Coping and Posting with Danya Issawi

plus palestinian restaurant and media recs

and

Nov 17, 2023

NMJC: Here at nmjc we’ve been trying to balance the lightheartedness of hanging out with the abject seriousness of what’s going on in Palestine. Today we’re chatting with our Palestinian-American friend Danya Issawi, writer at New York Magazine. Without further ado…

NMJC: Danya, can you share a bit about your family background?

DI: I’m Palestinian on both sides, all of my grandparents fled during the Nakba to Syria, where both of my parents were raised before immigrating to the states.

NMJC: As a Palestinian-American journalist whose beat is fashion, have you felt the urge to drop everything and only write about Palestine? How have you been managing?

DI: Absolutely. Everything else my writing touches just feels, frankly, insignificant. The silly things I loved writing about just a little over a month ago feel far away and unimportant. In truth, there’s always been that push and pull for me — I’m here, in the heart of an empire inflicting pain on the people I come from, and writing about and reporting on a fashion show? Where the clothes are beautiful and inspirational and yet cost more than someone’s monthly salary? It’s hard to enjoy, or create, art or prose when I feel this supercharged desire to do something when nothing more than what I’m doing can really be done.

NMJC: Your social media posts are very articulate and intentional-seeming. How do you think about posting on social media during a time like this?

DI: Lol, thank you for saying that. It feels like my responsibility to post on social media, which usually sounds silly especially given the cliche that posting does nothing — which is so untrue, especially given the videos we’ve seen shared on social media by Palestinians in Gaza keeping us privy to the disasters unfolding — but as a journalist, as a writer, and as someone who gets to celebrate and relish in the richness of Palestinian culture and identity without having to be subjected to the realities and horrors of daily Palestinian life, it feels like the absolute least I can do. I have a small platform, but if I can use it to build a bridge, to educate people and humanize Palestinians, which we also unfortunately have to do after these last few weeks, then I will.

As far as the point you make about being articulate/intentional, I grew up in a white community, and from a young age learned that my peers, and their parents, are not receptive to frustration or, sometimes, emotion from someone who looks like me or has a background like me. So I stifle it and only let sadness leak through from time to time publicly because I’m human and sometimes the dam cracks. But I spent most of my life trying really hard to humanize myself, my family and my culture to the people around me, it’s a pattern I have repeated every few years since the age of 5. It’s a burden I’ve placed on myself and respect people in our community who refuse to play that game of cat and mouse. But, as a result, I’ve learned to be extremely intentional, and patient, with my messaging. I’d rather lose a few extra minutes of my time and notches of sanity and have someone understand and gain empathy in places where they may have lacked it before

NMJC: We’re living through a time of unprecedented crisis. How has the current situation changed how you have been hanging out, if at all?

DI: Well… most gatherings I attend lack the luster they used to. There’s a shroud of guilt covering a lot of what I do. Like why do I get to have comfort? Why do I get to put a nice little sweater on and go sit in the park? And then I look around at whatever hangout I’m at and think “how does life feel so normal for everyone else here?” The first two weeks of this all, the most hanging out I could do would be on friends’ couches, and even then it felt like I was elsewhere. And on the flip side, it’s like why are you sad? Why are you centering yourself and your emotions? You’re not the one in immediate danger, you’re not in a true state of suffering. I guess the guilt is two-fold.

But, a singular positive, if I can even call it that, is that I’m meeting and connecting and becoming friends with Palestinians in my community that I didn’t really know before, and it feels so nourishing to just be with people that you don’t need to explain anything to - people that share culture, food, history and language with you. It’s peaceful and makes all of us feel less alone.

NMJC: In better times, how does your Palestinian heritage influence the way you hang out?

In the past, some of my favorite memories are at Palestinian weddings and gatherings, where the traditions are enthralling and the food is fragrant and nourishing and warm. Usually, the only time I got to talk about or celebrate my heritage was among fellow Palestinian or Arab people, but these past few weeks, I’ve felt such a significant shift. I’ve had so many of my non-Arab friends reach out and take the time to learn about my culture and go to restaurants like Ayat in New York and try Palestinian food and listen to Arabic music. It’s kind of discombobulating and also really beautiful. It’s sad that it took so much suffering and death for the rest of the world to see us as human - as people with customs and recipes who make art and film and write and have desires - but it feels important that they continue to do so.

NMJC: Occasionally the fashion world can center political movements, and as with all consumerism-based activism, I find it hard to engage with without a healthy dose of skepticism, is there anything in the fashion world you’re seeing that is genuinely uplifting Palestinian voices, art, etc.?

DI: It’s been heartening to see several high-profile fashion editors and models support the Palestinian people, I’ve also seen several guides going around highlighting different Palestinian designers to support like Nol Collective and Hind Hilal, as well as jewelry artists like Nurnei. At the end of the day, fashion is a business — one that often centers on exploitation. The capitalistic machine whirrs on and the industry moves forward not in the wake of tragedy, but right alongside it, existing in the same space and timeline yet rarely making room for pain or activism. But I think the crisis in Gaza is bringing a lot of Palestinian and MENA creatives together, both in and out of fashion. I’ve connected with writers, filmmakers, photographers, designers and artists I didn’t know of before whose work now deeply resonates with me. It feels like a digital community and something I wish I’d had all this time.

NMJC: Can you give our audience some Palestinian-centered hangout recs? Restaurants in New York? Songs? Artists? Activities? Movies? Books?

DI: Friends, we’re going on this journey together! I really only recently starting getting into Palestinian art as I’ve been searching to discover more about my culture.

For food in NYC:

Ayat

Al Badawi

Au Zaatar (this place is officially Lebanese but it’s so good and many of the dishes are the same)

Movies/Shows:

Mo (I cried through every episode)

Gaza, Mon Amour