This blog grew out of an ache for a homeland that I know through stories, pictures and one brief visit. My passport declares me a British Jordanian, but I have never belonged to either.

My grandfather was sixteen when he fled Gaza, hidden in an oil barrel, unaware that he would never return. So, no matter what these papers insist, I am Palestinian.

Here you will find essays that sit with grief, rage and longing for a land under siege. You will find writing that confronts the structures behind this violence. Empire, colonialism, Zionism and the politics that keep Palestine occupied.

I have lived with the complicated task of watching from afar as my people are erased. If the only power I have is my voice, then I will give it to Palestine.