This interview is featured in Mizna 19.1: The Playing Field. Click here to order your copy and subscribe today to get the latest in Arab lit!

Beginning on July 1, 2018, sailing under the Palestinian flag, Palestinian American Nabil Amra is circumnavigating the world single-handedly and nonstop as part of the Golden Globe Race. To capture the spirit of the original event that took place 50 years ago (the Sunday Times Golden Globe Race, 1968-1969), the current race restricts its entrants to materials and technologies that were available during the 1960s, such as Ham radio and modified astrolabe. A self-taught, avid sailor, Nabil made an intentional decision to depart from his life as a foreign exchange trader and work to qualify for one of the race’s limited spots. Amra and the 17 other sailors in the race are expected to cover 30,000 miles in approximately 9 months. On his boat, he is carrying 80 gallons of water and a year’s worth of freeze-dried food, including ice cream from Milkjam Creamery and hummus from Holy Land Deli-items from favorite Palestinian-owned businesses in his hometown of Minneapolis. He is also carrying a doll of Ahed Tamimi, the Palestinian teenager jailed by Israeli forces in March 2018.

Nabil will be sailing his Biscay 36 yacht as a show of solidarity with the Palestinian people who struggle under occupation, bringing attention to the injustices they face at the hands of the Israeli military. He aims to specifically spotlight the Palestinian Sail and Surf Federation. Not only are many Gazans not permitted access to the shore, the PSSF’s boating fleet was recently destroyed by the military. If he wins, Amra will use the money to purchase racing dinghies for the federation.

This interview was conducted by Tariq Luthun in May 2018 and edited for length and clarity by editorial team member Miray Philips.

It’s No Secret Why The Kids on Gaza’s Beach Love To Sail

TARIQ LUTHUN

Sailing isn’t exactly the most prominent form of athletic endeavor. How did you come to it? And how did you get to a point where it was something you could see yourself competing in for a challenge of this magnitude?

NABIL AMRA

I’m a lake sailor in Minneapolis, purely for pleasure and rarely competitive. I found sailing later in life. It helped me cope with a stressful day. On the water, the days’ stressors melt away, leaving you in a place where you could deal with the morning’s rat race. The day starts anew, with the sun. World sailors seemed to have also been prolific writers; the books they’ve left have been consumed and wisdom from them remembered. 

While many yachtsmen would have you believe that sailing is a complicated skill not far from rocket science, I feel otherwise. The sailing part isn’t that complicated, though there are all sorts of variables that the lake sailor can take for granted to a much larger extent than the blue water sailor. This includes weather, navigation, mending, feeding, hygiene, hardship, and attitude-these all add up to a type of low-level anxiety that stays with you until the conclusion of any voyage. They have to be dealt with; there is no getting around them.

Maybe we will see that mentality will be my biggest variable. A Palestinian’s superhuman ability to persevere might be the best attribute to the success of this endeavor. Although sadly, just to get this far has already taxed some of my reserves and I haven’t even gotten started yet.

Also, the ability to roll with the punches is an essential attribute to success in a challenge like this. Many things will not go as planned, and you have to be able to accept it and move on. You have to find another way, adjust something else, accept the newly added inefficiency to your plan, and replan accordingly. There is no other way. This, then, brings you to resourcefulness. There is no one else aboard, and you must have the initiative to do it. It’s not an easy challenge, and I probably wasn’t born to be the guy to try. But if not now, when? If not me, who? It would have been my preference to watch someone else instead, but I fear I would grow old waiting.

TL

What is your cause? And what does it mean to you to be undertaking an experience that many Palestinians cannot, to essentially be their avatar?

NA

I consider it an honor to be associated with the most heroic and defiant people on God’s green earth. Your eyes must be shut if you don’t see that. There are many fantastic sailors and hopefully this effort, in some way, will help them get to a place where they can showcase this for themselves. The world must know that Palestinians want to compete, but are being kept from it.

I could have picked a different cause to hold up, and it would have been much easier to get the financial support and press attention to get to the starting line. But without the Palestinian flag, this wouldn’t have held any interest for me.

Being vocal about the Palestinian plight has made this endeavor increasingly difficulty in a way that I had not anticipated. I could have gone cruising, which is what I like to do. The money spent in the race would have funded 20 years of cruising to exotic locations without worrying about finances. Instead, I’ve had to self-fund nearly the entire undertaking. I’ve had to lean on family and friends and ask for help, which are things that I detest. I’ve always been the guy to help, not ask for it. It’s forced a new level of humility in me that I never knew possible. It’s not really part of Middle Eastern culture to show support in this particular way. While we are exceedingly charitable, charity has culturally been something reserved for the poor. Trying to convince people to support a solo sailing attempt around the world’s great capes for Palestine is a challenge. It doesn’t seem to be a worthy thing to get behind. At least at first glance. But I would argue the exact opposite.

In the best cases to hope for, we are portrayed as victims, the worst, terrorists! How has that worked out for everyone? Nobody is better than us. Nobody can do something that we cannot do. Nobody is smarter than us. While not fair, it appears to me we have to earn ourselves a seat at the table. As equals, at least equals. Our history would have crushed a lesser people. The world has no idea what it’s really like inside of the modern concentration camp that is Gaza. If aliens arrived tomorrow, you could present them a Palestinian as a specimen for all of humanities’ greatest strengths.

TL

What are your goals? How have people responded- whether they are family, friends, or otherwise?

NA

I do have some people trying to make me reconsider: my overprotective mother can’t seem to stop asking if I’m making the right move. The back-and-forth with her always leaves me smiling. But ultimately, my goal is to finish. My goal is to make sure there are others who will be able to come after me, repeatedly, to do this or whatever it is that they want to do. My goal is to show sports associations that there are other potential contestants who want to compete in their events. They are Palestinians who would show well for their people. But ask them why they don’t come?

I probably won’t win. There are very talented, lifelong sailors in this race. There is a big difference between cruising and racing. While I will still claim that sailing isn’t a complicated affair, if you want to squeeze everything out of it and the boat, like anything, it becomes complicated. Sailing at 80% and sailing at 98% are two very different things. But maybe if I can show you that the 80% can go far with relative success, maybe others will go out and try. There is much to enjoy from cruising: new ports, experiences, and adventure.

TL

How does it feel to traverse the sea? Something that erases the path behind you in an instant? Leaving no record, no witness?

NA

It’s amazing, it’s what keeps me coming back. Nothing can hurt you anymore: issues at home, financial worries, concerns as an occupied people. These constant worries-in everyone’s life, not just my own-slowly get quieter. Every day at sea slowly silences these voices. Every day added to the journey cleanses the mind a little more. It’s no secret why the kids on Gaza’s beach love to sail. It would do anyone some good, anyone with normal day-to-day stresses, and it could certainly be therapeutic for the extraordinary people under brutal occupation. 

The post It’s No Secret Why The Kids on Gaza’s Beach Love To Sail—In Conversation with Nabil Amra appeared first on Mizna.

This essay by Shireen Ahmed is the foreword for Mizna 19.1: The Playing Field. Click here to order your copy and subscribe today to get the latest in Arab lit!

“Why should they ask me to put on a uniform and go ten thousand miles from home and drop bombs and bullets on brown people in Vietnam while so-called Negro people in Louisville are treated like dogs and denied simple human rights?”

-Muhammad Ali, February 17, 1966

Championing Identity

Muhammad Ali, The Greatest, was an athlete-activist and used his talents in the ring to amplify his voice as a resistor of imperialism and racism. Ali knew the horrors of his own Black history in the United States and offered no rationalization for it. He was pro-Palestine and visited refugee camps of displaced Palestinians. He was committed to the truth and was unapologetic in his approach. He made people mad and uncomfortable, but did not let the detractors intimidate him. He challenged a legal system and refused to back down. He observed a religion of justice (Islam) that aligned perfectly with his platform of refusing to tolerate systemic injustices against marginalized communities. He used sports to accomplish all of this, and sports are better for it. 

It is not uncommon to look at sports as a form of faith: they have billions of loyal followers -some are blind in their support and some look at it critically but still maintain strong ties. The religion of sports consists of profound and complex sets of beliefs, ideas, and principles. It has varied sets of practices among its global congregants: a passionate following, regional pride, political activism, and loyalty. It is used to engage people locally and globally. It connects people from different cultures and communities. There are moments in major competitions where millions of spectators are united in suspense, excitement, or despair because of a body flying forward, a ball spinning toward the goal line, or a swimmer’s fingers about to touch the end of the lane. There are families frantically cheering on their beautiful children who are running to the next base underneath helmets that are too big. They have dreams. There are young girls breaking through barriers in order to play and exist in the world of sports. They have a right to prosper and use the lessons of sports to form their personalities.

Sports are a vehicle of expression, inclusion, and ultimately a reflection of the state of society. The bodies of athletes used at professional levels are a commentary on socio-economic strata, white privilege, and power. Corruption at high levels within federations and executive commissions have sought to exclude women who want clothing accommodations on the pitch and on the court. They create unjust policies that police the bodies of black and brown women on the track, and they despise the young trans athletes who deserve far more encouragement and respect. They will overlook the doping of white men but tolerate the ugly racism of media that harasses melanated players.

At recreational levels, whether at luxurious community centers and training grounds or on the street and in alleys of densely populated neighborhoods, those who engage in sports envelop themselves in a pure form of expression and joy. Sports are for the people. They hold us and our beliefs. They unite us in performance, passion, and dedication. They help our minds, our bodies, and our souls. However, there are economic barriers related to opportunity and access that segregate people from populist and privileged sports. There are parents who work three jobs to pay for astronomical training fees and equipment costs. There are single mothers who sacrifice every-thing in order to give their children a shot. There are dreams that are realized off the backs of whole villages. Those villages support unequivocally and sincerely and the cycle continues as the athletes persevere and work hard.

Throughout it all, the one thing we have in these cold, murky waters of politicization is the sweet, crystal-clear belief that, inherently, sports can uplift human rights. Sports are about justice and resistance.

Athletes often become heroes and we look to them for cues and direction. Dr. John Carlos famously raised his fist on the podium after winning bronze alongside gold medalist Tommie Smith at the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City. This act has been forever etched into sports history. Their Black Panther salute offended white people who screamed wildly for the professional and social demise of both men, who were later blacklisted from the United State’s Olympic community. Yet, Carlos regrets nothing, “The only way we are going to win this thing is through people turning up their voices. The entertainers and the athletes, those are the public figures you see and hear every day. If they say something, people are going to stop and listen.”

Athletes have kneeled and walked off the pitch after being subjected to racialized violence. Indigenous hockey teams use sports to draw attention to the brutal colonial legacies plaguing their stolen land. Serena Williams boycotted tennis tournaments and wrote about misogynoir within the medical system and the world of sports. While we don’t expect every child or adult to be able to speak up in this manner, we hope that the seeds are being planted. It is crucial to understand that sports are a powerful tool to start conversations, create solutions, and to generate collaborations. Sports have inspired, enraged, and changed my own life.

I was an energetic little brown girl with two thick, black braids in a sea of whiteness, button noses, and blond hair. The orange and yellow polyester uniforms did nothing for my dark complexion that welcomed the sun. I craved running through the grass with the ball at my feet because for me it symbolized belonging. I knew that my existence on the field resulted in the smashing of assumptions about young Muslim women. I recognized this at the age of six.

But in 1984, my world changed. I was raised in a small Canadian coastal city and had no one to look to as a role model. No one looked like me. But on a fateful summer day, sitting too closely in front of a television set, I watched Nawal El Moutawakel blast forward and decimate her competition in the inaugural 400-meter women’s hurdles. I watched her quietly; she was so slender, strong, and heaving with exhaustion. I was stunned. A woman, not from Europe or North America or a country concerned with “saving” the Third World, had won. She was championing my identity. She was a lone woman, who raced in the roads of Casablanca and grew up to dominate at the most prestigious competition in the world. I remember watching El Moutawakel run around the track with the Moroccan flag. I knew that if my friends were watching, they would be seeing that flag for the first time.

It wasn’t long after watching El Moutawakel prosper that I experienced my first instance of racial abuse on the pitch. For people of color, we know that sports are complicated because we have to fight against oppressive systems that exist within that world. They provide opportunities for critical analysis and deep personal reflection. I bring my experiences to my work. I have written about being racially abused while playing soccer. It never affected my love for the game, but it certainly affected how I view myself as a soccer player. Am I a Muslim footballer or a footballer who happens to be Muslim? Should my identity matter to anyone else beyond me? As I get older and hopefully wiser, I am learning that we can not allow sports media to limit our beliefs and aspirations. 

Sports are a vehicle to share experiences and identities. The pieces in this issue are full of emotion and relay profound experiences, whether it is relating the love of the Cleveland Cavaliers while struggling with the death of a parent or grappling with sexualized violence and power dynamics with a tennis coach. In the work contained in this issue, we feel immensely. One realizes how sports are a foundation and what grows from it can be horrible, incredible, or both. Physical exertion releases sweat and endorphins that can accompany emotions and deep struggles. The memories of cycling through the gorgeous Algerian countryside and intense supplications for a free Palestine shows us that sports evoke potent emotions.

I have carved out my career with my experiences in mind to speak and write about Muslim women and women of color in sports. Despite the fact that the sports industry is 95% able-bodied, white, cisgendered, heterosexual men, I have pushed for important conversations on racism, Islamophobia, and sexism within sports. Often, women in the margins have to work up the courage to merely exist and create. Like athletes, writers gear up and perform mentally and emotionally laborious tasks. But I fight my impostor syndrome and I’m inspired by women like Nawal El Moutawakel and my friend Fatuma Adan who fight daily in and outside of their communities by using sports as a means to heal and change the world. I think of Samia Yusuf Omar, the Somali runner who died in pursuit of freedom while crossing a raging sea, and of Katayoun Khosrowyar, an Iranian athlete, who dedicated her life to coaching women and growing the field of sports in Iran. I think about the courage of men and women who find freedom surfing the waves at the beaches in Gaza; a peace and mobility they do not have on dry land. Some days there is success and some days there is not. Nevertheless, I am motivated by these incredible people.

As a woman of South Asian descent, I revel in seeing Arab and Muslim women compete at high level sports. I watched Sara Ahmed win a gold medal at the Rio Olympics -the first gold in weightlifting for an Arab woman. I watched as the Egyptian athlete, Doaa Elghobashy, was the first woman to compete in Olympic beach volleyball in a hijab and long sleeves. They both defied the racist and misogynist violence directed at women of the MENA region by underlining the importance of representation and possibility. Sports also provide a platform for women to draw attention to gender inequality. The struggle of Iranian women, who have been banned from stadiums in Iran since 1979, has been amplified by football media and grassroots organizers. After twelve years of campaigning, they may finally have a chance to enjoy and partake in sports with peace and safety, without facing danger by dressing up as men in order to cheer and support the team they love. 

Sports are ours. The khaltos and ammos who cheer and dance wondrous dabkes in the streets of Lebanon as Brazil advanced to the final stages of the World Cup illustrates our justified passion. Morocco and Senegal have brought joy to the world. We have devoured the images of athletes doing prostrations, making the sign of the cross, and whispering prayers of perseverance to the football gods. Sports are ours to help us heal from traumas caused by war and displacement. They are crucial for communities like the Zaatari refugee camp in Jordan where Syrian girls and women engage in martial arts, badminton, and basketball, and use these sports to heal and to grow. Sports are ours in the streets of Cairo, slums of Karachi, bomb-blasted alleys of Aleppo, along the beaches of Tunis, in the basements of mosques in London, the courts of Toronto, and in the fields of Bosnia. Sports will always be ours. 

Sports can be a form of salvation and an opportunity to show-case the talent of our lands, the hope of our people, and the failures that break our collective hearts. We continue to believe because sports are more than a series of games, match reports, or statistics. They need to be more than commercialization that benefits a small pocket of wealthy owners. They are hope, they are hurt, and they are humanity.

Shireen Ahmed is a writer, public speaker, and sports activist who focuses on Muslim women and the intersections of racism and misogyny in sports. Her work has been featured and discussed in various media outlets. She is part of the Burn it All Down feminist sports podcast team. When she isn’t watching soccer, she drinks coffee as a tool of resistance. Shireen is currently working on her first book. She lives in Mississauga, Ontario with her family and her cat.

The post Championing Identity: Foreword for Mizna 19.1: The Playing Field appeared first on Mizna.