Marginalized Gettin' Marginalized All Over Again

Shatila Palestinian refugee camp, Beirut, Lebanon. August 2019. Photo courtesy of Shelby Mathis.

Years ago, I sat on a rooftop in Bourj el-Barajneh Palestinian refugee camp with a friend’s family in mourning. My friend had lost his father. He was a refugee born in the camp to parents who fled Palestine during the Arab/Israeli War in 1948. He died in the same camp as a refugee. For his 50+ years of life, the refugee camp was his entire world.

Something that is regularly missed when we debate refugees or migrants is the vulnerability of their lives. That refugee I mentioned went his whole life without basic human rights of employment, healthcare, and education. He didn’t take part in the social or political makeup of the country of Lebanon. He lived through the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, a bloody civil war, and massacres of Palestinian refugees as an unwelcome guest. He was never allowed to return to his homeland.

While I did not know this man, I cried as I overlooked the camp, realizing this was his only view for his entire life.

We often vilify migrants and refugees as criminals or as people that want to hurt us in some way. After 20+ years of working with refugees in the Middle East and helping to resettle refugees in the United States, I have found that to be blatantly false. Refugees are escaping violence and inconceivable trauma. Refugees do not want to leave their countries but have no choice. All of them want to live a life in safety and provide for their families. Many people from around the world see America as a place where they would be accepted and safe; a country of dreams.

Last month was the 40th anniversary of the Sabra/Shatila massacre. It took place in two Palestinian refugee camps in Beirut during the Israeli invasion. The Israeli army encircled the camp while a Christian Lebanese militia went in and slaughtered over 3,000 refugees in retribution for crimes committed by the PLO[1]. The Israelis ensured that women, the elderly, and children could not escape. How do I know that there was a vulnerable population there? Because the PLO and its 13,000 fighters were evacuated only weeks before, leaving a civilian refugee population in the middle of a bloody civil war. The United States and a multi-national force assured that it would protect the remaining Palestinian refugees and civilians in the PLO’s absence. A promise not kept.

Fast forward to a lunch I was having in one camp in 2011. A man I was working with invited met to his home and I dreaded attending it. I didn’t care for him or how he worked with children. He was abusive and overbearing. But after being invited repeatedly for lunch, I couldn’t decline. When we entered his home, his wife had laid the newspaper on the floor and dotted it with small bowls of dips, salads, and cooked vegetables. It was apparent to me; she had been cooking for a good 24 hours to prepare for my visit.

I sat and talked with my coworker while we ate. After the first course, they brought out fried fish. Arabs serve fish to guests they want to honor. I felt like a jerk for disliking him because I knew they spent a chunk of their monthly income for this one meal for me. In making small talk, I asked where he grew up. He responded with, “Right here in the camp.” We were about the same age, and I quickly did the math in my head. I asked if he was here during the Sabra/Shatila massacre in 1982. He said yes, and I asked if he was comfortable talking about it. He was very matter of fact in recounting events in order as he experienced them. His family escaped through a gap that the Israelis were not patrolling. They returned the next morning to a mound of bodies piled in the center of the camp to prepare for burial. He only got emotional when he talked of the smell of decomposing bodies in Beirut’s heat and humidity. Something, he said, he would never get over—the smell.

I cried about what he experienced with trauma and injustice. But also, for my judgment of him. He was much more adjusted and functional than I could have been as a survivor. It was a moral lesson for me about the reality of the trauma experienced by the people group I serve. I need to be constantly aware of how this plays out for Palestinians in the present and how I react. Do I fully understand? No. Can I enter into the pain with them? Maybe, but I can show compassion.

The difference between myself and a person who is displaced is that I have protections and rights afforded to me as a citizen of the United States. I have resources and systems as a safety net. When I lose my job, I can file for unemployment. I have access to health insurance even without an employer. I had a free elementary education. All these opportunities a State provides.

The difference is I have not had to flee my country of birth.

And luck.

I highlight the vulnerability of refugees, particularly Palestinians because we never address refugee status or what it really means. There are over 5.6 million Palestinians registered as refugees with the U.N. for over 74 years. A good question to think about is why Palestinians are still refugees without basic rights after eight decades. Generations of refugees are ignored because it is somewhat inconvenient for us to engage the topic. We refuse to seek justice for them.

Marginalized people around the world continue to be marginalized politically just like the Palestinians. Somehow their lives are less valuable and are repeatedly used as pawns in games powerful people play.

 That’s why chartering a plane to ship migrants and refugees to another state as a political stunt is abhorrent to me. Once again, a human being is used for someone’s political advantage while adding to their trauma. The authorities gave no thought to their well-being and people were dishonest with them. They used their defenseless position to benefit their political agenda and doing so marginalized them once more.

I am mixing quotes attributed to Gandhi, Vice President Humphreys, and writer Pearl Buck because they all had a point. I think the moral test of government is how we manage the most vulnerable of our society. It is also a measure of an individual and society how we treat those on the margins.

It is up to us to hold governments and each other accountable to ensure rights for every person on this planet. This makes us all worthy.

[1] The Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) was established in 1964 and has been the embodiment of the Palestinian national movement.