I see threads and yarn as metaphors for human connection, for the ecosystems that we create and destroy with colonialism. I find witnessing this destruction and disregard for human life to be more and more impossible to witness. I use fiber as language when language fails me. In those deep dark moments when words don't emerge, threads spill from my hands to cocoon me. The complexity of my Palestinian and Irish American heritage has always been difficult to put into words. I am simultaneously guaranteed acceptance with my white skin, and denied my existence because I come from occupied land. Fiber allows me to speak through universal languages of touch, memory, and home. 

I embrace the centuries old traditions of Palestinian cross stitching called Tatreez, as well as crochet. Tatreez motifs allow me to tell a story, one that is only visible if you are willing to observe and learn. I have stitched the land of Palestine, from pomegranates to missiles. I have stitched the land to ground my belonging to it. Crochet connects me to my Irish heritage, and is a tool to manufacture moments of calm. Moments so needed in the horrific repetition of history. As Palestinians are forced from their lands or their souls forced from their bodies. Crochet is the canvas on which I can breathe and stir creativity. Tatreez is the pure essence of storytelling that flows from the soils of my grandmother's garden, into my veins. With these threads I weave my diaspora identity. Every stitch comes together to create something new and old, and to speak to generations of the displaced.