The Cost of Conflict: A Family's Loss
Thirty-one members of my family were killed in a single airstrike. I cannot even fully comprehend that number. When you are living through this reality, every day, the question of how to use language becomes almost secondary to the question of survival and grief.
Terminology and the Politics of Naming
I want to address the controversy around my comments about Israeli hostages, because there is a distinction being made in how people are named and described that I believe deserves scrutiny. I did not question the status of hostages as hostages. What I questioned was why Palestinians who were taken from checkpoints, from schools, from shelters—including people in my own family—are called prisoners, while Israelis who were kidnapped are called hostages. Why should Emily and other Israeli hostages receive that designation while my loved ones do not? That was my question.
I have never denied that anyone is suffering. I know that everyone is suffering—Israelis and Palestinians alike. But the language we use matters. Why are Palestinian sufferings not acknowledged in the same way? Why are we called terrorists? Why are Palestinians who have been taken called prisoners of war, while Israelis taken from Israeli territory are named hostages? Does this terminology give them more humanity because they are Israeli, while my loved ones are named prisoners and are tortured?
Personal Experience of Detention
I was kept in detention myself for 53 hours. I was blindfolded and handcuffed. I was beaten in my face. I asked the Israeli soldiers to allow me to see a doctor, and they denied me any medical treatment. No one talks about this. No one acknowledges my suffering. Why are they given the privilege of being called hostages while I am called a detainee, a prisoner—named that way across all social media and news platforms? Why am I less human than anyone else?
The Question of Equal Humanity
You suggest the better approach would be to humanize everyone, to treat all humans equally. But that is precisely my point. Do you know what I am going through every day? I cannot even know the full number of family members who were killed. Thirty-one members of my family died in one airstrike. And in the midst of this, I am being asked how to use language correctly. The language itself—the words we choose to describe people and their suffering—is part of how some lives are valued and others are not.