This essay is from Light in Gaza: Writings Born of Fire (August 2022) which is available as a free ebook from Haymarket Books. As the U.S. continues to fund and supply bombs for Israel’s genocidal campaign and as the corporate media continues to portray Palestinians as non-persons (even as Israel targets Palestinian journalists for assassination), the images captured by Palestinian civilians often provide the only window into their horrific reality.

Here, though, from Asmaa Abu Mezied, is a powerful explanation for the intent behind those photos and videos.

On Why We Still Hold Onto Our Phones and Keep Recording by Asmaa Abu Mezied

Why would someone running from falling Israeli missiles or huddled together with their family next to the rubble of a neighbor’s destroyed home, surrounded by artillerty shelling, be holding their phones to record the horror around them? (I have often seen these questions on social media, which displays an utter disregard for Palestinian suffering.)

I am writing this for us, not for them.

We hold onto our phones for dear life because we have learned the hard way that documenting what we are going through is very important to ensure that our narrative remains alive and remains ours. Our stories, our struggle and pain, and the atrocities committed against us for more than seven decades are being erased. The Israeli journalist Hagar Shezaf explained how Israeli Defense Ministry teams systematically removed historic documents from Israeli archives, which describe the killing of Palestinians, the demolition of their villages and the expulsion of entire Palestinian communities. (1) This is part of Israel’s attempt to constantly rewrite history in its favor. So, we hold tight to our phones and record.

We record to resist the labeling of our people as unworthy, if not inhuman, by the so-called “objective” Western media, which can barely say our names and tell our stories. We are always portrayed as terrorists, violent people–or as numbers, abstract and formless. We are repeatedly asked to prove our humanity so media channels can give us a few seconds of airtime.

So, we record to document not for their sake but for ours. We have been systematically brainwashed by the media to apologize for demanding justice. There is no gray area in calls for freedom or equality.

We hold onto our phones and leave the camera rolling, recording our tears, our screams at losing our fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and children, our anguish, our attempts to run for our lives, our crippling fears, our powerlessness to calm our children when our houses shake with the deafening sound of death delivered by F-35 missiles sent with love by the US government.

We hold onto that phone and leave the camera rolling to preserve our tormented calls to our mothers to stay alive under the rubble of our destroyed homes, our voices crying goodbye to our loved ones at their graves, trying to sound strong but failing, betrayed by our trembling lips and tear-filled eyes.

We must record our prayers to survive, our children’s joy when they find their toys intact and their pets alive. We record our strength and our vulnerability, our disappointment in our leadership, and our rage at the silence of the world. We record the smoke, the blood, the lost homes, the olive trees targeted, and livelihoods stolen. We record how much we aged and how much we continue to love life even though life doesn’t love us back.

We record for future generations, to tell them this is what truly happened. That we stood here, demanded our rights, fought for them, and were annihilated. We record not to humanize ourselves for others, but so that future generations will remember who we were and what we did . . . to warn them against all attempts at erasing our existence.

We record our plea for humanity’s help to end this horror, which is more than our cameras can bear.

————————————————–

(1) Hagar Shezaf, “Burying the Nakba: How Israel Systematically Hides Evidence of 1948 Expulsion of Arabs,” Haaretz, July 5, 2019.