Solidarity takes on new meanings as the keffiyeh arrives in Mindanao

DAVAO CITY (MindaNews/14 April)— The keffiyeh has traveled the world as a symbol of Palestinian resistance and solidarity. At the National Solidarity Conference for Palestine and Call for Peace in the Middle East held in Davao from April 10 to 11, one immediately notices speakers, panelists, and participants donning the patterned, black-and-white head scarf — whether draped across their shoulders, or wrapped around their neck or head.

But while the keffiyeh has become an international emblem of solidarity, its meanings do not always travel intact. What appears as support in one context can become a source of tension or discomfort in another.

Participants wearing the keffiyeh wave Palestinian flags during the National Solidarity Conference for
Palestine and Call for Peace in the Middle East held in Davao City on April 10–11. Photo courtesy of
Isaiah Alcomendras

A closer look at the keffiyeh reveals a layered visual language rooted in Palestinian life and history.  Woven into its design are motifs resembling olive branches — referencing Palestinian farmers’ historical economic dependence on olives and their consequent products — and net-like patterns that evoke ties to the Mediterranean and the communities that have long depended on it. The bold, intersecting lines that structure the design are commonly understood to represent movement: routes of trade and exchange that once connected different parts of the region.

During the Arab Revolt against British rule in the late 1930s, people across social classes wore the keffiyeh to make it harder for colonial authorities to distinguish between insurgents and civilians, while also signaling unity against the common enemy. In later decades, particularly after the occupation of the West Bank in 1967 and the banning of the Palestinian flag, the keffiyeh became a visible stand-in for national identity.

In Mindanao, the keffiyeh is being reinterpreted through local histories and practices. During Prof. Elin Anisha C. Guro’s segment at the conference, she noted how some Meranaw communities express  solidarity through dress, wearing keffiyeh and Palestinian thobes (traditional Palestinian woman’s long tunic) during gatherings such as Eid celebrations, or are purchasing authentic Hirbawi scarves as a form of cultural and economic support.

For Guro, these practices also resonate with indigenous struggles closer to home. “Surely for culture bearers among us indigenous people, we can identify with fellow indigenous people whose cultural traditions are also in threat of disappearing,” she said, drawing parallels between Palestinian cultural preservation and the challenges faced by local weaving traditions.

However, the symbols do not travel cleanly. Memen Lauzon Gatmaytan, who has worked in peacekeeping and interpositioning efforts in the West Bank and is related to the author, shared that her reaction to the keffiyeh worn by participants at the conference was shaped by her own experiences in the region.

“Noong nagsuot ang mga estudyante ng ganoong headdress, naalala ko bigla ‘yong mga Israeli settlers na nangha-harass sa amin (When the students were wearing that headdress, I suddenly remembered the Israeli settlers who were harassing us),” she said, noting that similar head coverings are worn across the Middle East to protect against the heat.

“Kaya lang, mas marami akong nakikitang nagsusuot, nagkataon lang na mas marami akong nakitang nagsuot doon sa area namin na mga settlers … So kahit na Israeli, kahit na Jewish, nagsusuot pa rin ng ganoon (But it just so happened that I saw more settlers wearing it in our area [than Palestinians] … So even Israelis, even the Jewish, they still wear that),” she added.

While the Palestinian keffiyeh is often identified by its black-and-white pattern, variations of the garment exist across the region, carrying different associations depending on context.

This points to how wearing a symbol does not guarantee a shared understanding of what it represents. Cultural symbols are not fixed; their meanings shift depending on who apprehends them, and in what context. As the keffiyeh moves across borders, it is continually reinterpreted and reshaped by different political positions and lived experiences.

Solidarity thus becomes something that must be practiced, not only performed. While symbols may open the possibility of connection, they also risk being reduced to aesthetic gestures if not translated into deeper engagement or concrete political action.

Symbols travel, but the keffiyeh does not arrive intact. In Mindanao, it is worn, read, and felt differently — its threads carrying not only solidarity, but the tensions of what that solidarity can become when symbols remain as just symbols. (Bea Gatmaytan/MindaNews)