Milad

Paste-up, 300 cm x 300 cm, Separation wall, Bethlehem, Palestine 2019

Portrait of Milad wearing the traditional black and white keffiyeh.

The Palestinian keffiyeh is far more than a simple piece of fabric. It is neither tied to a specific religion nor reducible to the stereotypes often imposed upon it. Deeply rooted in Palestinian history and culture, the keffiyeh has become a symbol of identity, resilience, and resistance. Worn across generations, it carries the memory of land, displacement, and belonging, while also standing as an international emblem of solidarity with the Palestinian people and their struggle for self-determination.

Milad is a young Palestinian woman from Beit Sahour, a small town near Bethlehem in the West Bank. Her story is rooted in a history of displacement that began long before her birth. In 1967, following the Six-Day War and what Palestinians refer to as the Naksa, more than 300,000 people were forced from the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Her father’s family fled to Jordan, losing their right to return, while her mother’s family remained, holding on to their land in Beit Sahour.

Milad was born in Jordan, yet her childhood unfolded among the hills and olive trees of the West Bank. This fragile balance was broken during the Second Intifada, when her family once again chose exile, returning to Amman. When I met her, she wanted to show me where she comes from—not through stories, but by walking the land itself. We crossed hills and olive groves, guided as much by memory as by place. She introduced me to her family, to the quiet persistence of those who stayed.

I met her teta, her grandmother—“teta,” meaning grandmother in Arabic—who was shot in the neck by an Israeli soldier while standing inside her home. Since then, she has lived in a wheelchair, her body carrying the memory of that moment of violence.

Back in Jordan, Milad studied theatre at the University of Jordan before gradually turning toward contemporary dance. Movement became another language, a way of holding and expressing what cannot always be spoken.

Today, she lives in Belgium, dancing with various companies. Between stages and countries, her body continues to trace a geography shaped by exile, memory, and return.