"So You Come to Take Amina-a loving Syrian father saves his gay blogger daughter from the security services
Apr 29, 2011 12:24 am | A Gay Girl in Damascus

Editor's note: Saleema told us to post "My father, the hero," an astonishing post by Amina, A Gay Girl in Damascus, from two days back, and it being the internet, we've grabbed a lot of the post. Please read the full post at her site. It describes a nighttime visit from the "security services," two men in their 20s in leather jackets. Amina, who is an out lesbian, and her father go to the door.

"Really?" my father interrupts. "My daughter is a salafi?" he starts laughing. "Look at her: can't you see that that is ridiculous? She doesn't even cover any more ... and if you have really read even half of what she has written, you know how ridiculous that is. When was the last time you heard a wahhabi, or even someone from the brotherhood say that wearing hijab is the woman's choice only?"
he pauses, they don't say anything.
"I did not think so," he goes on. "When was the last time you saw one of those write that there should be no religion as religion of teh state?"
Again nothing.
"When was the last time you saw them saying that the gays should be allowed the right to marry, a man to a man or a woman to a woman?"
Nothing.
"And when you say nothing, you show," he says, "that you have no reason to take my daughter."
They say nothing. Then one whispers something to the other, he smiles.
"Uh huh," the man says, "so your daughter tells you everything, huh?"
"Of course," my father says.
"Did she tell you that she likes to sleep with women?" he grins, pure poison, feeling like he has made a hit. "That she is one of those faggots who fucks little girls?" (the arabic he used is far cruder ... you get the idea)
My dad glances at me. I nod; we understand each other.
"She is my daughter," he says and I can see the anger growing in his eyes, "and she is who she is and if you want her, you must take me as well."
"Stupid city-fuckers," says the same guy. "All you rich pansies are the same. No wonder she ends up fucking girls and kikes" (again, the Arabic is much rawer ,,,)
He steps twoards me and puts his hand on my breast.
"Maybe if you were with a real man," he lears, "you'd stop this nonsense and lies; maybe we should show you now and let your pansy father watch so he understands how real men are."
I am almost trembling with rage. My dad moves his head slightly to tell me to be silent.
"What are you?" he says. "Did the jackal sleep with the monkey before you were born? What are your names?"


They tell him. He nods
"Your father," he says to the one who threatened to rape me, "does he know this is how you act? He was an officer, yes? And he served in ..." (he mentions exactly and then turns to the other) "and your mother? Wasn't she the daughter of ...?"
They are both wide-eyed, yes, that is right,
"What would they think if they heard how you act? And my daughter? Let me tell you this about her; she has done many things that, if I had been her, I would not have done. But she has never once stopped being my daughter and I will never once let you do any harm to her. You will not take her from here. And, if you try, know that generations of her ancestors are looking down on you. Do you know what is our family name? You do? Then you know where we stood when Muhammad, peace be upon him, went to Medina, you know who it was who liberated al Quds, you know too, maybe, that my father fought to save this country from the foreigners and who he was, know who my uncles and my brothers were ... and if that doesn't shame you enough, you know my cousins and you will leave here.
"You will leave her alone and you will tell the rest of your gang to leave her alone. And I will tell you something now because I think maybe you are too stupid to figure this out on your own. You are alawiyeen; do not deny that, I know you both are. We are Sunni. You know that. And in your offices and in your villages they are telling you that all of you must stand shoulder to shoulder now because we are coming for you as soon as we can and we will serve you as they have served ours in the land of the two rivers. So you are scared. I would be too.
"So you come here to take Amina. Let me tell you something though. She is not the one you should fear; you should be heaping praises on her and on people like her. They are the ones saying alawi, sunni, arabi, kurdi, duruzi, christian, everyone is the same and will be equal in the new Syria; they are the ones who, if the revolution comes, will be saving Your mother and your sisters. They are the ones fighting the wahhabi most seriously. You idiots are, though, serving them by saying 'every sunni is salafi, every protester is salafi, every one of them is an enemy' because when you do that you make it so.
"Your Bashar and your Maher, they will not live forever, they will not rule forever, and you both know that. So, if you want good things for yourselves in the future, you will leave and you will not take Amina with you. You will go back and you will tell the rest of yours that the people like her are the best friends the Alawi could ever have and you will not come for her again.
"And right now, you two will both apologize for waking her and putting her through all this. Do you understand me?"
And time froze when he stopped speaking. Now, they would either smack him down and beat him, rape me, and take us both away ... or ...

the first one nodded, then the second one.
"Go back to sleep," he said, "we are sorry for troubling you."
And they left!
As soon as the gate shut ,,, I heard clapping; everyone in the house was awake now and had been watching from balconies and doorways and windows all around the courtyard ... and everyone was cheering ...
MY DAD had just defeated them! Not with weapons but with words ... and they had left ...
I hugged him and kissed him; I literally owe him my life now.
And everyone came down and hugged and kissed, every member of the family, and the servants and everyone ... we had won ... this time ...

My father is a hero; I always knew that ... but now I am sure ...

Emmitt Till

At the of the year, all of our students (who earn it) get to go on an end-of-the-year trip, and I'm going with the 7th graders on a Civil Rights tour of the South. The upper school teachers arranged it so that 7th graders have history every day for the next two weeks, in order to cover the Civil Rights Movement. Today was Day 2 and we learned about the murder of Emmitt Till. I found it hard to speak after watching that video. Our teacher paused it a few times for discussion and I looked around at our students with this lump in my throat. I'd studied the Civil Rights Movement in high school, and I didn't expect to learn that much more about Emmitt Till today. The information might not have even been new. The student I teach most of the day is fourteen, almost all of our students are African American, and Money, Mississippi is two hours away from New Orleans. I saw Emitt's mother differently too. She could have been the parent of one of our students. I think what made me angriest was the reaction of the courtroom when the murderers were found not guilty....high fives all around. The men and their wives were interviewed and all they could say was, "I'm just glad this is all over." Then one of the couples started making out on camera and it was just...ughhh. I could see kids' faces contorting like "wtf?"
This is going to be a really powerful trip. Granted, we're going to Six Flags and the Atlanta Aquarium and the Coca Cola factory, but I'm gearing up for an intense experience in Selma, Montgomery and Birmingham.

Go Fish!

Two recent articles about fishermens' rights in Louisiana and Gaza!


The Louisiana Justice Institute:
Fishers Gather to Commemorate

On the Anniversary of the explosion at the Deepwater Horizon that marked the beginning of the BP Drilling Disaster, fishers and advocates gathered in Palquemines Parish to send the message that recovery for them and their communities is still a long way away.



New Project Seeks to Protect Gaza Fishermens' Rights and Livelihood

The Civil Peace Service Gaza is beginning a new project off the coast of Gaza to protect the rights of Gazan fisherman. The "Oliva," a human rights monitoring boat, will launch Wednesday from the port of Gaza City with an international crew from Spain, the United States, Italy and Belgium to accompany Gazan fishermen within Palestinian waters and record violations of international law.

The press release announcing the project states:

Since Operation Cast Lead, access to fishing grounds has been unilaterally restricted by Israel to three nautical miles. This dramatic reduction of the 20-mile limit, which was agreed upon in the Oslo Accords, has resulted in the overexploitation of fishing grounds in which stocks are close to exhaustion. Fishermen are threatened by gunfire, confiscation of their boats and fishing tools, and arrest by the Israeli Navy which regularly launches attacks and incursions in Palestinian waters.

al-Aqaba

A post from Vittorio's blog-heartbreaking.

Vittorio Arrigoni-Kidnapped in Gaza

One Night in Bil'in

On the 2nd of January, I was sitting in the Popular Committee office, Facebooking and hanging out with Hamdi and one of his brothers, when one of them got a phone call. Someone who had been keeping watch had noticed Israeli military jeeps coming into a nearby village.

What I heard was, “The army is coming.”

My first thought was, this is a night raid. My second thought was, this has something to do with Jawaher’s death. Jawaher was Hamdi's cousin, she had died a few days before from the tear gas at the weekly demonstration.

I knew a little about night raids. I’d watched the videos that our friend Haitham had taken; they usually involved the military declaring someone’s house a “closed military zone” and arresting someone inside for throwing rocks at a demonstration, or incitement, or something. In a lot of the videos there were international activists trying to get through the soldiers to help the family inside. There would be some arguing, some pushing, some gun-pointing. I didn’t know where I saw myself in this chain of events. Maybe I would watch from a distance, or maybe I would be one of those internationals who stood up to the soldiers.

A week earlier, I wouldn’t have dared put myself in that situation. Since then I’d been to three demonstrations, gotten yelled at, pushed around, gassed and sound bombed. I was so mad after that sound bomb landed next to me that I locked eyes with the offending soldier and mouthed a well-meant “f*#k you.” That was the angriest I’ve ever felt.

So things had changed in the last week. I wanted to show the soldiers I wasn’t afraid of them. And tell them how cowardly it was to follow orders without thinking. And how stupid they looked in those little mesh camo hats. Seriously. Overkill.

I followed Hamdi and his brother out of the office, and we started across the village towards Hamdi’s house. I didn’t know what their system was. I didn’t even know there was a look-out system, but seeing as we were the only ones out, I assumed these guys were it, and we were going to find out if the army was coming into Bil’in.

I was wearing three layers, but it still took me a minute to realize why I was shaking uncontrollably. I tried not to think about the soldiers and instead tried to listen to the guys talking and laughing. Once we were settled in Hamdi’s room, Khamis got out his argheelah and started smoking, and Haitham soon joined us with his camera. They would follow the soldiers and videotape the raid as they had done many times before. Hamdi brought us pita bread and avocado mixed with olive oil and salt for dipping. I usually eat anything put in front of me, but I felt strangely queasy as I tried to force down bits of pita. It must have been obvious, because Haitham stopped his conversation and asked me if I was afraid. I lied and said no, it was just new for me. Hamdi told me if the soldiers came, they would go and I could stay here. I told him I wanted to come with. “Walla?” Hamdi said, incredulous. I knew I’d have to fight a little harder if I meant to go. We forgot about it for a while.

We talked about filmmaking, Haitham’s new camera, traveling, the drama between Khamis, the girl he wanted to marry, and her disapproving father, known affectionately to the family as “Doctor Donkey.” I sang the only Arabic song I knew (Ana Ayesh by Amr Diab) for the thousandth time, for Haitham’s camera. We hung out, three Palestinians and one American, and it was in those moments that they made me laugh and forget my nerves that I fell more in love with Bil’in. What could I, with my American passport and freedom to come and go from Palestine as I pleased, understand about life under occupation? I couldn’t eat, sing or crack jokes without shaking in anticipation of the raid. So how did the children feel when their doors were broken down by armed soldiers? How did the mothers feel when their boys were bound and taken to the back of an army jeep? How did the fathers feel when their houses were invaded without their consent, and they could do nothing about it?

As it happened, the soldiers didn’t come to Bil’in that night.

It’s been three months, and I just learned from Haitham’s Facebook post that Khamis’ house was raided last night. Khamis owns the house where internationals stay, where I stayed for four days. Haitham’s video shows the soldiers poking around cabinets and under the sink where I brushed my teeth.

For those familiar with the IDF’s attempts to undermine non-violent demonstration in the West Bank, this image isn’t anything new. This desperate attempt to paint the demonstrations as inherently violent, hate-fueled and semi-militaristic has sanctioned practices like offering families with sick children medical care in exchange for information, and making young boys sign statements in Hebrew that implicate the organizers of the demonstrations. Of course they think the internationals are hiding something in their quarters. But when I think of how my experience in that house strays from the IDF perception, it almost makes me laugh. Almost.

That was where I smoked argheelah with Hamdi and his brothers and cousins on New Years Eve, learned about their boyhood days in Bil’in, then stayed awake most of the night battling mosquitoes. That was where I woke up to the news that Hamdi’s cousin Jawaher had died from tear gas inhalation, before I joined the funeral procession and witnessed the village in mourning. For three days I packed and unpacked my bags, because every time I tried to catch a taxi to Ramallah, someone would invite me into their house for lunch or tea or coffee, and the idea of leaving became less and less possible…and desirable. I would always come back to that house. One night I sang We Are the World to Hamdi’s little cousins Batool and Falasteen, while he took care of Haitham and made him ginger tea to combat the flu. I lived in that house for four days, and I knew when I saw Haitham’s picture of a soldier coming out of the side door that I finally had to tell this story, which is just the story of a foreigner on the edge of Bil’in’s story. In some way, as a guest of that house I too feel traced, invaded, implicated, and I don’t think that anticipation will ever cease to make me queasy.

Bella, Ciao

Vittorio Arrigoni, with his Italian passport and trademark pipe. His shirt says "Gaza."


I'm learning the lyrics and chords to Bella, Ciao. After Vittorio Arrigoni was killed, I saw the song popping up everywhere, and I realized I'd heard it before. After the New Years Eve demonstration in Bil'in, I was sitting on my friend Farhad's stoop, hanging out with him and his wife and little toddler Labiba (Lulu). Farhad had picked grapefruits from his tree and was making juice for me and the other internationals who were walking back from the demo, and a group of Italian musicians came up and joined us. They reminded me of the gutter punks that perform in New Orleans. I always see them at Hare Krishna (free Indian food on Sundays!), at open mics, and in the French Quarter. Great musicians, great harmonies. Anyway, back to Bil'in. The Italians circled around with drums, saxophones, fiddles and clarinets, and played Bella, Ciao. It was awesome. Afterwards I asked one of the musicians what the song meant, and he just replied "it's anti-fascist song."

This is the first time I've learned Italian outside of voice lessons. I always sang mezzo arias about shepherds and flowers. Well, the flowers were always metaphorical, but not for partisans who died for freedom against fascism.

Una mattina mi sono svegliato,
o bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
Una mattina mi sono svegliato,
e ho trovato l'invasor.

O partigiano, portami via,
o bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
O partigiano, portami via,
ché mi sento di morir.

E se io muoio da partigiano,
o bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
E se io muoio da partigiano,
tu mi devi seppellir.

E seppellire lassù in montagna,
o bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
E seppellire lassù in montagna,
sotto l'ombra di un bel fior.

Tutte le genti che passeranno,
o bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
Tutte le genti che passeranno,
Mi diranno «Che bel fior!

È questo il fiore del partigiano
o bella, ciao! bella, ciao! bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
È questo il fiore del partigiano,
morto per la libertà!

English translation:
One morning I woke up
Oh goodbye darling, goodbye darling, goodbye darling, bye bye!
One morning I woke up
And I found the invader

Oh partisan, carry me away
Oh goodbye darling, goodbye darling, goodbye darling, bye bye!
Oh partisan, carry me away
For I feel I'm dying

And if I die as a partisan
Oh goodbye darling, goodbye darling, goodbye darling, bye bye!
And if I die as a partisan
Then you must bury me

Bury me up in the mountain
Oh goodbye darling, goodbye darling, goodbye darling, bye bye!
Bury me up in the mountain
Beneath the shadow of a beautiful flower

And the people who pass by
Oh goodbye darling, goodbye darling, goodbye darling, bye bye!
And the people who pass by
Will say to me: "what a beautiful flower"

This is the flower of the partisan
Oh goodbye darling, goodbye darling, goodbye darling, bye bye!
This is the flower of the partisan
Who died for freedom


This is a video of Italian activists singing Bella, Ciao at a Bil'in demo a few months earlier...

A Spanish activist films the demolition of al-Aqaba's road.

The Jewish National Fund was established in 1901 and since has planted over 240 million trees and established more than 1,000 parks in Israel. If you Google the JNF, the first page you find is "Plant trees in Israel in memory of a loved one." While that sounds pretty lovely, the JNF has also been accused of "green washing" Israel's war crimes by planting forests over destroyed Arab villages. Several Israeli organizations are fighting the JNF's bulldozing of Bedouin villages.

Anyways, I got two e-mails today, one from Jewish Voice for Peace, one from the Jewish National Fund.

The Jewish National Fund is back to steal more land.

We knew the good news might not last.

After bowing to pressure that you helped generate with your calls and emails, and abruptly pulling its bulldozers out of the Negev Bedouin village of Al-Arakib two weeks ago, the Jewish National Fund (JNF) is back. Now they've brought their bulldozers on Sunday to a new work camp near the JNF settlement of Givot Bar, less than a mile from Al-Arakib. The goal: to continue JNF forestation encircling the village. In fact, the new JNF work camp is located very close to the land of the family of Dr. Awad Abu-Freih, the spokesperson for the village of Al-Arakib who has played a prominent role in the campaign against JNF’s activities.
As public pressure mounted, JNF hid the sign bearing its logos and those of GOD-TV, the evangelical Christian station paying for the forest, and then finally pulled their bulldozers out of Al-Arakib itself. This was the victory, but we knew it might not be permanent. In just two days, thousands of you contacted the JNF offices to call for the pause in demolitions to last until a permanent solution could be found.

Now the JNF is revving up its bulldozers for more forestation on Bedouin land, even though the land's ownership is still in dispute in Israeli courts. We need to contact them again to be sure they get the message.


JNF and the Israeli government are working together to forcibly displace tens of thousands of Bedouin from their land, so that large tracts of the Negev can be devoted to a continuous swath of new JNF-funded Jewish-only settlements. Prime Minister Netanyahu has called the Bedouin "a real threat...just like the Balkans" simply for living on their land. Even if no more villages are demolished, encircling them and stealing land will have the same effect: the Bedouin will be forced to leave. And that is wrong.


But working together with groups like Jewish Alliance for Change, Negev Coexistence Forum, and Rabbis for Human Rights, you helped to stop JNF demolitions and forestation over Al-Arakib and you can help stop this threat of more stolen land. Today and tomorrow, April 7th and 8th, call JNF headquarters at 212-879-9300 or your local JNF office on our joint call-in days with our partners from the Jewish Alliance for Change:

1) Tell them you’re outraged that JNF continues to plant and build on land stolen from Bedouin - even while they're fighting the theft of their land in Israeli courts.;
2) Tell them: Don’t send JNF bulldozers onto the land of the Abu-Freih family near Givot Bar, or any other Bedouin land in the Negev.
3) Call on JNF to announce a freeze on all home demolitions, development and
forestation on all Bedouin land, until a just solution is agreed upon with the Negev Bedouin community.
As we approach the holiday of Passover, we remember that Judaism teaches us to love our non-Jewish neighbors as we do ourselves - "do not wrong them" - "for you yourselves were strangers in the land of Egypt." Judaism teaches that we are our brothers' and sisters' keepers. It is time to stand with our brothers and sisters in Al-Arakib once again.



Don't "Pass-Over" this letter

It is Passover, a time to recognize and celebrate our ability to live as a free people. Today, thousands of years after Moses led the Jews from Egypt, there is a new definition to freedom: living and thriving in the land of Israel. And you are making it happen.
You gave Elad Riven the freedom to pursue his dreams and be a fire scout.
You are freeing the 700 families who live in the Central Arava from drought with innovative solutions to Israel’s water crisis.
You have allowed thousands of children to play without fear in JNF’s Secure Indoor Recreation Center in Sderot.
You are giving access to Israel’s natural glory to the growing population of people with disabilities who can now enjoy parks and recreation areas.
If you missed our letter or are more comfortable donating online, click on any of the links above to learn more or donate here to make a designated contribution.
You have given freedom to the people who make Israel their home. Now, we ask for your help in continuing this vital work of Zionist freedom personified.

Arna's Children

A film by Juliano Mer-Khamis, co-founder of the Freedom Theater in Jenin Refugee Camp, who was shot and killed today. This documentary is amazing. I heard about the theater while I was in the West Bank, but I wasn't drawn to it enough to make the short trip north from Nablus. I think a part of me was convinced by all the things I heard about Jenin. It's dangerous, a militaristic place. I regret not going and having the chance to meet Juliano, but I'm thankful for the inspiration. I want to do artsy things next year, film screenings, performances, things the kids of Al Aqaba, Tayasir and Toubas can do together...anyways, rest in peace Juliano, as they called him, Uncle Jule...

Judge Richard Goldstone just published an Op-Ed piece in the Washington Post, and some are claiming that he's retracted his report on war crimes in the Israeli offensive in Gaza of 2008-2009. The article was pretty surprising to me, but the more I read into it, the more meaningless it read. He's done no favors to the investigation, but instead damaged all of his credibility. Granted, mostly to those who ignored the report in the first place. For those who heeded the report and believed the investigation and discussion should be continued, this is just a headache. I pity the guy, he's been torn to pieces by the very country he pledged allegiance to, I think to such an extent that any reaction to his apology might seem better. But if he was trying to hand Israel total vindication on a platter, which is what Israel is taking it to mean, then he's not made of the stuff I thought he was.

(The Washington Post) Richard Goldstone-Reconsidering the Goldstone Report

Here are some sources that are delving into the issue...

(Mondoweiss) Adam Horowitz-Goldstone Op-Ed Praises Israeli Investigation of Gaza War Crimes, But UN Committee Paints a Different Picture

(Electronic Intifada)Ilan Pappe-Goldstone's Shameful U-Turn

(Middle East Monitor) Member of UN Fact Finding mission on Gaza Conflict insists report stands unchanged

(Al Jazeera English) Noura Erekat-Goldstone: An Act of Negligence

(Democracy Now!)Judge Goldstone Retracts Part of His Report on Israeli Assault on Gaza, Leave Rest Intact: Interview with Lizzy Ratner and Adam Horowitz

(A Just Peace for Palestine) Ben White-Goldstone: Retractions Vs. Facts

(Hybrid States) Yaniv Reich-What the Goldstone Op-Ed Doesn't Say

Friday Demo