I would like to start with a confession: this was the first time I joined a demonstration against Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. Since the Hamas attack on October 7, like many other Palestinian citizens, I was afraid — not just of the war itself, but of Israel’s escalating campaign of policerepression. 

According to Adalah, a Palestinian human rights organization and legal center based in Haifa, more than 400 Palestinian citizens were arrested or detained from October 2023 until the end of March 2024. Later, between May and July 2024, at least 34 protesters were arrested for taking part in peaceful demonstrations against the war.

As a mother of two children — 11 and 5 — my primary concern was their safety and mine, so I could be with them during these difficult times. In Haifa, where we live, Hezbollah’s missiles and Israel’s invasion of Lebanon last year brought the war much closer to home. Even so, the tension in the north felt like a distant echo compared to the devastation being unleashed on Gaza. 

I also believed that my work as a journalist, alongside my colleagues at +972, was enough — that reporting on and exposing Israel’s crimes might contribute to stopping the war. But then something changed.

I felt I could no longer stay home. I needed to take to the streets to scream against the war and to call, at the very least, for a ceasefire. For months, I had wanted to join a demonstration that would actually be seen and heard by the Israeli public — not one of those small protests in Palestinian villages and towns. There, we shout until our voices break but no one hears us except for the police, scanning for Palestinian flags or banners with the word “genocide,” eager for an excuse to make arrests.

So when the opportunity came this past Saturday to march through the streets of Haifa — a mixed Jewish-Palestinian city, home to more than 40,000 Palestinian citizens that make up around 11 percent of the population — I knew I had to be there.

Still, I found myself uneasy about the language used to promote the protest. The flyers and social media posts proclaimed: “Enough with war,” “Yes to peace,” and “A Palestinian state now.” I wasn’t sure what “peace” meant anymore, or whether a Palestinian state was a real possibility at this moment. But I felt no hesitation when it came to one message: enough with this war.

Breaking down the fear barrier

The demonstration was organized by the Peace Partnership, a broad coalition of dozens of organizations and political parties united around a shared call: an immediate ceasefire, a deal to bring the Israeli hostages home, and a commitment to full national and civil equality for all people.

The backbone of this coalition is the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality (Hadash/Al-Jabha), the only Arab-Jewish party in Israel, though the vast majority of its members and voters are Palestinian citizens of Israel.  Ahead of the protest, Reem Hazzan, a leading activist in the Hadash/Al-Jabha party and the head of the party’s Haifa branch, told me “the main goal of this demonstration is to break the fear barrier among Palestinian citizens of Israel — the fear of taking to the streets and calling to end the war.”

Earlier that day, I noticed that the route of the demonstration route only went through the Arab-Palestinian part of downtown Haifa. It felt, once again, like a protest confined to an Arab space — as if we were back in an Arab town or village, out of sight and out of mind. I still knew I needed to be there, but despite the organizers urging families to join, I decided to leave my children at home.

I was afraid of the police violence that has long been part of our lives, something I’ve seen since I was a child, but never had to confront as a mother. I didn’t know how I would react if I saw a police officer shove my 11-year-old son, or if my 5-year-old daughter would start screaming in fear. I was scared that my instinct to protect them would put us all in danger, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them watching their mother being detained or arrested.

Later, Reem explained the rationale behind the route. “The police tried every possible way to stop us from demonstrating. Our original plan included Ben Gurion Street — a slight detour into a more mixed space — but the police warned us that that clashes were likely,” she said, reminding me of when right-wing activists beat up protesters at a demonstration against Israel’s 2014 war on Gaza “We wanted demonstrators to feel safe, so we shifted the route slightly to avoid confrontation.”

As I walked toward the meeting point on Bishop Hajjar Street, the first thing I noticed was the large police presence — heavily armed officers, standing at every corner, watching, waiting. For a moment, I feared that there were more police officers than demonstrators. But as I got closer, I was relieved to see that a crowd of 2,000 had already gathered, made up of mostly Palestinian citizens of Israel, with a significant number of Jewish Israelis. 

While no Palestinian flags were flown, the national colors — red, green, black, and white — were a dominant visual theme throughout the demonstration. Protesters carried a large watermelon structure, a symbol long used to circumvent bans on displaying the Palestinian flag, and posters adorned with flowers in the flag’s colors.

Former MK Yousef Jabareen (Hadash/Al-Jabha) joined the march and told me this was the first time an anti-war demonstration passed through the streets of a mixed city. “We know people are afraid. I hope this demonstration — and the presence of such a large crowd, especially so many young people — will encourage more people to express their national, moral, and human stance and oppose the war.”

When asked about the absence of Palestinian flags, Jabareen was frank: “People have the legal right to raise Palestinian flags, but it’s clear there are orders from [National Security Minister Itamar] Ben Gvir not to allow it. It’s a dilemma. I think the organizers didn’t want to risk the demonstration being shut down.”

‘Gaza won — and Gaza will win’

Among the most powerful visual elements of the protest were photographs of children killed by Israeli attacks in Gaza — more than 17,000 since October 7. I spent a few minutes walking beside Adi Ronen Argov, who held a photo of 9-year-old Olina Bakron, killed on May 26 in the bombing of Gaza’s Fahmi Al-Jarjawi school, which had been serving as a shelter. In Adi’s poster, Olina holds her second-grade certificate of excellence, beaming with pride. 

I found myself wondering what she might have gone on to achieve if she’d had the chance to finish high school and graduate from university. Would she have become a doctor? A musician? A dancer, an engineer, maybe a lawyer? Now, those questions about Olina’s future — the same ones I ask myself when I look at my own daughter — no longer have space to exist. They’ve been buried with her.

Adi is the editor-in-chief of The Daily Files, an independent volunteer initiative documenting Israel’s war crimes in Gaza. She and her friends attend every anti-war demonstration, carrying the portraits of Palestinian children whose lives were taken. I didn’t interview Adi. I didn’t know what to ask her — I just kept looking at the photos of the little kids. We marched in silence.

By the time we reached the parking lot of the Saint John Greek Orthodox Church, the final stop of the march, only about half the demonstrators remained. I felt a wave of relief that the demonstration ended peacefully. At the gathering point, friends shared how protesting allowed them to “breathe,” even if the ongoing war has made it even harder to see any viable end to Israeli occupation or apartheid. 

Soon I understood why many had already left: this was the part where the speeches began. And after more than 600 days of living through this nightmare, who really wants to listen to speeches anymore? But then I heard MK Ayman Odeh, from Hadash/Al-Jabha saying from the stage, “This is genocide. This is ethnic cleansing. Israel has become a pariah state across the world, among all nations and in the West.’ [Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu normalizes the war and we will normalize the resistance [against the war].  It’s a historic loss to the right-wing ideology that was crushed in Gaza. Gaza won — and Gaza will win.”

Those final words stayed with me: “Gaza won — and Gaza will win.” I wasn’t sure how to process them. From everything I know, and from what I hear daily from colleagues and friends in the enclave, Gaza is devastated. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with his assertion, so I called him the next day to better understand what he meant. 

But before I could do so, his speech became fuel for a familiar backlash.

‘Not welcome in our city’

Haifa’s mayor, Yona Yahav, was quick to respond to Odeh. “Anyone who shouts at a demonstration in Haifa that Gaza has won and will win, or speaks of the State of Israel and the IDF in terms of war crimes and genocide, is not welcome in our city. The demonstrators are not seeking peace and reconciliation, but incitement and inflaming passions, and that will not help them. Even such an extreme and nationalist minority will not break the coexistence in Haifa.”

Yahav’s statement was just the beginning of a wave of incitement targeting Odeh and Hadash/Al-Jabha. Although the Jewish-Arab party is part of Yahav’s governing coalition in Haifa’s municipal council — an unlikely alliance that includes figures from the Likud and Yisrael Beiteinu parties — right-wing members of that same coalition are now demanding the party’s expulsion.

In addition to Odeh, these members are directing their ire at Hadash city council member Raja Zaatry, who is one of the organizers of the demonstration. Images of Zaatry at the march, particularly one showing him beneath the symbolic watermelon structure, circulated rapidly through far-right social media groups in Haifa. When asked for comment about these calls to expel Hadash from the coalition, the mayor’s spokesperson, Ofer Harel, did not respond; Zaatry told me that he hasn’t heard from the Mayor.

But the backlash didn’t remain confined to Haifa. National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, formally appealed to Attorney General Gali Baharav-Miara, demanding that Ayman Odeh be stripped of his parliamentary immunity so that police could investigate him for “incitement” and “support for terrorism.” Likud MK Tally Gotliv accused Odeh on X of being a “terror supporter,” claiming his speech had “assisted the Gazan enemy.”

Avigdor Liberman echoed the rhetoric, calling Odeh a “terrorist supporter” and writing, “whoever says that ‘Gaza has won and will win’ while our hostages are still in Hamas captivity, and while IDF soldiers are fighting for our security — his place is not in the Israeli Knesset, but in Gaza.” Energy Minister Eli Cohen labeled Odeh “a fifth column,” and demanded his parliamentary immunity be revoked so that he could be “sent to jail or to Gaza.”

Later, Odeh clarified on X what he meant: “Supporting Gaza in the face of the war of annihilation, being led by Ben Gvir and Netanyahu, is the moral and humanely necessary position. And there are hundreds of thousands of citizens who share this position. There cannot be victory over the bodies of thousands of dead children, shattered families, starving civilians, and utter destruction … Because annihilation is not a victory. Life is a victory. Only someone who sees Gazans as “born terrorists,” as the Israeli government does in practice, could distort my words in such a vile way. Yes. Gaza will win. Life will win. And the Palestinian people will receive what they deserve – as every people deserves: no less, no more.”

Now, 70 MKs have signed on to a petition to begin impeachment proceedings against Odeh, a move led by Likud MK Avichai Boaron. Among the signatories are several members of the opposition: all six lawmakers from Avigdor Liberman’s Yisrael Beiteinu party, along with four MKs from Benny Gantz’s National Unity party, although Gantz himself did not sign. To finalize the impeachment, 90 MKs must vote in favor once the petition reaches the Knesset plenum.

Odeh, who announced in May 2023 that he would not seek re-election, does not take the impeachment personally. When I spoke to him, he explained that his phrase “Gaza will win is a visionary one. The Israeli government killed, destroyed and made life unbearable in Gaza, but did not achieve any political victories over the Palestinian people. In the end, Gaza — a symbol for the Palestinian people — will win. This is an historical inevitability.” In response to Yahav’s statement, he noted, “My grandparents were in Haifa before Yona [Yahav] was even born. I suggest he take back those words.”

A demand for life

The day after I spoke to Odeh, I texted Yahav’s spokesperson, Ofer Harel, and asked: Why does the mayor oppose holding anti-war demonstrations in Haifa? And why is Odeh — a native resident of Haifa, and former municipality council member — “not welcome” in his own city?

“The mayor has made it clear more than once that the city of Haifa is a symbol of coexistence, and any party that tries to undermine this is not welcome here,” Harel replied. “Yesterday’s demonstration is exactly an example of this.”

I’ve been living in Haifa for 15 years and I call it home, so I pressed Harel further to understand if I am also not welcomed in my city. “How can a city be a ‘symbol of coexistence’ when residents are unable to freely express their opposition to a war in which tens of thousands of civilians, including children, have been killed?” I asked. “I’m a resident of Haifa. And I — along with many other Palestinian citizens of this city — agree with Odeh’s statement that Israel is committing war crimes, perhaps even genocide, in Gaza.”

Harel wrote back: “Israel is a democratic country and everyone can demonstrate and say what they want, subject to the law. The mayor emphasized that he has no desire to see demonstrations in Haifa by those who try to stir up the atmosphere instead of calming it. And it doesn’t matter which side of the political map they are on: coexistence in Haifa was built with great effort, and there is no desire for it to be destroyed.”

It seems that Yahav’s idea of “coexistence” requires silence about the mass killings in Gaza. To demand the end of a genocidal war is not a threat to “coexistence” or “co-living” as I prefer to call it. It is a demand for life — one that will only strengthen Haifa as a space for a shared society.

During the demonstration, I eventually found a Palestinian flag. It was small, painted on the cheek of a little girl, maybe nine or ten years old. About the same age as Olina, whose photo Ronen Argov had carried through the march. I hoped the police wouldn’t notice it and that her parents wouldn’t be questioned. Next time, I hope to bring my own kids. After all, it’s for them that I march.