For Palestinians in the diaspora, traditional tatreez embroidery has become far more than a decorative craft. It is a cultural anchor, a bridge to a lost homeland, and a form of quiet resistance. From refugee camps in Lebanon to stitching circles in New York, the art form carries stories of identity, survival, and political expression.
An Economic Lifeline and a Link to Home
Samar Kabouli, 48, a Beirut-based embroiderer born to Palestinian refugees in Lebanon, began tatreez in her teens to earn money. It became both an economic lifeline and a connection to the land her parents fled during the 1948 Nakba, when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were expelled or fled their homes during the war surrounding Israel's creation. Israel has refused their return. Kabouli said her work sends a message of resilience: "We're still here. All what has been happening in Gaza and we're still standing and we'll not forget the cause."
Preserving Heritage Through Stitches
Ali Jaafar, general manager of Inaash Association in Lebanon where Kabouli works, noted a surge in interest since the Israel-Hamas war began. "We had a lot of people who came and they're like, OK, we want to do a T-shirt with a Gaza chest or we want to do a scarf with the Gaza motif," he said. Inaash provides Palestinian women in refugee camps with income through tatreez, selling embroidered fashion, home decor, and art, while also exhibiting the craft in museums.
Maha Saca, founder of the Palestinian Heritage Centre in Bethlehem, said tatreez is "an identity and a document of our presence in every Palestinian village and town." She added, "The Palestinian woman has written the story of her village through motifs from her surrounding environment and her beliefs. We're struggling through culture and saying we have roots." In 2021, UNESCO added Palestinian embroidery to its list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
A Window into History and Political Expression
Tatreez is traditionally a social practice passed down through generations. Motifs on old embroidered thobes (dresses) reveal a woman's personal story, environment, and regional identity. Saca emphasized the importance of such connections to time and place: "How do we have a Jaffa thobe if we hadn't been in Jaffa? We write history on our thobes." The continuity is tangible: Saca's granddaughter's baptism dress included embroideries copied from her grandmother's wedding thobe.
The craft can also be explicitly political. Lina Barkawi, who runs a tatreez teaching business in New York, said, "Just being able to have some of the dresses from pre-1948 is a political act." The "intifada thobe" from the first Palestinian uprising (1987) included embroidered symbols like the Palestinian flag.
Mourning and Documenting Gaza
After the Gaza war triggered by Hamas's October 7, 2023 attack on Israel, fashion designer Hama Hinnawi expressed grief through black-on-black tatreez embroidery. "We have a big responsibility on our shoulders to tell this story, not to be buried for the next generations through tatreez, through art, through speaking," she said. Hinnawi, who shuttles between Chicago and Jordan, has also worked with women in Gaza and provided embroidery opportunities to Palestinian women in refugee camps in Jordan.
Barkawi's online community of embroiderers created designs to raise funds for Gaza families, including a "Feed Gaza Now" motif. Members in different countries recreated a tapestry that once hung in a bombed Gaza home, each stitching a part and mailing it to another. Barkawi said learning tatreez deepened her Palestinian identity.
Personal Stories Woven into Fabric
Embroidering her first thobe took Barkawi two years. She incorporated palm trees for her Arabic name and orchids, Panama's national flower, for her mother. "I embedded my story as a Palestinian in the diaspora into this dress," she said. Kabouli, who learned tatreez from her sister, now works as a production supervisor at Inaash. She sees her younger self in the women working in refugee camps, often under harsh conditions with power cuts. "I don't feel like I am far away," she said. "It connects me to my homeland, especially since we're deprived of it."
