By Mohammed X.

Moving from Nablus, Palestine, to the United States wasn’t just a change of place, it was stepping into an entirely different world, one filled with its own challenges, fears, and contradictions. Living between these worlds means constantly trying to belong while carrying the weight of where I come from. Sometimes, it feels like my origins are seen as a threat rather than a story worth hearing.

My Heart in Palestine

Back home in Palestine, my life was deeply tied to my family, our memories, and the land itself. But living there also meant being on constant alert anything could happen at any moment. The tension is always there; it never really leaves your heart. Growing up in Palestine, you learn that peace is fragile and that every day comes with its own set of worries.

Trying to Live “Normal” in the US

Here in the United States, I try to live as if everything is normal. I wake up, care for my newborn and my family, go about my daily routines, and even find moments to laugh. But Palestine is never far from my mind. News travels fast, and every headline carries a weight that I can’t ignore.

I worry about my family, what’s happening to them now? The pressure back home keeps rising, with threats from outside and divisions from within. It’s exhausting to live two lives: one here, where I try to adapt and belong, and another there, where my heart never stops worrying.

The Fear of Immigration Uncertainty

Then there’s the fear that never really leaves, the uncertainty of my immigration status. Will I be detained? Will they deport me and leave my kids behind? Every day brings new changes, and the asylum process feels like walking a tightrope.

There’s the constant question: Is my story strong enough? I worry that law enforcement might show up at my door one day. Sometimes, I imagine being sent to a third country, somewhere I’ve never been, a place I don’t belong. I entered this country legally, through the airport, but after months of hesitation and waiting, I now find myself trapped in a loop of fear and uncertainty.

Walking with Caution, Living with Hope

Even when I walk down the street, I don’t always feel safe. I see what ICE is doing in places like Portland, and it reminds me just how fragile my situation is. Immigration laws change so fast, it’s hard to keep up, and even harder to feel secure.

Yet despite all of this, I keep going. For my wife, my kids, and for the hope that one day, these two worlds I live in won’t feel so divided.

Recently, I met someone in America from Al-Doha town in Bethlehem, just last week. He’s an amazing guy, and meeting him brought a flood of memories from my past visits to Bethlehem, which used to be almost weekly. My heart is still there, with Palestine. I miss eating falafel at Afteem restaurant and the delicious food in all those other special places. I made good friends there too, especially Issa the owner of the grocery shop, right in front of the central bus station on Manger Street; I miss him so much, he was a best friend. I miss everything about Palestine. That’s why I want to share just how much Palestine truly is the earth’s heaven. Even though we feel safer here now, my heart is forever at home. I miss the coffee stands on the streets, the blend of noisy voices from traffic jams, the random little stores, and even the tired police officer who stands in the middle of the street organizing traffic. Recently, I heard that Bethlehem will hold its Christmas celebrations this year, unlike the past two years. I’m sad that I won’t be there. The last time the celebrations happened, three years ago, I was there and I loved every moment.

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Support Mohammed’s fundraiser:

https://chuffed.org/project/154402-support-a-palestinian-family