Refaat Alareer 1979-2023 killed by Israel (but not silenced) poet, professor, writer, & one of the co-founders of We Are Not Numbers: We remember him not only for how he died, but for how he lived — teaching and inspiring generations of young Palestinians to write back and tell their stories.

We Are Not Numbers

@WeAreNotNumbers

 

Today, Refaat Alareer should have turned 47. 

 

He should have been here, teaching, writing, mentoring our writers, making jokes, challenging us to think harder, and reminding us again and again that our stories matter. 

 

Refaat was born in Gaza on September 23, 1979. 

 

He was a poet, professor, writer, and one of the co-founders of We Are Not Numbers. 

 

To so many of us, he was also a teacher, mentor, colleague, and friend. 

 

Today, on what would have been his 47th birthday, we remember Refaat, who was killed by Israel on December 6, 2023. 

 

We remember him not only for how he died, but for how he lived — teaching and inspiring generations of young Palestinians to write back and tell their stories.

https://x.com/WeAreNotNumbers/status/2102817110615298221

 https://wearenotnumbers.org/

[AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES (or quotes) IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine, or at least fair and just laws and policies here, there- and everywhere]

If I Must Die a book of poetry and prose by Refaat Alareer of Palestine: "If I must die, let it bring hope, let it be a tale..."

 

If I Must Die by Refaat Alareer (Author), Yousef M. Aljamal (Compiler), Susan Abulhawa (Foreword)

“If I must die, let it bring hope, let it be a tale.”

This rich, elegiac compilation of work from the late Palestinian poet and professor, Refaat Alareer, brings together his marvelous poetry and deeply human writing about literature, teaching, politics, and family.

The renowned poet and literature professor Refaat Alareer was killed by an Israeli airstrike in Gaza City alongside his brother, sister, and nephews in December 2023. He was just forty-four years old, but had already established a worldwide reputation that was further enhanced when, in the wake of his death, the poem that gives this book its title became a global sensation. “If I Must Die” is included here, alongside Refaat’s other poetry.

Refaat wrote extensively about a range of topics: teaching Shakespeare and the way Shylock could be appreciated by young Palestinian students; the horrors of living under repeated brutal assaults in Gaza, one of which, in 2014, killed another of his brothers; and the generosity of Palestinians to each other, fighting, in the face of it all, to be the one paying at the supermarket checkout.

Such pieces, some never before published, have been curated here by one of Refaat’s closest friends and collaborators. This collection forms a fitting testament to a remarkable writer, educator, and activist, one whose voice will not be silenced by death but will continue to assert the power of learning and humanism in the face of barbarity.   

Amazon 

Barnes & Noble 

Refaat Alareer, poet born and died in Gaza, Palestine

Refaat Alareer was killed because his message reached the world

"Forest of Noise": Palestinian Poet Mosab Abu Toha on New Book, Relatives Killed in Gaza & More...

https://youtu.be/K7rlZZ6mz8M?si=Y2OrKeYRizeVrm_O

In an extended interview, Palestinian poet and author Mosab Abu Toha discusses the situation in Gaza and his new book of poetry titled _Forest of Noise_. He fled Gaza in December after being detained by the Israeli military, but many of his extended family members were unable to escape. He reads a selection of poems from _Forest of Noise_, while sharing the stories of friends and family still struggling to survive in Gaza, as well as those he has lost, including the late poet Refaat Alareer. He also describes his experiences in Gaza in the first months of the war, including being displaced from his home and abducted by the Israeli military, noting that the neighborhood in Jabaliya refugee camp that his family first evacuated to last year was bombed by the Israeli military just days ago. "Sometimes I want to stop writing because I'm repeating the same words, even though the situation is worse. The language is helpless," Abu Toha says. "Why does the world make us feel helpless?"   

May 15th poem-a-day from the Academy of American Poets:We Live We Live by Brandy Nālani McDougall- For Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer, with lines from his poems

poem-a-day  May 15, 2024

We Live We Live Brandy Nālani McDougall For Palestinian poet Reefat Alareer, with lines from his poems We live. We live. We do.                   ——Refaat Alareer You were killed today            December 7th                         my birthday     It was today    son of Shujaiya                           in an Israel airstrike                you were killed                       visiting            your brother’s home   in Gaza City   Today, the anniversary                       of when my grandfather             only 12 years old                    climbed onto the roof                           of his dormitory                      to watch the bombs             fall on the American naval base         built over Puʻuloa             Your brother               your sister                   and four of her              children were killed, too                     You were                                           just a few years                       younger than me               This morning              after Israel’s birds       of death            screeched down                      toward you                  my children woke up                          on their own    in Honolulu     though it was still dark                           their breath      like soil           their voices     like soil                        their kisses     like soil           blinking when touched by rain            And my youngest        rubbing her eyes                     asked if              it was my birthday—              And am I now 47?—                                           before singing             in our ancestors’ language                  we are learning                       to speak together         after    the wreckage   of English                   and Americans             And my oldest            who is learning                       to speak                           in speech therapy        giggled            in her grogginess                    then sang                     her own song  too                  And what did I do       to deserve                    such tenderness                                   this early morning?     Or to live                     this long                                               having heard bombs and guns            fired only             from a distance?                      Having stood   safely                            scared  as a child                     and angry        as an adult                  at the sound     of our lands and waters—         Kahoʻolawe                 Pōhakuloa                   Mākua                Wahiawa                     battered             bruised burned poisoned                         in live fire practice?                            By bombs that may have        fallen on you   or close                                      to you on those you loved full-hearted          recklessly                                                 those you learned to cling to even harder            bombs                                      that may have hurt or killed children like mine            who                           could still sing?                       And you                      what did you do                                      to deserve                    your shorter poet’s life                except                                                    tell the truth    and sow the seeds        of songs                                     in your students        except grow your        love for them                                    for your people           for your land               and country                                                     for the promise                        within the wreckage                                                   that is this English                  echoing                                      all the way here                       to Honolulu     where I resisted                           opening my TikTok feed        to savor my children’s sleepy                                      sweetness                    a little longer               before facing                                                    that birthdays are death days              too?                                                   That each day              bombs and schools                              hospitals and houses               fall                   each day children              are pulled from rubble          children          are pulled away                         crying           from rubble             that buried              their mothers                                that they feel                  alone                         that their hurt seeps                          down               into the dirt                    as they look heaven in the eye                                       somewhere in Gaza?              That they         have written                            their names     and their parents’ names         on their limbs                                       so their bodies             or maybe just these parts                                            if that is all                         that’s left                     can be known                                                   to anyone                    who finds them?               That                 if they          if you                must die                       so easily uprooted       from the earth             so harshly unsung       let it be a tale                and why not    write poems   to birth              the strongest words                    of love             like rocks?                           like seeds?                   like songs?      like names?              And why not               hold those rocks          in your hands?                        Your arms?            Pull them              to your chest       like children              lighting         the darkest            of birthday mornings?                           Why not feel               their full weight                      and cling                          even harder         to live            to live                dear poet                            of Shujaiya                  of Gaza           of Palestine                                         just before                  they                  just before         you                                                                                                                             take flight?  Copyright © 2024 by Brandy Nālani McDougall. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 15, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.  https://poets.org/poem-a-day?mc_cid=72282341f5&mc_eid=544ee8b5c2  [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES (or quotes or watch videos) IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine] About Poem-a-Day Poem-a-Day is the original and only daily digital poetry series featuring over 250 new, previously unpublished poems by today’s talented poets each year.

Enlightenment ripples out online thanks to little things such as a forwarded photo of the Educate & Protest for Palestine College Campus Campaigns: The University of Pennsylvania encampment has set up a Refaat Alareer memorial library

The University of Pennsylvania encampment has set up a Refaat Alareer memorial library

 

Mosab Abu Toha

 

Refaat and I were supposed to attend the Pal Writes literary festival at UPenn in September 2023.

 

Refaat very much wanted to travel and take part but he couldn’t attend a visa interview at the US embassy because of the siege and occupation.

 

I went, however, and I attended the event which Refaat was supposed to participate in.

 

These days, the University of Pennsylvania encampment has set up a Refaat Alareer memorial library.

 

I can see the photo I took of Refaat posing for a picture with the strawberries we picked together.

 

I can see on a shelf my own poetry book.

 

I can see love and humanity in this picture.

The now-famous poem “If I must die” by Refaat Al-Areer was written to his daughter Shaymaa, who Refaat foresaw as his continued presence on this earth, even after his departure from it. Today, Israel murdered Shaymaa, her husband, and their newborn child, in a deliberate assassination.

 

palestinianyouthmovement

 6h

The now-famous poem “If I must die” by Refaat Al-Areer was written to his daughter Shaymaa, who Refaat foresaw as his continued presence on this earth, even after his departure from it. Today, Israel murdered Shaymaa, her husband, and their newborn child, in a deliberate assassination.

Shaymaa was an artist in her own right, whose calligraphy work was known to many in Gaza. She now joins Refaat as a martyr, along with her child who was not yet born at the time Israel murdered his grandfather Refaat. Shaymaa had maintained a WhatsApp group in loving memory of her father that included former students and readers of his works, and had shared in the group the pain of confronting the fact that her child would never know his grandfather.

As family and loved ones of Shaymaa and Refaat mourn yet another deep and shocking loss, we contend that Refaat and Shaymaa’s spirit live on in their people and in their nation. If they must die, then we must live. May their names and their memories be recalled at the hour of Palestine’s liberation.

Pro-Palestine Activists Protest at the Met, Unfurling a Large Quilt Across Museum’s Stairs

The artwork “From Occupation to Liberation” at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Photo: Alexa B. Wilkinson

 by Tessa Solomon 

 March 25, 2024 10:45am

A vast quilt calling for Palestinian liberation was unfurled across the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Sunday, making the institution the latest one in New York to be targeted by activists seeking a permanent ceasefire in Gaza.

Each of the quilt’s squares were rendered in the green, black, and red of the Palestinian flag, and bore an artist’s response to a prompt: “From oppression to liberation, free Palestine.”

According to the artist-led advocacy group Hope in the Art World, 64 artists participated in the creation of 30-by-50-foot quilt, titled From Occupation to Liberation. The squares variably invoked tatreez, a traditional form of Palestinian embroidery; poppies, a national symbol and a plant that is indigenous to Palestine; and Thomas Kilpper’s Jenin Horse (2003), a 16-foot sculpture installed removed by the Israeli military during a raid on the occupied West Bank city of Jenin.

The quilt also honored the poet Refaat Alareer, who was killed in an airstrike in Gaza in December. His writings have frequently been invoked by pro-Palestine protestors, most notably the verse, “If I must die/you must live/to tell my story…”

The presentation of the quilt at the museum was realized by a group of autonomous organizers working with the artists. Scattered worldwide, the artists rallied around feelings of solidarity and resistance—which coalesced into Hope in the Art World—and began gathering contributions to the quilt.

One artist who contributed a square and was present at the action told ARTnews: “I worked on putting the quilt together, gathering artists to paint and stitch. It was an act of love, unfurling the quilt felt like alchemy. We must find a way for love to win, artists, dancers, musicians, culture bearers and activists all brought their care and skills together to demand an end to genocide and to show support for Palestinians.”...  READ MORE      https://www.artnews.com/art-news/news/pro-palestine-activists-protest-met-stairs-quilt-1234700782/

 [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES (or quotes or watch videos) IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine

Ahmed Masoud "I am currently tumbling in a drum of emotion..."

"My sister sent me this pic from Rafah, I am currently tumbling in a drum of emotions - feeling sorry for her, seeing the kite and remembering my friend Refaat Alareer, thinking of my grandfather who was kicked out of his home in 1948 & my growing up in Jabalia refugee Camp" Ahmed Masoud

@masoud_ahmed