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morebedsidebooks's review against another edition
4.0
Furthermore, queerness is where we can expand, rather than limit, the spaces of possibility for self and collective expression and engagement with the world.Â
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Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique is a 2020 academic book from scholar Sa'ed Atshan in response to the constraints on the representation of queer Palestinians. Valuable reading not just on the history of LGBTQ social movement and Palestinian solidarity but offering thoughtful reflection on the tensions and conflicts within and without, pinkwashing, and complex queer realities. Grappling with critique vs criticism along with theory and praxis, a text to pick up for anyone concerned with struggles for liberation as well.
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mateusjobim's review against another edition
challenging
dark
informative
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.0
ellieeeeeee's review
medium-paced
5.0
opened my eyes to a lot of aspects of pinkwashing i wasn't familiar with. beautifully written and clearly well researched as well as personally experienced by the author. have recommended this book to many already and will continue recommending it.Â
megansoetaert's review
informative
slow-paced
4.0
Atshan, above all, highlights the need for nuanced activism and putting a diverse range of queer Palestinian voices at the center of the fight for queer liberation in Palestine and Palestinian liberation as a whole.Â
it took me a long time to read this book (def haven't been flexing my nonfiction muscles), but i thought it was a very worthwhile and thought-provoking read. i learned a lot about the queer palestinian movement and had many chances to reflect on my own allyship and activism. my biggest critique is that atshan oftentimes turns his academic style of writing into something more convoluted than was necessary
it took me a long time to read this book (def haven't been flexing my nonfiction muscles), but i thought it was a very worthwhile and thought-provoking read. i learned a lot about the queer palestinian movement and had many chances to reflect on my own allyship and activism. my biggest critique is that atshan oftentimes turns his academic style of writing into something more convoluted than was necessary
archytas's review
informative
reflective
slow-paced
4.25
This is one of the most thought-provoking books I've read in a while - and one that I know I am going to recommend strongly. I would note, however, that in the case of individual activists and groups, Atshan has one perspective and at times perhaps an overly harsh one. Atshan explains his autoethnographic approach clearly, allowing him to combine rigorous research with insight from his own experiences, and would be the last person to present his work as sitting outside subjectivity while still insisting on theoretical clarity.
At the heart of this book is Atshan's insistence that discussions about pinkwashing - the phenomenon in which LGBTQI+ policies are used to distract from broader human rights abuses - must be situated in an analysis of who is speaking, what power they have, and what experiences they come from. In doing this, he powerfully reflects on the experiences of being gay and Palestinian - caught between movements which seek to minimise the impact of the Israeli occupation on his life and those reluctant to provide space for discussion on how queer Palestinians counter, manage and avoid homophobia in order not to feed into a narrative that reinforces Pinkwashing. This Atash describes as an "Empire of Critique" - a surrounding discourse in which the identities of queer Arabs can be so politicised there is little space to breathe. Atshan goes on to criticise what he describes as a growing "moral purity" which makes it increasingly difficult to work with queer youth, who may, for various reasons, choose to live in Haifa over the West Bank (as leaving Palestine implies criticism), to fight the Israeli policies which deny queer Arabs civil rights in Israel or to connect with queer Israeli activists winning concrete gains (as recognition of gains can feed into pinkwashing). In short, Atshan is asking for more recognition of the messiness of queer life in a place where queer rights have become the subject of a propaganda war.
Israel has long positioned itself as a world leader in LGBTQ circles, centered on the city of Tel Aviv, which claims 25% of its 400,000 residents identify as gay or lesbian, and builds its annual pride event as a global tourist attraction. It is in some ways an odd fit - Israel has no gay/lesbian (or indeed civil) marriage provisions, does not allow surrogacy for LGBT couples, and has no legal protection around discrimination against trans people in work or housing and Jerusulem has prevalent homophobic street harassment, but the trick here is in the dog-whistle phrase "best in the Middle East" which barely tries to hide the real contrast - with the Arab, Muslim communities it borders where homophobic attitudes largely remain the majority. In this way, Israel's trumpeting of LGBT achievements is directly tied to its occupation of Palestinian territory, and,it is often tied to an image that Israel offers sanctuary for queer Palestinians. The reality, of course, is that few queer Palestinians can access Israel at all, and even fewer are able to live there (just 4% of the population of Tel Aviv is Arab!). Adding to the tensions, Isreali military/police boast about targeting queer Palestinians for blackmail and were exposed at least once for faking a hate crime killing to cover up an Israeli murder of young Palestinians. All of which places unbearable pressure on young queers in the West Bank or Haifa, with an identity weaponised by all sides. Homosexuality is not outlawed in Palestinian law, but it is difficult to register queer organisations and social acceptance of queer lives is low. However, as in all societies, many families support their queer relatives, and social integration varies. Atshan argues for a movement which can meet Palestinian queers where their needs are, acknowledging the difficulties of both living under occupation and living with homophobia, and most of all, the intersections of those things.
I'm not sure I came out of this book with any answers, but I felt like I much better understood the problems, and surely that has to be a beginning.
At the heart of this book is Atshan's insistence that discussions about pinkwashing - the phenomenon in which LGBTQI+ policies are used to distract from broader human rights abuses - must be situated in an analysis of who is speaking, what power they have, and what experiences they come from. In doing this, he powerfully reflects on the experiences of being gay and Palestinian - caught between movements which seek to minimise the impact of the Israeli occupation on his life and those reluctant to provide space for discussion on how queer Palestinians counter, manage and avoid homophobia in order not to feed into a narrative that reinforces Pinkwashing. This Atash describes as an "Empire of Critique" - a surrounding discourse in which the identities of queer Arabs can be so politicised there is little space to breathe. Atshan goes on to criticise what he describes as a growing "moral purity" which makes it increasingly difficult to work with queer youth, who may, for various reasons, choose to live in Haifa over the West Bank (as leaving Palestine implies criticism), to fight the Israeli policies which deny queer Arabs civil rights in Israel or to connect with queer Israeli activists winning concrete gains (as recognition of gains can feed into pinkwashing). In short, Atshan is asking for more recognition of the messiness of queer life in a place where queer rights have become the subject of a propaganda war.
Israel has long positioned itself as a world leader in LGBTQ circles, centered on the city of Tel Aviv, which claims 25% of its 400,000 residents identify as gay or lesbian, and builds its annual pride event as a global tourist attraction. It is in some ways an odd fit - Israel has no gay/lesbian (or indeed civil) marriage provisions, does not allow surrogacy for LGBT couples, and has no legal protection around discrimination against trans people in work or housing and Jerusulem has prevalent homophobic street harassment, but the trick here is in the dog-whistle phrase "best in the Middle East" which barely tries to hide the real contrast - with the Arab, Muslim communities it borders where homophobic attitudes largely remain the majority. In this way, Israel's trumpeting of LGBT achievements is directly tied to its occupation of Palestinian territory, and,it is often tied to an image that Israel offers sanctuary for queer Palestinians. The reality, of course, is that few queer Palestinians can access Israel at all, and even fewer are able to live there (just 4% of the population of Tel Aviv is Arab!). Adding to the tensions, Isreali military/police boast about targeting queer Palestinians for blackmail and were exposed at least once for faking a hate crime killing to cover up an Israeli murder of young Palestinians. All of which places unbearable pressure on young queers in the West Bank or Haifa, with an identity weaponised by all sides. Homosexuality is not outlawed in Palestinian law, but it is difficult to register queer organisations and social acceptance of queer lives is low. However, as in all societies, many families support their queer relatives, and social integration varies. Atshan argues for a movement which can meet Palestinian queers where their needs are, acknowledging the difficulties of both living under occupation and living with homophobia, and most of all, the intersections of those things.
I'm not sure I came out of this book with any answers, but I felt like I much better understood the problems, and surely that has to be a beginning.
bookishthots's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
5.0