The Black liberation holiday of Juneteenth was on my mind when we drove past a platoon of Israeli occupation forces as they marched into a Palestinian village, black automatic weapons in hand, likely about to execute a raid. As our bus drove past the handful of military vehicles parked alongside the road, a deep sense of rage, sadness, and powerlessness swelled up within me.
Read MoreWe eagerly awaited our visit to the Musrara neighborhood in East Jerusalem, as it held very special meaning for a couple of members of our group. Their families had lived there before they were forcibly removed as a result of the Nakba in 1948. Hearing authentic first-hand historical accounts of what life was like for the Palestinians who once lived there, it was heartbreaking to imagine the complete loss of home and community.
Read MoreOn Friday, I had the chance to visit the Lutheran Church of Redeemer courtyard in Jerusalem. My extended family— 17 people— were given shelter there, crammed into one room, when they fled from the Musrara neighborhood in what became West Jerusalem in 1948. In 2017 I saw my Mom’s former family home nearby. This time I couldn’t find it.
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