Author: Adi Shifrin

“One of my dreams was to explore this campus.” As a child, Tharaa was locked out of the campus, always peering in from the outside. Today, Tharaa is turning the campus into a home for students from East Jerusalem.
Interview with Tharaa Kirresh, Scholar Program Manager

Tharaa Kirresh always felt like she didn’t quite belong. The feeling first arose during her childhood when she constantly moved from one neighborhood to another in East Jerusalem, and to this day, it accompanies her as she searches for answers to questions about identity and belonging. Tharaa, however, does a constant in her life: she has always had a deep love for studies and hard work, a constant desire to push herself, and the determination to improve each and every day. Her questions and goals, along with her passion for working with people, has led her to build and help different communities around her. And Tharaa does all this with a huge smile and sweeping laugh.

This is how she introduces herself: “My name is Tharaa, I am a Jerusalemite from a family from the Old City. This is an important distinction, because when you say ‘Jerusalemite,’ it means that I not only live here, but also that my family is originally from Jerusalem. I am not from one of the most well-known or wealthy families, I come from a relatively small family. I grew up throughout the city between the neighborhoods of A-Tur (Mount of Olives), Issawiya, and Wadi Al-Joz.”
 

Tharaa Kirresh

“Moving constantly from place to place made me feel like I did not belong to a particular place or neighborhood, but to a broader concept of Jerusalem. We consumed all of our goods and services from the CBD of East Jerusalem. Therefore, even when I lived in these neighborhoods I was never truly a part of them. In the past, most of these neighborhoods were villages adjacent to the city as opposed to neighborhoods within the city. That translated into us being perceived and constantly reminded by residents that we were outsiders in these former villages/current neighborhoods. Ever since, I have always felt like a stranger. No matter where I live, I feel like a stranger.

I am the third of four siblings, and as the middle child, I always felt the need to prove myself. People kept telling me that I was smart, so I continued to study hard and excel at school. I studied at a Wakf School (Alfatah Al-Lagi’a) on Salah al-Din St from elementary school to high school, and that became the place I was most connected to. I completed my Tawjihi (Palestinian high school certificate) with high grades. I was able to get those grades because I’m a nerd! That’s who I am! This is always something that has been important to me. Every day, I would return from school and keep studying. After graduating from high school I was unsure where to study next. If I wanted to pursue a degree in engineering, I had the option to go to either Najah in Nablus or Bir Zeit in Ramallah. Al Quds University was also an option, but there was a chance that Israeli Ministry would not recognize that certificate, which is something I did not want to risk. Ultimately, I decided to study architectural engineering in Nablus, where I already felt connected to because my mother’s family is from there. Despite excelling in my studies, I struggled deeply. The coursework was highly demanding, and I didn’t have a social life or a life at all. While I was there, I also realized how much I love Jerusalem and did not want to stay in Nablus. During my time there, I was mostly looking forward to graduating and returning to Jerusalem.

When they ask me why I didn’t think of studying at Hebrew University in the first place, I need to explain why even the thought of it was unfathomable. The neighborhoods I lived in surround the campus, so we always walked around it, but never entered it. I received both implicit and explicit messages that told me that ‘it’s not your place, it's a place that excludes.’ “You can’t enter, you can't study here, you won’t be accepted, it’s too hard, it’s too expensive, you need to know Hebrew, you need to be Israeli…!” As a child, one of my dreams was to explore the campus!”

Upon completing my degree, I started working in an office that deals with building permits in East Jerusalem. It was different from what I had learned because in Nablus you don’t study Israel’s Planning and Building Law. In the office I felt like I knew how to do all the professional things easily, but I faced a language and legal knowledge barrier. I still had not learned Hebrew. Because I like to learn and improve, I began taking courses and attending training sessions at the Taawoon Welfare Association in the Old City^[1] which helped me to broaden my vision. During that time period, I worked, studied, and used my architecture degree and started finding private clients to design villas for them in Jericho.”

How did you get to the Urban Clinic?

“I am registered with the Jordanian and Palestinian Association of architects and engineers. I turned to these unions because I knew that in order to advance and develop you need to network with other professionals in the field. I am smiley and curious person, and being happy and optimistic has really helped and opened doors. Through these networks, I saw an advertisement from the Urban Clinic to apply to a degree in urban planning and be a scholar at the Clinic. At a workshop on activism that brought together engineers, lawyers, and journalists in Jericho, I met Maliha Zugayer, a Clinic graduate. She told me about working in an office on Yafo Street and her attempts to take a licensing test^[2]. At the same time, Prof. Rasem Hamaisi^[3] mentioned the urban planning field in the same workshop, and emphasized the importance of knowing Hebrew in order to advance in the country and widen our professional horizons. I internalized the things I heard from both of them and concluded that I need to be a better architect and know the law and the language.

You need to understand, I didn’t think that studying at Hebrew University was an option at all! I felt that I accomplished something great! Studying at Hebrew University, on a campus that up until that point had excluded me, went from being a dream to reality. Not a goal, a dream. It was clear to me that I would struggle but be able to get through it.

After submitting my application I put it out of my mind. When I read the email inviting me to the interview I was really happy, but I didn’t know enough Hebrew. So Emily (Dr. Emily Silverman, the Clinic’s founder) suggested that I first take the courses offered in English courses until I learned enough Hebrew. I was conditionally accepted with the expectation that I would receive an exemption from Hebrew studies during my first year. It was not easy to get a loan as an independent young woman, but I challenged myself. During that first year, I had to advance three levels in Hebrew and take courses in the degree, which proved to be quite a challenge. During the first semester, I felt like my head was going to explode, always running between school and work. However, by the end of the year, I had met the conditions and officially became a Clinic scholar.

At the Clinic, the staff encourages us to ask questions and express our positions. Every idea is important. The study method that I knew until then was to accept the information that is conveyed without challenging it or expressing criticism. This is a really significant difference. I entered an environment where I can say what I think, whether it is right or wrong, and my opinions can also change. This changed my worldview, and it also taught me how to say ‘no,’ or ‘sorry, but I am not available for that. In the past I would always say yes to everything, but I quickly realized that not everything helps me advance.”