we are not numbers

emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights

The Gaza sea, with a view of the buildings onshore.

My homeland, a narcissist!

Gaza treats me badly, but it has been wronged as well — hurt, abused, destroyed, exploited, neglected for decades.
Young woman in hijab on the beach.
Dima Shamaly
  • Gaza Strip
The Gaza sea, with a view of the buildings onshore.
The sea that screams ‘staaay!’ Photo: Dima Shamaly

On a listless Sunday afternoon, I was hanging with friends whom I’d known in Gaza City before we’d all been displaced. They were playing “Identity Topics,” a game we knew from our childhood but that I had never enjoyed playing.

“What about you, Dima?” my friend asked.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a second, what is it?” In a low voice I told her that I didn’t know it was my turn. I felt disassociated from the game and my friends; the topic was heavy and I couldn’t bear listening to all their good memories of, and moments in, Gaza.

As if to make me feel relaxed, she then added, “It’s okay, we are talking about our homeland Gaza, and your relationship with it.” I didn’t want to talk about it, but I said, “Hmmm. You can move the turn, give me some time to think.”

At first, my brain turned into a dictionary, millions of words but I couldn’t find any to describe how I felt. Instead, there was a dialogue going on in my mind: Is my relationship with my homeland sacred? As a displaced person, does it feel memorable? Strong? Frustrating? Overwhelming? No no no, toxic. Yes, it’s toxic. No, not exactly toxic. I think I found the word — yes, narcissistic! My relationship with my homeland is narcissistic.

Then my mind turned into a tape of flashbacks: I have loved Gaza from the depths of my heart; it has shaped me, my memories, and my stories. It is the place where I belong, the place that made my past, my present, and likely also, my future. I have belonged to every street corner and its sea was my refuge.

However, Gaza has never loved me back. It’s a complicated relationship, no different from my own experience with narcissists, and so this definition fits my homeland exactly. It is confusing and complex because you, and they, know that you will stick together in this lifetime and likely also die together. I always knew that I would never forsake my homeland even if I left it, forcibly or by choice.

But just like any narcissist, my homeland has never cared about anyone but itself, a paranoid place, delusional — thinking it was better than it really was. In reality, my homeland is just a third world country; the basics of life were never met, it never gave me anything, not even the bare minimum.

A narcissist usually argues that the reason for treating you with hostility is because they are better, smarter, more mature, and so they know what is best for you. Do they do that so you blindly trust and follow their lead without using your brain? That’s what my homeland did and is doing; its controllers try to convince me that they know what is best for me, so occasionally I am left with no choice or voice to speak out, and no right to stand up for myself.

Other techniques in manipulation include following their lead against your will; and, when everything falls apart around you, you have just yourself to blame because you chose to follow. If you try to leave, success is impossible as they won’t let you go, and in any case you wouldn’t want to leave because a part of you believes that you cannot function without them.

Exactly this is happening to me! Whenever I complain about this city, it keeps asking why haven’t I left like other Gazans, and when I had the chance. However, Gaza always convinced me to stay; my people in Gaza wanted me to stay, my family would lose the daughter who is available to do the littlest tasks around the house as well as provide emotional support, my friends wouldn’t receive free counseling and assistance in problem solving, and the homeless animals wouldn’t find someone to feed them. These streets feel like home, the air so different you can smell belonging everywhere. And the sea — the beautiful wide blue sea always screams: “Staaaay!”

For all these reasons I cannot leave. And then my Gaza embraces me from behind and whispers “Please, please, get out — I can’t give you the life you’re seeking, I took your home, food, water, money, everything. And if you think this is the end, I am going to cause you even more suffering.”

Once, in a rebellious mood during the 2021 war, I went to Revolution Street, close to my house, and on the wall I scrawled, “Let’s burn this city down.” Then I took my diary, listed all the toxicity I felt towards the city, and cursed it. I never expected it to curse me back, but it happened in its own way: An intense war that took out my family and many friends and made my trauma stronger. I wished back then, from all my heart, that if I could choose emotional safety over physical comfort I would willingly live in garbage for the rest of my life, as long as I could get away from this unsafe place.

A street with high walls on each side and a shade tree.
A view from Revolution Street in Gaza. Photo: Dima Shamaly

“DIMA! Don’t be a devil. These horrible memories must bring sympathy as well.” The voice inside me, just for a second, made me realize that the narcissists I have known also have their own dark side, wronged and going through experiences that they don’t talk about, which taught them to act like victims as a survival mechanism, so people take notice. Not so much to justify their actions but so that their actions are seen as reasonable.

I thought about all this from Gaza’s perspective. It has been wronged as well, it has been hurt, abused, destroyed, raped, tortured, poisoned, mistreated, exploited, neglected for decades with no one to see it, no one to care for it or its people. My Gaza is also traumatized, and what it is doing to its people, including to me, is a trauma response. Just as narcissists haven’t chosen to be the way they are, my homeland has also not chosen to be the way it is as a result of restrictions and decades-long cruel occupation. The same way I never blamed narcissists for being the way they are, and instead helped them to heal, my homeland needs to be healed. To be able to give love and support to its citizens, it must receive love and support. I can neither blame nor curse it.

I should sacrifice my life to help Gaza heal; I love it from the deepest part of my heart, even though I never received its love. The pieces of my heart that it has broken will always love and belong to it. Maybe it is right that being with narcissists is hard, but fixing them and then sticking with them forever in this lifetime and beyond is the best thing I could do for them. And I think I should do that for Gaza as well — I should sacrifice my life to help Gaza heal. The pieces of my heart that it has broken I will always love and it will belong to it. It may be hard to stay with something that causes pain, but I believe that helping it heal and committing to its future is the most meaningful thing I can do. And I think that’s what I should do for Gaza as well. …

I turned back to the gathering, my body language suggesting that I was ready to answer. My friend said, “You, delusional crybaby! Have you got an answer yet?”

“Possibly,” I mumbled.

“Speak up!” she said. “You don’t have to explain anything. Just say it.” I gazed into her green cat eyes, took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and said, “Nothing. It’s all good. My relationship with Gaza is good.” I then got up and went back to my tent.

Kumkum Amin.
Mentor: Kumkum Amin

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