Last week I sat down with my Dad over coffee to ask him a few questions about his experience protesting for Palestine. As far as interviews go, this one felt particularly vulnerable.
Growing up, my Dad always deferred from politics. Talking about politics in our house was almost forbidden. How could you blame him when he experienced first-hand the devastations of the civil, and geopolitical, war in Lebanon that left him and his 13 siblings displaced for several years, and then migrants to a completely new country at the age of 15?
But to my shock, in the middle of July, my Dad called me with youthful energy to say he was now attending the Palestine protests with my cousin every Sunday. Today, my Dad is still attending and I wanted to ask him why.
ZK: Let’s pretend for a moment that you’re a stranger. Who are you?
HK: My name is Hassan and I am Zeina and Josh’s Dad. I was born in El Khiam in Lebanon in 1965 and migrated to Australia in 1980. I have been in Australia for 44 years on August 1. I was a stay-at-home-Dad until my twins went to school. I am a business owner and of course, still a Dad.
I cheekily asked him who his favourite twin was growing up. To which his reply was:
HK: Well, let’s say your brother could twist your Mother’s arm and you could sometimes twist mine.
ZK: Dad, what do you know of Palestine?
HK: Culturally, Palestine is similar to Lebanon. We share foods, poets and history. My hometown actually shares a border with Palestine. I grew up with a mixed landscape of Syria and Palestine. There are quite a few refugee camps for Palestinian and Syrian refugees that have been in Lebanon for as long as I can remember. I’ve continued hearing and reading about Palestine since. Also, my cousin is married to a Palestinian man. They lived in the Ain al-Helwi refugee camp in Sidon, Lebanon for a while.
ZK: Had you ever attended a protest before?
HK: No. I feared protests and I was nervous there would be legal infringements or violence. I think that is also to do with how I was raised.
ZK: When did you decide to start attending the weekly protests and who do you go with?
HK: You already know this but I go with your cousin, my nephew. He is a young, intelligent man and great company. He has been going every week since October 7 and makes his way from Wollongong to attend. His dedication along with my heartbreak for my hometown and the devastation occurring is what prompted me to start attending last month.
ZK: At home we rarely speak about politics so why did you start engaging more now?
HK: I distracted myself from politics because of what I was confronted with for the first 15 years of my life. It still impacts me today. There are thousands of children and families who will be the same but far worse.
Like I said before, my hometown is on the border of this war and has been for decades. For years it has been subject to civil unrest and geopolitical mess. My brother and his family still live there and I have my own house there. Everyday I pray there is something more I can do than watch it happen on TV.
ZK: What is your experience like attending a protest?
HK: Initially I felt nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. But I almost immediately felt inspired and informed. That’s the difference. Different people of different backgrounds attend the protest and I feel proud to be attending.
ZK: In your opinion, what is the power of weekly protest pressure?
HK: I think, done peacefully, they definitely have a place in society. It is one of the most important ways for the common people to have their voices heard and to find other people with the same commitment. Also, the youth of today are driving the change. I wear the Students 4 Palestine shirt you got me and I feel proud of that. Fresh ideas come from the students and the youth, not those entrenched in power.
Interviewing my Dad felt surreal. I read and write of the devastation that has been occurring in the Middle East regularly but I subconsciously remove my Dad and our family from its orbit. In my mind,I refuse to allow my family to be victims of such desolation and injustice. However, my Dad doesn’t have the privilege of forgetting his hometown or the first house he grew up in when he sees it getting bombed on the news. He can’t smile happily about his past when his traumatic childhood was a product of wartime and subsequently, his adulthood living in the diaspora.
So when I ponder what prompted him to start protesting, I should think back to who I am interviewing, and the experiences that shaped him. Am I sitting across from a 15-year-old boy escaping war, a nervous new Father with twins in his arms or a proud man with a hope for peace? Maybe it’s all of the above.
