper and to dig further, which is the whole point of literature. When we read stories, my favourite stories by Maya Angelou and Toni Morrison, do not glorify what it means to be black. They talk about violence, and, and rape and an injustice is happening within their communities. And hopefully, the readers that are going in there are not saying oh, are not making further discriminatory stereotypical judgments about what it means to be black based on these stories. They're using these stories to add to all the ways in which black people have been oppressed by Western society, and how that their communities have been destabilised purposefully by Western society and the destabilisation we see in their communities is not a reflection of black people and black culture. It's a reflection of the oppression and the slavery that these people have been forced to endure. And so artists that are coming to talk about these stories that don't want to just romanticise what it means to be Palestinian, because that's not why I'm here. I'm not here to romanticise. And with all this that's happening, I know, I now see how it's my responsibility to go to go 10 steps further, that what I'm doing is not enough. Because Because literature is meant to be, it's meant to be nuanced. And it's meant to be subtle, and it's meant to, and it's meant to awaken our ability to think critically about what we are reading. And it's been proved to me that unfortunately, I need to do a better job, I need to do a better job about telling our stories. That's what I'm taking away from this is, is that I clearly haven't defined who the oppressor is clearly in my work. And the oppressor is not Islam. The oppressor is not Palestinian men. The oppressor is the West, and Israel.

Samia Aziz:

Mohammed El Kurd, he also writes about the fact that even if some Palestinians are bad, it doesn't mean that we are not still being persecuted, it doesn't mean that we are not worthy of your empathy and your support, to, you know, to try and stop Israel from doing what they're doing. And I can't, I just I feel so just hearing you say that, like, you feel like you haven't done a good enough job, or you need to do more. The onus shouldn't just be on you, as a Palestinian author. Because there is also so much out there that shows us what is going on anyway. And if there are stories that show that there's all kinds of people and all kinds of things happening some of those less positive than others, it does not take away from the fact that the Palestinian community is one of the most persecuted in the world, and has been for over 75 years. I just find it completely mind boggling. And I know that like a lot of people, especially non Palestinians have been concerned. And I think some of it comes from a very genuine place about feel about being perceived as being performative and that activism. And I don't, I don't actually think that activism like real activism, where you are championing for change, and you are calling out something is ever really performative. Because it is was it is resulting in the right sort of thing, right sort of change, but reading because, because for so many readers, it seems to be very easy for them to close the book, and move away from the story. I And hold even more strongly onto their biases. It feels very different. And I'm just like, honestly, it's tough. I'm so I'm so gutted for the way that like the things that you are having to face and think about, while also looking at what is happening to, essentially your people. And the, this is part of who you are. And having to deal with all of that at the same time. I'm just so I just yeah, there's just really no words, honestly. And I really, I really hope that for the betterment of the world, that readers understand that reading is not well, it's not passive. And also that in order to, for you to pick up a book, you need to be willing to have your ideas challenged, and to come at it with that. And to understand that books and words and like literature on on the whole life has the power to change your mind about something and to inform and educate and empower you. But you have to let it do that you have to be willing to do that if you're picking up a book just so that you can find the one thing that supports the the angry bias that you have that you will then decide, you know eliminates human rights, then that's a really awful position to be in for yourself as a person. And I just Yeah, I mean, I don't I don't know. I don't know. It's just yeah, there's again, I just, there's just no words, honestly, I'm so sorry. . Obviously, your your books, talk about families that are refugees within Palestine. And they came to the US to look for a better or in hope of building a better life. And we see that sort of that trauma that never leaves them. And I wondered what it was like for you growing up in the Palestinian American household because you've written elsewhere also about growing up with stories about the Nakba, and what it was like in Palestine, and I just wondered if you could just talk a little bit about that.

Etaf Rum:

I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, my parents, and my grandparents, on my father's side, emigrated to Brooklyn, in the 70s, or 80s, my dad was like 19. And he grew up there trying to save up money to get married and have a family in the States because my parents and my, my grandparents, so my grandparents witnessed firsthand the Nakba. My grandmother was about eight years old, when the Israeli soldiers came into her home and put guns in the faces of her parents forced them to evacuate their home. Same thing for my grandfather. They then were forced to leave where, which is where they settled for years and decades. In the mid refugee camp. That's where my father was born. That's where he was raised until he was 19 years old when he came to this country. So these stories of poverty and violence and dehumanised living and endless occupation, the fact that I as a Palestinian, I have a Palestinian citizenship as well as an American citizenship. My parents bought me a Palestinian citizenship. When I was younger, they got us all a Palestinian citizenship, in hopes that one day that we can return to our country. But we're not even allowed in our country, like I have never since since I was 17, I have not been allowed to enter my country through Tel Aviv. If I want to go to Palestine, I have to go through hoops and bounds - I have to go through Jordan. I grew up in America. So I was I was a kid when 9/11 happened. I witnessed the fear in my family spaces daily, thinking that someone was going to come and retaliate in our schools, because I went to an Arabic, an Arab school. Someone was going to come and retaliate for 9/11. So it's just I knew from my grandparents stories and my firsthand experiences in this country that being Palestinian was very controversial. That the word Palestine if you just would say it was like a bullet. What do you mean Palestine? Palestine doesn't exist. That was always the the argument that I heard when someone asked me where I was from it was Palestine doesn't exist, or I was viewed as it terrorist. My family was viewed as terrorism. My father was viewed as a terrorist. My mother was viewed as this helpless woman with nine kids. So I think that all of these experiences, not just shaped who I am. But seeing what they mean right now, in this country, like they're not just stories anymore. What's happening right now. And it's as this the numbers have surpassed the numbers of the inequity that my grandparents went through, how is that in this day and age, I can't comprehend how that's allowed to happen. Like, how is that allowed to happen? Is the question that I wake up and go to sleep, just just in utter

Samia Aziz:

Yeah, I don't know. These are the questions that shock? I've been having to like, how is this happening? How is it being allowed to happen? And how is it is not only happenng, it's being justified, and it's being encouraged? And I just can't? I can't understand it at all. And I just, yeah, I can't. And I wanted to talk a little bit about the intergenerational trauma element of things, because it does feel like a little bit of a buzzword sometimes. It's a really interesting concept a lot of people are researching into it. And I have my own experiences of intergenerational trauma for sure. But what are some of the ways that you you found in your life that it? It presented itself in the way that obviously it I mean, your, your father, you said, was born in a refugee camp, and then moved to the States when he was 19? But what was the impact then on him raising you? But also then, with you now I believe you have children and even if like you didn't, but in on you as a person growing up and living in America, several 1000 miles away from those from Palestine, and years and years after the Nakba, what are some of the ways that it is this still prevalent in your life?

Etaf Rum:

It's such a, like, such a big question. And it's big, because every part of my identity, and the way in which I view the world has been a direct result of my upbringing, and the oppression and violence and occupation that my parents have witnessed in Palestine, they bought that with them here in this country, it lives in their body, it's, it has completely coated their perspective of what it means to be a human in this world. You know, my father was raised on poverty, and fear, he was raised on the fact that his life didn't matter. That if if if he threw a rock at a soldier at a military, he would be imprisoned, or shot in the head, that the only way for his, for him to possibly have a better life was to was to leave the camps and come to this country. Men had no idea of coming to this country, it's, it's harder, it's harder than just Okay, I'm coming to America, when American values are 360% different than, than Muslim values. You know, my I'm Muslim and my family is Muslim, the value so the assimilating to a culture that is completely different than yours, trying to preserve your values, getting lost in the capitalistic struggle to make money and to pay rent, to pay, to pay taxes to to be perceived as something other than an immigrant, a terrorist, a Muslim, a terrorist, to be perceived as something other than that in New York City. That was tough for them. That was really tough for them, and then trying to raise us in a way that reminds us of our heritage and reminds us of our history, because we're constantly being erased, even in this country with, you know, when when my parents took us to doctor's appointments, or when we're filling out forms, and we have to check, we have to check where we are, there's not even a place for us where we have we checked the white button with the white box. mean everywhere you go like you're being erased. So my parents tried really hard to make sure that we still remembered our history and our stories and, and they were traumatised. I mean, looking, looking, trying to imagine how they must have felt like it's hard for me not to pass on my trauma to my kids. I have to be so hyper aware of every thought, everything I say, the heaviness in my body that fact that I can't relax. The fact that I always feel like someone's looking at me a certain way because I'm Muslim, or I'm Palestinian. How, and I'm educated. And I can speak the language perfectly. And I still feel so powerless here in this country. I feel like I don't belong and I don't fit in, I'm never going to belong, and I'm never going to fit in how must have they felt? How can I have? How can I blame them for what they couldn't do? And they couldn't heal, they raised me unhealed. They raised us unhealed. And so that trauma, of course, passed down to us and filters, the way we look at the world. And I think it's up to us to break those generational curses, and to and to find a way to heal and raise awareness and, and be more aware as we raise the next generation to be more aware of how that trauma from Palestine is still with me here in America, and will be with my children, if I don't break that cycle. In all its ugliness, like we have to own up to it, we have to own up to the ways in which our parents are the limiting beliefs, the fear their survival tactics, it's not their fault. Yeah, what more do I expect from someone who was raised in a refugee camp with no food or water that smelled faeces in their streets that, that they had to come to this country with nothing with nothing and start over and work like, work? work day and night, day and night? Like my? Of course, of course, they did the best that they could.

Samia Aziz:

You know, you talked about healing, and the need to heal and the the fact that you need to heal in order to break the intergenerational trauma or the you use the word curse for The Next Generation and beyond. But the reality is that the West will have you believe that healing comes from, you know, baths with soap, like bath salts and bath bombs and meditation and going for a walk. But how can you heal in a place that is still hell bent on erasing your identity. Like just yesterday, I was watching a story of one of the Palestinian journalists, who were saying that the ministry in Gaza has said that an office was attacked, which had physical records of generations and generations of Palestinian families. And physically, that is now gone. Like it is a physical, it's a physical representation of an erasure of a people of a person person's lack of an entire community of all the millions that have lived in Gaza, like I was so horrified, and I couldn't sleep last night like thinking about the fact that this is actual aresia. And I feel like you know, even being a Muslim in the West, there is a constant sort of desire for a regime of our identities, with the hijab being banned in France, with the enforcement of certain things being being practice, the inability to be who you really are the inability for you to say certain things and experience and things in the UK. In schools and universities, we have the prevent agenda, which just sets down basically a whole arm of the government onto you, if you are believed to be doing anything that is quote unquote, suspicious. But anything that is suspicious is actually the very things that we embrace about our identity, and our history. So children that go abroad to visit their grandparents, for example, people speak in languages, people refraining from certain things, or wearing wearing like a Palestinian kapha, for example, or a hijab, these sorts of things. This is a very real erasure of our identity, every single day. And it is, it feels sometimes like to just existing is an act of resistance. But how much can we just resist in our everyday existence or not live? How do we find spaces for healing and breaking cycles of intergenerational trauma if we are constantly being raised?

Etaf Rum:

Yeah, I mean, for me, the healing has really come from understanding the depth of the injustice and the oppression has really allowed me to I look back and reevaluate and examine my history, and my my ancestors history, my parents history, and have empathy for them. That is deeper than any empathy that I've experienced before. I think that has really allowed me to let go of any, anything that I might have been holding on to.

Samia Aziz:

I really, I really resonate with that, because I remember like growing up, so my parents are from Pakistan. And I remember growing up feeling a sense of resentment, because of certain things that my parents were saying or doing or enforcing. And now that I'm older, and I'm able to look at the the poverty within which they grew up, understanding the impact of the partition of India, on the lives of their parents, and, understanding that has has enabled me to forgive them, and to let go of any kind of like resentment I held on to, because like you said earlier, like, how can we hold our parents to account when they never had the space to heal from their own trauma?

Etaf Rum:

Absolutely. And it's, it's precisely in both of my novels that that's that's really the goal. It's, it's not to demonise a group of people or to demonise actions, there's always layers there, of knowing that there is no such thing as a victim and oppressor, that both, you know, the Palestinian men and women are both victims, and that, unfortunately, this intergenerational trauma is real. It's real, and they're dealing with it, and the next generation, we are dealing with it. But it's having this awareness of the roots of the oppression and the fact that we are so privileged in this generation to have social media to have access to tools to heal that our parents did not have access to because they were too busy trying to survive. They were too busy trying to make sure that they were physically that were physically able to maintain themselves, let alone emotionally, and mentally, they didn't even get there they were they were on a physical level trying not to be erased. So it puts a lot of things in perspective. And to me, that is the first step of healing is, is letting go of the resentment and letting go and rooting our judgments and our prejudices and our biases, rooting them in historical facts, and allowing those historical facts to soften our hearts. And to and to point us towards the direction that we need to take. And the direction that we need to take is to resist to continue resisting, I don't just resist the oppression of women. That's not just the only thing that I'm resisting. Now my resistance is 100 times stronger, and it's going to be pointed towards the more obvious oppressor, which is what I eat in the West. I don't care, I'm not going to be intimidated. I'm not afraid, I can be cancelled. I don't care. I died and I died in the desert. And this, this me doesn't care. This means coming back 500% Because we need to, that's what we need to do. That's what we need to do. They're trying to silence isn't erase us. So those of us that can like you and I and the activists and artists, and journalists, and humanitarians out there that are are speaking up that our job is to not be afraid. .

Samia Aziz:

It feels so weird, so, so privileged for us to even talk about being afraid when there are healthcare workers and journalists, and because who are helping people and saving lives, or they're working tirelessly to get information out of Gaza who are literally putting their lives at risk. Like all of these journalists, if they decided, like, we don't want to put our lives at risk anymore, we're gonna we're gonna focus on staying safe. Like that's our priority. If they would be well within their right to do that, but they're the ones that are like, No, we have to we have to show the world what's going on. So if they're not afraid, who are we to talk about being afraid in terms of like being cancelled or having jobs turned away or whatever it may be like, you just feel so insanely privileged to that, that these two things are existing at the same time around the same set of feeling or the same word.

Etaf Rum:

100% And also consider that we don't actually know what's happening in Gaza, to the extent that these journalists and the population of like I said, does, we don't know. We, we, we see what's happening on social media. But that's not even the whole, the whole of what's happening. Because so many of what so much of what is happening is being censored. Like, for example, this morning, I tried to share a post about the civilians that were being the hostages, the Palestinian hostages, and the Israeli hostage hostages that were being released, or exchange. And Instagram decided to remove all my stories, I am now blocked off my Instagram, I can't make stories, I can't comment on people's posts, I can't make posts. And so, of course, these journalists are deciding to risk their lives to help and to spread information as much as possible, because look at the extent in which the information is being censored. The fact that all these horrific atrocities that are happening are not even the full story. That's we don't have the full story even as horrific as it is, it's still not the full story. And we know that because we see how much the extent of the censorship goes, we see it here in our safe little homes in America and in the UK, how many stories and how many deaths have not been shared? How much horrific violence has not been shared? That's the scary part is we know for a fact that we're being censored. So how do we know that we actually know the full extent of what's happening in Gaza? We don't, we don't.

Samia Aziz:

And there's also like, a level of information that we I think that we are constantly missing out on. Like, for example, we know that there is a shortage of water, and there is a shortage of food. But we are not actively think thinking about the long term, or even the short term consequences of that, when you don't have running water in any place. You have no sewage system, toilets are not able to be flushed, you don't have ability to wash yourself. So what is happening to women that are on their periods? What is happening with overflowing sewage, how many people are getting sick, from those kinds of things, how many people are starving, what's happening in the way that the human body is reacting to not enough food, like these are also like really minut details that are horrific, if you if we really think about it, and really understand it and educate ourselves in knowing what can happen if you deny the human body water, we would, we would just be so so shocked without even seeing any, any of that footage come out. But it's almost as if we're very easy, you know, very easy for us to say like, oh, there's a shortage of water without really thinking about how that alone is so catastrophic, is just absolutely ridiculous and horrendous like that, again, like the so few words, like there's just no words. But I just want to talk quickly about all forms of, you know, fights for liberation, and, and the fact that the liberation of the Palestinians is so tightly intertwined with all forms of liberation of all people, I truly believe that like, none of us is free until all of us is free. Like in a world where the Palestinians are being treated in the way that we are treated, that they are treated, nobody is free. Like I don't understand how you can assume that anybody is free, if that is happening in our world. And I know that that you've spoken about being inspired by the work of Tony Morrisson and Maya Angelou and I just wondered if you had anything to say on how our freedoms are our fights for liberation are so interconnected.

Etaf Rum:

If what's happenig right now hasn't awakened us to the fact that this is not a pro Palestine pro Israel situation where Oh, the history is complicated, and I don't really know where to stand on it. It's clear this point in time, it's non negotiable. It's clear that denying Palestinians the right to exist, altering their stories censoring their narrative and just the extent of the manipulation for the the the general public through the media. That is what should be At the forefront of everyone's mind, and that's essentially how Palestine has given us our path to freedom by noticing what's happening to Palestinians, we can then apply that knowledge to our own lives. I know, for me, personally, the idea that a group of people can experience genocide live, and that there's a justification for it, and that their stories are being erased and censored, then raises the question, in what ways? Are our lives manipulated and programmed? Because it's not, it's not just about if it can happen to Palestine? In what other ways in my life is this happening? It becomes, it becomes really an invitation for us to critically think about everything that we believe in our biases and our prejudices to ask ourselves, where do they come from? Who planted who planted the seed, like, for example, I was watching Home Alone to yesterday with my kids. And I noticed that when Kevin is running in New York City, when he's running away from the sticky bandits, on the street, there's like beggars and merchants on the street. And the camera zooms into one of them that's on the side of the street. And it's a black man. It's a black man wearing a keffiyah. Yeah, he's wearing a keffiyah on his shoulders around his neck. And I just kind of stopped for a second. And it like hit me like a slap in the face. The subtle ways in which we are programmed to view people to view a certain people and to judge a certain people. Why was that men black? And why was he wearing a keffiyah? Why wasn't he Why wasn't he a white man? Why? Why are they like brainwashing us in these subtle ways about who's rich and who's poor? Who's a beggar? You know, it's it's not just about Palestine. It's about the layers and layers and layers of ways in which we are our entire lives and our perspective of the world. It's not, it's not based on on real reality. It's based on the reality that the Western world or the people in charge in the back in the background, the ones that are the ones that are in charge of Instagram, and censoring Palestinian voices. I don't see any Israeli voices being censored. Why is it only that the Palestinian voices are being censored? How come for, you know, I, my publisher is HarperCollins. And for one of my events recently, they had to hire, they had to hire security, to assist me to my events, because there were there were protesters, protests boycotting the event because a pro Palestinian author was at the event. And so they had to, for my safety, hire security. And I asked them, I said, all this because I'm pro Palestinian. Are there any pro Israeli authors that you've had to hire security for? Are there any pro Israeli authors that the Jewish donors have threatened to pull their donors to pull their their sponsorship of events because of because they threatened to do that? Because I'm a pro Palestinian author? Is this the same thing happening to any pro Israeli authors that are making posts on Instagram? And the answer was, No, no, no, no. So the question then is, okay, if you have a certain narrative, you're allowed to express it, and if you don't, you're gonna get cancelled? That's all I need to know. I don't, it's not about Palestine. I talked about Palestine. It's about Okay. So there's no such thing as freedom of speech. That's a lie. It's only if you have a certain story that you're allowed to express it. So what does that mean then? For me? Everything that I know I'm getting it from ads. I'm getting it from Hollywood, from the music industry, from Instagram, from Facebook, from meta from Twitter, all my information. I'm not getting that information firsthand. I'm being programmed. So if I know that I'm being lied to about Palestine, and I know this because I'm Palestinian, have the privilege of knowing this as a fact. What else am I being lied to about?

Samia Aziz:

Yeah, it's really it's really scary, but it is something that we've been seeing for a long time. In Hollywood in like on TV, in the media. If there's a story that involves a terrorist or even like somebody committing a crime is 99% of the time. I'm gonna be either a black man or a Muslim. Like it is so seeped into the fabric of society and of the very beginning of representation at any level, you're absolutely right. And like that is being fed to everyone. And we know that that is what is causing the rise of the fall of the fall, right? Because this is what they are being fed every single day. And you're like people will, that's why people will look at someone like me, and maybe someone like you, and they will say, Well, we know that you're not that kind of Muslim. What does that even mean?

Etaf Rum:

Exactly, and also, if we're being really honest with ourselves, we are hooked to these to these devices in our pockets. that control the way that we think control what we buy what we think is cool, what we think is in whose opinion is a good opinion to have and whose opinion should be cancelled, because that's a wrong opinion to have everything that we believe in, we're getting it from our phone, I'm not just walking around thinking that it's cool to wear Nike socks, and I don't even know like, my mind is not working anymore. But our opinions are coming from our phones, they're coming from the media, the media, the media, like anybody could anybody that is able to think critically should be able to admit to that. So if we don't have opinions that are coming from ourselves, and we're basing all of everything that we know on what Fox tells us what CNN tells us what Instagram tells us, then what you're essentially saying is, you're being controlled and brainwashed, but you don't even know. Yeah. And it's up to you, it's up to you to use these tools, this information. The privilege that we have, we have, we are we are the smartest or not the smartest, but we have access to the most information in the world compared to any other generation. And yet, we are the most generation in the world that is brainwashed and clueless. So it's our job to use this technology for the good to go outside to get your sources from other places besides the media to try to find the truth, not just by what has a million views on Instagram.

Samia Aziz:

Those places exist 100%. And there are an increasing number of them as well. Like there is no excuse. In today's day and age, as you know, we've been Taylor, there's just no excuse to suggest that you don't have access to the right information. It is there. It's just not in the mainstream. And there's also enough noise for you to know that we don't need to trust or we shouldn't trust the mainstream. Yeah, it is really also very frightening. Just thinking about what, like if this is happening right now. And we don't know, as you said before, as well, like we don't even know like exactly what is happening and how horrific it is. One what has happened in the past that we really don't know. And to what can happen in the future. And as much as you feel like a part of you has died. And because I feel I feel somewhat the same. I think the world will be forever changed in ways that are good and ways that are actually really bad as well. Because, you know, thing one of the things I have really it has really shocked me it's just like the blatant support of Israel that before before now has always been there but has been a little bit coy and a little bit hidden. Now is so obvious.

Etaf Rum:

Yes. Yes. Like right now I'm like, can you at least be slick about it? Like you're obviously yeah, like at least try to be a little bit more slick about it. Like now, it's just so obvious that it's comical. Like it wasn't real, it would be so comical because you're thinking like, there's no way like that's, there's no way. No there is actually it's happening right now. But it's unbelievable. Like every day I'm like I actually am shocked. I go to sleep and I wake up I'm like, No, this is real. I'm not dreaming like this is actually happening and people are still you know as much as there has been overwhelming support for Palestine around the world. And I am so grateful and like filled with so much love when I think about how much people have been showing up for Palestine have been protesting and have been calling the representatives like it's a beautiful thing to see. But on the other And there are still countless more that are either living in ignorance or just in pure delusion and denial, and how are somehow still defending. Still defending that the number one thing I hear is how Hamas attacked on October 7th. So they deserve it. They deserve it. Well, what about? Yeah, yeah. And my thing is, my thing is if a woman if a woman has been raped for 75 years, he's just been raped over and over and over again, and over again. And then one day she decides to punch her rapist in the face, or shoot her rapist or, or whatever she decides to do to her rapist. And and now all of a sudden, oh my God, how could she do that? How could she do that? The rapist has a right to murder her has a right to kill her entire family has a right to obliterate the entire neighbourhood has a right to cut off the food and the water from her entire family because she punched him How dare she punch him? How dare she tried to slit his throat? But she Excuse me? Excuse like, this is the part this is the part that like I just I feel like I'm mentally insane. Excuse me? Like why are we just focused on what what her punch? We just focus on her punch? What about what about the fact that she's been getting raped for 75 years? And the fact that there are still people that are defending Israel's right to perform genocide on an entire people because of what happened on October 7, without simultaneously acknowledging what it's done for the past 75 years. And what it continues to do. To me is mind blowing. Mind blowing? I don't understand. I don't understand that.

Samia Aziz:

I don't understand that either. Yeah, that is what it all boils down to is if you're going to shout about Israel's right to self defence. And if you believe that they have a right to self defence, you cannot,

Etaf Rum:

why don't we? Yeah, why don't we have a right to self defence? Why don't we have right self defence? And excuse me, first of all, you fund TMS. So why do you fund them? Then? Why do you fund them? Then? Why did you help create them? And why do you fund them? But nobody knows that? Exactly. You know, when you when you tell someone that they're like, What do you mean? Exactly, because you're not educated on the topic.

Samia Aziz:

But also, even like since October 7 before, like, it's not, it's not about Hamas per se. We are seeing awful things happening even now in the West Bank, with increasing raids and people being removed from their homes, arrest happening, people dying, like people being killed. And there's no Hamas in the West Bank. It's not about it's not about that. And I just feel like there's just become this like obsession, which is completely disregarding what is actually happening and what has been happening. And it's so so harmful, but also just doesn't make sense.

Etaf Rum:

No, it makes perfect sense. Actually, it makes sense. Because there are politicians and leaders out there who are benefiting from the bombs that are being dropped, that are benefiting from the violence that are making money off the selling of these weapons, that the designers that control the media and control this country. That's all real. To me, at least right now. You can't convince me otherwise. I mean, I would need some hard facts about otherwise, because it's just been what else can explain how this is allowed to happen? Because that I that's that seems to be the logical conclusion of why this is allowed to happen.

Samia Aziz:

Yeah, well, obviously someone or some people are benefiting. There's no, there's like absolutely no denial of that. But yet, if I just want to take a moment just to say like, I really hope that people actually read your work. I hope that that people continue to pick it up. I know a lot of people that have loved your work for all the reasons that you have wanted them to love your work. And I have loved your work. And I really hope that we have more of that and we have readers just step up a little bit. And understand that if they want to learn and they want to read, they need to tackle their own prejudice. And also then to take the empathy away from the pages of the book and leather inform your activism because your activism is needed now more than ever. So obviously, you know, I I really, really encourage people to pick up both of your books, but is there anything that you encourage people to do? Right now?

Etaf Rum:

Yes. And as an author, I shouldn't be saying, you know, it's not really about my books, I don't really, it's much bigger. It's much bigger than what I've done. Or my novels, this, this is, if, if I can encourage anyone to do anything, is it's not to read my books. I mean, sure, yes, read other Palestinian stories, educate yourself on the topic, and the occupation, and do your own homework. But the number one thing that you can do right now is to sit with yourself, and write down a list of everything you believe all of your opinions about the world about yourself about good versus evil. And then one by one, go down all of your opinions and ask yourself, why do I think this? Where did this belief come from? Did it come from my family? Did it come from my parents? Did it come from schools? Did it come from social media can my community our job right now, if we want to be free as a society, if we want to be free as a people as individuals, our job is to detach from the system, our job is to unprogrammed ourselves and to really, to come back to who we are. Because so many of the things that I believe are things that have been handed down to me from, from my upbringing, and my trauma, and the society, living in this country, all of my everything, what I what I prefer what I don't prefer, who I think is a victim, who I think is an oppressor. And what I'm doing for myself, is I'm questioning myself, I'm questioning, I'm questioning the root of my beliefs and the root of my programming to try to uncover where it's coming from. And if we could do that, that'll bring us one step closer to the truth. And one step closer to unplugging from the mainstream, and figuring out who who are we what are our beliefs, not what's been fed to us, but what do I truly believe? Not, What does the collective believe, in order for the collective to heal, the individual has to heal, the individual has to unplug, the individual has to reassess and re examine things that they thought were true. And that's what I'm urging everyone to do. That's what my books, that's what my books have wanted to do. But now it's like bigger than that. It's bigger than that. Right? It's bigger than it's bigger than what my books are doing. It's bigger. It's much, much, much bigger.

Samia Aziz:

Yeah. And I think you know, that is a really powerful note, I think to end on, honey, you'd have thank you so much for taking the time to speak to me today for sharing so much for sharing this space with me, but just been so honest about everything going on in your own life as well. And I really hope that, you know, we see a permanent ceasefire. We should have seen it 55 days ago, but I hope we see it soon. Yeah, thank you so much.

Etaf Rum:

Thank you, Samia, I appreciate you. Thank you so much for having me. And thank you for all the work that you're doing to help uplift and amplify our voices.

Samia Aziz:

Thank you so much to Etaf for her time today. This was such a moving much needed and important conversation. I really hope you take something away from the podcast. Please follow the diverse bookshelf on your podcast platform of choice and connect with me on social media. I'd really appreciate it if you could rate a lever have you as a helps more people find the show