Hiding my Palestinian identity in a bar in Tel Aviv

Concealing my Palestinian Identity in a Tel Aviv Bar

Hanin Majadli
Ha’aretz, 08/22/2024

Hanin Majadli is a Palestinian journalist working for the Israeli newspaper Ha’aretz

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On a recent Wednesday, after work, I found myself in a Tel Aviv bar for a meeting. Ever since the war began, I’ve been avoiding places predominantly occupied by Jews. The pervasive hostility is suffocating, and Tel Aviv, in particular, feels like a city seized by a Jewish-Zionist-patriotic fervor since October 7. This hostility isn’t new to me, save for one incident when I was denied a rental apartment.

During those times, it wasn’t just Jews who struggled with the presence of Arabs, seeking solace in their own communities and lamenting their victimhood. Arabs, too, were unable to bear Jewish aggression, which, at its worst, escalated to violence. Despite this, life pushed on – Tel Aviv remained Tel Aviv, and Israel, Judea.

On that Wednesday, as I left work, I carried with me Khaled Anabtawi’s latest book, The Dignity Uprising (May 2021) and the Popular Intifada among 1948 Palestinians – A Sociological Approach (Published by Mada al-Carmel in Arabic). The book, too large for my bag, was carried in my hand.

This made me somewhat anxious: the Palestinian flag adorned the cover, visible to passers-by on the street and, potentially worse, to those seated next to me on the train.

I can’t recall the last time I felt the need to tread so carefully. Since October 7, fear has been my constant companion – from the Arabic stickers on my laptop (which I now refrain from opening on the train) to the need to hide my book’s cover. What’s next? Will I have to suppress my accent? Perhaps I should start wearing a Star of David necklace?

Upon entering the bar, it felt as though I’d been transported back to 2019. Music filled the air, beautiful people and hipsters populated the scene, and the relaxed ambiance of Tel Aviv was palpable. I placed the book on the bar, and after a few inquiries about the menu, the bartender noticed the book and asked, “What’s this book about?” I told him it provided a sociological perspective on the May 2021 events within Palestinian society. He responded with a casual wallah (“wow” or “so what” in Hebrew slang), asking, “Why? What happened in May 2021?” To which I replied, “Nothing of significance.”

And so, my meeting commenced. I had forgotten my Arabic book by my side when two men sat down near me, gesturing towards it. They mumbled something, and I realized they were addressing me. “Excuse me, is there a problem?” I asked. Their response was swift: “It’s inappropriate for you to bring this book to this place, here in Israel.”

I was taken aback. “What did you say? How can you accuse me of shamelessly carrying a book with a terrorist flag on it? You’re telling me to be discreet, to not bring such a book to this place, here in Israel?”

I attempted to explain that I hadn’t brought the book to the Western Wall [the Wailing Wall – ed], but they instantly berated me: “It’s a terrorist flag, you should be ashamed. You shouldn’t be here with this terrorist flag.”

 

My mind raced: What should I say in response? Should I tell them it’s a Palestinian flag and that it’s legal? Should I inform them that it’s the flag of the Palestine Liberation Organization, which Israel has recognized? Should I point out that it’s not a terrorist flag and that even Benjamin Netanyahu has been photographed next to this flag? [1]

But then I recalled that I never justify myself against such accusations. Why should I have to defend myself? “Fine, it’s a terrorist flag and I’m a terrorist,” I retorted. “If it bothers you, find another place to sit.” To be honest, I felt a sense of relief.

 

 

[1] During a meeting with Hillary Clinton and Mahmoud Abbas, a Palestinian flag was present.