#6 Twelve things I've learned from Falasteen
12 months, 52 weeks plus 75 years, the stages of grief, moral clarity, and more.
The truth rings sharp. It is recognizable and immediately known.
Once you reflect internally, every stage of the fight is clear.
Pay attention: the community you are looking for is all around you.
Righteous rage is an amazing drug. Be careful.
It is an honor to be part of this movement. Don’t exploit it.
All the injustices of the world are the same. Different crayons, same crayola box.
When they go low, you stay where you are.
Everything is political. Everything is historical. Everything can change.
Read. Read. Read. Educate yourself. Fiction is truth. Art is truth. Read.
Be in nature and breathe. This is long work, it’s immature to burn fast and hard.
Take stock of your reality. Don’t conflate your pain with those whose bodies are under the sky of death.
Nourish yourself- mind body & spirit. It’s not easy to step into your full self but it is time.
It has been quite difficult to write a substack for this week. Like so many, I’ve had different emotions come up and I cycle through them depending on what I’m doing in that minute, completely changing from where I was the hour before. Some of my most intense emotions come up when I’m walking back home from pilates; the fall leaves and trees, the neat trimmed hedges and the beautiful Queens neighborhood I live in are out of a dreamscape, I get immense pleasure out of just walking through the streets, house watching, day dreaming. It makes me take deep breaths, savoring each step, grateful for getting another day with myself, my body, my mind, my heart. I also feel immense guilt. I don’t deserve this peace more than someone else.
Then, I go through my list of podcasts and grief builds up, anger makes it way through my stomach all the way to my fingertips, it feels electric and I can almost wield the current but before I can decide on where to direct it, it dissipates.
I listen to the Ezra Klein podcast- I’ve followed his career from Pakistan for years- Isra and Ezra, Pakistan and America, strangers, but connected. Growing up in New York my name would always be pronounced more like its jewish counterpart Ezra, tweaked to become Izra and my mom lovingly called me Izra Mizrahi because she followed the designer Isaac Mizrahi’s career, and maybe that’s why I never cared to correct anyone who called me Izra. In Pakistan when I was furiously studying World History, I stumbled on political blogger Ezra Klein and started reading him because of the fun connection of our names but quickly appreciated his thoughtful scalding commentary and over the years was rewarded by his insight.
When I moved back to New York, it was almost a no brainer that I became a regular listener to his show. It checked so many boxes for me- he was a true liberal, his voice is so soothing (a balm from the nightmare politicking), the guests he brings on are nuanced and academic, he places as much belief in politics that he does in art & literature, and in the last couple of years I have really appreciated his realist optimism and the non zingy interview style. It gives me room to think before I find my place in it all.
After October 7th I was frantically waiting but also so scared of what his thought processing would sound like… would we find ourselves on complete ends of this? How could I feel so apprehensive and in wait of a podcast at the same time, and would I have to re-think everything I’ve agreed with Ezra on? What an odd relationship, how did the stakes become so high and most of all, why didn’t I know if I was confident enough to reach conclusions without my guide.
In the months since his first podcast on Israel-Palestine to his latest with Ta Nehisi Coates that came out just today (highly recommend, I’ve linked it below), I have started emails to him several times only to end up deleting each letter individually because I don’t know what it would actually give me, or even what I’m looking for in the first place. I’ve listened to episodes several times, taken notes, nodded, winced, paused, and become angry. It almost feels like if I lose him as an ally, will I have any at all?
What I want to say to him is that I have an ancestral land, where my grandfathers and grandmothers come from, where I will probably never go, a place I can tangibly experience through a youtube video of someone living in Lucknow and Allahbad, where I can see Hyderbad through the khattay baingan that my dadi makes, or learn about awadhi cuisine through a show on netflix, a home that my grandfathers bid farewell to under the duress of violence and human politics, leaving behind the homes my grandmothers made, in the dark velvet of night. The truth is I will never see it for myself and I must reconcile that grief because I owe my life to those journeys.
How do I tell Ezra that my name, a name that I truly love so much, ‘Isra’ in Arabic is the ‘night journey’ but a very specific night and a very special journey to masjid Aqsa, the precursor to the ascension above through the skies and heavens… in urdu it translates to ‘raat mein chuppi hui haqeeqat’ or ‘the truth hidden in the night’. Just being given this name makes me feel part of something magical and yet, maybe my dream of ever visiting masjid Aqsa will never come true and if it does, is there more grief to mourn compared to any magic I wish to feel?
I continue to listen to his podcast, over the entire year I’ve heard the ship of his belief become un-anchored, navigating rocky water. I think he’s close to naming what the reality is and that in itself is a voyage. This is what our life is- tracing our path, connecting the dots. I could go on forever, talk to every person in my life, gather all their stories and be a keeper of our history. It would be such an honor.
There was a part of me that wanted to skip writing this week and as Tuesday became Wednesday, then Thursday, I told myself that no one will miss one week, we’re still in such infancy but it felt like a betrayal to the promise I made to myself. This week was also the first week since my meal service where I actually could not believe how good my Channa Pulao turned out to be; this was huge for me, not because of the channa pulao but not letting my imposter syndrome win and undermine my skill (victory), it was damn good channa pulao and I’ve literally eaten it four times this week. I was so excited to pack my orders and send them out, hoping that it would give comfort and peace to my clients who work so hard for their future, our collection future.
I’m still not finished with Ta Nehisi’s new book The Message, I’ve had to put it down and take breaks to walk and process and then come back to it. I’ve done this with nearly all of his books so I’m not surprised. I’m also reading My Nemesis by Charmine Craig and it is such a delicious story of female rivalry, I have loved reading it in the daytime with the air turning crisp and fall taking over, in a huge sweatshirt and a big cup of coffee. Highly recommend the books and the vibes.
Until next week,
Isra
The podcast behind this substack entry:
The Ezra Klein Show: ‘I felt lied to’ about Israel- Ta Nahesi Coates