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Sabreen Msarwi, the persecuted teacher, speaks

The teacher who was suspended from her job for being photographed next to the Palestinian flag speaks: "Anyone for whom Palestinian identity undermines something, is probably not confident enough in themselves."

By Sabreen Msarwi 

Editor Stav Gerstel 

Translation using Google Translate with minor edits by Bernice Keshet 

Date of original publication: 15/6/2024

Original Hebrew text: https://www.rosamedia.org/episodes/articles/37

When the head teacher of the school called, I was driving from the Nakba Day march in Shfar'am following a police car in which my son was [sitting while] being taken to a police station for "clarification", because he dared to participate in the march with me. I was sure the head teacher heard about what had happened to him and was calling to support me - the head teacher loves me. Instead, she asked about the pictures from the march, of me with Palestinian flags, that were spread around the school. I told her it was a day we marked together, my people. She asked me, "Am I not your people?" I felt uncomfortable and decided not to continue the conversation. That's how I heard for the first time about what happened.

I would like to say – of course the head teacher is my people. I belong to the Israeli people, and also to the Palestinian people. But precisely because I'm Palestinian, they're trying to kick me out of work at the school I love so much. Palestinians in Israel have no freedom of expression, we are persecuted because of what we say and because of our identity. It's like that because of the media, the ministers who incite [hatred], those who have been persecuting us since October 7th until today. There is a war in the south and a war in the north, but Ben-Gvir is concerned with how terrible the Palestinians are, how they must not be allowed to breathe, and how they must be further forsaken. Put more and more [pressure] on our shoulders and see if we still survive.

The Palestinian flag, which I was persecuted for being photographed next to, represents my identity, it tells my story. I am a Palestinian citizen of the State of Israel. The erasure of Israelis or Israeli identity is not part of my own identity. I belong to the Palestinian people, like anyone who was born here and lives in an Arab village or town, and this cannot be erased. Maybe not everyone will agree on the narrative, but Palestinians have always lived here. When Taybeh was occupied by Israel, we Palestinians became citizens of the State of Israel. I feel a part of the Israeli people, and this does not erase my primary Palestinian identity.

I have no place under the Israeli flag. Still, I'm not angry and I don't speak out against the Israeli flag. But the school administration and the municipality came out against the Palestinian flag, which is part of my identity. The flag reminds me of my responsibility to my people and my family, to the injustice done to us – my responsibility to work so that we will not experience another Nakba, more house demolitions or racism. I am doing this together with my partners in the State of Israel, partners in the path of peace. I don't keep score of what happened in 1948, even though I know that an injustice was done to my people. I know that 520 villages have been destroyed and uprooted, but still, I say let's build a new reality that sees me as an equal, no less than anyone else. From an ugly, difficult, dark place - let's create hope and send out light.

I received hateful messages, "Die", swear words, and a video was posted of a demonstration held against me at the school in which they sang "May your village burn". It was also attended by students I know, who I recently taught. In the past, when I told people about the Jewish-Arab solidarity groups of which I am a member, the school was enthusiastic and offered to create such groups for students. We organised shared language and culture projects that received a positive response from the municipality and the Department of Education. But the depth of the connection we have built, in the end, has been reduced to a choice of flag – Palestine or Israel. This is a kind of betrayal.

On [Israel's] Remembrance Day [Yom HaZikaron יום הזיכרון], I stand up during the siren [every year on Remembrance Day and Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel sirens are sounded in commemoration - BK] alongside my students. I teach a class, and I choose to be there with them, because on a human, personal level - it's important for me to be with them, with their pain. I feel like if I chose not to be there, I would minimise their pain, and I wouldn't want to do it any more than I would want my pain to be treated as illegitimate. The moment I choose to be with them, there is an emotion present, and that is the pain, and to that, I can relate - to every real pain of every human being. I have no fear of the identity of the other because I am a native of this country. I'm confident in who I am. Someone for whom the identity of the other undermines something is not confident enough in who they are.

I've been making an effort to teach at the school for years, even though the commute is long and expensive. I always re-choose it as a workplace because it has allowed me to express myself and bring forward complex issues. When the Follow-up Committee [The High Follow-Up Committee for Arab citizens of Israel, in Arabic لجنة المتابعة العليا للجماهير العربية في إسرائيل, is an extra-parliamentary umbrella organization that represents Arab citizens of Israel at the national level - BK] shut down Palestinian society in Israel to protest the state's violence and neglect [of Palestinian society in Israel – BK], the head teacher allowed me to come to school to teach only about the violence in the Arab society, and so to play my part in the struggle. And because I loved teaching them so much, I still want to teach in school, but now my heart is broken and I don't know if it will be possible.

I once had a mentor who told me that "pain is unfulfilled love," it hurts when you love something and can't get it. If we understand that our pain is actually love, and we manage to connect to a place of love – to love peace and seek safety – then we can channel our pain into action, and that will calm the pain a bit.

Sabreen Msarwi is a teacher, educator and member of the leadership of the Standing Together movement. After an investigation, the Ministry of Education lifted her suspension. She has not yet decided whether she will return to teaching at the school (as of publication of this essay in June 2024 - BK).

Translation notes:

Please note that in Israel today the terms Arab society or community/Arab Israeli/Palestinian Israeli/Palestinian with Israeli citizenship (as opposed to Palestinians who live in Gaza or in the West Bank) are sometimes used interchangeably and different people use different terms to describe themselves (BK).