Being both Hungarian and Palestinian confuses things for me, now more than ever. I say this because earlier in life, I never thought about the political aspect of things. The approach that separates people from one another. The approach that divides families. The approach that leads to the breaking apart of countries; resulting in the displacement and loss of thousands of homes and their people. 

     Being Palestinian means not knowing. Not knowing when my families’ homes will be torn apart. Not knowing who to expect when reading the next Instagram flyer of another death of an innocent soul, or an innocent child, even. Not knowing when the next season of the war will erupt. Not knowing who to trust and who to shy away from. Not knowing who to buy our bread from. Not knowing who will be the next to call it a two-sided conflict rather than a genocide. 

     Being partly Hungarian but also Palestinian means to know what it’s like to live the life described above, whilst having to continue to live a life in which those around you question the cruelty of the other side. It means to have to listen to people tell you that it’s two-sided. It means having to bear with reading the news of Hungary’s support of Israel and their wrongdoings. It means having to deal with attempting to educate the stubborn on what they refuse to believe. 

     The side of the innocent is only the side of the Palestinians. And no, one cannot use the excuse of wanting to stay out of politics. Not this time. Not the time in which innocent children and pregnant mothers are tortured to death in the blink of an eye. This is not your time to stay out of it. This is the time in which Palestinians need your efforts to raise awareness. To boycott. To include us in your conversations. And to defend us when attacked by the soulless.