Just Imagine It Was You…

IMAGINE THIS WAS YOU, WOULD YOU NOT FIGHT WITH EVERY FIBER IN YOU?

A Palestinian woman argues with an Israeli bor­der police­man dur­ing a protest against Jewish set­tle­ments in the West Bank vil­lage of Nabi Saleh, near Ramallah September 4, 2015. REUTERS/​Mohamad Torokman TPX IMAGES OF THE DAY — RTX1R3FO

Imagine that you are liv­ing your mun­dane life in the year 1948, going about your busi­ness. You, a gro­cer, maybe a sub­sis­tence farmer? You farm dates in the arid con­di­tions, you grow olives too, you may even grow veg­eta­bles, as your ances­tors had done for thou­sands of years before you.
Then one day some new peo­ple came they con­fis­cat­ed your land, they chased you out of your home and took it.
These peo­ple had no right to your land, and they cer­tain­ly had no right to your home, but that did not stop them from tak­ing it and chas­ing you away into exile.
Imagine that the peo­ple who did that to you were not the same skin col­or as you are, they did not speak your lan­guage, but they claim they have a right to your land and home because their God promised them your property.
Worse yet, their reli­gion is not only dif­fer­ent than yours; they [adopt­ed] their reli­gion and, as a con­se­quence, laid claim to your prop­er­ty under the guise that God had promised them your land.
Remember, these invaders were nev­er from your part of the world, but they claimed that they have a divine right to your inher­i­tance based on the reli­gion they adopt­ed and took as their own.
How would you feel? What would you do?

The mass dis­place­ment of more than 750,000 Palestinians from their homes. There are now more than 7 mil­lion reg­is­tered Palestinian refugees strug­gling with ongo­ing pover­ty and depri­va­tion. An esti­mat­ed 500 vil­lages and towns were destroyed.

Now imag­ine that 73-years lat­er, if you are still alive, nei­ther you nor your off­springs are allowed to return to your home­land. According to the invaders, you [you have no right of return].
Your home­land, your coun­try, is now swal­lowed up; it has a dif­fer­ent name now.
Where you once farmed, there are hous­es, fac­to­ries, and even farms, but you can­not enter; sep­a­rat­ing you from your birthright is barbed wire, walls, and armed guards,
You are frus­trat­ed, so you throw stones, you light tires, and you protest. The younger gen­er­a­tion is now more mil­i­tant, so they build and buy crude bombs, but their bombs are no match for the pre­ci­sion-guid­ed 21st-cen­tu­ry mis­siles that rain down on the tiny bit of hell on which you have been forced to exist,
When you protest, there is more destruc­tion and death, more bul­lets for your slingshots.

The occu­piers pledged to dri­ve you into the sea, and they may well have because you are not even allowed to fish in the waters that crash ashore the tiny strip of land on which you are imprisoned.
The occu­pi­er tells you if and when you may fish to feed your fam­i­ly; he even tells you just how far out to see you are allowed.
That is your existence,
That is your life.

Young Palestinians serve what was once their homes after Israel’s bomb­ing campaign.

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Mike Beckles is a for­mer Police Detective, busi­ness­man, free­lance writer, black achiev­er hon­oree, and cre­ator of the blog mike​beck​les​.com.