How can one feel a sense of belonging to a place where they were not born? A place you’ve never even seen? If there’s any people who can relate to the Palestinian narrative of exile, longing and return, isn’t it the Jews?

In the midst of the Great Return March protests in Gaza, during which Israeli snipers killed well over 100 protesters inside the besieged territory, Social TV asked regular Israelis on the street what they think of the Israeli army’s actions.

Every year, to mark the Nakba, Israeli organization Zochrot organizes a tour returning to the site of Deir Yassin, where Zionist militias massacred over 100 people in 1948. Today, the Givat Shaul neighborhood of Jerusalem and a psychiatric hospital stand in its place. Not everyone is happy about the tours.

While Israeli snipers killed dozens in Gaza, as Israelis and Americans celebrated the opening of the U.S. Embassy in Jerusalem, and while Europe watched Netta Barzilai win the Eurovision, the latest flotilla to Gaza set sail from Scandinavia. The participants no longer expect to break Israel’s blockade but they believe they can make a difference nonetheless.

Seventy years after its residents were turned into refugees, the descendants of Saffuriya, a Palestinian village in the north, are imagining what a life of real coexistence could look like alongside the Israeli Jews who have lived there since the Nakba.

What does life look like for the youth of Gaza? What do they laugh about? Sing and write about? What do they dream of? Four young Palestinians from Gaza try and give an Israeli reporter a taste of what it means to walk in their shoes.

Millions of tourists come to the West Bank every year, but Israel decides who can visit, and only a small fraction of the tourists ever stay in Palestinian hotels and guesthouses or use Palestinian guides. We visit a Palestinian guesthouse in Sebastia and hear how the owner, Ahmad, manages to remain optimistic.

The media tends to stereotype the Mizrahi residents of south Tel Aviv as angry xenophobes whose problems will be solved with the deportation of African asylum seekers from their neighborhoods. But the truth is far more complicated.

Palestinian residents of the Jordan Valley share their personal experiences of what life under occupation has meant for them. The second of two parts.

Fatimah Yousuf Massaeed talks about the difficulties of being a student in the Jordan Valley, where internet access is spotty and the roads difficult to travel in the winter. She has a degree in law and Islamic law from the Open University and dreams of being a judge.

Mahmood Massaeed describes about how the lack of building permits makes it impossible to build a soccer field in his village, dashing his and his friends’ dreams of becoming professional soccer players.

Rushdi Habib wants to send his children to study at universities, but he can’t afford not to have them working alongside him in the fields.

Abd el-Salam Beni Odeh talks about the day his house was demolished; he was on his way back from school when he saw the ruins. A high school student now, he says he wants to work as a human rights advocate.

Palestinian residents of the Jordan Valley share their personal experiences of what life under occupation has meant for them. The first of two parts.

Iman Abusrur explains how even a simple injury like a broken leg can get complicated when the nearest clinic is 45 kilometers away on rough roads:

Khulusi Haj Muhammed visits his devastated family home every day. He can’t get a permit to fix the roof that collapsed. He longs for peace, to live his remaining years with dignity:

Ahmed Ghawanmeh talks about on the difference between his village, Jiftlik, and the neighboring Israeli settlements, and the sense of humiliation and oppression that comes from living in the shadow of the occupation:

Khaled Handomh explains about what happens when a resident of al-Jiftlik wants to turn on an air-conditioner in the summer, or when a woman in labor has to pass through the checkpoint to get to the hospital:

Mattan Helman was supposed to serve in the Nahal Brigrade in the occupied territories. Instead, he will refuse to enlist as a conscientious objector, a decision that will land him in jail.

A joint trip by Israeli Jews and internally displaced Palestinians to the village of Mi’ar, which was destroyed and depopulated during the 1948 War, brings up the ghosts of the past.

Ofir Averbukh has served more than 150 days in Israeli military prison for his refusal to be conscripted into the army. In the following interview, Ofir explains why he is only going public about his refusal now, and why Israeli youth should view choosing to be conscripted, not just refusing, as a decision of significant moral weight.