For many in Europe, history is a relic of the past, a subject confined to textbooks. In contrast, for those of us in West Asia—often called the “Middle East,” a term rooted in colonialism—history is woven into the fabric of our daily lives. There, history is not just read about; it is experienced firsthand.

As an Iranian, I have grown up hearing stories about how British Petroleum originated as the Anglo-Persian Oil Company, exploiting the oil-rich south of Iran. I have heard about the revolution of 1979, when people took to the streets to overthrow an absolute monarch—one praised in Western media simply because he was a Cold War ally.

This uprising was a response to a deeper history: the 1953 coup d’etat orchestrated by Britain and the U.S., which ousted Iran’s democratically elected government. I have heard stories of women who were raped by American soldiers in Iran, soldiers who were never brought to justice. But it is not solely “the West.” My father has told me of Russian troops parading through our city, and of his grandmother hiding silverware in wells and walls to protect it from being looted by drunken soldiers.

In my region, understanding colonial history does not require a trip to the library or a conversation with an elder. I grew up amid the aftermath of Abu Ghraib in Iraq, just to the west of Iran. I have seen my Afghan friends lose parents to cancer following the bombings in Jalalabad, to the east of us. History for us is not a lesson from the past; it is a reality that shapes our present.

With that in mind, I wanted to share a poem I recently read at Shaimaa College in Leuven—the final and longest-standing university encampment in Belgium dedicated to ending colonialism in Palestine, the longest fight against colonialism in this epoch:

When the coloniser arrives at your home

To plunder your riches, to claim all they roam

To steal your resources, gas and oil

Leaving dreams scorched, engulfed in turmoil

They put you on fire until you burn and boil

To sow in your ashes conflict, turmoil and toil

Yet within you burns a fierce, defiant flame

A spirit unyielding, refusing to tame

Because you resist, rebel and revolt

For every theft, every ruthless exploit

Awakens a courage that cannot be foiled

You fall on their head like a mighty thunderbolt

“Resistance is our existence!” You loudly declare

With your feet planted firm, with your fists raised in the air

With all the heavy pain you bear, bravely you dare

You let them know resistance is the only thing you care

When the coloniser arrives at your land

To take away what is in your mouth, to steal what is in your hand

To carry the precious stones and sieve even the pile of sand

Silver, gold or whatever he finds in your land

Everything, everything, do you understand?!

They steal your sea, your coast, your mountains and valleys

They chain you in your farm, they keep you on your knees

Until you get up on your feet and stand

With all your people, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand

You face their ugly face and strongly withstand

Against their greed, against their bullying and demand

And you say: “with every step forward, we will expand

For justice and freedom, we will all reprimand!”

Because you know the power of resistance is firmly at hand

Give me your hand, let’s walk this path together, hand in hand…