07/01/2026

LYFE WEDNESDAY | JAN 7, 2026

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Malaysian Paper

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Hope, liberty in fashion

In contrast, the Hirbawi factory in Hebron – the last keffiyeh producer in Palestine itself – still produces them on long-serving mechanical looms, preserving not only a garment but also a piece of Palestinian heritage. Israelis have also claimed the scarf, likening it to the sudra . Some pro-Israel fashion outlets even market it as a “ sudra/keffiyeh ”. Meanwhile, Palestinians and allies wearing it have been vilified. It has even been labelled “the 21st-century swastika”. In November 2023, three Palestinian students in Vermont wearing keffiyehs were shot, leaving one paralysed. Whether worn in exile or carried at a march, the keffiyeh continues to tell the story of a people bound together by resilience, identity and the land they refuse to abandon. Tatreez Tatreez , the traditional art of Palestinian embroidery, has been practised for centuries. Once an intimate craft of village women, it was traditionally used to embroider thobes (traditional dresses) and domestic accessories. Before 1948, it was a marker of individuality. Thobes adorned with hand-stitched embroidery told the story of their wearer – her village, her social standing, her marital status. As noted by Widad Kawar and Tania Tamari Nasir in Palestinian Embroidery: Traditional Fallahi Cross-Stitch , a “knowing eye” could once identify a woman’s home village simply by the patterns on her dress. Patterns such as the cypress, moon and bird were not mere ornaments but living symbols of the landscape and daily life that shaped them. The artistry of tatreez has long been preserved through generations of women. “The Palestinian dress is known for its embroidery and women have been making it for centuries. Historically, women would share their knowledge and designs from mother to daughter within their villages,” US-born Palestinian Panamanian tatreez practitioner Lina Barkawi said. After the 1948 Nakba, tatreez shifted from a personal craft to a means of survival, as displaced women used their embroidery skills to support their families. “There was a shift not just in what they embroidered, but why they embroidered. Before the Nakba, a woman would stitch a dress for herself, something to wear on special occasions. After 1948, she no longer had that privilege. Many sold their thobes and began making smaller items such as pillow covers and table runners to earn a living,” said Lina. As Iman and Maha Saca noted in Embroidering Identities: A Century of Palestinian Clothing , the regional distinctions in tatreez gradually disappeared after 1948. In refugee camps, women focused on a shared Palestinian identity rather than village-specific styles, using new fabrics and simpler designs that reflected their current economic constraints. During the First Intifada, when Israel banned the Palestinian flag, women stitched its colours – along

o Palestinians remember, resist through symbols

Tatreez is the traditional art of Palestinian embroidery. – PIC FROM INSTAGRAM @TATREEZ ANDTEA

P ALESTINE is a land of symbols. Some, such as the keffiyeh , are widely recognised, having gained visibility through protests and global solidarity movements, while others remain lesser-known. Here are eight symbols of Palestinian culture and heritage that reflect the deep historical and cultural ties Palestinians have to their land, and their ongoing struggle for statehood. Keys Many Palestinians carry old iron keys with them, often worn on necklaces. These are not jewellery, but potent symbols of their right to return. These keys unlock the homes of the 700,000 Palestinians who were forcibly displaced since the 1948 Nakba. This event was a catastrophic expulsion that began a relentless, ongoing struggle for their homeland. Many held onto their keys believing they would soon return. Similar scenes resurfaced during the Naksa of 1967 and persist in the current genocide being committed in Gaza by Israel. As linguist and researcher Aladdin Assaiqeli noted, these keys emerged from the first days of the Nakba as “witnesses” – proof that Palestinians had homes in pre-1948 Palestine, even as many of those houses were demolished, renamed or covered up in an attempt to erase them. For Palestinians, the key is inseparable from the principle of the right of return. Enshrined in UN General Assembly (UNGA) Resolution 194 (III) of 1948, this right affirms that refugees displaced during the Nakba and their descendants are entitled to return to their homes or receive restitution. This principle has been repeatedly reaffirmed by the UNGA, including through Resolution 3236. Israel has consistently refused to recognise this right, using instruments such as the Absentees’ Property Law of 1950 to prevent Palestinian return and claim land forcibly abandoned during the Nakba and Naksa. The law enabled the legalised looting of Palestinian belongings – furniture, money, household items – placed under Israel’s Development Authority. The Israeli National Library, for example, holds nearly 8,000 books stolen from Palestinian homes during the Nakba. Replicas of these keys often appear in refugee camps and protests, on walls and banners. One of the most striking is the “Key of Return” sculpture at the entrance of the Aida refugee camp in Bethlehem – a massive steel structure, installed in 2008, spanning the width of the gate built to resemble an old lock. Passed down through generations, the key embodies memory and resistance, defying time and what Assaiqeli calls “Israel’s systematic pursuit of Palestinian memoricide”. It stands as a symbol

People in London holding up Palestinian flags to protest the ongoing occupation of Palestine.

not only of expulsion, but of endurance – a reminder that forced exile is not acceptance, and that the right of return remains unbroken despite the passing decades. Keffiyeh The keffiyeh, or kufiya, is a traditional square cotton scarf worn across the Middle East, originally by farmers and villagers for protection against the sun and dust. In Palestine, however, it came to signify far more. Before the end of the British Mandate, it was mainly associated with Bedouin men. Dress historian Wafa Ghnaim noted this changed during the 1936–1939 Arab Revolt against British rule, when Palestinians of all social classes adopted the keffiyeh as a symbol of unity, resistance and nationalism. This created a uniform image of solidarity that even British soldiers could not ignore. The keffiyeh ’s status as an emblem of the Palestinian struggle deepened in the decades following. After the Nakba, it became linked to the feda’iyiin (guerrilla fighters) and later to the Palestine Liberation Organisation. Images of Yasser Arafat with the keffiyeh turned it into a visual shorthand for Palestinian nationalism. Its symbolism, however, extends beyond politics. The patterns woven into the black-and-white Palestinian keffiyeh have been interpreted in different ways. The fishnet pattern alludes to the sea, and for some, collectivism. The bold lines are said to symbolise the trade routes that once crisscrossed historic Palestine or the walls that now enclose and restrict it. Along the borders, the oval stitches are often seen as olive leaves, representing the tree that sustains Palestinian life, its resilience and rootedness in the land. Today, the keffiyeh is worn worldwide as an emblem of resistance and solidarity. But its popularity has sparked debates over appropriation and commodification. Cheap imports are mass-produced in China, while luxury brands such as Balenciaga and Louis Vuitton have marketed costly “fashion” versions.

The keffiyeh is an enduring symbol of the Palestinian struggle.

– PICS FROM 123RF

contestants wearing Palestinian thobes as part of a “visit Israel” campaign. Yet in the face of this, the international community has re-affirmed the Palestinian origins of tatreez . In 2021, Unesco added it to its Intangible Cultural Heritage List of Humanity. There has also been a revival in the Palestinian diaspora in learning tatreez . “There’s a surge of women in the diaspora now picking it up. We have roofs over our heads, food on our tables – the privilege and time to do it for ourselves. In that way, we preserve the art form,” said Lina, who lives in the US and teaches tatreez and thobe -making online and in person. In the end, tatreez is more than just fabric or pattern. It is an archive of Palestinian life and history recorded in thread. Through the hands of women, it endures – an act of creation that defies erasure, one stitch at a time. – Bernama

with keys, doves and the Dome of the Rock – into their thobes . The resulting “intifada dress” became a form of wearable resistance. “Palestinian women chose to resist their occupier in a way that made sense to them – by using the tools that they had and they stitched very explicit designs on their dress that depicted Palestinian liberation and identity. “They wore the (Palestinian) flag on their backs. If Israel wanted to remove the flag, they would have had to forcibly remove the dress from the woman’s body,” Lina said. But like many Palestinian cultural practices, tatreez faces growing threats. Economic hardship, displacement and the Gaza genocide have endangered the transmission of these skills. Attempts at appropriation have also emerged. Israeli fashion designers have incorporated stolen Palestinian motifs into their collections, and even Miss Universe’s 2021 edition in Israel showcased