My mother and I traveled two and a half hours by train from Samarkand, Uzbekistan, to Bukhara, the city that is located two and a half hours away. A Uzbek train attendant came over while I was waiting for the restroom to say hello to the hoodie I was wearing, which is black with a Palestinian flag and the words “Free Palestine” in both English and Arabic.
The young man then advised me to steer clear of Wagon Seven because the train was full of Israeli tourists during our subsequent conversation in modified English. He informed me that he had requested that he be removed from the wagon so that I wouldn’t have to deal with them. He then began to wonder how people could live together while their government was systematically killing children.
Nearly 20 000 of the more than 65, 000 Palestinians Israel has officially murdered in the Gaza Strip in less than two years were children, which is probably a serious understatement. The list goes on and on about the numerous children who have suffered permanent trauma, mutilation, and trauma.
The train attendant suggested we take a selfie of our sweatshirt-based encounter before we arrived in Bukhara. He gave the official approval for Palestine in the photo, and we headed our way back to our respective countries.
This particular hoodie had attracted attention before, which is not surprising. An Arab woman traveling with her family requested the photograph of the shirt the previous week while waiting in the security line at Istanbul’s airport. Then the Turkish security guard who patted me down said that I was a “good person.”
I inquired as to how she might have come to this conclusion, who generally said that any American citizen who supported Palestine was a good person.
The United States, first under former president Joe Biden and then under Donald Trump, has obviously done little to improve its international reputation. The US has also provided the Israeli killing machine with enormous amounts of diplomatic support, including by vetoing six UN Security Council resolutions calling for a ceasefire in Gaza.
Hands down, the most unexpected compliment I’ve ever received about the Free Palestine hoodie came from a TSA agent, which isn’t exactly known for having the best reputation, at Dulles International Airport, which is outside of Washington, DC, the country’s capital.
I was flying to Mexico City last October, one year into the genocidal saga. An older white agent approached me and lamented the ongoing horror in Gaza while he was scanning my passport. He claimed he liked my shirt. As I stared at him in shock, he continued to question whether I had read any books by Israeli anti-Zionist author Ilan Pappe.
Granted, this occurred before Trump assumed office and began effectively criminalizing the genocide by kidnapping and dumping students and scholars who had backed Gaza.
I’ve also made a lot of friends who are free from wearing Palestine clothing. I received a hug from the Sudanese human rights lawyer-turned-ride-share driver in Washington, a woman at the airport in Athens who said, “Long live Palestine,” and a United Airlines flight attendant who almost conspiratorily told me that he was in favor of my outfit.
There may seem to be only a few things influencing the garment’s popularity when traveling by air, train, and other means. I have a pathological inability to sit still for the majority of my life, so I have to deal with it first. Second, I constantly freeze in airports, which made me think that if I have to wear a sweater, it could as well be one from Free Palestine.
Despite being confined within the borders of a tiny strip of land that Israel has transformed into an open-air exhibition of some of the worst atrocities known to humanity, it is undeniably grotesque that, thanks solely to a passport granted to me by the number one supporter of mass slaughter and enforced starvation in Gaza, I am able to freely travel the world in a Free Palestine hoodie.
Although my current official travel hoodie is black, I also have it in blue. I also have two Palestine football shirts, one of which I wore last year when I entered the notorious stretch of borderless and dangerous jungle that stretches between Colombia and Panama, which has since become a veritable burial ground for international refuge seekers.
In recent years, hundreds of thousands of have-nots around the world have been forced to cross the Darien Gap in hopes of arriving in the US. I ran into two Yemeni men, both of whom were strangers to US-backed terror, who praised my Palestine shirt as “very good” and offered to help me in the jungle if I needed anything.
The only negative feedback to the Palestine hoodie, however, was in the city of Mazatlan, Mexico’s birthplace of the eponymous drug cartel, in February of this year. Additionally, there are a number of stereotyped gringo “expats” who frequently don’t bother to learn Spanish and who appear to understand that taking advantage of Mexico’s lower living costs while supporting Trump’s mass deportation campaign, which affects many Mexicans right across the border.
One such gringo caricature took it upon himself to yell belligerently, “So you support Hamas” while being personally offended by my hoodie. My Mexican companion and I returned to our beers after I responded in a decidedly impolite manner.
My sweatshirt for Free Palestine obviously won’t stop a genocide. Noor Faraj, 10, was hit by Israelis at her home, but it won’t stop her or give her two legs. Palestinian newborns who have been starved to death will not be revived by it.
However, it has at least provided some fleetingly upbeat moments in a world that is quickly spiraling into hell.
