This week, I attended an event at the Southbank marking the re-publication of Edward Said’s The Question of Palestine, a text as urgent and relevant today as it was when first published in 1979. It was yet another reminder of something I have been thinking about a lot lately: the transformative power of art, storytelling, and culture to challenge erasure, reclaim narratives and preserve identity.
The late, great Edward Said wrote, “Facts do not at all speak for themselves, but require a socially acceptable narrative to absorb, sustain, and circulate them.” He understood that the cultural sphere has always been a battleground.
In his seminal text Orientalism, Said deconstructed how power shapes narratives - how the stories we are told, and who gets to tell them, are not neutral. He spoke of how the West constructed a vision of the "Orient" to serve colonial ambitions, how the narrative war is used to legitimise occupation and delegitimise resistance.
The Greater Conversation is very much about reclaiming narratives. To receive new posts and support the work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
As my friend Dina Amer put it in a conversation with Harper’s Bazaar Arabia, about her move from journalism to creating and directing the groundbreaking film You Resemble Me, “The news networks that are meant to be the Mecca of truth-telling [turned out to be] the custodians of certain world views that need to be protected.” It was an observation that resonated deeply with me, and is very much what has led me to describe myself, like Dina, as a “recovering journalist.”
Whose stories are told and deserve to be told? Who is telling them, and what is the angle? These are not abstract questions.
This has never been more obvious than in the mainstream media’s handling - or mishandling - of reporting on the genocide taking place in Palestine.
From the strategic use of passive vs active language - who was killed vs who just happened to die, for example - to choosing *when* to begin reporting on the story (this did not begin on October 7th, despite what the media would have you believe), to conflating an entire nationality with a terrorist organisation, to deciding who and what to call terrorism in the first place, these are not abstract choices.
For Palestinians, the right to exist has long been denied - not only through the destruction of their homes but through the questioning of their histories and the systematic erasure of their narratives.
The very name of Palestine has been erased from maps. Raising the Palestinian flag has been banned in certain spaces. Palestinian literature, music, art and food have been dismissed as relics of a “nonexistent” people or, worse, appropriated and rebranded as part of Israeli culture. Libraries have been looted. Artefacts stolen. Schools bombed. Theatres, where stories come alive, reduced to rubble. Archives holding generations of memory deliberately destroyed. This is not collateral damage. It is the systematic dismantling of a people’s history and identity; an integral part of the ongoing colonisation of Palestine.
Because art and story resists. It says: We were here. And for those that seek to assert the narrative that Palestinians were not - that they are not - this truth is deeply inconvenient.
Marginalised communities throughout history have turned to storytelling to preserve and honour their identities, from Indigenous peoples reviving endangered languages, to “African American” artists documenting the Civil Rights Movement, and countless more examples. Culture and storytelling - whether through art, music, oral traditions, or literature - has always been one of the most powerful tools for cultural preservation.
When the world reduces people to numbers, strips them of humanity, and buries their stories, art insists on the individual - the dreams, the sorrows, the histories, and the triumphs. Art transforms statistics into voices, loss into memory, and absence into presence. It doesn’t just reflect the world - it changes it. It humanises, broadens, and recognises.
For Palestinians, this is equally vital. A way to ensure that their "facts" - their histories, identities, and experiences - are not lost to the narrative control of those who seek to erase them.
Art is not simply decoration or entertainment, then, it is survival. It is resistance. It is a refusal to be erased.
This belief in the transformative power of art and storytelling is what drives my work and is the heart of For Gaza, With Love - an evening dedicated to celebrating Palestinian culture and creativity; a culture that has not only survived but flourished in defiance of erasure. In collaboration with Saint Levant, his 2048 Foundation and Road to Freedom, this night is about honouring that.
Headlined by the incredible Saint Levant, whose sold-out performances and powerful lyrics have made him a global cultural ambassador for Palestinians, the event will also feature artists like Miraa May, uplifting speakers and a Palestinian souk.
All proceeds from the evening will go directly toward providing emergency aid in Gaza and supporting Palestinian creatives who continue to fight to preserve and share their culture.
I hope you’ll join us - whether in person or by sharing the event. There’s also an option to donate if you’re unable to attend. This isn’t just about one night; it’s about standing together and ensuring the beauty, strength, and stories of Palestine are honoured and remembered.
Tickets are limited, so grab yours here.
With love and hope,
Alya xo
About Me:
I'm Alya Mooro, a writer and the bestselling author of The Greater Freedom: Life as a Middle Eastern Woman Outside the Stereotypes. My work explores identity, personal freedom, and self-discovery, and I’m so grateful to share these reflections with you here.
If you’d like to support this newsletter and dive deeper into these themes, consider becoming a paying subscriber. You’ll receive bonus content, exclusive reflections, and be part of a growing community of thoughtful readers. You can also support in simple ways, like pressing the heart button or sharing this newsletter with a friend who might resonate with these conversations.
Thank you for being part of this journey. You can also connect with me on Instagram.
The Greater Conversation is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
