Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique

by Sa'ed Atshan

From Ramallah to New York, Tel Aviv to Porto Alegre, people around the world celebrate a formidable, transnational Palestinian LGBTQ social movement. Solidarity with Palestinians has become a salient domain of global queer politics. Yet LGBTQ Palestinians, even as they fight patriarchy and imperialism, are themselves subjected to an "empire of critique" from Israeli and Palestinian institutions, Western academics, journalists and filmmakers, and even fellow activists. Such global criticism has limited growth and led to an emphasis within the movement on anti-imperialism over the struggle against homophobia.

With this book, Sa'ed Atshan asks how transnational progressive social movements can balance struggles for liberation along more than one axis. He explores critical junctures in the history of Palestinian LGBTQ activism, revealing the queer Palestinian spirit of agency, defiance, and creativity, in the face of daunting pressures and forces working to constrict it. Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique explores the necessity of connecting the struggles for Palestinian freedom with the struggle against homophobia.

Genres: Nonfiction, Queer, LGBT, History, Politics, Social Justice, Sociology

304 pages, Hardcover

Published May 26, 2020

Reviews

[Sunny Lu · Rating 4 out of 5]

Critiquing critique!!! I will be thinking about this book a lot….. might write a full length review of it on my substack

[rorysstar · Rating 5 out of 5]

since english isn’t my first language, I was having a really difficult time with this book & i hope to reread it when i think i am more confident in reading difficult books in english.

I cried at the start of this book. I am very passionate about my and other people’s queerness and seeing queer people speak up about their unique, individual queer experiences which are affected by where they live, where they grew up, their culture and so on is so important and always reaches the deepest parts of my heart.

‘’My mother’s response will be with me forever. Upon sharing that I am gay with her in Arabic, she replied,

The reason I am crying is that I cannot believe you have gone through all of this without me. I wish that I had been able to be by your side. But I am now comforted that you have come to me. I am proud of you for how far you have come. I did know deep down inside, like every mother does, but we hold on to the doubt until it is confirmed to us otherwise. I want you to know that my respect for you has only increased. This is something incredible difficult in our society, but you are my son. I love you, forever and always.” ♡

After i read this I immediately screenshotted it and reread it so many times. I could read this part a thousand times more and I would still cry and have this warm feeling inside my heart. Even though this was only a small part in the beginning, which was an introduction if i remember correctly, reading this was so beautiful. It also shows that not every person (who isn’t queer) who lives in a homophobic society is homophobic, which I think is important to acknowledge and see especially when we’re talking about arabic countries.

The topics discussed in this book were very important and very complex. Especially now that the world is finally seeing the crimes Israel has been committing against the palestinian people, it is important to know what queerness has to do with all this. Before reading this book, I watched some videos about “pinkwashing” to understand what it is, and the only thing I can say is that I am truly disgusted. Israel using my identity to gain support and hide their crimes is disgusting! And the members of my community supporting this is even more disgusting, I am truly ashamed.
I learned a lot about queer palestinian organisations, queer palestinians and more in this book.

Recently I’ve been seeing a lot of people talking shit about “queers for palestine” and I’ve been thinking a lot about how not many people understand why queer people support palestine, but i think now i can say in confidence that I don’t care about those opinions anymore. Queer people stand with palestine because we stand against the oppression of all people.
I will remember this book forever & one day all palestinians, heterosexual or queer, will be free 🇵🇸
I am so glad for this book and the author, queer palestinian voices are finally getting more attention 🤍

[Sarah Schulman]

This is complex book of feelings, history, frustration, anger, analysis, wishes and yes..."critique." Writing from within the Queer Palestinian diaspora, Sa'ed Atshan lays out his frustration, hurt and disappointment with a movement (at home and internationally) that he feels has come to a "plateau" because of what he experiences as overly strict and punitive political analysis by key leaders and public figures, who he names. Detailed histories and key incidents in movement building and faltering are laid out for the record from his perspective, giving supporters and observers a story of relationships, efforts and strategies that have pushed the Palestinian queer experience forward into a public eye that some may not want and others believe is necessary. Some of this is riveting, upsetting, disturbing, and the book is essential although controversial reading for anyone interested in the Queer Palestinian movement.

As someone who is overly praised in this book, and not taken to task for real failings (for example- much that went wrong with the first LGBT delegation to Palestine can be traced to my errors, which he leaves unaddressed), I can attest to a good/bad dichotomy in significant places that made me personally uncomfortable- especially when friends and people I admire and respect and rely on for insight are depicted as overly ideological.

At the same time, Atshan is honest and passionate about his experience, and takes his right to speak seriously and rigorously. This is a book, I think, about the difference between a movement and a community and an identity- and how these elusive yet distinct formations impact on, replace, and contradict each other.

The fact that the book emerges as the West Bank is close to being annexed by the corrupt Israeli state- equaled only by Trump's America as chaotic, illegal, and driven by domination- further contextualizes the pressures on Palestinians, diasporically and at home. I think the primary take away of The Empire of Critique is that Palestine and Queer Palestine are multi-dimensional societies in crisis that cannot be controlled or streamlined into one cohesive point of view, and yet the stakes are so high and the obstacles so daunting, that the movement aspect of Palestinian survival requiring coherence and coordination does conflict with Atshan's wish for individual opinion and expression without "pressure" to adhere.

Whether this pressure is because of overzealous boundary building, or is a survival mechanism for people who want the basic right of autonomy is something that remains to be defined.

[rie]

There is a lot to get from this book in regards to following the queer Palestinian struggle and pink washing attempts by Israel!

HOWEVER I will not lie, I was repeatedly rubbed the wrong way by this book. despite what saying others, the book feels very lenient towards israelis. like it says queer palestinian activists are “radical purists” for not wanting to listen to or be in solidarity with queer israelis or being upset by activists that do so but no actually i do not think there is any need for that at all. will you tell jewish people to sit and have a productive conversation with a nazi? should indigenous people ally with european ‘sympathizers’ that did nothing but speak and still reaped the benefits of their genocide in real time? no. you’d think that person is insane for saying that so why the hell is such a large portion of this book dedicated to pushing that? it was extremely jarring and felt like it was nudging to be like “see, we’re not all crazy radical”. and it’s crazy to me that no one else is pointing this out in the reviews?

[Zachary · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been putting off this review because there's just... so much to say. I have a long LONG notes app with information I wanted to include but I just keep not doing it, so here's my review. It's a wonderful book, it has a lot of great thoughts, is incredibly informative, and critical while also being kind and thoughtful of the plights of the movement. I think it also has a lot to say about all activist movements with the Empire of Critique. Read this. Might be one of my top 10 of the year.

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

A deeply personal, nuanced autoethnography on LGBTQ+ organizing in Palestine. I appreciate a lot about this text: the author does not shy away from grappling with the complexity of the struggles he discusses. Atshan articulates some very important critiques of critique in his chapter ‘Critique of Empire and the Politics of Academia’ that are relevant to many disciplines and areas of study. He advances a deeply intersectional politic that powerfully critiques the very real pressures on activists to hierarchalize or prioritize struggles.

Content warnings: discussions of homophobia, transphobia, colonialism, racism, Islamophobia, Antisemitism, war, hate crimes

[Joanna · Rating 5 out of 5]

A brilliant critique of critique, that is, the ways in which academic and other forms of criticism can stifle grassroots activism — or, ideally, create space for diverse perspectives to be heard. Applicable well beyond the context of queer Palestinian activism.

[Ali · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Priscilla · Rating 5 out of 5]

A really important nuanced, complex look at the the unique plight of queer Palestinian activism and activists. Subject to what Atshan calls the 'empire of criticism' from both the left and right-wing activists, 'pinkwashing' Zionists and what Atshan calls 'pinkwatching' pro-Palestinian 'radical purists' who denounce those deviating from what they deem a 'pure' ideology of anti-imperialist/colonialist activism. Even though as Atshan points out the realities of queer Palestinian lives are tied up with liberation from the nationalist apartheid ethnostate which is Israel.

Activists also suffer most painfully from internal criticism and division within the queer Palestinian movement and fellow Palestinians, which can too often police queer Palestinians' for being seen to be upholding pinkwashing. Whilst then alienating queer people who need support and to be welcomed as part of a diverse and not monolithic movement, as Atshan forcibly and articulately argues.

Much food for thought in making connections between queer liberation and anti-colonialist politics, showing us that we can take in multiple and often difficult truths whilst remaining, steadfast in our commitment to a free liberated Palestine.

Definitely worth a read especially if your in the Palestinian activism space or just an activist more generally, as a guide of what mistakes to avoid and how to make movements truly intersectional and inclusive.

[roz⭐]

i struggled with this at parts because it's highly academic and reads as an intermediate work, making reference to other academics throughout, and i may have benefited from having more knowledge of this area going in. however, its thorough examination of transnational activism, pinkwashing, boycotts, and queer palestinian media and academia was expertly done. what i found most informative was the way israel creates a social/political/legal facade of protecting and promoting queer rights (while doing the opposite) in order to highlight an 'anti-queer' nature of palestine and the palestinian experience. sa'ed also highlighted the way the west polices activists and becomes overly involved in being the right kind of ally, which i found very important. i won't be giving a rating as it doesn't feel particularly appropriate but i gained a lot from this - it just took me some time to get through due to its academic style.

[Selina⚔️ · Rating 3 out of 5]

Compared to the previous queer non-fiction books I’ve read by gay men, this work is leagues better in its analyses and arguments about the subject matter (i.e., ethnoheteronormativity, pinkwashing, and discursive disenfranchisement under the empire of critique).

As of writing this review, I will consider this formative to my queer scholarship.

However, I only rated it three stars because I’m still unconvinced by the author’s categorization of "radical purists" even after finishing the book.

I also felt that including other scholars' studies about homophobia (why and how it came to be) could have provided more context to readers, especially those new to intersectionality and Asian studies.

Still there were plenty of insights from activists and queer Palestinians that resonated with me.

There is no pride in genocide.

(I'm also thankful for the references.)

[Yousef · Rating 3 out of 5]

Liberal apologia…Atshan is a vibrant, empathetic person whose commitment to research, anthropology, and affective analysis is awe-inspiring. But this is such an ideological cop-out especially read during this current genocide.

[Anon · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sa’ed Atshan postures as an authoritative voice on Palestine in touch with local Palestinian activists, despite his past refusal to withdraw from a university event attended by Zionist "Israeli" academics, a direct contradiction of his professed support for BDS, as exposed by investigative journalists at Electronic Intifada.

Atshan has publicly declared that he wants Palestinians and their Zionist oppressors to "find common language and a common frame of reference so that we can hear each other with empathy and with respect." Yet in this very book, he turns around and accuses Joseph Massad of perpetuating the "naturalization of oppressive power relations."

Throughout the book, Atshan drones on about how “homophobic” academics and traditionalist Palestinians are, all while insisting on the importance of “queer” Palestinian agency. He offers this gem:

“Surveillance by both Hamas and Israel certainly creates significant risks for queer Palestinians in Gaza.”

This flattening mirrors the worst tendencies of queer activists in the West. For example, the OutRage! activists Jasbir Puar documents carrying placards reading: “Israel: stop persecuting Palestine! Palestine: stop persecuting queers!” and “Stop ‘honour’ killing women and gays in Palestine.”

Atshan consistently villainizes Hamas, portraying it as an oppressor on par with “Israelis” and insisting on the need to confront both. This flattening recurs throughout the book, as when he frames support for queer and trans Palestinians in Gaza as a struggle against both “Israel’s medieval siege” and the “suffocating oppressive pressures of Hamas control.” The effect is to equate occupation with Hamas rule in Gaza, encouraging Western readers to hate the Palestinian resistance, and to take the stance of supporting none of their efforts to meaningfully resist “Israel.”

As a side note, the “not in our name” politics Atshan espouses throughout this book suggests that if “Israel” were promoting LGBT rights, its broader project might be defensible. But even if “Israel” were an unambiguous force for LGBT equality, that would not justify its settler colonial project, nor would it shift the primary contradiction away from resisting the illegitimate Jewish settler project.

The final chapter delivers a sloppy, intellectually dishonest critique of Joseph Massad and Jasbir Puar.

Unable to refute Massad’s central thesis that the “gay international” is a Western social category imposed on colonized societies, Atshan begrudgingly concedes that Massad raises legitimate points, only to dismiss him as “victim-blaming.” He also objects that Massad fails to provide sufficient evidence for his “analysis of same-sex identifications in the Arab world,” yet the burden of proof lies with Atshan to demonstrate that “LGBT identity” is a universal, immutable, and transhistorical social category, not a transmuted one traceable to 19th century Western sexology and psychiatry.

Atshan appeals to Al-Qaws as evidence that Western LGBTQ terminology has been “indigenized” in Palestine. But Al-Qaws has received funding from Open Society Foundations and the New Israel Fund. Atshan defends this funding by accusing Massad of “purity spiraling” and asking how queer Palestinians could possibly remain “pure” from Western institutional support, noting that even BDS depends on international aid. But this is a category error. Atshan conflates organizations *aligned* with BDS goals that have received Western funding, with BDS itself. And in any case, BDS is not beyond criticism. The PFLP has reportedly criticized BDS, and Leila Khaled famously said that BDS does not liberate land.

Please note that The New Israel Fund explicitly states that it "does not support the global (or central) BDS movement." Yet it funded Al-Qaws for years. A Zionist, anti-BDS organization clearly regarded Al-Qaws as an acceptable NGO to support.

Atshan attempts to debunk Massad’s argument that Al-Qaws is based in “Israel” by pointing out that rightist “Israelis” have used similar arguments to highlight “Israel’s”supposed “gay-friendliness.” This is a textbook guilt-by-association fallacy. The fact that Massad and right-wing “Israelis”critique them has no bearing on the validity of Massad’s argument.

Atshan’s claim that critiques of queer Palestinian activism, particularly those focusing on Al-Qaws’ location, somehow “reinforce” the artificial division of historic Palestine is garbage. Al-Qaws has operated within “Israel” without facing raids or arrests, while Palestinians who live in “Israel” like Raed Salah have been repeatedly detained by the “Israeli” regime. The obvious implication is that the “Israeli” regime does not perceive Al-Qaws as a threat to its illegitimate settler colonial project.

Atshan further claims that Massad contradicts himself regarding the Egyptian Queen Boat arrests, arguing that the state both punished the men and denied their gay identities. But this is not a contradiction. Massad’s point is that the Egyptian state produced the “homosexual” as a subject through policing, courts, media, and medical discourse, even as many of the accused did not identify as gay or even recognize the category. Atshan is functionally illiterate.

Elsewhere, Atshan asserts:

“I do not think it is a coincidence that Gaza is the region in Palestine in which homophobia is most prominently and aggressively manifested as well as the region facing the most brutal and devastating Israeli occupation policies.”

Is it really coincidental that a region not governed by a comprador authority coordinating with “Israeli” intelligence is less tolerant towards homosexuality? The implication of Atshan’s argument is a denial of Palestinian agency. Actually, Palestinians can arrive at their own positions on sexuality independent of colonial influence.

Atshan’s critique of Puar is even stupider. Rather than engaging substantively with the arguments advanced by Puar & Maya Mikdashi, he whines about Jadaliyya “privileging” their voices and insinuates that their critique of “exceptionalism” mirrors Zionist claims that Israel is unfairly singled out.

But that is simply not what they argue. Atshan accuses them of obscurantism, yet they state plainly, in non-obscurantist terms:

“We were very clear that we were discussing pinkwatching activism in the United States only”

And even more directly:

“To read our piece as… a critique of on-the-ground Palestinian activism, is to miss our basic point”

They even clarify Puar's position:

“Puar… has… highlighted the strategically intricate work of Al-Qaws and PQBDS for several years now.”

So the claim that they are dismissing or targeting Palestinian activists collapses immediately. If anything, it shows Puar bending over backward to be charitable to a "Palestinian civil society organization" based in "Israel" that received Zionist NGO money for several years.

Puar and Mikdashi even clarify that their intent was not to criticize specific activists from an ivory tower:

“We did not name any names—neither those whose work we might find to be problematic, nor those whose work we laud—precisely to avoid the kind of insider/outsider positioning that happens when one claims greater moral authority (in the name of activism, in the name of authenticity, in the name of representing a community with a global reach) to speak about an issue than another. This kind of ‘finger-pointing’ would have been divisive, creating a binary politics of insiders/outsiders, authenticity/inauthenticity, resistant/complicit, good organizing/bad organizing that we believed to be deeply counterproductive”

That dismantles the claim that Puar and Mikdashi were finger-pointing. They literally say they wanted to avoid being overly divisive because they believed it would be counterproductive.

They also dismantle Atshan's mischaracterization of their argument:

"Rather than accusing us of somehow negating the specificity of Palestine"

and:

"we were not minimizing Palestine, rather demonstrating the myriad of actors that converge to enable such a practice."

The same distortion appears in Atshan’s use of their “exceptionalism” claim. In the book, he lifts the line:

“pinkwatching does not take into account the broader global context, and instead focuses on the state of Israel as the sole offender”

and presents it as if it were an argument about unfairly singling out “Israel.” But the surrounding text clarifies their position:

“Pinkwashing partakes in global circulations of gay rights that accord civilizational status to ‘gay-friendly’ nations… In fact, without these global circulations, pinkwashing would not make much sense at all.”

They are not making a moralistic argument that "Israel" is being unfairly singled out, as Zionist apologists do. Their claim is that isolating "Israel" from the broader structures of homonationalist U.S. imperialism produces an infantile critique. "Israel" is embedded within a global US-led imperial system. None of this constitutes a defense of so-called "Israel."

So why does Atshan elide their actual position on exceptionalism and bastardize their argument into something it plainly is not?

In short, Atshan does a major disservice to the Palestinian cause by reducing the fight against Zionism to nothing more than idpol sludge watered-down, lowest common-denominator drivel designed for Western “LGBT” libshit sensibilities. Instead of articulating a clear anti-colonial demand for liberation.

[Molly · Rating 5 out of 5]

A more academic read, but worth every second. A thought provoking, knowledgeable book. A must read.

[gi! · Rating 5 out of 5]

so so imformative

my heart hurts everyday for queer palestinians

[Kyra · Rating 4 out of 5]

manchmal etwas redundant, aber soo wichtig !

[Care]

This was so great! Highly recommend. While it does have a lot of academic jargon and critical theory discussions, there is also a lot of more accessible content throughout.

[Gabby Swan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is an intersection of two subjects I care deeply about, and such a thorough analysis of the complicated interaction between these is incredibly interesting to me. I feel every angle Atshan explores is well-developed and well-cited. My only real issue is that there is a lot of restatement that makes the text seem bloated, and a lot could be cut out that disrupts the flow without actually cutting any content at all.

[Sonya Speizer · Rating 5 out of 5]

this one wasn’t orientalist !

[amanda macchiarola · Rating 4 out of 5]

sooo very academic and so many words i dont know, but i understood enough of this to give it 4 stars! this is essential for anyone who is an lgbtq activist as well as someone who is outspoken against the israeli occupation of palestine. atshan really hammers in the point of pinkwashing, which is something i didn’t know much about until reading.

[Joss Morfitt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cuts through the dangerous performativity of Israeli (state) queer progressivism to underscore the complexity of middle eastern LGBTQIA+ politics and activism. Great appraisals of Massad and Puar too: it’s so easy to criticise as Euro-Western academics and not have to account for the ramifications of your words. I worship Puar but it is compelling to hear a counterargument for her criticisms of western epistemic hegemony, one that doesn’t simply reject her ideas but proposes that we refrain from polarised projections of east-west. And Atshan’s concluding message is vital: solidarity should always trump blind critique.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5⭐️
I went into this knowing it’d be a very academic text, but was somehow surprised by how dense it was. Despite it being so dense it was still pretty readable, very enlightening, and to my pleasant surprise it didn’t rely heavily on jargon.


The book is a comprehensive study of queer Palestine solidarity for the first two decades of the 21st century. It was published in 2020 so it will not reflect changes over the past four years (especially the past year). The “empire of critique” sounds painfully academic and lofty concept, but the author breaks it down in a tangible way and I was able to identify how the concept shows up in other aspects of lefty activism in my own life. Overall, this book is VERY worth your time if you want to learn more about queer Palestinian activism and its relationship to queer international solidarity for the Palestinian liberation movement.

[Alona · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book took me five months to finish, but every minute was worth it. One of the best academic works I have read in years. Insightful, caring, and critical all at once.

This work beautifully and effectively "problematized notions of authority and authenticity in academic and activist representations" of Queer Palestinian existence and its solidarity movements. An incredibly brilliant and accessible book.

[George · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fascinating book written in (mostly) accessible language that outlines how damaging the queer Palestinian movement can be to its own growth and success when it fights internally rather than looking at the bigger issue at hand. The bigger issue at hand = the state of isr*el

Free palestine btw 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸 from the river to the sea

[hanita · Rating 3 out of 5]

read for class, written by prof

[Megzi · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars rounded down. I think overall this book was well written and fascinating but at times some of the author’s conclusions either seemed a bit contradictory or just haven’t aged well in light of the past three years.

This book details, at great length, the ways in which queer Palestinians’ very existence is highly politicized and scrutinized, from every angle. Sa’ed Atshan has faced numerous obstacles in his life, from spending significant time growing up in Palestine, to coming out as a gay man, and devoting much of his life to activism. The central tenant of this book asks the following: When does critique result in clarity and cohesion in socio-political movements and when does it have the unintended consequence of paralysis and discouragement? How do we navigate the sometimes messy terrains of intersectionality?

In the past two decades, Israel has prided itself on its “gay friendliness” not only to shield its grotesque human rights abuses of Palestinians, but also to contrast its image as a beacon of democracy and enlightenment against the “savage, barbarous hordes” of the Middle East. The latter concept is not new to Zionism: many early Christian and Jewish Zionists alike saw the creation of Israel as a colonialist outpost in the Middle East that would bring European enlightenment to the region. The use of gay rights as a fig leaf is only a continuation of this mindset. This is what we called “pink washing.”

Homophobia within Palestinian society is further inflamed not only by Israel’s promotion of this dichotomy, but by its blackmailing of LGBT Palestinians to use as informants, further solidifying the false dichotomy that queerness is not only a “Western” intervention that is used to justify imperialism, but that queer Palestinians are inherently tied to Israel’s very project and are therefore untrustworthy.

There are many ways Atshan details Israel is not as LGBT friendly as it portrays itself, largely tied to Orthodox Judaism (I would argue the militaristic mindset of Zionism also adds to this). The same is true for Muslim and Christian communities within Palestine. I think what he leaves out is why religiosity in Palestinian society is so deeply embedded. I suspect that being under constant suffocation and bombardment leaves people needing to grasp something outside of themselves, which is why people often turn to faith. He also neglects to mention that secular, leftist to centrist organizations, like the PFLP to Fatah (the latter controls the PA), either were violently crushed or ended up as collaborators. Hence why recent resistance to anti-imperialism has largely been tied to Islamist movements. This has been the case not just in Palestine but throughout the entire region of Western Asia since at least the 1980s. How does this religiosity link to homophobia? An interesting exploration I would like to see in another book.

My biggest issue with this book is that while Atshan claims to support BDS, he further calls for more collaboration between queer Palestinians and queer Israelis, because they are “often victims of the same Israeli state.” This is a false equivalence. He admits that many queer Israelis have “a complicated” view of the occupation, which is disqualifying in itself. No one would suggest during apartheid South Africa that black Africans fighting for their freedom should team up with Afrikaners with “complicated” views about the apartheid system. Nor would we ever promote dialogue between Germans who downplay the Holocaust or see “nuance” in European anti-Semitism to have vigorous debates and open communication with Jewish people. Why then is there this double standard?

I find it telling when he mentions some of these “progressive” LGBT Israelis: a filmmaker who calls Palestinians “primitive” in an interview, or an LGBT rights activist who lives with his partner in an illegal settlement, in a documentary that the author lauds. Especially in light of the current genocide, and seeing public polling in the country where 82% of Israelis believe there are no innocents in Gaza, all these casual mentions of “co-resistance” from a public that largely relishes in or is indifferent to Palestinian suffering left a bad taste in my mouth. Yes, there are always exceptions, but those exceptions would probably already be on the ground in joint activism. Why then is there further calls for collaboration?

I still found this book compelling but I suppose I was hoping for a book similar in vein to Nadia Elia’s Greater Than the Sum of Our Parts: Feminism, Internationalism, and Palestine.

[Michaela · Rating 5 out of 5]

⭐️I wish I could give more than 5 stars!! ⭐️

This is possibly the best articulated evidence I’ve ever read for the importance of intersectionality in activism and political struggle!

Atshan begins by explaining how the complicated political layers of oppression, occupation, and surveillance weave together and reinforce each other.

He follows this with the DEEPEST dive into the complex issues and criticisms of pink washing and pink watching. {I was especially interested by the way Israeli pink washing actually reinforces homophobia in Palestine}

Atshan then examines the roll of criticism and critique within activism, as well as the damage it can cause to solidarity movements and queer liberation. {I’ll admit, it’s so complex and exhausting, it’s a miracle queer Palestinian activists are ever able to accomplish anything at all}

One of my biggest takeaways is how issues of feminism, class, and queerness are not only connected, but integral to the struggle for national Palestinian liberation. {All activism must be intersectional to be truly effective or successful}

I’ll be honest, at first I thought “Oh no, I’m about to read someone’s dissertation; what have I gotten myself into?”, but I was utterly fascinated from start to finish!
This book is exceptional! I cannot recommend it highly enough to anyone interested in queer liberation and/or solidarity with the Palestinian struggle.

[Ava · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent book, I'm glad I got to read this as the last book in my Middle East Gender Studies class. Atshan makes very valuable points about pinkwashing and media representation of queer Palestinians, but to me the most impactful chapter was chapter 5, wherein Atshan calls out the teichoscopic tendencies of academics to sit upon their theory-thrones and talk down to activists. (I'm being a lot less generous than he is.) This is an important thing to be said: there is an inherent divorce between theory and reality. Theory has a certain callousness that, while often useful, can also be insensitive to the lived experiences of the subaltern and even just blatantly untrue. Great read through and through.

[SusyG · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lettura a tema per il Pride Month perfetta ❤️ Sa'ed Atshan, antropologo palestinese e omosessuale, analizza la comunità queer in Palestina, mostrando le problematiche che devono affrontare tutti i giorni. La comunità LGBTQIA+ palestinese deve affrontare l'omolesbotransfobia della propria comunità (Atshan non la nasconde) ma anche l'occupazione israeliana che sfrutta le difficoltà della comunità queer, ricattando e mettendoli ancora più a rischio. L'autore mostra anche come Isr. non sia questo paradiso per le persone gay e tratta del pinkwashing del governo israeliano. Anche attraverso testimonianze, Atshan fa un grande lavoro di documentazione e riflessione che consiglio assolutamente di leggere, soprattutto per zittire molti sionisti 🍉✊🏻

[Emilia SR · Rating 4 out of 5]

I absolutely loved this book. I learned so so much about the Queer Palestinian issue. I am a total beginner to this and this book is definitely academic, so a lot certainly flew over my head, but what I did gain from this book was so valuable. My greatest takeaways center around the conversation of pinkwashing (and consequently pinkwatching) and the ways that Isreal pushes a problematic and false narrative of Palestine as unwelcoming to Queer identity and Israel as some opposing haven (with examples!). Again, I do think it was a dense topic and the book wasn’t super accessible imo, but also I probably should have come into it with more academic background on queer palestinian issues.