Future Machine Summer 2024 Update

Emerging Voices is pleased to present an update from Rachel Jacobs on her journey with Future Machine, an interactive artwork designed to encourage conversation and action on our ongoing climate crisis. For background and more stories, see Rachel's work in our Archives.

Future Machine: When The Future Comes,  2024

Future Machine is a deliberately heavy, cumbersome, technologically complex, slow and somewhat mysterious being. An interactive artwork, it prompts those who meet it to consider the future and be a witness to change. In some sense, Future Machine might be thought of as a mythical creature, a totem, a being that appears as if from nowhere as the seasons change. A child said it looks like a witch. It captures the imagination as people stroke it and laugh at its wobbly, clunky movements. Many are drawn to it, returning each year when it makes its appearance.

2024 has been a busy year for Future Machine and the artists of  'When the Future Comes Project’. In 2024, after a year of no funding, we received much needed money from the Arts Council of England to continue this ambitious 30 year project. As this longitudinal project evolves, we are aware that each year will be different. Sometimes we’ll expand, sometimes we’ll hardly manage to be present at all – as in 2020 and 2023. A cardboard effigy of Future Machine may appear or we may just walk by, filming and taking photos. Perhaps we’ll simply gather with a few people around a tree.

As part of this year's funding commitment, we explored ways to tell the wider story of When the Future Comes, based on the five places across England where Future Machine has appeared:  Christ Church Gardens, a memorial garden in Nottingham; Finsbury Park, a large urban park in north London; the Windermere-Leven waters in rural Cumbria; Peppard, an Anglo-Saxon village in Oxfordshire; and Cannington, Somerset, an ancient village, now becoming a commuter town for Hinkley Point C Nuclear Power Station.

We have begun to tell the story through objects and moments in time, captured by the collaborating artists in each place. We have created a 'Cabinet of Curious Places' to hold the objects and stories. This ‘cabinet’ can unfold as an exhibition, enabling people to follow trails and threads and scan QR codes. A large banner provides a backdrop to the cabinet, representing this journey with a map, along with a key to the places represented by hand embroidered QR codes.

The aim is to make sense of things that hold these five places together, that reveal their uniqueness, their beauty and peculiarities. This has been a challenging process, and it continues to shape itself. Most probably, we will be unable to tell a coherent story of these sites. Yet Future Machine appears in each place once a year, its presence binding the sites together over time. The cabinet has just been exhibited at Derby Cathedral as part of a larger exhibition called 'Our Stories Are Wild', featuring artistic works exploring connections with nature, curated by one of the collaborating artists Caroline Locke.

THIS YEAR’S JOURNEY

First, we took a walk along the lanes of Peppard, meeting families leaving the primary school at the end of the day on the Spring Equinox. Over 50 people came to the Cricket Pavilion on a Sunday afternoon to celebrate the end of winter and the Spring Equinox. A break in the wet weather brought us a beautifully warm day. People met Future Machine, listened to Oxfordshire's collaborating artist Juliet Robson's sound works and toasted the coming of Spring 2024 with damson gin. Some of us went with Future Machine to the community-managed Unicorn Pub to watch the sun go down.

Soon thereafter, Future Machine returned to Nottingham to meet under blossoming trees. This year brought the wettest Spring ever recorded in Britain. The trees were not looking healthy. They had blossomed a full month earlier than in 2018, the first time we met there. When we gathered, the blossoms were nearly gone, pink petals on the ground. We celebrated the change in heart of the council to cement over the rose garden and place cement blocks with chess boards on them, covered with words celebrating nature. They agreed to move this to the playground and instead plant six more cherry trees.

With the local youth service, the Toy Library, and the local Mellers Primary School, we made plants and creatures from rubbish and waste. We surrounded the cherry tree with these funny human-rubbish-made beings. People met Future Machine, spoke to the future and listened to messages from the past. Nottingham's collaborating artist, Frank Abbott, filmed participants walking around the tree with their beings made of rubbish. A most memorable moment was when Future Machine played a message from Oxfordshire, made a couple of weeks earlier, full of bird song. When the message stopped playing, there was silence, sudden awareness of the absence of birds singing out the Spring in these inner city gardens. 

In July, we made Future Machine's annual summer appearance at Cannington Primary School in Somerset. We met with every class, each group coming out to the playground where the collaborating artist Caroline Locke had planted trees with the school in 2022. Each class was invited to write a poem to speak to the future. 

These poems were based on Caroline's concept of a Tree Crier. Based on the old Town Criers, the children dressed in costume, and rang Caroline's tree bell. The bell is tuned to the frequency of the Cannington hornbeam tree Caroline herself planted on the village playing fields, when she was a pupil at the school in the 1970s. Every child had a chance to turn Future Machine’s handle, push the lever, speak to the future. The teachers were given the stories printed out of Future Machine. These will serve as prompts to discuss climate and environmental change, the importance of planting trees and of being a witness to when the future comes. 

WHAT’S NEXT?

We are now preparing for Future Machine to go to Cumbria at the end of Summer.  We have much to think about. How can we sustain the project into next year? What next for the Cabinet of Curiosities?  Can we continue to move such a large, heavy object as Future Machine around the country as we all get older? How can we reduce the carbon footprint of the journeys between each place?

As with our need to change our ways of being and reconnect with the natural world (that we are at once part of and have made a false separation from), committing to these five places with this heavy artwork is difficult. It is at various times painful, wonderous and inspiring. It gives us artists hope, and appears to inspire hope in those who encounter it. 

Most of all, it seems to inspire change. In Peppard, people say they now look forward to gathering together after the long winter. A new collaboration is evolving to create an accessible path through the local woods, which we hope to be able to traverse at the next Spring Equinox. In Nottingham, people are giving attention to the previously overlooked memorial gardens and new trees are being planted. In Cannington, trees have also been planted and the school is working on innovative ways to think about the environment. In Cumbria, Future Machine connects to a growing awareness of access to and quality of the waters. In London, Future Machine's collaborating artists have been invited to facilitate an ongoing arts, ecology and music residency, alongside a community gardening project in the most derelict corner of the large, urban Finsbury Park.

To find out more about Future Machine's next appearances in Cumbria in September and Finsbury Park in November visit: https://www.whenthefuturecomes.net/

To find out more about The Commons Residency and Community Gardening Project in Finsbury Park visit: https://www.whenthefuturecomes.net/residency/

Palestine Voices: Jana Alhanafi

Jana Alhanafi is mentored by David Heap at We Are Not Numbers

This is our third publication of works by Palestinians. These creatives are supported and mentored by We Are Not Numbers.

The past week has brought a shattering series of events. As is so often the case in these polarised times, too many responses are full of hatred, violence, revenge, unholy rejoicing over past deaths and baying for more destruction.

For all of us who long for peace, this is a challenging time. Let’s not give up on the quest to build connections, and find ways to move through the brokenness all around us.

Rose Levinson, Ph.D.

Founder of Emerging Voices

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Jana Alhanafi

Our Palestinian writer, Jana Alhanafi, lives in Lebanon. She is mentored by WANN (We Are Not Numbers). Note: this story was written before October 2023.

Jana Alhanafi

An image reveals a Palestinian love story in Lebanon, weaving together resilience, culture, and emotions.

A revelatory conversation about a photo from my parents’ wedding came on a day when I was exhausted from my previous night’s work. I had been watching news of the fires engulfing the forests of the south in Lebanon, very close to where I live and threatening nearby compounds. My work in news editing forces me to stay up late during such urgent events. Also that day, I had to present research about ethical values in my journalism course on campus, so I was very tired when I finally hurried home.

The next morning, I discovered one photo among the old photographs in a room of our home that echoes with stories of individual lives interwoven into a family tapestry. It was the photo of my parents’ wedding. Its edges had gently curled with age.

It’s more than just an image, as my dad said. It’s a testament of the love they still share. His eyes spoke louder than words.

Image of a wedding in a Palestinian village by Ibrahim Ghannam. Courtesy of the Palestine Poster Project Archives.

“It is a timeless moment,” my mom noted. “We had to wait five years to take this photo.”

As if traveling in time, we were transported to that momentous event.

My parents were each just twenty years old when they met at their university, but they were strong enough to fight for their dream of becoming a family, our family. They had to convince their families to accept their choice at a time when marrying for love was not accepted. Twenty-one years ago, Arab society didn’t recognize love as a reason for marriage—or rather, it considered that love should be a secret between the two lovers only. It was expected that families should participate in choosing a partner, either the bride or the groom, and they should even set conditions on who the partner could be.

My parents insisted on breaking these rules. They chose each other and, after a long series of conflicts, united both families with their love. My eighty-year-old grandma told me the beautiful truth about them: “Palestine taught them to be brave when they take up a vital issue. Be like your parents!”

Shared smiles turned to gentle tears as our collective journey through their wedding photo evoked a profound sense of connection between us. My parents’ words captured the very essence of their relationship. They happily shared stories about the obstacles that delayed their engagement for five years.

“Challenges are evidence for true love,” my mother said proudly as she explained that they couldn’t find space in the Palestinian refugee camp for a new house. They spent tough years with limited finances, struggling desperately to afford a home outside the camp. My dad didn’t find a job for two years, but then finally was hired by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) school. This reflects another nightmare for Palestinians in Lebanon: they are subject to restrictions on employment and often require work permits that can be difficult to obtain, in order to work as a lawyer or a journalist. This is in addition to limited access to job opportunities for everyone due to the serious economic situation in Lebanon.

My mother also found work as an English teacher in an UNRWA school, and she and my father finally saved up enough money. They rented the house that I was born in, which had to be registered in the name of a Lebanese owner.

The most significant lesson I’ve learned from my mother’s eyes, which are bright when she talks about their story, is that love can really motivate us to persevere through difficulties. “It is the sense of purpose that pushes us. Our families lived through one Nakba. If your dad and I were not together now, it would be like a second catastrophe for me.”

Their happiness was more than a fleeting emotion; it became the foundation of the life they built together. As they described the tender moments leading to their wedding ceremony, I silently realized that we were embarking on a journey into their past together.

My dad enjoyed telling us about the pre-wedding customs. Firstly, he told us about zaffa, a party involving the groom, his family, and friends where they dance and sing in the streets of the camp, accompanied by traditional songs like “Ya Zarifa Altol.”

In keeping with Palestinian traditions, my father and his male relatives dressed in typical Palestinian attire including a thobe, or long embroidered robe, and kuffiyeh, a traditional scarf.

The story becomes more beautiful when it comes to Palestinian food at weddings. It is not only about traditional dishes like maqluba and mansaf, but also the warm atmosphere created as family members and friends share in cooking and serving.

Like the wedding preparation for men, Palestinian weddings are rich in special traditions for women, also. The henna night, a pre-wedding party for women, was the most meaningful event for my mom. The bride and her friends gathered to apply henna designs on their hands and feet. My mother’s henna party was full of dance and Palestinian sweets like tamreyya and namoura that my grandmother prepared. She is proud of the delicious sweets she served!

Concerning the wedding dress, my mother’s old photo show that hers had intricate embroidery. The most beautiful surprise about this dress was that it was embroidered with threads that came from Yafa (Jaffa). These threads show that we are always connected to Palestine. Even two generations after the Nakba, my grandmother kept the threads to make my mother’s dress. My sister and I can only wish to have a wedding dress like my mother’s!

Loving touches are also present in the gifts that guests bring to the bride, especially jewelry. My mom still keeps most of her gifts with my father’s kuffiyeh, as the guardians of their happiness and blessings.

The pre-wedding rituals ended with the large wedding ceremony at which bride and groom meet. “As I stood beside your beloved mom, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in a bubble of shared emotions,” my dad said happily.

It was the unforgettable night where they had their first dance together. As they held each other and moved with the music, their love story was beautifully choreographed. It was a chapter that began with a dance but unfolded into a lifetime of challenges and mainly love.

Their final party was held in a large venue, as was expected for them because of the huge number of relatives they have. My grandfather always says that there were not enough chairs for everyone to sit. Dabkeh, the traditional Palestinian dance, still takes center stage at weddings, even Palestinian weddings in Lebanon. This is evidence that the traditional customs and meaningful rituals rooted in Palestinian culture can cross boundaries.

As I looked with my parents at their wedding photo and traveled back to the past with them, the weight of my exhaustion melted away. The world’s demands faded into the background. I could exhale because I had learned that Palestine is still alive in customs that showcase heritage and maintain a sense of cultural identity. The love of family is the unbreakable thread that weaves together our most cherished memories and supports us through every chapter of our life as Palestinians in Lebanon.

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Along with other Palestinian writers, Jana works with WANN mentor David Heap.

Here’s David on how he became involved with We Are Not Numbers.

Note: This biographical statement was written before the events of Oct. 2023, as was Jana’s story.

When a small group of volunteers founded the Canadian Boat to Gaza campaign in 2010, we knew that Palestinians in Gaza face major obstacles to being heard internationally. Very few international media pick up Palestinian voices when discussing the Israeli occupation of Palestine in general, and the blockade of Gaza in particular. As part of the international Freedom Flotilla Coalition, we put ourselves and our boats on the line to challenge the Israeli naval blockade of Gaza. As important, we prioritized amplifying Palestinian voices in international forums.

When I was finally able to reach Gaza in 2012, as part of an academic delegation, my colleagues and I were struck by the eloquence of the Palestinian students we met at Gaza universities. They had so much to tell us – and the world – about everything from their lives under the Israeli blockade to their unique perspectives on world issues. We owed it to them to get their voices heard. When I learned about We Are Not Numbers, I saw this as an opportunity to put my writing and editing skills to work, helping break the media blockade against Gaza voices. The mentoring process has been mutually enriching: I learn about Palestinian lives in Gaza while they learn about writing and story-telling.

Most of the mentoring I have done with young writers from We Are Not Numbers has involved young Palestinians in Gaza. But recently I was asked to mentor a diaspora Palestinian with her story about her family. This helped me realize that while the media blockade is most severe against Palestinians in Gaza, in fact all Palestinian voices suffer internationally from various degrees of erasure.

So when WANN began its project this year with Palestinians in Lebanon, I was pleased to mentor Jana Alhanafi's story about how family wedding traditions help keep Palestinian traditions alive across the generations. And while I played no role in mentoring it, I was fascinated to read Samer Maysar Manaa's account of stateless "Palestinian non-IDs" in Lebanon.

At the Freedom Flotilla, our work remains focused on challenging the illegal and inhumane sea blockade of Gaza. More broadly, we continue to advocate for freedom of movement for all Palestinians, wherever they live, including the right of return to 1948 Palestine. At the same time, we are committed to helping break the media blockade against Palestine. Our ongoing collaborations with We Are Not Numbers fits into both of these efforts.

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David Heap is an Associate Professor of French and Linguistics (affiliated with Gender,Sexuality and Women's Studies) at the University of Western Ontario, Canada. He helped found the Canadian Boat to Gaza campaign in 2010.

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Palestinian Voices: Sally Abed, Standing Together

Sally Abed was the featured presenter at an online event hosted by emergingvoices.co.uk on January 18, 2023. Co-hosts and co-producers were Molly Freeman and Rose Levinson.

These are edited excerpts from the session. To listen to the entire presentation, head here.

Sally Abed is a Palestinian leader of Standing Together, an organisation that fights for the end of occupation, the end of differential treatment of Jews and non Jews in Israel and better conditions for all Israelis. Sally also co-hosts the podcast Groundwork. She lives in Haifa.

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My name is Sally Abed. I'm a Palestinian. I'm also an Israeli citizen.

One day, telling my Jewish friend our family story, I said, “Grandma, can you tell my friend your crazy stories that I grew up with? And she shouted at me for the first time I remember, and said, “We don't tell these stories to Jews.”

We exist separately in parallel universes. We need to not only work towards coexistence, but toward partnership and shared life, shared society, which is completely different.

We Palestinians are always living a conditional existence, conditional democracy, conditional citizenship, conditional professional advancements. There are spaces where real partnerships still happen. Very rarely, but very surely. Standing Together is definitely one of them. We are not only two different peoples. We are all part of a much larger majority. It’s us, all of us.

I believe in the new us, and I deeply feel I'm part of a majority in Israeli society. Not just Israel, but Israel Palestine. We are all part of the majority of people who deserve peace and equality and social justice in our shared homeland.

You have heard about the anti-government protests. Standing Together organized the first of these protests. You saw the photos. As a Palestinian, I identified myself as a Palestinian. I extended my hand for partnership. I felt part of this with all the 30,000 people there. And when I came off the stage, many women came to me saying, “why are you ruining this?” I asked, “what do you mean?” They said, “no one wants to hear about Palestine right now, and about the Occupation. People don't want to know you’re Palestinian.”

The next day there was so much buzz about the protest and its success. It was a success. But I felt really sad. Because I was like, oh no, my war is not only against the fascist government and radicals who openly want me out of here, out of my homeland. But I need to fight with the other half that still insists on giving me a conditional partnership.

Standing Together realizes this is a historic moment.

We need to be brave. And by bravery, I mean I want my Jewish partners to be more accepting and more understanding of the fact that we need to be as broad a movement as possible.

And I don't mean just Palestinians and Jewish citizens of Israel. I also mean being brave enough to include the ultra orthodox community and to include the peripheries, the Mizrahi and Ethiopians. That's the political story Standing Together seeks to build.

We need to define a new ‘us’ as a broad coalition that understands we share an interest in peace and equality and in social and climate justice. That's the politics. Now, how do we do it?

What we understand is that mobilizations, even mass mobilizations, are not enough. You need to sustainably build power for social change. Standing Together has over 4000 monthly sustaining members organized around 8 different local chapters as well as 9 student chapters on campuses. We have over 60 people, half Palestinian half Jewish, who are leading our movement around issues of peace and anti Occupation.

We also lead progressive social campaigns. For example, our campaign over the last year and a half has been about a livable wage. During that campaign, we were able to mobilize women, ultra orthodox women and Palestinian women, who work together.

Despair is losing our belief in our ability to change. And the opposite of that is hope, our ability--and our belief in our ability--to change. I believe we have the ability to change things. And that's what hope is. And you can't have that by yourself. You can't maintain that by yourself.

It's probably the most difficult thing you can do, to be hopeful during these moments. If you despair and you don't believe in your ability to change, then you don't have to do anything, right? It liberates you. But if you cling to hope, you realize you actually have to do something.

The good news is when you are in an organized community, it's much easier. Even if you fail, you always know what the next step is because you have a strategy. When you organize, you have a community, and you have like-minded people who understand your DNA, who understand your strategy, who understand that if this step doesn't work, there are others that will.

And you never lose. You just learn.

I say this in general, and especially to Americans: one way you can have an impact is by giving us platforms from which to be heard.

We want people to get to know people on the ground and actually feel the complexities. It’s one reason for our podcasts. And you get a completely fresh perspective that is usually non-binary.

It's always surprising to people, but a lot of the Palestinian solidarity movements are completely overlooking that there are people living in Israel, both Palestinians and Israels. And their talk of the boycott, the BDS movement, for example, or the anti normalization movements, limit the conversation.

I don't think it's right for Palestinian people to ask people to boycott settlements or the IDF. I don't think they should boycott us. Israeli organizations, social justice organizations, and peace organizations are working not only in solidarity with Palestinians, but with a clear understanding that we need to build political will and the political capital within Israeli society for peace.

And we need to understand that people here also suffer from systemic discrimination, from inequality, from poverty, from racism, from police brutality. Not just Palestinians. You have Ethiopians and the Mizrahi and former USSR immigrants. There are many marginalized communities that face a lot. And we need to organize them.

I always say to people abroad, if you are pro Palestinian liberation, you necessarily have to be pro Israeli people. And vice versa. These are the messages I would ask you to tell people. And the third thing, which is the obvious one, is monetary. Not just donations. You in the community abroad are much better at crowdfunding, for example.

We are a broad grassroots movement. We’re unlike NGOs, specialized professional organizations that do a specific thing. We organize around many issues. We have a Green New Deal, for example, that we organize with the Green Cause, a green movement.

We work closely with Power to the Workers, a democratic trade union. We work with Climate Justice, talking about a just transition, talking about how the workforce and climate interact.

Of course, we work with anti-Occupation groups such as Combatants for Peace, Breaking the Silence and the Parents Forum, all of these peace organizations. On the minimum wage, we collaborate with ADVA, a center which prepares professional reports about social and economic issues and inequality in Israel. There's so many. We are trying to build an ecosystem, basically, of the new political current. And we're trying to spread our theory of change for people to understand that our role is to be a lever that moves everyone to the Left.

Israel is outsourcing the occupation to the PA. The Palestinian people don't have their own democratic institutions which represent their political will.

We had an Arab minister for the first time in Israeli history. So the question is, representation versus partnership. No, I don't want to increase representation for the sake of just increasing representation.

I want to see a final product where we see real political partnerships that don't exist right now. After we build real political partnerships on the grassroots level, we believe change will occur. That's why I'm trying to understand what the road map can be because we can't stay in the grassroots. We want to have positions of power and decision making.

After we build real political partnerships on the grassroots level, we believe change will occur.

We organize students. We are very impactful, very political on our campuses, which have been completely depoliticized in recent years. Huge public pressure has been exerted by the right wing; look at them now. They’ve taken over student unions.

We can't actually run for office in municipalities, but we are training people in 20 different towns, including Tiberius, which is a very poor and very right-wing place. We have liberals and women there who want to run. They are part of our coalition. We want to impact local politics.

During May 2021, there was significant intercommunal violence among binational citizens in the cities due to aggression and the war on Gaza. Standing Together organized mass mobilizations. We were able to get people out on the streets, which was really unprecedented without an actual war.

Before the ceasefire, the doctors and the nurses were one of the main blocks of the social fabric that kept people together. They had a very strong presence. Jews and Palestinians, we refused to separate. We worked together.

With that being said, it's very difficult to mobilize medical professionals. They are pressured to be depoliticized. It's scary for them to be political.

We support their struggles. There was the medical interns strike which lasted for a long time. And we supported that. We organized them. Not all of them joined our movement, but we were there with them.

During the first protest this past month with 80,000 people we had 4 out of 9 speakers who were Palestinian. It was bombarded with Israeli flags, and people who held Palestinian flags were often attacked. It is physically hostile for Palestinians. Many of the leaders of that protest are in coalition with us. Unfortunately, we have internal discussions and arguments with them.

The Supreme Court approves the demolition of Palestinian houses in east Jerusalem, and the expansion of settlements. There are many things they approve that we don't perceive as something that is for us. We see people fighting for their Jewish democracy, a democracy of which we are not a part.

Many of the reforms that are going to happen under this new government are mainly targeting Palestinians in Israel and obviously in the occupied territories. But also LGBTQ+ people and women and handicapped people and many other groups.

We had 5 rounds of elections and every single time we were very involved in get out to vote campaigns. We were quite successful. It was just not enough. Why systematically oppressed minorities don't vote is a global issue.

And then we raise the voter turnout, but it's not enough. It's not enough to raise the voter turnout of Palestinians because it's not just on us. The Left ignores the people most marginalized in this society. And the Right has been playing on an empty field without a goalie for years.

There's no Left. There's no competitive political story. And definitely not one that invites Palestinians in Israel to be part of it. So we are trying to build that story.

We are constructing a new story. We're telling one. And we tell it for every single person. They encounter that story in different ways. Some hear the story in minimum wage battles; some in housing. Some find the story through anti occupation protests. And some through learning how to understand power. And it's not really just a story.

It's really a new political current and political imagination of what we can do. And hopefully, more and more and more people will subscribe to it.

Sally, that's what you're engaged in. And from a systemic perspective, changing paradigms is the most effective lever for transformation.

We also use Gramsci who talks about common sense. What's nonsense and what's common sense? Take the idea of Jewish superiority, for example. We’ve experienced Jewish supremacy since the establishment of the state. And there’s never been anything that challenged it and gave a better alternative, a more competitive alternative. For both people.

How can you take that slogan “Love thy neighbor as thyself” as an approach to people who are your neighbors? Who may have different flags or curtains in their window, who may speak a different language, who may not have the same politics as you?

I'm deliberately provoking disappointment. I don't think the key to building the political capital, or the will to resist the Occupation and to resist Jewish supremacy and to advance a shared future and a shared homeland, is necessarily love. It's shared interests.

Solidarity is a very powerful thing. Solidarity is very, very powerful. We encounter it through shared interests and joint struggle. But most of the glue will be shared interests. It's purely individualistic or collective as to who or what I see myself as being part of. And that's okay. The big ‘us’ still contains all the smaller ‘us’.

You can't erase that. You need to embrace it. I don't think Palestinians and the ultra orthodox are going to be in love with each other. Through group struggle, you can tackle racism in a much more effective way than narrative bridging or dialogue can do. You can develop an appreciation for the other group.

But it's very political. And that usually does not rely on love. It relies on interest, self interest. It's very scary. Of course, it can develop into love afterwards, right? But it takes time. A long time.

I've been working with my Jewish colleague in the movement for 5 years. And I'm going to be honest. It took me a long time to develop love or appreciation for my Jewish partner’s relationship with this land.

I've been working with my Jewish colleague in the movement for 5 years. And I'm going to be honest. It took me a long time to develop love or appreciation for my Jewish partner’s relationship with this land. It took me a long time. Even as I understood it, rationally, it took me a long time to deeply appreciate his connection to this land as a Jewish person.

It was something that bothered me. Especially because he came from outside, and he’s not a native like me. So the love that you talk about, it comes because now I am also very, very active, for years. So maybe. Maybe in like two generations.

[Rose Levinson comments in conclusion:] It's conversations like this that begin to move the dial. It's a slow movement, very slow. But we just keep doing what we can. So there's another program coming up in April with Al Haq. We'll continue featuring Palestinian voices, helping to build platforms and bridges.

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Join our next Palestinian Voices session: Palestinian Voices: Aseel Albajeh