Camp by Kat Abdallah

Monday, May 6, 2019

A gown with a train, striped with green, white, and black squeezes my ribs. I’m trying my best not to sneeze or tear up, but the odor emanating from the red body paint on my face and chest is mocking me. My scalp hurts. I’m getting a headache, and I can barely move my arms in the gold-plated sleeves. “Yes, the gold is real. Of course! It wouldn’t be camp if it wasn’t!” Giggle, but remember not to smile too much or you’ll get wrinkles. It’s Elie Saab. A statement on Palestine. Repeat for the next microphone. Vogue. Cosmopolitan. W Magazine.

A reporter who’s clearly tired of giggling: “Tell us, what does camp mean to you?”

Well, if you ask my dad, it means living off of UN rations in the desert. 

Me, also clearly tired of giggling: “Camp is a celebration of all that we have, of everything that promotes joy and uniqueness. Camp is the true you on the inside, and we all sparkle inside. Let’s let the sparkle out!” Cheering. Applause. If it weren’t for Gaga, they’d all be talking about you on GMA tomorrow. 

So we’re going with the palatable definition of camp, then?

The reporter: “That’s beautiful, and so true. So, tell us about your look, what did Elie Saab envision for you?”

“My team, Elie Saab and his Haute Couture staff, really respected my heritage and supported my desire to comment on where my family came from. So, I’m essentially wearing a Palestinian flag, with red body paint representing the blood of Palestinian civilians and gold sleeves emphasizing the physical and emotional strength of all the women who came before me. Gold is an important part of a dowry, representing a woman’s value in the family. I believe my ‘sparkle,’ if I can claim any sparkle, comes from my expression of femininity and paying tribute to my roots.”

Is the prompt “Camp” or “how many times can I use the word sparkle in one minute?” A lot of good sparkling does for your brothers and sisters in Gaza Strip. 

The reporter shows even more teeth, her fake smile getting faker: “Of course you can claim sparkle, that’s why we’re all here! Tell us more about your family. Are you close with them?”

Well, we were never super close, but we were closer when Teta was alive. I haven’t seen Amo Farid in months, Amto Nawal won’t come over anymore because everything reminds her of Teta. I haven’t even met Amo Adam’s new wife. And I miss Linda. I hope she’s doing well. I can’t remember how old her boys are. I think two years ago little Farid was eight, so he must be in fourth grade now. 

“They inspire me every day. I wouldn’t be who I am, I wouldn’t be here without them.”

Well, you’re not lying, but that’s definitely too sugary, sis. They’re not even watching. They’re busy living in the real world. Where the real camps are. 

The reporter pretends she can empathize: “I’m sure they’d be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

“Not as proud as I am of them.”

That’s probably the only real thing that anyone will say tonight. You comfy in the spanx, sis? Is it holding everything in?

The reporter finally releases me: “Have fun tonight!”

“Oh, I will!” 

HA, no you won’t. 

“Look this way!” “Over here!”

Lights flash in New York while bombs go off in Gaza Strip.

Kat Abdallah is a Palestinian-American writer, educator, and advocate for refugees. She currently resides in the Pacific Northwest, where she was born and raised. Outside of writing, Kat tells stories on stage in local theater and through cosplay.

4 March 2022