Motaz, Our Beloved Brother from Gaza
The young man who evacuated genocide, but will reside forever in our hearts
“We still alive. Till now.”
The young bearded Palestinian emerged onto our timelines from the rubble of Gaza. He was compassionate and committed, resilient and most importantly, unabashedly human.
The vast majority of us, on Day 1 of the siege, did not know the name “Motaz Aziaza.”
107 days later, when Motaz evacuated Gaza for the safe haven of Qatar, that name is one that we will never forget.
Motaz was far more than a citizen-journalist or genocide survivor, but a walking embodiment of how the world finally came to know Palestinian identity in all of it layered complexity, plight, and fight.
We saw his pain, firsthand. The loss of fifteen family members at the onset of the genocide, clad in the blue vest with the word “press” tattooed across it. A marker that he was among the few that Israeli bombs or bullets could not touch, which proved mythic as the days of genocide violently mounted and claimed the lives of over 120 of his journalistic colleagues.
We saw his unwavering dedication to his land and his people, every day. Carrying a camera that looked outward into the besieged strip and into his eyes, fusing his indigenous soil with the contours of his visage.
As days progressed, the two blended into a singular whole. Motaz, for billions around the world, became Gaza. The land and the lad blurred into one. For a global audience that only saw war and violence, terrorism and tyranny in anything and everything Palestinian, Motaz stood as an indelible counterpoint of humanity. And each post and story, tweet and video during these 107 days deepened that humanity and dismantled those stereotypes.
Motaz made those who demonized Palestinians love him. He led a sublime shift that shepherded in legions of supporters who finally saw Palestinian struggle through his eyes and voice.
We saw Motaz carrying bloody-faced babies, that he did not know, into a cabin of a car racing toward away from another bomb site.
We saw Motaz hoist up a red teddy bear atop an apocalyptic canvass of grey destruction, with his feet rooted in a land that he did not leave during the thick of the genocide.
We saw Motaz document the mass exodus of Palestinians toward the southern border, a modern “Trail of Tears” colored by the intimacy of real faces, and real people.
We saw Motaz. And by seeing him, we grew to know and love him as if he was our own family member. The Palestinian brother whose daily episodes in war torn Gaza would quickly become our own. From a distance, geographically perhaps, but so proximate and intimate to our hearts and minds as we absorbed the stark images and footage from behind the black screen.
We saw Motaz. Scrolling through his stories and page during the day, night, and those liminal spaces in between.
We prayed for Motaz, fearing the worst, during those silent passages in time when we did not hear from him. Those stretches when he did not post an update, a story, or a tweet, fearing the worst for our new brother from Gaza. Hoping, with held breath, that he was not among the night’s slain victims.
We saw Motaz. And in him, we saw something far more transformative and transcendent than any one individual. For many of us, particularly in the west, we saw a complex Palestinian being that shattered the prevailing stereotypes that pervade CNN and the BBC, Fox News and corporate media outlets that discursively flatten an entire people.
We saw a living and lurid model of Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim masculinity that dismantled those damning stereotypes ascribed to our men and boys. “Warmongering and violent,” they said, “lacking of emotion” and brooding, judging us before the world truly knew who we are.
Indictments that legitimize indiscriminate killing and subhuman treatment.
We saw in Motaz the very opposite. During the 108 days, the young man’s soft voice and unyielding dedication to capturing what those news outlets buried revolutionized our conception of Arab and Muslim masculinity. It was a rolling case study against Orientalism and Islamophobia, in real time, where a living protagonist embodied the layers of manhood – from levity to love, softness to justifiable rage – seldom applied to our old men and young boys, fathers and sons.
We saw this in Motaz.
Our brother Motaz.
We saw him age, rapidly, over those horrifically bloody 107 days.
We saw bullets race by his head, nearly grazing the face we grew to know so well, and love even more.
We saw his perspective sink into gloom and anger, as the genocide extended in time and scale, stealing the innocence of youth and the will to live.
Finally, we saw ourselves in Motaz.
The very best of who we aspired to be, during a time of genocide when the excesses of western life spoiled our spirit and buried our gratitude.
Motaz forced us to look within ourselves. Then gaze beyond the limits of our daily routines and first world problems to see Gaza as a place, people, and plight worth defending.
We saw a friend and brother in Motaz, who we grew to love so dearly because of his unyielding commitment to his land and his people.
We also saw a mirror in Motaz, a young man whose whole life has been enveloped by occupation, open-air prisons, and then genocide, a walking tale of courage and fearlessness buried within us all.
Motaz, on January 22, evacuated Gaza. But the imprint he left within billions around the world, within all of us, will remain lodged deep in the native land of our souls.
The most memorable heroes are those who rise from the lowest rungs of anonymity and despair to shake the world in their direction, against the indominable tide of media conglomerates and imperial presidents.
Motaz not only survived the genocide, but authored a subaltern narrative of Palestinian humanity and complexity, courage and strength that will stand forever.
For that, brother Motaz, we are indebted to you. Forever and always.
Khaled A. Beydoun is a law professor and author. He publishes his daily insights on his socials at @khaledbeydoun.
This is a beautiful tribute to an incredible hero, Motaz Aziaza. This young journalist has pierced the heart of this planet, and shines the light of healing for this world. Thank you Motaz. Thank you Khaled for your profound tribute.
Such a beautiful tribute, thank you so much for writing this article. Words cannot express how much he means to us and we are forever grateful for him.