The Geography of Belonging

I recently sat with Rawan Abu Yosef, Electrical Engineer, Academic, Public Servant and the subject of my latest painting titled From Olive Roots, Wattle Blooms. Rawan was gracious enough to open up about her life back in Palestine and what it took to leave her homeland and immigrate to Brisbane, Australia in 2015 with her young family.

An Electrical Engineer in Palestine, Rawan continued her academic journey, completing a PhD after arriving in Brisbane. During our sitting, she spoke of the deep sacrifices she made – leaving behind career, loved ones, and the generational land her family once called home.

In my painting, Rawan wears a wreath made from olive branches and wattle upon her head. In Palestinian culture the olive branch symbolises resilience, unity, and connection to homeland. So too does the wattle for Australians, a new identity she wears with pride. Just like Rawan, both thrive in harsh conditions. 

In the portrait (full portrait at the end of this article) she clutches keys from a property, long lost to displacement and occupation. A powerful symbol of connection to homeland and of her right to someday return.

Detail from my portrait of Rawan. From Olive Roots, Wattle Blooms. Melanie Kilby. 2025

About Rawan's life in Palestine...

What town, city or region did you and your family have land and property in Palestine?

I’m from Halhul, a town in the Hebron region. Both my family and my husband’s family own land there. Although we still legally own the land, parts have been taken or are no longer accessible due to settlement expansion.

Can you briefly explain challenges you had in regards to travel and movement within Palestine and also internationally?

Movement within Palestine is heavily restricted. There are checkpoints everywhere. Travelling between cities can take hours even though the distances are short. We don’t have an airport or railways, and we receive water only once a week in many areas. Crossing borders is extremely difficult and unpredictable. Life is made hard by design.

You mentioned you were treated as third-class citizens in your own country – what did that look like?

There is a clear hierarchy under the occupation: Israeli citizens are first, Palestinians living in 1948 areas are second, those of us in the West Bank are third, and Gazans are treated the worst. For example, land confiscation is common – settlers slowly take over land by starting small and then expanding. Meanwhile, our movement is restricted, our services are limited, and our rights are controlled by a system that treats us as inferior.

Do you still have family living in Palestine? Have they been displaced recently by all the conflict or are they still in the same town/city?

Most of my family is still in Halhul. They haven’t been displaced, but they live under constant stress and fear. The situation is always unstable, and displacement is a looming threat.

Do you have any stories you would be willing to share about your experience in Palenstine that made you want to leave?

One of the hardest parts was seeing Palestinian women who raised their children with love and sacrifice, only to see them imprisoned or killed. That fear haunted me as a mother. It broke my heart to leave, but I did it so my children could live without checkpoints, without the sound of drones and gunshots – so they could be children. That fear, and that hope, carried me through one of the most difficult decisions of my life.

Ending thoughts... Is there anything you'd like to say about Palestine, the Palestinian people or the conflict that's currently happening?

Palestinians are strong, resilient people with deep roots in their land. But what is happening now is devastating. We are witnessing genocide. I’m here in safety, but I’m watching the destruction of my people through a screen. I see children killed, starving, entire families gone – and then I have to go to work, cook dinner, or help with homework. And when someone casually asks, “How are you?”– I often don’t know what to say. The grief is always there.

Your new life in Brisbane...

In what year did you become an Australian citizen Rawan?

I became an Australian citizen in 2020 during the COVID-19 lockdowns. I didn’t attend an in-person ceremony due to the restrictions, but I was happy to receive the citizenship. It was a big milestone for us, especially knowing the limitations of the Palestinian passport and the uncertainty back home. Since arriving, we have always felt that Australia is our home.

Have the people of Brisbane helped you to feel welcome?

Most of the time, yes. In general, people in Brisbane have been kind, respectful, and supportive. Like anyone settling in a new country, I’ve had a mix of experiences – some very warm, and others more challenging.

Brisbane is a peaceful, calm, and safe city. It gave me the stability I was looking for, especially as a mother. People are generally respectful and open, and I’ve felt supported in building a future for my family here.

Do you have a good network of friends and/or family in Brisbane now?

I don’t have family here, but I do have a network of friends. Life is busy, so we don’t see each other often, but we connect on special occasions and at community events. We also have a small community that stays in touch.

Are there any standout experiences that have made you feel particularly welcome or unwelcome?

Yes. I arrived in Brisbane with three young children – aged 2, 4, and 6 – and was immediately touched by people’s kindness. At the airport, before I even had a SIM card or internet, someone offered to help me contact my husband. Later, we were fortunate to live in West End for our first four years – a welcoming, multicultural community. Whether at school, in shops, or on the street, people were kind and supportive. It was a very lucky and meaningful start to our life in Australia.

The completed portrait of Rawan. From Olive Roots, Wattle Blooms. Melanie Kilby. 2025