Life Between War and Peace: Lessons from Growing Up in Palestine and America

For me, it was Palestine and America, two countries with different languages, rhythms, and rules. One carried the dust and olive trees of my father's childhood; the other, the busy streets and shifting skies of my mother's homeland. Living between these places meant carrying both their beauty and their burdens, their love and their loss. A Reality I’ve lived as Deana Elaine.

This is not a story of politics; it's about people. It's about what happens when your roots are planted in two very different soils and you have to figure out how to bloom in both.

The Early Soundtrack of Life

In America, my childhood soundtrack was a mix of clinking coffee cups in family kitchens, the hum of grocery store refrigerators, and the laughter and arguments of relatives speaking over each other in two languages. In Palestine, it was the call to prayer drifting over hills, the chatter of market stalls, and, sometimes, the sudden, deafening sounds that reminded you peace was never a guarantee.

I didn't need anyone to tell me I was growing up in two worlds. I could feel it in my bones every time we moved between them. Each had its rhythm, its definition of safety, and its own unspoken rules.

War Teaches You to Listen

One thing war teaches you is to listen, not just to people, but to the air around you. In Palestine, I learned to read silence. A quiet street in the middle of the day didn't always mean peace; sometimes, it meant people were waiting for something they hoped wouldn't happen.

I learned to memorize escape routes without even knowing that's what I was doing. Which alley to take? Which cousin's door would open without a knock? Which sound meant we had a few seconds to run, and which meant we didn't.

You carry those instincts with you, even when you're thousands of miles away in a peaceful American suburb.This part of my journey,like many books about generational trauma,holds lesson that never leave you.

America Teaches You to Dream

America, on the other hand, taught me how to dream big, sometimes bigger than I felt safe. Here, I could imagine futures without borders, without curfews, without the weight of generational conflict. I could plan without wondering if the plan itself would survive the week.

But even in America, peace wasn't a constant. It just wore a different face. Conflict here happened in family kitchens, in school hallways, in the hidden corners of a home where love and hurt lived side by side.

And so, I learned that war and peace aren't always about nations. Sometimes, they're about the people sitting across from you at the dinner table.

The Balancing Act

Living between Palestine and America meant becoming fluent in more than just two languages. I had to translate myself, my emotions, my values, my loyalties, depending on where I stood.

In one place, I was expected to carry tradition with pride. In the other, I was encouraged to reinvent myself entirely. Balancing those expectations wasn't easy. Some days I felt too Palestinian for America; other days, too American for Palestine.

The truth is, living between worlds forces you to decide which parts of each you will keep, and which parts you must let go to protect your peace.

What Growing Up Between Worlds Teaches You

1. Resilience isn't optional: You learn to adapt, even when you don't want to.

2. Home is more than geography: It's the people who make you feel safe, whether that's in a village kitchen or a small-town diner.

3. Your identity is layered: You are not just where you were born or where you live; you are every street, every language, every memory that has shaped you.

4. Peace starts in small places: A family meal without an argument. A safe walk to school. A night without fear.

   
   

The Hidden Gift

It took me years to see it, but living between war and peace gave me a perspective I wouldn't trade. I can see beauty in chaos, and I can spot danger before it knocks. I can sit at any table, in any country, and find a way to belong.

Most importantly, it's taught me that peace is not something you wait for governments to sign into existence. Peace is built in the quiet choices we make every day, in forgiveness, in listening, in deciding not to pass our hurt to the next generation.

Final Reflections

Two unavoidable realities come with growing up between Palestine and America: the world can fall apart in an instant, but we always have the option to put ourselves back together.

Although I am aware that world peace will never last, I have seen brief, human moments in both of my countries that seemed more powerful than any weapon.

My compass is those moments. They are what I intend to leave behind for my descendants and what I have chosen to carry. As the Tragic Whispers book author,I hope my story helps us to heal.