The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Have you ever stopped to think about who writes history? Whose version of a historical event is the objective truth? Have you ever considered that those in a position of power and privilege write history? Are we learning from multiple narratives of the past?

I’ve been rethinking how and who I learn from over the past two decades. I guess having your worldview blown open after visiting a Palestinian refugee camp can do that. I couldn’t make sense of what I witnessed. It bumped up against what I thought I knew, my American version of history. That created confusion that maybe I didn’t know. What if my knowledge was a lie or at the very least incomplete? Because sitting with Palestinian refugees and listening to their stories of displacement challenged my reality. 

Stories are powerful. 

Did you know that being listened to is a fundamental need human beings have? Have you ever shared your story with someone, maybe something painful or traumatic? To have someone listen deeply and validate your story? It’s life-giving. It’s healing to be seen and loved like that. 

I remember going to a play in Beirut put on by an NGO that worked with Syrian refugees. These women had been through months of therapy sessions to help process their trauma of being in a conflict. Their graduation was this play, each act was a real-life situation each woman faced, painful stories of loss and trauma. The audience of complete strangers acknowledged their most painful experiences. It was healing. I will never forget the faces of the women receiving that validation back to them. 

In Sayantani DasGupta’s Ted Talk, she talks about listening and opening deeply to people’s stories. She was using it in the medical profession. When this happens, she said, “It makes us (doctors) do our jobs better.” She calls it Narrative Humility. 

A few years ago, I was on a speaking tour with Palestinian and Jewish colleagues. I was always the last to speak and shared about the diaspora of Palestinian refugees. One night in California, I seemed to trigger a guy who talked over me as I presented. During Q&A he let me have it. I understand this happens because I am presenting a narrative that stands in direct opposition to what he considers truth. He went off on how lopsided this presentation was and how we had no Israeli voices. 

My Palestinian colleague said something I will never forget. He asked this man why he, as a Palestinian, needed an Israeli to sit next to him for his story to be heard? He had a valid point. It diffused the situation, and the gentleman backed down and listened. For those not in positions of power, we expect them to tell their stories in a way that is balanced, in a way that makes an audience (us) more comfortable. 

I liken it to sharing the pain of my childhood abuse with my father sitting next to me, my abuser. It puts me (a victim) in an unsafe position. Maybe it would be more balanced because my father could share his side or refute my story. But I could not share my truth. It might add to my trauma. The world would not hear my voice. That leaves an incomplete story and my deepest need to be heard, unsatisfied.

Think through what that means in history. Have you listened to a Palestinian share his/her story of displacement? Why do you think their voices are so underrepresented? How do we hold different narratives and why is history rarely told by people of color? Even if they have what we consider the qualifications, such as education, titles, degrees and expertise. 

I’ve seen a narrative shift with Israel’s operation in Gaza this past May. Reports from Palestinians in Gaza gave a fuller picture of what was going on.

There was also more Palestinian representation in the media during the bombardment and the eminent displacement in Sheikh Jarrah. Still not enough Palestinian voices, but it was a shift to have Palestinian narrative in mainstream media. 

Multiple narratives to historical or current events give a fuller picture and create a more complex, rich understanding of the past. It also helps unravel complicated current events by giving context. This has been key for my research, listening to and learning from Palestinians—their family history, current situation, and struggle. 

Then we need to amplify their voices. 

Education is my number one suggestion to understand that this isn’t a just conflict, there is an immense imbalance of power. It’s about an occupier and an occupied. That’s the power structure, and dominant narrative is linked to those in power. 

I have been working with Palestinian refugees for 18 years and I continue to veraciously consume podcasts, books, and videos so I can communicate and teach in an ever-changing situation. One must constantly be a lifelong learner if one is committed to justice and helping others.

My suggestion will always be to familiarize yourself with a Palestinian voice. Read The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi. He is a Palestinian American historian of the Middle East, the Edward Said Professor of Modern Arab Studies at Columbia University, and Director of the Middle East Institute of Columbia’s School of International and Public Affairs. 

The book is excellent, and a much-needed historical commentary on the war waged against Palestinian people. It is academic but also personal with accounts of his family’s story woven throughout. 

This is an easy way to open yourself deeply to Palestinian narrative to have a richer, more complete view of the history.  

It could be the first step for us to do better by the Palestinian people.  

"All knowledge that is about human society, and not about the natural world, is historical knowledge, and therefore rests upon judgment and interpretation. This is not to say that facts or data are nonexistent, but that facts get their importance from what is made of them in interpretation… for interpretations depend very much on who the interpreter is, who he or she is addressing, what his or her purpose is, at what historical moment the interpretation takes place." — Edward W. Said