Growing Up Without the Words

Leyla King grew up in Texas surrounded by warmth, family, faith, and tradition. Sunday feasts with dozens of cousins, strong matriarchs in the kitchen, and a deep connection to her Christian upbringing were the norm. From the outside, it was a vibrant and full life.

But one thing was missing – no one said the word “Palestine.”

She didn’t speak Arabic. She didn’t know her grandparents had fled their homeland. And she didn’t realize, until much later, that a huge part of her identity had quietly gone unnamed.

It wasn’t until a film about Anne Frank was shown in her high school classroom that something clicked – and cracked. What was framed in the film as healing and resolution sparked a moment of confusion, heartbreak, and eventual awakening for Leyla. And it was her older sister who gently warned her: “Don’t say that to Mom.”

That moment changed everything.

A Return to What Was Always There

Leyla’s life took on a new shape after that. She became more curious. She asked more questions. She leaned into the discomfort of not knowing what had always been right under the surface.

Years later, she pulled out a cassette tape she’d recorded in 2002 – an interview with her grandmother, captured long before she fully understood its importance. That tape became the foundation for her memoir, Daughters of Palestine, a story passed through five generations of women whose lives were marked by survival, migration, and faith.

What stood out to me most was how Leyla described her grandmother as a “retainer” – someone who holds the stories for the next in line. Now, Leyla carries that responsibility forward.

The Grace of Identity in Process

We often think identity is something we just know. But for many of us, it’s something we come to understand over time. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes in grief. Sometimes through a moment that splits the story in two.

Leyla’s story reminded me that our identities are not just about where we’re from or what we look like. They’re shaped by the stories we’re told—and the ones we’re not. And it’s okay if we don’t have it all figured out right away. That’s part of the work.

Telling those stories, even when they’ve been quiet for generations, can be an act of resistance. And an act of healing.

The Power of Remembering

There’s a quiet power in being the one who remembers. The one who listens. The one who speaks when it feels easier not to.

Leyla could’ve chosen silence. But instead, she chose to share what she carried. And in doing so, she gives the rest of us permission to look a little closer at our own stories, too.

Whether you’ve always known where you come from or you’re still piecing it together, this episode is a reminder that identity isn’t just what we inherit – it’s what we choose to carry forward.