#Or the long history of international solidarity between the different parts of the diaspora

[taggthewanderer]

It's true that we as Americans tend to be self-centered about what goes on in the rest of the world… but I don't think it's the fault of US bloggers talking about issues here that you're so uncurious about the events going on in your own country.

[hadarmarkin]

Moroccan Jewry: Magic in the Claypot

In the northwestern tip of Africa, nestled between the Saharan desert in the south and the Iberian Peninsula in the north, once lived the largest Jewish community in the Arab-speaking world. Morocco, on mountainous terrain, and coastal cities, on the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, were the ancient homes of a diverse and incredibly vibrant community. And unlike other Jewries in the Muslim lands, which ceased to exist soon after Israel’s Independence in 1948, there is still a fairly sizable community in Morocco, residing in the urban centers of Fez, Marrakech, and Casablanca.

(map of Morocco)

But even outside of Morocco, descendants of this great community who today live mostly in Israel and France, still keep strong ties to their old diasporic home. They are proud of their rich heritage and they zealously preserve their old traditions. The Jewish Moroccan legacy is particularly unique within the spectrum of the Jewish culture, and for that reason, it fascinates many ethnographers, historians, artists, and film directors. Evolved in the diverse geopolitical landscape of Morocco, the Moroccan folklore includes rituals and ceremonies that essentially do not exist in any other Jewish community. Perhaps, the most famous one is the Mimoona holiday –a post Passover celebration of sweets and music– that recently regained the status of a national holiday in Israel. More about the unique rituals associated with the Moroccan Jewry are later in this post.

(Traditional food and garments in a Mimoona celebration in Israel)

One of the most interesting things about Moroccan heritage is the marriage between Torah and sorcery. In other words, the important role of Jewish scholarship and the revered role of rabbis did not diminish or even contradict the strong folklore and the plethora of ancient spells, charms, and all sorts of witchcraft associated with it. In many cases, these two forces went hand and hand, and the rabbis not only validated these popular beliefs but also took an active role in cultivating them. In that respect, rabbis addressed issues of how to remove an Evil eye (a gaze or stare superstitiously believed to cause material harm) or instructed to install a Hamsa  (amulet symbolizing the Hand of God aimed to keep away grief and bring in prosperity) in one’s entryway. Many rabbis participated and encouraged the practice of Martyrdom, including raising popular rabbis to the degree of a Tzakik or a Kadosh (a saint), and attributing supernatural powers to him. A major part of this tradition was the graveyard worship that included a pilgrim to the martyr’s grave, and collective or individual prayer on-site.

(The grave of Rabbi Amram Ben Diwan in Ouazzane)

The “magical” world of Moroccan Jews definitely transmitted into the realm of the kitchen. Moroccan cuisine is aromatic and flavorful. It utilizes the many spices and legumes available in the region and blends them into a rich distinct taste. The last section of this entry will elaborate more on a specific dish that encompasses many of the Moroccan flavors.  But first to better understand the influences on the food (and culture in general), here is a brief historical review.

2000 Years of History in a Nutshell

According to archeological evidence, Jews resided in Morocco, mainly along the coast, as early as the second century CE. Historians assert that Jews were motivated to migrate to this area given its commercial potential as a connecting point of the two sides of the Mediterranean. The mercantile function that Jews filled up from this early stage of history became a thread throughout centuries of Jewish settlement in Morocco.

A pivotal phase in the history of the community occurred in the 15th century as deportees from the Spanish inquisition first arrived to the shores of Morocco. Although information about numbers is insufficient, it is clear that the Iberian refugees were a sizable group within the local community and even the majority in several cities. At first, the newcomers from Spain and Portugal and the locals operated in two separated communities. They worshiped in different synagogues, followed only their rabbis' authority, and resided in different parts of town. Their relationship was also affected by commercial rivalry and language barrier since the Megorashim (Hebrew for deportees) spoke Ḥakétia- a mixture of Spanish, Hebrew and an Arabic dialect- and the native community conversed in Judeo-Arabic, which was basically the local dialect infused with some Hebrew words. Gradually, the two communities bridged their differences and consolidated into one Jewish community. An important landmark in this process was the writing of the Jewish laws book of the city of Fez in 1698, which was a collaborative effort of religious leaders from both sides to find common ground. The Fez precedent was later fostered in other towns in Morocco, and it became the religious codex followed by the entire Moroccan community to this date.

(Jews in Fez during the 20th century)

In Morocco, as it was in other places in the diaspora, Jews were frequently subject to the temper and political agenda of the local ruler. Generally speaking, in the pre-modern era the Moroccan Jewry lived relatively peacefully and maintained good relationships with their Muslim neighbors. Yet,  in certain periods the Jewish community suffered from brutal persecution. A particular painful chapter occurred during the late 18th century under the reign of Sultan Yazid. The latter ordered the slaughter of wealthy community members, and forced others to convert. In addition to occasional violence, Jews in Morocco were also defined as Dhimmis-  second class citizens. Under this definition, Jews were granted freedom of worship but were subjected to additional tax and other,often humiliating, restrictions.

Colonialism influenced the history of Moroccan Jews in the 19th and first half of the 20th centuries. North Africa, in general, was an important battleground for the European superpowers and Morocco -as a result-  was split between French conquest in the majority of the land and Spanish occupation in the Northern region of Tangier. The French presence was not merely physical or administrative, it opened the door to modernity and European influence. Overall, Jews, particularly those residing in the big coastal centers, were enamored by French culture. Many gain fluency in French, and indulged on French literature and treats. However, only a small affluent elite was guaranteed with the privilege of French citizenship.  The majority of the local Jewry was categorized as subjects with limited rights in the colonial rule.

(Moroccan Jewish woman in traditional clothing, circa 1920′s)

In addition, the French rule did not improve the socio-economic status of the local Jewry. Most Moroccan Jews lived fairly meagerly in crowded neighborhoods, called Mellah. Others lived in villages among the Berber population. Craftsmen and small scale retailers were the common trades among men. Women stayed home and ran the household. Boys were sent to Jewish school, named Kutab -a system of schooling similar to the Eastern European Heder- in which the emphasis was Torah study with very little secular education. Only a minority sent their children to private French schools or to the Alliance schools, a Jewish international school network with a strong French orientation.  Nevertheless, one should not underestimate the importance of Jewish scholarship among Moroccan Jewry, who generated high numbers of Rabbis, poets, and Talmudic scholars.

(Typical Kutab in Marrakech)

(The Mellah in Meknes)

Jewish life in Morocco continued fairly uninterrupted during the dark chapter of World War II. Yet, although far from the atrocities in Europe, Moroccan Jews were under a constant threat of a German invasion. Moreover, under the rule of the Anti-semitic French Vichy regime- which collaborated with Nazi Germany- Jews were subject to anti-Jewish legislation, aimed to remove Jews from centers of power. Luckily, these laws affected only the small affluent minority, which held public positions and lived outside the Mellah. However, the combination of the hostility of the Vichy regime with the horrifying news from Europe, and the spread of Nazi propaganda in the region created a climate of fear and uneasiness among Moroccan Jews, especially for those living in the big cities. The deep concern about the plight of their brethren in Europe was reflected in various writings of the time. An interesting example of a  wartime document expressing solidarity is Haggadah Di Hitler. Written in Casablanca in 1943, after the Allies landing and victory in North Africa, Haggadah Di Hitler creates an analogy between the biblical exodus story and the liberation from the Axis powers. However, the author stresses that the joy over the German defeats in North Africa and on the European fronts (mainly Stalingrad) cannot be completed given the mass murder still happening in Europe.

(The cover of Haggadah Di Hitler) 

Zionism brought a major shift in the history of Moroccan Jewry in the 20th century. The longing to revive the ancient homeland was always a thread in the religious life of Moroccan Jews, as Rabbinical scholars led small groups to settle in Israel throughout the centuries. This sense of longing was intensified in the early half of the 20th century. Zionist emissaries from the British ruled Palestine traveled to Morocco to inspire young Jews to become Zionists. New youth movements training for life in the new-old land emerged, and many started brushing up on their Hebrew. However, it was political developments in the regional arena and inside Morocco that created the mass departure of Jews from Morocco towards Israel. Mainly, the Arab-Israeli war starting in 1947 and the rise of the Moroccan National movement, which increased the intolerance towards the local Jewish community. By the early 1960s over 90 percent of Moroccan Jews left. The new state of Israel became the largest center of the descendants of the Moroccan community. Smaller, but still sizable, concentrations can be found in France and Canada (mostly in Montreal).

(Moroccan immigrants arriving to the Haifa port in Israel)

Sepharade- A story that Begins with an Old Moroccan Spell

As mentioned earlier, the physical departure from Morocco did not by any means mean cutting ties with the old Jewish Moroccan tradition. The book Sepharade by Éliette Abécassis exemplifies in much detail how these traditions still dictate everyday life, actions, and decision making for Moroccan Jews living in France and Israel. Abécassis –a decedent of an observant Moroccan family from the city of Fez– wrote this book as a semi-autobiography portraying her complicated relationship with her loving yet binding Moroccan heritage. Her heroine,  Esther Vital,  a sensitive and reflective girl from the city of Strasbourg in east France, well represents this duality. Although Esther lives in Strasbourg all of her life, she never tries the regional delicacies, visits a local pub, or interacts with her non-Jewish neighbors. In many ways, Esther behaves and dresses as she was living in Morocco. When she is older, Esther attempts her own subtle rebellion to escape her Moroccan Mellah. She cooks healthy food and refrains from the heavy and oily Moroccan dishes, she refuses to wear embellished clothes, and opts for a minimalist french chick, later on she moves out to Paris, seeks a professional life and even dates Ashkenazi and non-Jewish men. But eventually, the family guilt and pressure kicks in, and Esther succumbs to follow the path designated for her: marry a man from her tribe. Beyond the mere family expectations, Esther is motivated by invisible threads, such as ancient spells that were cast upon her family, old rivalries, and more. The main idea in the plot is that one cannot dictate his or her own fate. The mysterious past entails the real powers to shape the life of an individual.

(Éliette Abécassis)

In addition to this core theme, the book is a celebration of the vibrant history and cultural legacy of Moroccan Jews. In France, Abécassis became quite famous as the non-official ambassador of Moroccan folklore. She prolifically wrote about this topic for academic purposes as well as for movie scripts. Sepharade, in this respect, is another attempt to provide a window into this world. For instance, Abécassis beautifully describes the tea ceremonies in the Moroccan household. The tea is served in little glass cups by the matriarch, who whips the tea until its foamy. A thick layer of foam is a testimony of the matriarch’s domestic masterfulness. Another example is the pre-wedding Hena ceremony, in which the bride, the groom, and all of their guests are dancing in traditional garments to the beat of Andalusian music while indulging on colorful sweets. Perhaps one of the most important rituals described in the book is the family get togethers during Shabbats around the Dafina dish. The Dafina is a motif in the book underlying the connection between mother’s cooking and family bonding. For a short history and recipe of Dafina, scroll down.

(Moroccan Hena in Israel)

Dafina: A Dish Buried Deep in Heritage

In many Jewish cultures, Shabbat in winter coincides with a hearty casserole of beans, meats, and grains aimed to satisfy the soul during the cold days. This comfort food dish has different names; Ashkenazi Jews named it Cholent and some Sephardic groups call it Chamin, which stems from the Hebrew word Cham, meaning warm. The Moroccan variation of it, the Dafina, is particularly flavorful as it adds aromatic spices, such as cloves and cinnamon as well as dried fruit.

The name Dafina originates from the Arab word that means buried, alluding to the old custom of placing the dish in the ground. Traditionally, Moroccan housewives prepared this nourishing stew at home: they wrapped the meats in cloth bags, seasoned with an array of spices, added the grains and eggs, and placed it all in a heavy ceramic jug sealed with a layer of dough around the rim. Once ready, the women sent their jug to the bakery for a “burial” in a hot pit. The baker wrote the family name on each jug with a piece of chalk, and delivered it back the next day. Nowadays, people allow the Dafina to slowly cook overnight on the Shabbat hot plate or crockpot (as I did).

Although the Dafina includes basic ingredients that always remain the same, each region and each family has their own variation, and the process of combining  and layering them all considers to be true art and a source of pride. Some families filled cloth bags with freekeh seasoned with Ras el Chanoot.  Others chose rice dotted with raisins and fried onions. The jewel of the crown of the Dafina is the Koorah, the meatloaf or more precisely the roll of meat, sprinkled with peanuts or almonds and coated with an egg and old breadcrumbs. The Koorah was placed into a cloth tied with a string and the juices from it made the Dafina particularly flavorful.

The Dafina embodies the various influences in the Jewish Moroccan cuisine. The custom of placing a claypot in charcoal-filled pits came from the rural Berber tribes. Certain spices, such as Ras el Chanoot,  came from the Arab neighbors, and the usage of almonds and other nuts was brought by the Sephardic deportees. Other famous dishes in the rich Morrocan repertoire are Chramieh,fish cooked in tangy tomato sauce; Pastilla,fillo dough filled with meat and spices; and Sfenj, donuts heavily coated with honey.

There are many sophisticated recipes for Dafina floating online. Below, however, is a quick vegetarian version for a busy household. Perhaps, it is not as filling as the meat-based one, but it is still just as wholesome and comforting.

Lazy Vegetarian Crockpot Dafina

Ingredients:

Salt

Fresh ground pepper

4-6 hard-boiled large eggs

Pinch of saffron threads, crumbled

1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley

1/2-1 teaspoon turmeric

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon of ground cloves

1 tablespoon paprika

2 teaspoons ground cumin

2-3 sweet potatoes, cut into chunks

4-6 dates

2 small potatoes

1/2 cup of barley (farro or freekeh will work well too)

2 15 oz cans chickpeas rinsed and drained (fava or northern beans are also good)

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 large onions, chopped

4-6 cloves garlic

Preparation:

1. Once you’ve prepped all the ingredients, place them in the crockpot. Put the onions and garlic first with 2 spoons of oil. Then layer potatoes and sweet potatoes, beans, and barley. Afterwards, mix in the spices, dates, and the rest of the oil. Save the eggs for the top.

2. Set crockpot to low heat and allow to cook for at least 6 hours or overnight.

3. Enjoy your Dafina on Shabbat morning or any other time.

[chsamuseum]

Activist Spotlight: The WeChat Project

This article is the first installment of the Community Connections Activist Spotlight Series. If you are part of or know of an organization who might like to be highlighted, please write to info@chsa.org with the subject line “Community Connections Activist Spotlight.” 

The story of the WeChat Project starts in the summer of 2020, after the police killings of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd sparked Black Lives Matter protests across the country. While engaging with widespread youth organizing and activism, college student Eileen Huang became aware of the silence of many of her Chinese American elders. 

In response, she wrote an open letter calling on Chinese American communities to stand in solidarity with Black communities, emphasizing the history of mutual liberation and how apathy means complicity with the violence of anti-Blackness. She posted this letter on Chinese American, a popular microblog on WeChat, the most widely used communication/social media platform in China and among the Chinese diaspora in the U.S.

From the start, Huang knew her perspective could prove controversial. Despite the diversity of political opinions among Chinese Americans, WeChat is notorious for being a hotbed of misinformation. Its social structure consistently up-cycles pieces that generate clicks within user groups with no regard to substance or accuracy, while its restricted interface makes ascertaining how these opinions spread notoriously difficult. 

A progressive second-generation Chinese American, Huang hardly fit the profile of the typical WeChat user. When her letter went viral, it came as little surprise to her that much of the reaction was vitriolic; Huang and her family were even met with death threats. But not everyone responded negatively. The support Huang received from older generations and young Chinese Americans alike showed her how necessary it was for her and her peers to interrupt political discussion on WeChat and complicate the narratives WeChat users consume. 

With this goal in mind, Huang—along with Biman Xie, Claire Chang, Dora Guo, Oriana Tang, Sabrina Lin, and Sunnie Liu—built the WeChat Project. Publishing articles in both English and Chinese on their website and on WeChat microblogs like TuJieUSA. The volunteer organization, composed of young Chinese and Asian Americans, covers everything from current political events, such as the January U.S. Capitol riots, to hot-button issues among WeChat users, such as affirmative action, the elections, and Black Lives Matter. In doing so, they hope to counter misinformation among Chinese Americans while contributing progressive viewpoints to the conversation. 

Liu says that The WeChat Project wants to continue having dialogue across generations, across languages, across cultures. She explains, “It didn’t seem like there was anyone trying to do that. People on [WeChat] usually don’t hear from younger Chinese Americans like [us] who have a very different perspective, perhaps because we grew up here [in the U.S.] and have more progressive leanings.”

At its core, that’s what the initiative is about—conversation. Its Chinese name, 心声, literally translates to “voices from the heart.” That name, Liu says, reflects The WeChat Project’s emphasis on mutual respect and understanding over didacticism. Such work requires empathizing with the historical traumas both older and younger generations have suffered and how those experiences may impact political affiliations. 

“The twentieth century in China, especially the late twentieth century, when many of our parents and grandparents grew up, was such a tumultuous time,” she notes. “We don’t want to discount...that historical trauma, that generational trauma....At the same time, we want [the older generations] to hear our side of the story, of how we might have had traumas that they did not have to grapple with, growing up in America and dealing with racism from early childhood....We should learn about the traumatic history that might still be living with our parents’ or grandparents’ generations, and we hope that...they will also learn about ours.” 

That emphasis on speaking from personal histories means contributors’ topics and writing styles, too, often come from the heart. In addition to responding to major news events relevant to the Chinese American community, project writers often bring their own experiences—and their own identities—to their work. Recent pieces have reflected on the struggles of being an international student in the U.S. and on the lessons learned from taking ethnic studies courses in college. 

“These are very personal topics,” Liu says. “When you come from a personal angle and talk about how [a political] issue has impacted your own life, that humanizes the topic and helps people get beyond just what they want to hear and what their current political beliefs are. And I think that it opens the door for more conversations—more open ones, more potentially productive ones.”

That’s not to say it hasn’t been an uphill battle. The WeChat Project depends on a small (but growing) team of volunteers, many of whom are students and/or work full-time, to research, write, translate, and promote and design graphics for articles in their free time. Between its algorithm and its frequent censorship sweeps, WeChat as a platform poses additional challenges. 

Overall, however, Liu says that the fact that The WeChat Project has survived this long is a testament to how much people care about its mission. And though the response isn’t always positive, the encouragement and support the collective has received—often in the form of personal stories of how articles pushed readers to talk to their children or rethink long-held assumptions—are a sign that their work has reached the right audience. 

Visit The WeChat Project at thewechatproject.org, and follow @TuJieUSA and @心声Project on WeChat, @wechat_project on Twitter, and @wechatproject on Instagram and Facebook to support the WeChat Project’s work.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: A Comics Artist Draws the Experiences of Palestinian Refugees and Immigrants

Original pages from Baddawi by Leila Abdelrazaq (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)

For artist and organizer Leila Abdelrazaq, comics are a means of communication as much as a beautiful mode of self-expression. In her solo show, Drawing the Diaspora: Comic Art & Graphic Novels by Leila Abderazaq, at the Arab American National Museum (AANM), the Palestinian-American artist presents common narratives of the Palestinian refugee and immigrant experience. The goal, she has said, is to connect with and instruct a Western audience that may be less familiar with these stories.

Works by Leila Abdelrazaq, available for reading at the Arab American National Museum

On display at the AANM are selections from Baddawi, Abdelrazaq’s debut graphic novel, which interprets her father’s life experiences, growing up in the 1960s and ’70s amidst the civil war and the Palestinian refugee camps of Lebanon and Beirut. Other works on display include Mariposa Road, a short comic highlighting an intersectional fight for Palestinian and undocumented rights, through the true story of two men from Gaza who enter the United States undocumented via the US– Mexico border.

Her work promotes a sense of solidarity amongst marginalized voices, as with her #Arabs4BlackPower series, which is meant to highlight the tangible connections between the Palestinian struggle and the Black struggle in the United States, and features captions in both Arabic and English.

I spoke with Abdelrazaq over e-mail and asked her how she characterizes her own work, which defies easy interpretation as either art or activism. She elaborated on the themes she tackles, including the representation of the Palestinian diaspora, and the ability for comics to convey dense and complex issues in a more easily digestible format.

*   *   *

Original pages from BDS: What it is, Why it Matters by Leila Abdelrazaq

Sarah Rose Sharp: It seems like your work is largely politically motivated. Was that a conscious decision on your part, to use comics as a platform for activism, or were you just drawn to this subject matter naturally?

Leila Abdelrazaq: Since I was a teenager and began developing a political awareness, I have always been making art to explore a variety of political themes. I actually studied theater in college and realized that for me, the most important thing is selecting the medium that will best communicate my message in any given project. So my commitment artistically is definitely more to my message than any particular medium necessarily.

SRS: Do you consider yourself a comic book artist? A political activist?

LA: I consider myself an artist and an organizer.

Abdelrazaq’s mural, “Drawing in the Diaspora” (2016), designed and hand-painted for the exhibition. The work references the character of Handala, a well-known symbol of Palestinian refugees created by Naji-al-Ali.

SRS: I know you reference Palestinian graphic artist Naji-al-Ali and his popular charcter Handala, a childlike character that symbolizes Palestinian refugees, in the exhibit. Can you say more about what you find inspiring about that character or approach?

LA: I admire artists who communicate their political messages in a clear and beautiful way, without necessarily hitting people over the head with the message, and while still creating beautiful works that are emotionally evocative. The thing I find incredible about Naji al-Ali’s work is his use of symbolism and how expressive his stark, black-and-white images are. In many ways I see my work drawing on traditions he established and strategies he utilized to create his images.

SRS: It strikes me that you have a strong mastery of both the narrative, graphic, and infographic aspects of your medium. How long have you been drawing? Do you work in other media, as well?

LA: I’ve been drawing since I was a kid, though I was never formally trained in it. My love for visual art got me into theater — I was drawn to set design and construction (I currently work part time in a wood shop). I also did a bit of directing in college, but lately I’ve really returned to my roots as a visual artist.

SRS: What inspires you to take on a subject? Are you drawn to the narrative elements, or the visual, or the political?

LA: Generally speaking, the political is the impetus for a lot of my work. It’s not that other things don’t inspire me. But the big projects that feel urgent and worthy of the most labor are the ones with a strong political grounding. Story and visuals come as I think about the work and the message I want to send with it.

Original pages from Baddawi by Leila Abdelrazaq

SRS: I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Art Spiegelman story Maus, but Baddawi reminded me very much of that.

LA: I’m of course very familiar with MAUS, it’s an incredible work.

SRS: In Maus, the victims of genocide and ethnic cleansing are Polish Jews, and in Baddawi, just 20 years later, these same atrocities are being perpetuated by the Israeli army and people. Do you think we are able to learn from the past? Do these stories help us to make different decisions? Or are they more a way for you and others to process or express themselves?

LA: I’m honestly so cynical, I really believe that humanity repeats its mistakes over and over and continually fails to learn from the past. I’ve been feeling that way especially as I see what the Syrian regime and its supporters have been allowed to get away with. And despair does warrant processing, and for that art can be useful. But for me it goes beyond that.

Drawing the Diaspora: Comic Art & Graphic Novels by Leila Abderazaq, installation view, in the Lower Level Gallery at the Arab American National Museum

SRS: What are your hopes for your stories?

LA: Part of it is preserving our histories — ones that some don’t deem important enough to write down, or maybe too despicable, or not “reliable” or “balanced” enough to be valid. I think that’s a big value of this work — preserving history and memory, especially in the face of ethnic cleansing and erasure, is an act of political resistance. But I don’t think art alone can change the world or prevent atrocities. I think it can change the way people think though, and give them knowledge and courage to behave in different ways.

Leila Abdelrazaq, captured in a still frame from a short film by Judy Suh, on display with the exhibit

SRS: What would you like people to know about the Palestinian diaspora? What do you think people see, versus what you see? How has your international upbringing given you a different perspective on everyday life and geopolitics?

LA: People in the US, often subconsciously, see the country as the world. I feel there is a lack of awareness of other places, and how we impact one another in a global sense. I want people to know that Palestinians, as a diasporic people who continue to survive ethnic cleansing, live all over the world. I want people to know that there is no one way to be Palestinian — that Palestinians living in the West Bank lead radically different lives than ones living in the ’48 territories (“Israel”), or Gaza, or in the Palestinian camps in Lebanon, or diaspora Palestinians living in the US or UK or Chile or anywhere else — that there are as many experiences of being Palestinian as there are Palestinians in the world, and none are more “real” or “legitimate” than others. I hope my work can give people a heightened awareness of the many faces and facets of the global Palestinian diaspora and an understanding of the ways and reasons that we resist ethnic cleansing and colonialism from our various vantage points.

Drawing the Diaspora: Comic Art & Graphic Novels by Leila Abderazaq continues at the Arab American National Museum (13624 Michigan Ave, Dearborn, Mich.) through April 19.

The post A Comics Artist Draws the Experiences of Palestinian Refugees and Immigrants appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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