–reflections from a non-Palestinian human being

Author: Mariam Sidiqqui

October 7th was a day that shook the world to its very core. It shifted the global tide, uprooting our hearts – redefining everything we thought we understood about humanity, morality, and ourselves. The Palestinian people held up a mirror to the world, exposing those who stand up for truth no matter the cost, and those who will retreat into darkness. Since that day, it seems as if the world has divided itself into two categories: the colonizers and the colonized—the aggressors and the resistors. This divide struck a chord with everyone, and we are all united in the same realization: we belong to something greater than ourselves.

We see a pain in their plight that transcends borders—we don’t just see people, we see our flesh and blood, our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, our children. In their struggle, we see the plight of Musa (A), we see the Prophet (S) expelled from Makkah, we see Yusuf (A) thrown wrongfully in prison. And we continue to ask ourselves these past 11 months – how many times can a heart break? The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said,

“The parable of the believers in their affection, mercy, and compassion for each other is that of a body. When any limb aches, the whole body reacts with sleeplessness and fever”

(Bukhari)

And a sleeplessness and fever truly has erupted in the world – a movement that cannot be stopped. 

We see the Irish people standing up, having endured genocide under the British regime. We see our brothers and sisters in African American communities stand shoulder to shoulder, knowing all too well the sting of systemic racism that still endangers them today. We see students in Bangladesh, inspired by the Palestinians, demanding change, truth, and justice. We see Jewish families stand up and declare “Not in our name.” We see artists and celebrities use their platforms to stifle the silence and say “Enough.” We see Indigenous communities across Canada and the United States rising and declaring, “They came for us and our children too.” 

And the Palestinians have set the world ablaze – for we all see ourselves in them. 

The Palestinian movement resonates deeply with me as a non-Palestinian because I understand the harsh realities of colonization and imperialism all too well. Their struggle mirrors the experiences of my Pakistani ancestors and serves as a stark reminder of the importance of dignity and self-determination. The British Empire’s divide-and-rule strategy left deep scars on the subcontinent, resulting in the 1947 partition of India and the creation of Pakistan. This partition was followed by widespread violence, displacement, and loss. I remember my grandparents’ stories of fear—hiding under beds, the riots, fleeing to safety in the dead of night. They had to sell their precious ancestral jewelry and belongings to secure a future. The pain of being uprooted from one’s homeland, the sense of injustice, and the struggle for independence are not distant memories; they are woven into the fabric of our identity. 

Dr. Gabor Maté, a renowned physician, author and researcher on mental health, stated about generational trauma,“Trauma is in most cases multigenerational. The chain of transmission goes from parent to child, stretching from the past into the future. We pass onto our offspring what we haven’t resolved in ourselves.” Trauma becomes embedded in our culture – we inherit the legacy of those experiences, and they shape who we are. To this day, my grandmother locks her doors anxiously and worries if we are out too late. To this day, my grandfather meticulously scribes our family tree, reaching back at least six generations, to preserve our history—a reflection of our need to reclaim our story. 

And through this genocide I wonder how many family trees have been uprooted? How many stories have gone untold by the deafening violence?

Our truths matter. Our stories matter. They will not break us – just as the Palestinian people will not be broken. Because Musa (A)’s seas split. The Prophet (S) conquered Makkah. Yusuf (A) rose from the prison to the throne. These are not just tales, they’re lessons of hope – Allah never leaves us. And so the Palestinians too, will rise. The olive trees will stay standing tall, planted by strong Palestinian ancestors who intended for these roots to be rooted in lands of freedom, for generations to come inshAllah. 

The Palestinian struggle is our struggle—a battle between truth and darkness, rooted in a shared belief that all people deserve to live with dignity. As someone with a history of colonization in my veins, I recognize that the fight for justice transcends borders; it is a universal human responsibility. Their fight is our fight, and their freedom is our freedom. In our shared struggle to uphold truth, we are all Palestinian.