On "Ancestral Daughter" & Return: A Conversation with Zeina Jhaish

BY LEENA ABOUTALEB

In Ancestral Daughter, Palestinian poet, writer, and educator Zeina Jhaish commands the radical love of Palestinian women. Jhaish explores the desperation of loss, the vulnerability of womanhood and the strength belying it, as well as the crucifix of Palestine in its glory and sacrifice.

Over email, Jhaish and I spoke about the making of this book and her hopes for its future. Residing in the lineage of Palestinian poetics, Jhaish serenades readers with the revolutionary love of Palestine and its struggle for liberation. In Ancestral Daughter, Jhaish writes to us over the course of years—from the last two years of genocide in Gaza and long before. We are introduced to her loves, her family, and her homes throughout her debut collection.

Ancestral Daughter, published by Daraja Press, is available now for order from its website and in select bookshops in Montreal, Canada.

Leena Aboutaleb: I’d love to hear more about your thoughts on the title, Ancestral Daughter. As a Palestinian, I felt I understood the intention and emotions carrying the name, but I’d like to hear your perspective on this lineage you carry and how it shapes the book.

Zeina Jhaish: The title of the book is named after a poem I wrote in May 2024 for the commemoration of the Nakba, 76 years in. The poem, about my relationship to Gaza, navigates what it is like to be a woman from Gaza whose family is displaced from ‘48 lands.

It was already difficult to navigate that I am originally from a village which has been destroyed by the occupation (Sarafand Al-Amar on the outskirts of Ramla). It has been especially difficult in the last two years to be from Gaza, and so that poem is a reflection that no matter what happens to Gaza that the land, history, and our ancestry will remain.

The poem is a turning point in understanding my experience as a Palestinian woman, and is an indispensable and therapeutic piece I read over again to remind myself of all the joys of being from Gaza despite the pain and hardships—a primary theme in Ancestral Daughter altogether.

The artwork feels to be an imperative part of how you operate your poetry. Can you talk more about what you feel that activates in the book as the writer? What, also, do you hope for the readers to experience through the artwork?

Poetry is a heartfelt art form, and I wanted to reflect that through color, symbols, photos, and word art to captivate the reader into my world. When people think of poetry, they often think of a typical book with words on a white page, but I wanted this book to be an immersive and visually captivating experience. Although poetry speaks for itself, I'm an artist that loves multimedia books, as it does not limit the artist to words on a page.

I have Ancestral Daughter’s art director Tariq AlObaid to thank; he read my mind, instantly knew what I wanted, and worked his magic.

Each section takes us through a different part of what feels like a grief, moving us through familial and collective love; rage against the settler colonial empire; and so many other movements. I’d love to hear how you feel each part of the book operates in navigating readers—why insist on parts throughout the book, what does each one speak to, and what dimension of the liberation cause does it work inside or attempt to build out? Why is it important for readers to move through these different parts of Ancestral Daughter? What does it represent for you?

The personal is the political and vice versa, and this book is a personal narrative of that. The themes of exile, belonging, heartbreak, love, rebirth, and others all connect to my identity as a Palestinian woman who was born in Tiohtià:ke (Montreal). I believe our experiences in the diaspora and exile motivate us to understand why we need to return to Palestine. Palestine connects to every single part of us, and our stakes in liberation are too high not to connect grief, family, love, and other aspects of life to each other in relation to Palestine. Land is not just land; land is a lifeline.

The first part of the book, “Ancestral,” takes us through more of my Palestinian identity interwoven with other emotions and experiences. “Daughter,” the second part, is an equally complementary part where my experiences as a woman, who, like all women, went through love, heartbreak, and rebirth in defining who I am.

In the poems, we see the ‘Ancestral Daughter’ you’ve imagined as she moves between Gaza, Kuwait, Canada, and other spaces. She carries her family, her loves, her orchards, and her passport with her. As a reader, I feel she is a representative of not only her own family but of her roots. She is Gaza, she is Haifa, she is Palestine. How do you embody her?

I wanted this to be a personal account to tell my own story in all its multifacetedness. I come from a small village that had less than 2,000 people in 1948. My family’s journey has gifted me the ability to make our village known to people through my stories, but there are millions of Palestinian women like me who have gone through the same experience.

The “Ancestral Daughter” is a personal testament to the Palestinian woman’s experience, and so it is also a thank you to them. I embody the Ancestral Daughter by showing the duality in the fact that she is a woman like any other, but is also unique in her Palestinianness.

There are many Palestinians who have gone through what my family has gone through, which I like to call ‘the Palestinian trifecta experience:’ born in the West or the Gulf, moved to the West or the Gulf, and is originally from a Palestinian village or city that their family does not have the right to return to anymore. This is a representation of that.

One of the elements I loved reading about is your faith as a rock for you to rest and take comfort in. It reminds me of Surah Maryam in the Quran, where she rests against the palm tree during her labour pains and calls out to God for relief. Would you feel comfortable speaking to us about your invocation of God in Ancestral Daughter?

This book was originally called “The Buildup to Bliss,” which is actually the title of the last poem in the book. I named [it such] in high school when I started coming up with the concept of the book. Every experience I go through and am tested with by God is hopefully a building block in my life that will lead me to a blissful eternity, to heaven.

As my poems started shifting to my identity and the intersectionality defining me, I realized that the experiences I was going through are connected to Palestine, and the heartbreaks that come with being Palestinian. They are a test from God. I focused more on that, rather than the concept of heaven in my writing, although a blissful ending was always at the back of my mind.

You’ve utilised free writing as your primary method, and I’d love to hear more about the intricacy and interaction of the forms. It reminds me of tatreez in a way, and I’m thinking specifically of the Green Eyed Boys section, and as more broadly, of the moon, the map of Palestine, and how certain lines fall off the stanza.

I believe poetry shouldn't be restricted to a certain form and I wanted to break that stereotype in this book, especially in my Arabic poems, where modern poems rhyming is more common in Arabic literary tradition.

Each poem is a direct reflection of my thoughts, and they were not edited to have rhyming stanzas. I wanted the reader to experience my thoughts as they were. When I do rhyme or take up a more conventional form, it is a coincidence, but I like it that way. Simplicity and a natural flow in writing keep authenticity and a direct connection to any reader.

I was really flexible with word art to symbolize what certain lines were talking about, and Tariq [AlObaid] helped with that.

Who do you look towards for inspiration? What media and literature did you find most useful or invigorating over the course of writing Ancestral Daughter?

First and foremost, I'm inspired by the experiences and pure hearts of the Palestinian people, especially the women of Palestine I have met in Kuwait and Canada. Their dedication to life and their steadfastness in the face of one of the most brutal occupations in modern history influenced the sentiment of the book. I am also inspired by my family's love for Palestine and their experiences leaving Gaza during the genocide and Sarafand Al-Amar in 1948.

As for media, I'm inspired by the generational themes of love and resilience that Susan Abulhawa paints in her books. My poetry is inspired by Suheir Hammad, especially her poetry collection Born Palestinian Born Black, as well as Safia Elhillo’s Girls That Never Die and The January Children. Their work encourages me to be vulnerable about where I come from.

I listen to uplifting Palestinian music when the poem gets too sad. I listen to Palestinian songs to maintain the reality of what I'm feeling: the duality of sadness and desperation with patience and hope. I would like to thank Mohammed Assaf for his songs “Jinalek Ya Falasteen” and “Salam Le Gaza” which represent that duality. “اتظن بعدما أحرقتني” is a revolutionary classic I always go back to, introduced to me by my father.

Can you close us out with one of your poems from Ancestral Daughter?

Thank you to Unootha for publishing this poem back in 2018 and for publishing this interview now. I'd like to bring “Being a Palestinian Woman: a Guide” back as it is more relevant to me than ever, and an essential piece to “The Womanhood” chapter: https://www.unootha.com/life/being-a-palestinian-woman-a-guide

Ancestral Daughter is now available for purchase viadarajapress.com and select bookstores in Montreal.

Leena Aboutaleb is an Egyptian and Palestinian writer who asks you to commit to the Palestinian liberation struggle. She is the author of THALASSA (Game Over Books, 2026). Her pamphlet, Expeditions of Projection, was released in 2023 (VIBE). Her film, ‘Oracle,’ co-produced with Youssef ElNahas debuted in Venice, 2025. She is a Brooklyn Poets fellow, a Kundiman fellow and Tin House scholar. Read her work at www.leenaboutaleb.onl.