March
13, 2024
Intimaa
Salama, a 27-year-old dentist from Gaza, attended last week’s State of the
Union address at the invitation of U.S. Rep. Cori Bush. Though she said she
felt honored to join Bush in demanding an immediate and permanent ceasefire and
full restoration of funding for humanitarian assistance through the United
Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), she said she’s now clear she’ll never
go to another State of the Union.
Intimaa Salama, a 27-year-old dentist from Gaza, stands in the
lobby of the Center for Global Citizenship at St. Louis University, where she
is currently a master’s student, the day after returning from the State of the
Union in Washington, D.C.
Salama
will graduate from St. Louis University’s Master of Public Health program with
a focus on global health in just two months. Her plan was to earn her degree
and return to Gaza to help build out Palestine’s public health infrastructure.
Cholera, starvation, the crisis of amputations and the less visible fallout
from Israel’s massive bombing of civilians have only increased the urgency of
that project, Salama told Truthout. But she literally has no home to return to,
and her family has been decimated by Israel’s war.
On
October 27, 2023, Israel bombed her extended family’s compound in the Nuseirat
refugee camp, the second-most populous camp in the Gaza Strip. The attack
leveled the home where 23 family members from three generations had all lived
together since her parents built it by hand decades ago. Like so many others
from central Gaza, the family then fled south to Rafah. But instead of the
safety they’d been assured by Israel, they were carpet bombed with munitions
supplied by the U.S.
It
fell to her father, who survived the airstrike, to bury 35 family members,
including Salama’s grandmother, two of her brothers and their families, and
three of her uncles with their families. She doesn’t know if her relatives’
unmarked grave sites can be found again, if she will ever be able to recite the
Surah Al-Fatihah prayer at their resting place. With Israel’s invasion of Rafah
imminent, Salama’s surviving family members returned to what remains of
Nuseirat, where they’re living in tents near their former home. They’ve
returned with an infant, Adam, Salama’s newest nephew. Adam was born on the
open road where, against all odds, his mother survived a cesarean section
without anesthesia and a recovery without painkillers. Unvaccinated and
vulnerable, the baby has no birth certificate, while bombs continue to fall on
Nuseirat.
Salama’s
mother, fearing for her daughter’s safety, did not want her to attend the State
of the Union address. At the event, a Capitol guard hassled Salama to remove
the kaffiyeh she wears as a headband, a gift from her father from before she
left Gaza. Fortunately, a journalist sitting nearby asked the guard to let it
go, and he backed down. Salama said she was left with the thought: These
people feel free to hurt and dehumanize us in all these different ways.
In
this exclusive interview for Truthout, Intimaa Salama discusses why she
attended the State of the Union address, describes her own experience with
UNRWA, and articulates the message she wants to share with Western leaders.
Frances
Madeson: After everything your family has endured and continues to endure, fate
brought you into the same chamber with President Biden, the very person who
could stop the killing in a heartbeat. Your restraint and grace under the
circumstances are truly moving. What was it about the experience you found most
disturbing?
Intimaa
Salama: I felt the power the United States has over the Middle East. I
felt it. That power the United States has to veto a ceasefire, when it could
reach a peaceful solution. It makes me disappointed, makes me ask: Why? It’s
not like Biden does not know what is happening, so he’s an accomplice in this
genocide. But in so many ways, he makes it worse — a lot worse; you can’t drop
aid and weapons at the same time. No kids should have to look up at the sky
wondering if this is going to be his death or food for tonight.
And
the way it was dropped, they killed five people. And you’ve seen the flour
massacre? My people are not just dying from bombs. They’re dying trying to
survive.
The
thing that kept coming to my mind was an interview I saw of Joe Biden talking
about how much he loves his kids and how much he loves his grandbabies. And
that made me think: What if these were your kids in Gaza? What if they were
your grandbabies? Would you be okay with them not being healthy? Losing a leg
or a hand? Being starved? In constant fear? Would you be OK with them being
traumatized?
I’m
sure he would not.
So
it’s just hard, you know, seeing that nothing is happening, that all these
people are being killed and it’s only getting worse.
By
getting worse, do you also mean the public health dimensions?
Yes,
in my research on heavy metal contamination from human conflicts, specifically
military attacks, we see a deterioration of child’s health in terms of fetal
development, in terms of cancer, in terms of nutrition and growth.
I’m
looking at the silent aftermath of the war and trying to call for action. We
always think about the current situation and its human cost, but we often
overlook the hidden things that can stay in the soil and sand and water and can
affect people in the long run.
At
this moment, I’m kind of losing faith in what I’ve been learning, because with
a global health concentration, you get to learn a lot about the Geneva
Conventions, international human rights laws that were made to protect
civilians and to prevent a public global health crisis. But look how the world
is turning its back.
Where’s
all the big international health care organizations — why aren’t they doing
anything to call for a ceasefire? Even in my department, there’s not a single
professor talking about what is happening right now, though it’s closely
related to what we’re learning.
I
understand it in some ways — people are afraid to lose their jobs, but even so,
it is a hypocrisy. If you can talk about what happened in Ukraine and assess
what health interventions to do, for example, an environmental cleanup after
the invasion, but you’re not talking about Gaza because we’re Palestinian, it’s
a double standard. One that should scare the world — today it’s happening in
Palestine but you never know what can happen next. Even people in the U.S. have
to fear the power that Israel has over them.
Why
did you and the congresswoman add the restoration of funding for UNRWA to your
demands? In what ways is its work important to Gaza’s viability as a
functioning society?
I’m
a Palestinian refugee because my grandparents were displaced during the 1948
Nakba. With this status, since the day I was born until the moment I left Gaza
in 2022, I got all my education and all my health care services from UNRWA for
Palestinian refugees.
So
I would describe myself as a product of UNRWA, and without its services, I
would not be here today, healthy and well-educated. Our literacy rate in Gaza
is over 97 percent. Both my parents are UNRWA teachers; they taught for
generations, more than 40 years. So when the U.S., knowing how much UNRWA
services are a lifeline for us, decided not to fund it based on Israeli lies,
they added a layer of suffering to Palestinians.
When
you support UNRWA, you’re investing in health, education and future
generations.
How
are you getting through the days, especially concentrating on your studies?
I’ve
always done well in school. So I have to keep it that way.
My
family is always on my mind: What are they doing right now? Are they starving?
Are they cold? I’m in a constant state of fear. There’s a lot of stress, and
you never know what’s coming.
As
for my grief, the Palestinian-American community here has been really
supportive, really sweet, and they’ve helped me a lot. They’ve become my family
here. They make me feel at home.
Some
speak Arabic, which helps because sometimes it’s hard to express feelings in
English, in a language that is not your language. All my life, English was a
side subject, so I still have the language barrier because I don’t know all the
precise words.
I
spend a lot of time with the Palestinian-American families. It makes me feel
safe and comfortable being with people who understand what I’m going through,
who connect with me, and who wouldn’t judge me anyhow. Palestinians have strong
community bonds — it’s in our way of life, in our identity.
I
can tell you it is traumatizing trying to survive a genocide, even from afar.
Not just for me, but for all of them too.
Are
you buoyed by the demonstrations on behalf of Palestinian life in the U.S.?
It’s
beautiful. People are doing everything they can do, all they can think of.
Aaron
Bushnell, the person who set himself on fire and said, “Free Palestine….
I’ll no longer be complicit in a genocide.” He was an active member of the Air
Force. He deserves to be honored.
Even
some Israelis are protesting in the streets, especially after the flour
massacre. They know what their government is doing is wrong, that it’s beneath
them and an abuse.
Overall,
the problem isn’t with the people, it’s with the Western governments who are
complicit in this genocide and who remain silent. You don’t have to fight for
Gaza or send weapons, but you can pressure the Israeli government with imports
and exports, and other economic levers. What are you waiting for?
If
magically, the president’s mic had floated up to you in the gallery and you’d
had the floor, even for a moment, what might you have said?
I
would tell the Congress members: “You’re complicit in the murder of my family.
My grandmother Fatima, killed just shy of 75 years old, a science teacher, a
wonderful storyteller, the sweetest woman we all loved so much. Her blood is on
your hands.”
How
many more pictures of mothers burying their children or fathers carrying the
remains of their kids in plastic bags do you need to see? How many more
children have to hold press conferences in English until you hear the cries of
your victims? How many more doctors and nurses have to be shot by IOF [Israel
Occupation Forces] snipers before you stop this?
And
why, why you are spending so much of your tax money on hurting our people when
it can solve so many problems for your own people?
Are
you sorry you went?
For
me personally, yes. I feel I have to cleanse from being there. But I felt the
moral responsibility to be a good representative of my people, to be a voice
for the millions in Gaza. So I decided that I needed to be there for them. I
needed to be there for my family and for my friends who are being killed and
injured and starved.
If
I’m ever invited to the State of the Union again, I would never go. What I
heard there was so disappointing.
Do
you feel pessimistic? Do you feel optimistic?
Pessimistic.
If people do not take the right actions, then the world is going to witness a
lot more bad things.
Is
there room inside that pessimism to dream of having children of your own one
day?
Yes,
I think that would be beautiful, because it’s nice to have more Palestinians.
This
interview has been lightly edited for clarity.
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