Many of you don't understand why we come back during a war.
Why many of us refuse to leave our homes,
Even though the bombing is right next door.
Many of you don't understand why we keep on celebrating amid hostilities.

Think of your name,
The one attributed to you the moment you opened your eyes to this world.
For as long as you can remember,
You answer to that name.
You introduce yourself with that name.
You are only recognized by that name—
That one word
That holds your childhood, your teenage years, and your adulthood.
That holds years and years of memories.
That holds the connection to your family.

That one word you celebrate every birthday.
That one word that became your entire identity.
That is everything you've ever known, and the only thing you are so sure about—
So certain that you never question, second-guess, or doubt it in any way.
That one word you grew to love and appreciate.
That one word you can never imagine not having.

Now imagine someone coming to you,
Asking you to give up that name
Because they want it,
And they will do everything in their power to take it away from you.

What would you do?
Would you give it up that easily?
Would you give it up and just pick another one,
Spending the rest of your life knowing you will never be the same again?
Or would you rather fight for it and die with pride, holding that name?

My name is Beirut.
My name is Baalbak and Jbeil.
My name is Dahye and Sour.
My name is Trablos and Jounieh and Zahlé.
My name is Batroun and Chouf and Aakar.
My name is Gaza.
My name is Akka and Yafa.
My name is Ramallah and Al-Quds.
My name is Lebanon and Palestine.

And I’d rather die fighting for it than ever give it up.