Since 1968
| The first thing you must do is look for thread. Pick your colors. Find your fabric. Grab the right size needle. Make sure you know how it feels between your fingers. |
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| Then, gather all your materials and go to a friend’s home. This is not a task to do on your own. You must find your people, wherever they are scattered, and make sure you are behind closed doors. |
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| That’s when the third step kicks in. You’ll pick up your needle and thread to learn your Palestinian cross-stitch. You’ll sew in stitch after stitch that slowly transform from a bunch of little x’s to a picture of a tree, of a flower, or of the colonizer’s missile. |
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| Fourthly, you’ll continue doing this with your community. You’ll allow the act of being in togetherness to heal your broken hearts, to reinvigorate your sense of determination, and to recharge in a safe space. |
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| While all of this is happening, there must be tea on the table, and snacks of course. Some are for you to enjoy, and others act as props to mask the real task at hand. If anyone were to walk in, they’d see you stitching fabric, after all. But beneath that mask, behind the silence and sounds of your stitching, lies a goal much more mischievous. |
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| In your hands, is not just something you will stitch and wear, but it is something you will pass down to future generations. This, right here, is how you will know the fifth and final step is near. |
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You will know your task is almost complete but at least your stitching will. |
Bayan is a Palestinian writer, published poet, Licensed Social Worker, Tatreez Instructor, and founder of Badan Collective–a creative design house and educational space for Palestinian embroidery. She resides in the Chicagoland area, and received her masters in Social Service Administration from the University of Chicago. She has been writing for over 10 years with a focus on poetry, journaling, and short stories.
