At an arts workshop last March in Abu Dhabi, 30 women and men sat around a long, wooden table to learn the ancestral practice of Palestinian embroidery, or Tatreez in Arabic. They were offered common motifs, like flowers and cypress trees, but most gravitated toward a more solemn design, the outline of a gravesite in Hebron. Instructor Joanna Bakarat passed around the pattern which was accompanied by a note that encouraged workshopers to “meditate and pray for those departed souls in Gaza whose bodies have not been buried.”
With each thread, it became increasingly clear that the embroidery was more than an artistic exercise. Rather, it was an act that wove together politics and heritage.
For centuries, tatreez has been deeply embedded in Palestinian heritage, and in recent years it has seen renewed significance, following the rise of crafting during the COVID-19 pandemic, the war in Gaza and the growing Palestinian diaspora. The practice has since grown as a non-confrontational yet potent way to express solidarity and anchor individuals to their homeland.
The embroidery and the political message it carries has greatly expanded. Workshops have risen in popularity across the UAE, United States, Palestine, United Kingdom and Lebanon teaching the practice and its history.
In a forthcoming book, workshop leader, Barakat, explores the impact contemporary artists have played since the 1970s in creating the cultural symbolism and maintaining it around Palestinian embroidery. Particularly, the message of the embroidery on women’s garments.
“It has a lot to do psychologically with abandonment, this sense of loss and detachment from this mother figure, which is the land,” Barakat said.
Using embroidery, Palestinian women have long decorated their thobe (dress) with symbols of history, memory and place. These motifs revealed the identity of the wearer and her connection with the land. “You have this visual imagery of this woman in the embroidered dress and she represents that. It is tied to how a lot of Palestinians see embroidery, there is a subconscious link to it,” Barakat said, “Narrative Threads: Palestinian Embroidery in Contemporary Art,” will be published in July.
Tatreez is a localized expression, with motifs’ meaning differing based on where the woman lived, whether or not she was married and her natural environment. However, following the establishment of the Israeli state and displacement of thousands of Palestinians in 1948, the environment tatreez existed forever changed.
“You have about a decade where it’s about survival,” Barakat said. “The embroidery isn’t really a relevant conversation. Where are you gonna get your next meal? Where are you gonna get clean water?”
In the 1960s, because of women from different villages exchanging styles and motifs in refugee camps, a new meaning of tatreez was created that represented a national consciousness rather than village identity. Tatreez was a prominent part of the Liberation Art Movement beginning in the 1970s and continues to be today.
Through her work, Barakat aims to raise awareness and foster empathy about the war in Gaza. In her embroidered work, “Article 5,” she features the West Bank Separation Wall, often called the Wall of Apartheid. She embroidered the wall with the words of Article Five of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights stenciled in graffiti-style lettering across the wall. Below, cypress trees line the base and stars fill the sky above.
“It is sort of this occupation of land, sky, mind, body and spirit,” Barakat said. “All of these things that are part of being human and the violation of them.”
Artist Eman Almahdi, the first tatreez instructor in the UAE founded Tatreez Therapy in which she shares the experiences of Palestinian people, “As a Palestinian living outside Palestine, at least I could have something that I could share with anyone,” Almahdi said. “We struggle everywhere wherever we move, but we still have a strong, very amazing story to tell.”
In her workshops, Alhamdi puts an emphasis on teaching the history of tatreez.
“Each pattern has a story and each city has something it is famous for,” Almahdi said. “So whenever you tell this to someone, they will understand why tatreez is important, why I have to teach it and keep it going for the next generation.”
Beyond a work of art, Alhamdi sees tatreez as a form of resistance. She believes that the motif of a tree from Ramallah, similar to a cypress tree in front of most Palestinian homes, is one of the most representative because it is an evergreen tree with deep roots.
“It never dies unless you cut it,” Alhamdi said. “It does not give fruits, but the way it stands is strong and forever.”
Based in New York City, Lina Barkawi, a Palestinian-Panamian artist, tatreez instructor and activist started her company Lina’s Thobe in 2023. Beyond intimate workshops, Barkawi has given presentations on tatreez at corporations like Amazon and Google. While she believes that tatreez is passive and non threatening, others may not agree.
“It’s embroidery and yet it’s become political, not because Palestinians are political, but because Palestinians have been made to be political,” Barkawi said.
“You’re making a statement regardless, because you are automatically acknowledging Palestinians and Palestine as a concept. In that act, you’re already political.”
Lina Barkawi