Migrant, refugee, displaced / my ID bears brutal chapters / I did not choose to write

The sun will rise again, and we refuse to become refugees again. This is our home and our land.

I am a Palestinian with American citizenship living in Lebanon. And that imposes a great responsibility.

Displaced Palestinians are foreigners wherever they go.

Traveling out of Gaza was my dream, but reality was different.

I could no longer wait for change. So I set out to make it happen.

They jumped from the fire to a frying pan, but these Syrians are making a home in Gaza.

I had been accepted, but then came the news: “I am terribly sorry, but we don’t hire Palestinians.”

I never thought I would feel the degree of sadness I have experienced the last few days, during the clashes taking place in Ein El-Helweh camp.

My brother Adel left Gaza to find freedom. This is the second chapter of his story, which takes him to Greece.

It was about three years before I finally gathered the courage to ask my mother to share the story of her visit to Gaza with my father.