27 July 2024 marked the 20th anniversary of the unjust FBI raids on the offices of the Holy Land Foundation, then the largest Muslim and Palestinian charity in the United States, and the homes of five men — Shukri Abu Baker, Ghassan Elashi, Mufid Abdulqader, Mohammed al-Mezain, and Abdulrahman Odeh — and their families. 20 years later, Abu Baker, Elashi and Abdulqader are still imprisoned, serving lengthy sentences as Palestinian political prisoners in the United States. The following interview, by Samidoun organizer Salma al-Nour with Nida Abu Baker, the daughter of Shukri Abu Baker, highlights the family’s experience and the continuing struggle to free the Holy Land Five.
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At the same time that the Zionist regime, hand in hand with US imperialism, is pursuing an active genocide against the Palestinian people in Gaza, we are also witnessing a significant escalation of repression in the imperial core. Thousands of people have been arrested, jailed or detained by police in the United States, Britain, Canada, Germany, France and other imperialist states for their activism and organizing against the genocide and for Palestinian liberation. In addition, Zionist organizations and right-wing media outlets have launched a series of smear campaigns against the growing movement that is increasingly escalating its actions for Palestine, including recent attacks on the Holy Land Five as part and parcel of attempts to attack currently active organizations for Palestine in the United States.
In this context, it is particularly urgent for supporters of justice for Palestine to include calling for the liberation of Shukri Abu Baker, Ghassan Elashi and Mufid Abdulqader in organizing for the liberation of Palestinian political prisoners in campaigns and actions, as part and parcel of the liberation of Palestine from the river to the sea.
Please read and share the new article by Salma al-Nour in Mondoweiss: 20 Years of Struggle: Renewing our commitment to liberation for the Holy Land 5
The interview between Salma and Nida follows:
Salma: Okay. Can you tell me about the early years of the Holy Land Foundation before the raid and before it was shut down?
Nida: Okay. So, the Holy Land Foundation, the office, was basically my second home. I was there almost every day and I would literally shadow my dad at such a young age. I remember being in the studio with him, watching him film his infomercials. I remember seeing all the artwork that he produced in-house in the office. Some we even used as props for his infomercials. Some we even had as murals all around the office. Being there was like being in a museum. There was something everywhere for you to look at, just like always in awe. Always daydreaming, pretending that you’re in Palestine, because it was like my dad made it look like you were in a Palestinian village.
It was truly amazing. We had summer camps there, youth camps. There would be kids there all the time. They would be like brought in, what do you call it? They would come in as field trips. They’d learn about humanitarian aid. They’d learn about the work that HLF would do and volunteer. What else? It was just a wonderful place to be at.
I would meet some wonderful people at such a young age as well, like politicians, actors, singers. You name it. At that time it didn’t… I mean, yeah, I don’t know. What else should I add? I feel like I forgot what I was about to say. What else? Yeah, it was our second home. I’d be running around all the time.
Salma: It sounds like a really special and beautiful place to grow up.
Nida: It was. It really was. I’m really happy that I spent my childhood there. It was a blessing to have a space like that to grow up in. I really believe that who I am today is because of where I grew up as a kid. I grew up at the HLF office.
Salma: Kind of like growing up in Palestine. You had a little piece of Palestine there.
Nida: It was exactly that, yeah.
Laila: So the second question is threefold: tell me about the day your house was raided and your dad was first arrested. How did you feel? Do you remember any things that your mom or dad said or that anyone who was there said on that day?
Nida: This was a great question. A really great question. Okay. So I was only 10 years old at the time and it was the summer of 2004. The sun was hardly up yet. And at this time the FBI agents were at all five homes of the soon-to-be persecuted men. So it was my father and Ghassan in Dallas, And then Abdulrahman Odeh in New Jersey. Mufid Abdulqader in Dallas as well. And then they had agents in California. And I think that was it. And mind you California was two hours behind. So I think it was around 4am over there. I remember my eyes were just starting to open when we were hearing some weird sounds outside. Almost sounded like raccoons. You know just like random tapping sounds here and there and it felt weird. You know, just something did not feel right. And I heard knocks on the door. And they were kind of light at first and I get up and my room is down the hall the very last room. And my mom’s and dad’s room is right before mine but to the left. And as I’m walking I hear my dad tell me “don’t open the door.” But I thought they said “open the door.” And this is when everything happened all at once. It happened so sudden. They started banging on the door and they said FBI open up. My hand hardly touched the knob. It was like slow motion. I touched the knob. The door swung open. And my dad picked me up from behind. And literally like it was just so swiftly like he picked me up with like one arm. And I flew to the back. He was like trying to protect me and then a stampede of agents forced them themselves into the house. And at this point we had dozens of agents and Garland [Texas] PD in our home with guns pointed at our heads. They all started to, like, disperse around the house.
Some went to the left, some went to the right, some went all the way down. It was a movie scene. Everything we had ever seen in the movies happening in our home. In fact, it looked just like what we would see on the news growing up of IOF soldiers raiding a Palestinian home. It was that. Everything that, you know, my father had taught us about. Everything we had learned about Palestine, we were living it at that moment. I remember them rounding us up into the living room. My little sister was hardly three at the time. One of the agents had picked her up from her crib. I can’t even imagine being a baby, a toddler at the time and being picked up by a stranger who had a gun in their hand. And they threw her at us.
And they threw her at us in the living room. One agent who was like four times our size. He was a heavy-set white man who was over six feet tall. He swung open my eldest sister’s room, the door to her room. And she had just woken up from that. She was 19 and she wore the hijab at the time. He didn’t let her wear the scarf. She was confused. She woke up and saw a man in her room. I mean, think of all the things a young woman is going to think at that time. She was confused. She was like, who are you? What are you doing? And he told her to get up, get out of her bed. He, like, pulled her out of bed. She still had, she had bruises for a while on her arm.
He pulled her out of bed. She said I want to wear my scarf. He said no you can’t wear your scarf. He eventually, like, gave in and let her wear it but it took some time. And he grabbed her and she was trying to tell him that he’s holding her too tight. And you know she just woke up. She was confused. She’s yelling and he told my dad, “You need to control your daughter.” And my dad said “Well, hmm, maybe. It’s because her father is being violently arrested right now. What would you do?” I also remember my sister Sanabel was in the hospital that day. And she was set for a surgery. And one of the agents had me walk to the other side of the house to grab toilet paper for my dad. My dad needed to use the bathroom.
All the agents walked into the bathroom with him. And you know my dad, he’s like, he’s like me. We make a joke out of everything. So he was like, “oh, you want to invite everyone else to come in? Come on, it’s a party.”
You know, there’s just a way, that’s just such a Palestinian way of coping, you know, to make a joke out of everything, to be sarcastic. Anyway, because they needed toilet paper, she walked with me to the other side of the house to grab toilet paper. And you know, if you think of it right now, it’s actually so odd for an agent to be alone with a 10 year old minor. You know, they should have had another adult, one of the adults going with her. Because at this point, she took this opportunity to start asking me questions without an adult president. We walked past my sister’s room and she goes, oh, this is such a nice room. Whose room is it? And they probably thought I was some dumb 10 year old who didn’t know what was going on. But I looked at her and I was like, “This is my sister’s room, you know, Sanabel, you know, exactly where she is. Because she asked me, “oh, where is she?” And I was like, “oh, you know exactly where she is. She’s at the hospital.”
Salma: Because you knew that they knew everything.
Nida: I knew, like, yes, I was 10 years old, but you know, being a Palestinian in America, you’re taught at such a young age that like, you know, the reality of things, right?
So, I mean, never did I expect us to have our home raided or anything, but you know, my dad did always tell us to respect people. But at this moment on this day, I knew these people were not our friends and I knew everything was planned out. So I told her what she needed to hear, that they know exactly where my sister is. They knew about everything. Everything she’s asking me about, they already know the answer. So she got quiet. She didn’t ask me any other questions after that. We got the toilet paper and we proceeded back to the main area of the house. And I remember them searching through all the closets under the bed.
My mom, also very comedic, she started yelling at the agents. She’s like, “who do you think we’re hiding here? Do you think we’re hiding Osama bin Laden?” And after that, while we were around it in the living room, I saw my dad get pinned against the wall. And he was put in handcuffs very tightly. And at this moment, I remember him like winking at us and just saying “Everything will be okay. Everything’s okay.” And they walked him to the police car. I tried to go outside, but there was a cop standing in front of the house. And then I remember the police car was parked next to the mailbox. And then my sister and I were crying hysterically looking out the window because obviously we couldn’t be in the front by the front door. And the cops saw us looking through the window and he acted like he was about to come back into the house. So we hid. And that was that. That was that day. And after that, we just had nonstop media outlets just posted up in front of our house. These big vans, the reporters standing outside our home. There was no privacy. I mean, and you can just imagine how scary it was being all girls in this house. And now everyone knows where we live. And there’s this whole post 9/11 hysteria, you know, like it’s just scary. And if anything happened to us, I would have blamed the media at this moment. Like there was no privacy for us.
I even remember in the winter, just a few months after that, we had like these trolls who rang our doorbell in the middle of the night. It was freezing cold outside. My sister opened the door. And this man, this white man just jumped out in his underwear and yelled. And there was a guy across the street filming this and he unplugged his camera and they both ran down the street after that. And my sister ran after them. She called the cops and the cops said nothing. They couldn’t find him, whatever. It was just rude. My dad was in prison for, I think, 10 days. We didn’t really know anything about him. It was basically kidnapping. If you think about it, you know, they come into your home, take him away. And you know nothing about your dad for two weeks. And after that, he was put on house arrest. You know, we had to be back home at a specific time. He wasn’t able to leave the zone that they gave him. He wasn’t allowed to travel unless he had a special request. And it was like this for a few years leading up to the first trial. So that was about three years. Yeah.
Salma: So basically, just so that I can get the timeline right, basically there was the raid and the day that he was essentially kidnapped. And then after that, it was three years of just waiting and him being on house arrest.
Nida: Yep. And he was out of work during this time too.
Salma: Right, because they shut down the foundation.
Nida: He kept trying to come up with a backup plan. He came up with a media management group. He even started giving courses on starting your own business, which a lot of people in the communities attended. It was amazing. He was a life coach as well. My dad always came up with a backup plan and he had another backup plan to his backup plan. He always made it work. He always figured it out. From 2001 to 2004, he was out of work as well.
Salma: So the raid was in 2004 as well, right?
Nida: Yes. But when they shut down the HLF they raided the office, it was in 2001, just two months after September 11th. Convenient. Yes. Everything to me, I believe everything was carefully planned out and the timeline of everything is not a coincidence. It was not a coincidence. So between 2001 and 2004, my dad actually kept flying back and forth between here, Florida, and the Emirates, because in the Emirates, they wanted him to teach some courses. So he was in between helping the family business in Florida and teaching courses overseas in the Emirates. And then he came back. So during the raid in 2004, he was essentially just visiting at the time. He was supposed to go back to the Emirates for work. They planned it. They knew he’d be back because, like I told you, he was supposed to be at the hospital.
Salma: So it’s stalking and kidnapping, essentially.
Nida: It’s stalking the whole family. I actually remember there would be an undercover cop car at the end of our street, like at the end of our block, just watching us the whole time. And before the raid on our home between 2001 and 2004, it was just a lot of run-ins with the cops as well. Because like, you know, now that I think of it, it’s because we were being watched. You know, like one time we were just driving. We had a family outing. There were a couple other kids in the car. I don’t even remember who, and a cop pulled us over for absolutely no reason at all. And he asked my dad to get out of the vehicle. And my dad was like, well, am I being arrested? He’s like, sort of like, just get out of the vehicle. And he pinned my dad down to the hood of the car. And us kids were just like scared, like what’s going on? And they just harassed my dad for a while and let him go. This was between 2001 and 2004 before they raided our home. And then a couple of times my sister would get followed around by the cops. She was driving my dad’s car at the time and she was a college student. They would stop her and ask her whose car she is driving, where she is going. And one time they were harassing her and asking her all these questions. She’s like, you know exactly whose car this is. This is my dad’s car and I’m going to school. I actually have a final to complete right now. She made it to the last 15 minutes of her final.
Salma: Can you tell me about the time your dad came back after being held by police?
Nida: I don’t remember the day he came back, but I do remember a time where it could have been after he came back the same day. But I do remember when we had like just a group of FBI agents and a parole officer at our house telling him the rules and the step by step on how to maintain his ankle monitor and installing it and everything. We even had to go pick up an extra landline for the house, I guess, so that they could call us whenever, whenever they needed to reach him.
Salma: How did that feel to watch that process?
Nida: You know, I felt much older than my age. I mean, I had to grow up so fast. I was only 10 years old, but I’m thinking about these FBI agents and what their real motive is and what this ankle monitor is and its purpose and seeing all of these people in my living room in uniform and I’m sitting there properly. But at the same time in my head, I’m like, talking to myself sarcastically about everything they’re saying, you know, because I felt like it woke me up in a sense that like I knew what they were really up to. And I’m only 10 years old.
Salma: Can you tell me about the day of the not guilty verdict? Three years after the raid.
Nida:On that day, honestly, everything was a blur. But I do remember the amount of people that were standing outside of the courthouse. The whole community and people from out of town as well. There were hundreds of people. Like, think of the amount of people you would see at a Palestine protest in downtown Dallas.. Everyone was outside of the courthouse. When the men came out, people started singing. They were picking up my dad. They were picking up all the members and putting them on their shoulders and dancing. It was a party and we had the news following us from the front of the building to our cars. It was the happiest day ever. Truly. I’ve never felt happier. Later that night or the next day, we had a party at the community center, the MAS community center here in Dallas. We had speeches, poetry from my dad and the men, Ammo Mufid sang, there was dabke, of course. It was just a beautiful day to be with the community. The day of the not-guilty verdict was the happiest day of our life. But we were taken aback a little when the prosecutors were asked if they will take this to trial again and they said yes, because this was a mistrial. It wasn’t actually a not guilty verdict. It was just like a hung jury. You know, there was no answer because they couldn’t find any evidence, but it’s like they wanted them guilty so bad. They just couldn’t find them guilty. They just didn’t charge them with anything.
Salma: How did it and does it feel for you to see that kind of showing of support for your dad?
Nida: It was so special. Yeah. And it was surreal that like all these people are here to support me, my family and my dad. These people are here to support all five families because truly these men were loved by everyone. There was not one enemy.
Salma: Can you tell me about the day of the guilty verdict?
Nida: So the day of the guilty verdict. So during the last month, during November, it was just a waiting game. My dad and the five men would show up, drive downtown every single day and wait in a lobby of a hotel nearby until they were called to let them know that the verdict came out. And there would be some false alarms, they would tell us there was a verdict, and we would come, and they would say “nevermind”. On this day specifically, I remember I was at school and my sister worked at the school. I attended and we were in the prayer hall. My sister came in and she pulled me by the shirt and she was like, we have 45 minutes to get to downtown. It’s the verdict. We went home quickly to grab a change of clothes and sped our way downtown. I don’t even know how we made it on time.
Salma: And how old were you at this time?
Nida: 14, I believe. Yeah, 14. We made it. You know, the crazy thing is we felt unstoppable this trial. We went in feeling invincible. But something deep inside of me, my gut feeling told me that something was not right. I was just highly emotional that day. No, I wouldn’t even say highly emotional. I just had a feeling. But I didn’t think that this feeling meant that they would be guilty.. I went in, I was wearing a sparkly black hijab and a nice satin blazer thinking like, oh, if it’s like, if it’s anything like last time, we’re going to have the cameras all around us, so I was ready. I was ready to celebrate. We went to the seventh floor. I believe it was either the fourth or seventh floor. And as soon as you exit the elevators, it’s basically like TSA. You have to go through a detector and get checked before you enter the hall. Now, the community had already shown up. The room was full. People were all already in the room. They were filled, filling up the hallway. They even had filled up the extra, the viewing room where there’s a TV on the one of the higher floors. So they were not going to let me in. The guard at the time was not letting me get in. He let my sister go through, but he wouldn’t let me in. And I started yelling at him. I said, you have to let me in. My dad is there. He’s about to get his verdict. And how would you like it if it was your dad and you couldn’t get in? And at that moment I broke, I started crying. Then my dad came in, he came, he got out of the room, which I don’t know how because they had already started. He came out and he told him, I need my daughter. So he took me by the hand.
I went through the metal detector, they didn’t even check me or anything. He just grabbed me by the hand and we walked together holding hands through that hall. And I described this day or this moment as if I was being walked by an angel, when I try to remember the hallway, I just see all white and my dad, my dad holding me. It was crazy and just, it felt like just me and him, and the fact that he came out of nowhere. That’s why I say I describe it as if he was like an angel that just appeared and I really don’t remember anything around me but me and him and it was all white. But that’s probably just from all the distress and you know, blanking out. So I’m hugging him as we’re walking and I’m crying and I cry so hard that as soon as the door opens, everyone’s looking at us, me and him. And I fall to the ground crying. Everyone is looking at us because they had paused the session for my dad to get out. So these big wooden doors open, they’re like French doors. They open, and he and I are in the middle. We walk in and I just fall to the ground and I cry so hard. And he picks me up or like he comes at my level. And he’s like, he tried to joke with me. He’s like, “hey, listen, yalla. So when we go back on our way back home, we can go get McDonald’s on the way,” which is hilarious because we’re boycotting McDonald’s now. Oh, how times have changed. I sure have. So I get up and I sit next to my mom on this cold wooden seat. And I remember seeing my dad. I think we were in the first row or the second row and my dad is right behind this little wooden barrier. And his table was facing the judge, his back facing me.
So fast forward – all I hear is the judge saying, guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty. And the room is silent, but I hear everyone gasp. And I’m like, in my head, I’m like, no. Like, what is this? There’s no way. And something inside of me just like, you know, I felt something inside of me. I stood up and I started yelling at the judge when they were about to take my dad away. Before this my dad had turned around and winked at us and said, it’s okay. Like he gave us a nod of reassurance. But when I heard that click till this day, that sound triggers me. The sound of the clicking of the handcuffs, so silent but loud at the same time. That’s exactly how I describe it. And anytime someone asks me about it, silent yet loud. And it echoes throughout the whole room. I stood up and I started yelling at this judge.
It’s this little 14 year old girl yelling at this old man. Everyone was surprised that someone would do this and it was me. I yelled at him and I said, “You can’t do this.” I said, “All they did was help children all over the world and here in America. And this is how you repay them.” I said, “My dad is not an animal. You can’t put him in a cage.” The judge looks at me, his face is red because also the jury is in there and they don’t like the stuff to happen when the jury is there. Because they don’t want the jury to even see the family part of this, to see the human side of this. They want the jury to see everything that they only showed them in evidence. Which is everything that they feed people to. They only showed them the stereotypical things to feed people and brainwash them into thinking all Arabs and Palestinians are terrorists. So when they saw this, you can imagine how stunned everyone was. The judge looked at me and he told me, “Listen young lady, you better sit down. Or I will have you arrested too.” And he said that while all these guards were standing around me and they were about to take me.
My mom stood up and she put her hands in front of me and she put her whole body in front of me actually. Basically ready for them to take her instead. And she said, “No you can’t take her. She’s only a child.” And because my mom stood up and put her body in front of me, those guards kind of took a step back and they were confused. They were like, what do we do now? So they eventually just went back to their area and we all sat back down. And my dad told me it’s okay and I remember, I don’t even remember who it was, but two men from our community came and they hugged me and told me everything’s gonna be okay. It was a blur. I can’t even remember their faces. I also remember my dad coming out another time during this court session. I just don’t remember when exactly it was. When they were taking them away, I yelled I love you. And we went out of the room. They allowed three family members to say their final goodbyes. Just three. Yeah and we were I think like much more than six people. They let my grandma, my grandpa, and Sanabel, my sister who passed away, say goodbye. They gave them three minutes to say goodbye. And during this time I was looking through the crack of the door. These big wooden doors. Everyone was in the hallway. But I was standing, we weren’t allowed to open the doors, but I was looking through the cracks and I was able to get a little glimpse of Sanabel talking to my dad. Everyone in the hall was crying. Everyone was shocked. It was completely quiet. Everyone’s eyes were just like, wide open, you know, in complete shock. And then we went back down and it felt like a funeral. When we went back home we had community members come to our house and people were showing up like all week. You know, it was literally like everyone was in mourning. Just showing up, giving us their condolences and bringing food and just being there for us.
And then on the sentencing day it was basically the same thing. I got up and yelled something. I don’t even remember why. I think I also said “I love you”. And the judge already knows me. His face turned red and he yelled back at me. When we went out of the room, oh, when the judge said that he’s sentencing my dad to 65 years, he also mentioned that this was him being generous and kind because they were facing up to like 400 years. But a life sentence is a life sentence and it’s basically a death sentence. It’s just a slow death in jail. I mean, what is the difference between 65 and 400 if you’re going to end up dying in prison?
One of the members of the jury actually came out, and came to my sister crying. She told my sister that she never would have thought in a million years that these men would get sentenced to 65 years. She thought they were going to get like five years in prison, or something, because nothing they showed them was worth a 65 year sentence. She thought it was going to be just like any other court case or any other sentencing that they’ve already experienced. So that in itself, that in itself is proof that none of the evidence that they showed is evidence enough to convict them. Let alone give them a 65 year sentence.
Salma: They really are political prisoners.
Nida: It is political, yes.
Salma: Like in every sense of the word.
Nida: So these men, the Holy Land Foundation in itself shouldn’t have been political. It was about serving humanity, about giving back to the people. Politics aside, but they made it a political thing because quote by quote, they were winning the hearts and the minds of the Palestinian people. And this is exactly what the prosecutors said in court. They were winning the hearts and the minds of the Palestinian people.
Salma: Is there a moment when your dad was particularly hopeful, triumphant or steadfast or a moment that you returned to in your mind when he said something or did something that stuck with you or gave you strength?
Nida: So, you know, resilience and I would say, sumud, was instilled in us at such a young age, just growing up in the Holy Land Foundation and always hearing my dad speak, always watching him do his thing. We learned at such a young age what the Palestinian plight was, what the Palestinian cause was, why we’re fighting for liberation, why we’re doing what we’re doing and what it really means to be a Palestinian. And there would be times where my sisters and I would be arguing, he would take us to the office and run a tape of the footage that they recorded on their trips to Palestine and he would show us the videos of the orphans and he would tell us this is why we’re doing what we’re doing. And he would basically teach us that we have everything we ever need. And they would do anything to be in our shoes to have what we have. So we also were taught to always be grateful for what we have and to always give back to the people in need because they’re just like us. You know, and I think that’s something, just seeing that and just knowing that made me realize how steadfast my dad is. And I think it really made us, his daughters, resilient.
My dad has gone through a lot, a lot. The death of my sister was a big thing. The HLF was born because of her. It was born with the birth of my sister, Sanabel, when she was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis and thalassemia. Thousands of orphans were sheltered and given homes because of Sanabel. And he wanted to give them everything that Sanabel had because, you know, like she’s just like them. They’re just like her. We’re just living on different soil. Why is it fair that she’s getting this type of medical treatment and they’re not? When she passed away, my dad’s spirit was, I mean, he always has such a high spirit and he’s always so positive, even when she passed. He was the one making us laugh on the phone. He was the one checking in on us. He was the one telling us that everything is okay. When he is alone in a prison cell and he doesn’t have anyone to hold him or to hug him or to console him. So that right there showed me or proved to me what hope is, what resilience is.
You know, and I’ve only seen my dad cry a couple of times because he’s always trying to be so strong for us. But another thing that gave me strength was one of my dad’s moments of weakness, ironic enough. After my divorce, my divorce was really tough on my dad. Because I have a special place in my heart. We’re both the artistic ones. We have this little connection, he tells me, when he sees me happy, he’s happy. He’s like my biggest fan. So yes, this one of his moments of weakness gave me strength. He was in tears telling me, “I’m sorry.” And he told me, “I wish I was there for you. I wish I was more present. And I feel like I failed as a father.” And then, you know, there’s any time I hear something that’s not true, something grows inside of me. So I told Baba, and I was very firm with my voice, I said, “Baba, don’t you ever say that because you have been there for me. More than any other father who lives with their own kids.” He wasn’t physically present, but he was so present in our lives. You know, there are fathers who live with their kids in the same house and they don’t even talk to their kids. But my dad made sure, you know, that our bond would never break because that’s exactly what the government wanted. They wanted to break our family. They wanted to break us and to weaken us, but it only made us stronger. So that is exactly why I say his one moment of weakness gave me strength because I don’t ever want to hear my father say that again. My father is always so strong and he’s always so resilient and positive for us. And at this time, I had to be the one to lift him back up and tell him, no, you’ve been doing an amazing job.
Another thing is, you know, if you ask my dad if he regrets anything he’s ever done like with the HLF, he would tell you that he does not regret one thing. He would do it all over again if he knows he can help one more orphaned child in need and help kids survive this genocide.
Salma: There’s just one more. What is the best thing that others can do to support you and your family?
Nida: Keep talking about it. We already have so many people silent on Palestine and Palestinian political prisoners have been forgotten enough and it’s enough. I’ve had enough of people staying silent on Palestinian political prisoners. It’s not a taboo. It’s not something you’re going to get in trouble for talking about. They want you to think that you’ll get in trouble. They want you to be scared. That’s the goal of everything. That is exactly why they put these men in prison because they don’t want you in the streets today protesting a genocide.
And this is why I tell you the timeline of everything is not a coincidence. They specifically put people like this in prison. They put the most intellectual people in prison so that you can be afraid and stay silent because they don’t want you to be just like them. But you being silent is complicity in a genocide. You being silent is complicity in charging people with a crime they did not commit. We should be speaking up for political prisoners. We should be speaking up for Palestine because standing with Palestine and Palestinians is standing with or for humanity.
