just binged the entirety of the podcast and basically threw up when i found out i did. love it, my god. world building is so primo. are there any updates regarding?
Ah, thank you very much! Things are slow-going, just with the general... horrors of everything and responding to the moment, I'm sure you understand. But there is a plan and we aim to make season 3 within the next year.
One of Anas Al-Sharif's final posts, from shortly before he was assassinated:
"To Whom It May Concern,
The occupation is now openly threatening a full-scale invasion of Gaza.
For 22 months, the city has been bleeding under relentless bombardment from land, sea, and air.
Tens of thousands have been killed, and hundreds of thousands wounded.
If this madness does not end, Gaza will be reduced to ruins, its people’s voices silenced, their faces erased—and history will remember you as silent witnesses to a genocide you chose not to stop.
Please share this message and tag everyone who has the power to help end this massacre. Silence is complicity."
Hi! I'm on my first listen of the podcast and am almost done with Season 1, and absolutely loving it! <3 The world, the cast, and the audio work are all amazing and top quality. Excited for the rest, as well as the future. Just wanted to drop by and say this, but also ask if it's only a problem on my end that the Transcripts link to your website is not working, or is this down on purpose? I'm using this link specifically, but it isn't working :( TYIA!
Thanks for spotting that, totally an our end problem. Should be right as rain now. And thank you so much for listening! <3
'Scholasticide' refers to the systemic obliteration of education. To deprive a people of education is to deprive a people of a future; it is to deprive a people of the chance to rebuild their society; it is to deprive a people the ability to express and assert themselves. Ultimately, depriving a people of education is to deprive a people's existence.
Source: All universities in Gaza have been destroyed. What does this mean for Palestinians?
With all universities in Gaza destroyed, students are turning online to continue their education. Yes, they are still studying even while surviving through a genocide. After all, education determines their future, and also the future of Palestine.
However, continuing their education online is difficult. With the frequent attacks, students often do not have reliable Internet, and electricity, the necessary equipment, or even the space for them to continue their online studies. And thus, Ihyaa (@ihyaasociety) is born. Ihyaa is a Gazan youth-led initiative that aims to provide a space with Internet, electricity and study equipment to help university students continue their education.
However, Ihyaa needs your help. Without enough funding, Ihyaa cannot electricity and Internet costs to help students access their online lessons, nor can they provide stationary and a place for students to study!
Help students in Gaza continue their education, and with that, you can help them rebuild Gaza's future! Please share and donate if you can.
In Gaza, students have not only lost their homes, but their universities, their notebooks, and their safe places to learn. But in the middl
Go to PayPal.Me/ihyaafoundation and enter the amount. It's safer and more secure. Don't have a PayPal account? No problem.
Ihyaa is started by the vetter Mohammed Ayesh (who vets the fundraisers on this list). It has also been promoted by @/gaza-evacuation-funds (also see x, x, x), and promoted by nabulsi
You can enter my necklace raffle (2.0) if you donate to Ihyaa (deadline: 15 July!)
It is our nature not only to see
that the world is beautiful
but to stand in the dark, under the stars,
or at noon, in the rainfall of light,
frenzied,
wringing our hands,
half-mad, saying over and over:
what does it mean, that the world is beautiful—
what does it mean?
very glad no other land won and seeing it at a local palestinian film festival last year was one of the most impactful experiences i've ever had in a theater like when the text of final end card came up on screen you could feel it hit the whole room, but even in that moment while watching it it was so obvious why the film was framed the way it was and every time i've seen yuval speak during the press tour or read his writing since it's made it more grating… truly hate that to get this film to see the light of day and get even the limited distribution it's had that basel has to like. humor him in this way. and constantly share every stage and platform the film affords them because it is a Shared Project even though it's absolutely basel's story it's his community and family and home and his fucking life
basel even comments on it in the film itself, the lib zionist perspective yuval has about the problem and how it's going to be solved, but that framework is what the entire premise of this film's existence is built around and especially central to how it's been promoted and talked about globally. it's about their friendship it's about them coming to an understanding, the underlying implication you can fix oppression by making friends with an individual Good Guy who materially benefits from your oppression, whose place in society depends entirely on the existence of this oppressive structure, who decries violent resistance as Just As Bad as the violence committed by the occupation, but he feels bad about it so he has a dream where everyone can one day just get along. that the best way forward is to get this story in front of the right eyeballs in the West, to appeal to the sympathies of global audiences that they might speak out enough to change something… in that way it's very much an oscar film that hollywood typically loves, but because it's about palestine it feels like a miracle that it was acknowledged at all. idk just feels bad man
The Palestinian-Israeli documentary indulges in a familiar kind of wishful thinking.
The film’s title begs the question, no other land for whom? We hear it in the Palestinians pleading with the Israeli soldier aiming a bulldozer at their homes. But its echoes are also the film’s subtext, the possibility of a future shared between settler and native. A settler has come to help the natives, hoping to redeem himself and, implicitly, the horizons of the settler-state. Where are we supposed to go?, we can imagine an Israeli asking a Palestinian, having been made a guest in their home, once political reality enters their conversation.
Much of the film, which is ostensibly about the ethnic cleansing of Palestinian villages, is spent tracing the friendship of Adra and Abraham. Several scenes find Adra and Abraham driving in a car, smoking hookah in a restaurant, sitting simply in conversation about the present and the future (the past, beyond that of Masafer Yatta, is generally left alone). Toward the film’s end, during one of these heart-to-hearts, Abraham offers a vision of Israel that no longer denies Adra his rights. He asks Adra to dream with him of a future in which Palestinians and Israelis live side by side. “Inshallah,” Adra half-humors his friend. Over the course of the documentary, by talking to Palestinians and witnessing the actions of fellow Israelis, we see the settler growing, learning from the native. We see the settler recognizing, in his limited way, the nature of Zionism at a pace the Palestinian, here exceedingly patient, can’t afford.
While No Other Land tells the story of one Palestinian community’s depopulation, it also stands in for the liberal’s long-sought-after Roadmap for Peace. Abraham introduces himself to the Palestinians with whom he works as yahudi, Jewish. He offers them his time and energy, and risks his safety, to tell their story. “I need to write something about the protest today,” Abraham tells Adra from the passenger seat, while the latter, driving, focuses his eyes on the road. “I have to write more. The article I wrote on Harun’s mom didn’t get many views.” “I feel you’re a little enthusiastic…” Adra says, and Abraham asks him to clarify. “You want everything to happen quickly … as if you’ve come to solve everything in ten days, then go home.” Adra snaps his fingers before returning his hand to the wheel. Abraham remains committed to ending the program of ethnic cleansing committed in his name, but in the film and elsewhere, he attributes those horrors to the “occupation” rather than to Zionism. His condemnation of the former serves to preserve the latter. This distinction is artificial: from the standpoint of its victims, Israel is its occupation, the Zionist project necessarily one of ethnic cleansing and genocide, of total erasure.
Abraham attempts a rehabilitation of an iteration of Zionism that doesn’t exist but could, a familiar settler hope (think, imagine what America could be). In one clip, Abraham appears on Democracy Now! to say, “As an Israeli, it’s very, very important for me to stress that I don’t think we can have security if Palestinians do not have freedom.” The possibility of this future depends on the actions of individuals like Abraham, although the film itself reveals the futility of this vision. After the Democracy Now! clip, the film cuts to Abraham on Israeli TV. Here, Palestinians are the other: “They have no voting rights under military occupation,” Abraham says. “Basel, a guy my age who lives there, can’t even leave the West Bank, and we destroy their homes every week—” Here, he is cut off by another Israeli on the panel, calling in remotely: “You’re against Jewish people, in everything you do.” Abraham sighs, then pushes back, calling the man a liar, only to be interrupted by him again: “They’re invaders in a military training ground.” This thinking, not Abraham’s, is at the heart of Zionism. Israeli soldiers and settlers taunt Adra and Abraham repeatedly, goading them to upload the videos they record to see if this might change anything on the ground. In the final footage recorded for the film, we hear Adra on the phone with Israeli authorities, asking for protection. We see armed settlers descend on Masafer Yatta, then Adra’s cousin shot point-blank in his abdomen by a man in a T-shirt. Words flash across the screen, informing us that, since October 2023, many such attacks have continued to take place, prompting Palestinians to flee their homes.
…
The film doesn’t engage with other ways this suffering might end. The only resistance we see is nonviolent demonstration. Adra is an activist, a term whose configurations are vague except vis-à-vis violence. The film matter-of-factly captures plenty of violent Israelis, settlers and soldiers, armed and sustained by the state, their bulldozers and their unmoved expressions, or their twisted smiles as lives are destroyed, but no Palestinian fighters, no direct Palestinian response. Instead, Palestinians and their supporters are “armed” with their cameras, committed to capturing an aftermath to which a sympathetic Western audience might choose to respond on their behalf. At the film’s start, Adra’s father, who has been imprisoned and abused by the Israelis multiple times, describes a desire to throw rocks at Israeli soldiers, then apologizes to his Israeli guest, explaining that sometimes he finds himself so angry. The woman’s son was shot at a peaceful protest.
Before the footage capturing the settler attack on Masafer Yatta, during which Adra’s cousin was shot, the producers inform the viewer through an intertitle, “We finished this film in October 2023.” The implications here are obvious, a Pandora’s box that the film, committed to the possibility of a future that accommodates both settler and native, must bend over backward not to touch.
also:
From Perfect Victims: And the Politics of Appeal by Mohammed El-Kurd:
Take the genre of Israelis and Palestinians making films together. The Palestinian filmmaker is chaperoned to the film festival, allowed on stage as their authoritative cosignatory's charismatic sidekick. No one—not the producer of the festival, not the columnist writing a review—seems to care about the content of the film, whether it is good or garbage. What matters most is that the film was codirected, a mode that satisfies a libidinal urge in the viewers. They eavesdrop on a forbidden conversation, a titillating reconciliation between the slayer and the slain. Discussions about the film, reviews, the way it is promoted, and our excited elevator pitches to one another all become masturbatory, reducing the film to the fact that it was a collaboration between an Israeli and a Palestinian, fulfilling the viewer's fantasy of a happy ending to an otherwise miserable story. We turn it into a fetish.
saw a white woman refer to sam nordquist as "kid" - of course, little black boys are "young men" but grown black men are "kids." acknowledge him fully for what he was: a BLACK TRANSGENDER man. his blackness and transgender status in combination were what made him so vulnerable to this brutal abuse and murder. do not infantilize him. and furthermore do not erase his blackness to spotlight only his transness. this was a hate crime which shows yet again the compounding effects of transphobia and antiblack racism. it is not a coincidence that all five accused murderers are white, and can be linked to white nationalism on public social media profiles (such as emily motyka's confederate flag profile picture).
according to data aggregated from 2013 to the end of 2024, approximately 85% of transgender homicide victims in the usa are people of color - with a majority of victims being black transgender women.
also, if you're going to share pictures of sam, show what he actually looked like as himself - not the pretansition photo picked by basically every fucking news outlet. pre-transition and non-op/non-medically transitioning transgender people are obviously still trans, but that was not his current situation at all, and it's so profoundly disrespectful to latch onto an outdated photo to represent him. here's what he looked like in actual recent pics he chose to share on his own social media:
and if you can, help his family with their expenses. nobody should have to worry about associated costs while processing such a horrific loss.
would you think about how youve never had a delicious chocolate cake. and how its probably too late to eat a delicious cake at this point.no. its ridiculous. you would never think that. transition. now
in los angeles, the historically Black community of altadena has been decimated by the ongoing eaton fire.
afropunk has created a spreadsheet of gofundmes of displaced Black individuals and families affected by the current los angeles fires. the list is constantly being updated.
one year of genocide later and israel has only expanded its reign of terror. make no mistake: their goal is to pillage, colonize, and destroy the levant so that they can rebuild it in their image. a year of outright ethnic cleansing while the world sits by and watches. this is not “war”, it is the intentional extermination of multiple populations, and it is not normal. people love to say “well there’s always conflict in the middle east” because they cannot fathom that arabs are human beings and that they are currently being subjected to inhumane atrocities. do not look away. do not let the spread of information slow. we are currently living through a genocide. what are you going to do for your fellow man?
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