A famous comedian once said, “Comedy is tragedy plus time.” One of the purest examples of this is when we witness someone falling down. Someone falling down should not be funny. They could be injured. They could be dead. But who among us has not had to stifle a laugh upon seeing our best friend trip over an imaginary object and fall flat on his or her butt? Admit it, the normal human reaction is to stifle a chuckle and then do the right thing and ask if they are okay. Once the “I’m okay” confirmation is received, the joking can begin. And, more often than not, the victim of the fall joins in on the fun because pain plus time equals comedy. I’ve been to many places on God’s green earth, but nowhere have I seen people turn tragedy into comedy the way they do in Palestine. You’ve got to have a wicked sense of humour to still be laughing after 65 years of inequality and oppression. One of the common misconceptions in the Western World is that Arabs are angry, oppressive, and not funny. I have met those Arabs, and they do exist. But they certainly are not the majority.

I was exposed to Arabs with brilliant comedic timing at a young age. I grew up watching Ghowar and the amazing man who sang “TekTeek ya Jahal” in Firkit al-Ashikeen. I have had comedy around me, whether intentionally or not, from day one. I have cerebral palsy and, while most parents would sit and weep about their maskeena disabled baby girl, my father had a great sense of humour about it instead. He taught me to have an awesome sense of humour about it too. His nicknames for me were Shaky Bakey and Jelly Beans. Since he could make light of my disability, it didn’t seem like such a big deal to me. Later in life, the ability to laugh at my own situation rather than sit and feel sorry for myself is what empowered me most. He was the ultimate example of taking something painful and turning it around.

My father was not the exception to the rule. I have encountered this in every level of Palestinian society. Many people claim I brought comedy to the Middle East. I say it’s always been there. Come on a journey with me and think back to the first time you were stuck under curfew. How long did it take until someone cracked the first joke? I remember being stuck for days with nothing to eat but dibis (a syrup made from grapes) and no such thing as Internet. There we were, a random gaggle of expats and locals, trapped indoors with soldiers and tanks outside. Within minutes, the jokes began to flow-about the soldiers, the leadership, Valentine’s Day, and Al-Khalil. If we weren’t sleeping or playing cards, we were telling jokes.

No matter how torturous the situation, Palestinians always find a way to make it funny. Think about when you visit a prisoner who’s just gotten home. Do you hear about the confinement or the torture? No. You hear stories laced with comedy and bravado. I once had a prisoner tell me a story about being in solitary confinement that had me laughing so hard I was ashamed by my privilege. This is a prime example of how comedy can also be used to heal. These men and women relating the most horrific experiences in a comedic way is their way of taking back the power from their jailers.

And then there are checkpoints. If you’ve ever crossed a checkpoint, you’ve got a minimum of five minutes of stand-up comedy in you. For example, the time I got shot at while crossing Qalandia checkpoint. As many of you know, there is nothing funny about being shot at. But once you’re on the other side, the not getting hit is pretty amusing. I have told countless jokes about that one experience starting with, “They couldn’t hit me because I was a moving target.” I claimed that the whole time I just kept thinking, “Oh boy! You’re gonna be in big trouble if you murder a disabled American clown!” See, it’s really funny! But when I was getting shot at, it really wasn’t.

Palestinians don’t just have a sense of humour about pain, they have a sense of humour about just about everything. I have often said, “I developed my comedy chops while sitting with the hajas cross-stitching and reading coffee cups.” In Deir Debwan, before there was TV, there was gossip, and I am willing to swear I have never heard anything funnier than my old aunties in the village talking weddings. They would mercilessly mock the brides. “She looked like a hyena with a broom on her head. How lucky her parents were to find a donkey silly enough to marry her. And the mansaf…” It was comedy gold. Russell Peters has nothing on my Auntie Behiya.

All this occurs while we are living under the Occupation. With kids dying daily, the cage getting smaller, and no end in sight, somehow Palestinians still manage to laugh. They may take our land, they may demolish our homes, but they will never take our laughter.

Maysoon Zayid is a Palestinian stuck in New Jersey. She is an actress, writer, stand-up comedian, and the co-founder of www.arabcomedy.com. Follow her on Twitter @maysoonzayid. Dedicated to al-Haj Musa Zaid.