Culture & Identity

Samar on Appreciation and the Palestinian Story of Tatreez

Our work with Samar began with the Together Project, when we invited her to help us develop napkins and choose Tatreez motifs connecting stories from Palestine, Kashmir, Sudan and the Rohingya community through land, food, harvest and the table.

As we worked together, a wider question kept returning: when tatreez moves onto new objects and reaches new audiences, how do we make sure the Palestinian story moves with it?

This interview continues that conversation.

Activist and Tatreez Educator, Bethlehem

Meet Samar Abedrabo

Samar Abedrabo is a human rights advocate and the founder of SAMARKAND, a cultural initiative dedicated to preserving traditional Palestinian embroidery as a vital part of cultural identity and collective memory.

Through documentation, research and cultural practice, her work helps safeguard historic patterns and symbols while keeping the people, places and histories behind them visible.

For Samar, tatreez is not simply a textile tradition to be admired. It is a living archive: one that carries memory, records belonging and has survived because Palestinian women have continued to stitch, teach and pass it on. Her work asks us to look beyond the beauty of the finished piece and understand what, and whom, each stitch represents.

“I think the responsibility starts from the moment you decide to buy a piece. It means paying a fair price and not negotiating down or underestimating the time, skill and handmade effort that went into it. Then, when you wear or use it, I think it’s important to appreciate it and know what you’re carrying. Talk about it, tell people where it comes from, and share the story behind it. Even something as simple as explaining that it was handmade by a Palestinian woman can make a difference.”

In conversation

When you teach or speak about tatreez, what do you want people to understand before they even look at the stitch?

For me, Tatreez is first and foremost a form of storytelling. Before looking at the stitch itself, I want people to understand that it comes from real people, places, memories and experiences. The motifs aren’t just decorative , they can tell us something about where someone came from, their community, their landscape, or even a moment in their life. I think once you understand that, you stop looking at Tatreez only as embroidery and start seeing it as something that carries memory.

We are seeing tatreez become much more visible through workshops, social media, museums and products. What feels hopeful about this rise in interest, and what feels worrying?

I think it’s really hopeful to see Tatreez becoming more visible and reaching people through workshops, social media, museums and different products. It means more people are curious about it, learning it and recognising it as something important. For me, that creates an opportunity to keep the tradition alive and introduce it to people who may not have come across it before.

At the same time, I think there’s a risk when Tatreez becomes a trend and the history behind it gets lost. I worry about seeing the stitches and motifs being used just because they look beautiful, without understanding their connection to Palestinian women, communities, land and memory. I’m not against Tatreez being shared or evolving. I just think the story and the context should move with it, rather than being left behind.

Tatreez exists within a wider region where embroidery has long been practised in places like Palestine, Lebanon, Syria and Jordan, especially through movement, migration and displacement. How do we speak about those shared regional threads while still being clear that Palestinian tatreez has its own roots, meanings and history?

There are definitely shared embroidery traditions across the region, and I think it’s important to acknowledge that. But what makes Palestinian Tatreez especially meaningful to me is how closely it is connected to the place. Different cities, villages and regions had their own patterns, motifs and colours, so the embroidery could carry a sense of where someone came from. I find that really special because it means Tatreez isn’t one single visual language,there are so many local stories and identities within it. I think that’s something we should be careful not to lose when we talk about Palestinian Tatreez as a whole.

If more tatreez is being stitched, taught or sold by people who are not Palestinian or Levantine, do you worry that in 50 or 100 years pieces may be disconnected from their source, that people may no longer know who stitched them, where the motifs came from, or what story they carried?

Honestly, I’m not too worried about that. If Tatreez has survived and reached us today, after everything Palestinian women have gone through and the amount of effort they have put into preserving it, I believe it will continue to survive in the future. Of course, the way people stitch, teach and use Tatreez will probably keep changing, and that’s okay. What gives me confidence is that it has already been carried through so many generations, and there are people today who are still learning it, teaching it and passing it on. I think that says a lot about how strong the tradition is.

What would respectful learning, teaching or using tatreez look like to you, especially for people who are not Palestinian?

For me, appreciation starts with acknowledgement. If you’re wearing or using Tatreez, I think it’s important to recognise the Palestinian women who have carried this tradition and continue to do the work today. If you’re learning Tatreez, it should come with an effort to understand its history and to be able to talk about it, rather than only learning the technique. And if you’re teaching it, I think there’s an even bigger responsibility because you’re passing that knowledge on to someone else. You have a responsibility to teach the history and context alongside the stitches, and to make sure the Palestinian women and communities behind the tradition are not made invisible.

For our Together Project, we worked with you on motifs that could help open conversations around Palestine, Kashmir, Sudan and the Rohingya community through land, food, harvest and the table. How did it feel to work on a project where tatreez, which is so deeply connected to Palestinian storytelling, was being used to create bridges with other communities and their stories too?

For me, this project was really about using Tatreez for a good cause. I love that something so deeply connected to Palestinian storytelling can also help create space for other communities and their stories. I want Tatreez to be a way of connecting people, starting conversations and showing solidarity, while still keeping its Palestinian roots clear. If we can use something that carries so much meaning for us to also support and stand with other communities, I think that makes the work even more meaningful.

When someone buys or uses a piece of tatreez today, whether a bookmark, a napkin, a thobe or something else, what responsibility do you think they carry with it?

I think the responsibility starts from the moment you decide to buy a piece. It means paying a fair price and not negotiating down or underestimating the time, skill and handmade effort that went into it. Then, when you wear or use it, I think it’s important to appreciate it and know what you’re carrying. Talk about it, tell people where it comes from, and share the story behind it. Even something as simple as explaining that it was handmade by a Palestinian woman can make a difference. I think appreciation is not only about owning Tatreez, but also about valuing the person who made it and helping the story continue.

Together Project Napkins

Each sale funds a hot meal

The Gathering Napkin | Tatreez Linen Dinner Napkin

From £40.00

The Harvest Napkin | Tatreez Linen Dinner Napkin

From £48.00

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