Narrative_Threads

Tatreez as a symbol of Palestinian identity, memory, and protest in Joanna Barakat’s Narrative Threads

Book Club: More than a craft, tatreez embodies Palestinian identity, storytelling, and protest in artist Joanna Barakat’s new book, 'Narrative Threads'
27 August, 2025

From the black and white of patterns on keffiyehs to the intricate designs on thobes, it seems that Palestinian embroidery has been everywhere in the last few years.

But for Palestinians, embroidery – known by the all-encompassing name of tatreez – is more than just a trending decorative adornment.

Its long history has always seen it used as a storytelling device, particularly by women who made their own thobes, and since the Nakba, it has also been used as a symbol of protest, a signifier of identity, and a tool to keep memories alive.

It’s this history, as well as the present and future of tatreez, that is the subject of artist Joanna Barakat’s new book, Narrative Threads, which draws together the work of 24 artists who incorporate tatreez into their work.

Although she is Palestinian, Joanna – who was born in Jerusalem, raised in Los Angeles, and who currently lives in the UAE – has no inherited thobes or other embroidered items that were handed down to her.

“Historically, Palestinian embroidery was worn by villagers and farmers or Bedouins,” explains Joanna.

“My grandmothers were city ‘gals’ and they didn't wear it. In the forties, fifties, even into the sixties, Palestinian embroidery, for someone from the city, was looked down upon. So, you would practise it maybe for a cushion or as a hobbyist, but you wouldn't wear it.

“It was seen much to be much more fashionable and much more chic to be in Western-style clothes.”

Joanna_Barakat
Joanna is a Palestinian artist, founder of The Tatreez Circle, and author of Narrative Threads [Instagram @tatreeztalk]

Dresses as storytelling devices 

When Joanna got married, it was to a man whose paternal family had been farmers, and whose aunts and grandmother wore embroidered items.

“That was when I started to really fall in love with embroidery,” she says.

Joanna began trying to incorporate tatreez into her self-portraits but found painting the embroidery “never felt visceral enough.”

While working on her painting Heart Strings, Joanna asked her sister-in-law to teach her how to embroider. The result was actual embroidery within the painting, and the start of a new phase of Joanna’s work.

That initial brush with tatreez led her down a rabbit hole, where she learnt more about the history of it as a storytelling device.

“Historically, women would embroider what was in their environment,” explains Joanna.

“So, you would find from Yaffa, the orange blossom motif embroidered onto the dress. You would find different things that indicated who a woman was; from her dress and her headdress, you would know her marital and socioeconomic status.

“A woman’s dress was a storytelling device. It shared a lot of vital village information with whoever was looking at it.”

She adds, “This was really interesting to me, the way that motifs could be used as a language. And that's when I really started incorporating it into my artwork, because I like the idea of embroidery and language and how you can use embroidery to communicate different ideas and concepts.”

Heart_Strings
Joanna Barakat, Heart Strings, 2017. Acrylic, spray paint and cotton thread on canvas, 61 x 91 cm
Amulet_Joanna_Barakat
Joanna Barakat, Amulet, 2021. Fabric paint, metallic thread on cotton, 30 x 39 cm

Stitching memory into fabric

After the Nakba, the role and symbolism of tatreez began to change. In the 1960s and 1970s, artists “wanted to create a sense of national consciousness to counter the cultural appropriation and Zionist mythology and narrative,” says Joanna.

“They were creating artwork which stirred up this sense of nationalism in Palestinians. You get a lot of artwork that has to do with rural landscapes, and the woman in the embroidered dress became the symbol of the motherland. These were farmers; they were the stewards of the land and the people closest to the land.

“So it made sense to represent Palestine in this way.”

Not only is tatreez a visual indicator of a moment and movement, but it also became a form of memory.

Tatreez became an archive of indigenous knowledge that was shared by women,” says Joanna. “And this is what makes Palestinian embroidery so important, this concept of it as a storytelling device and an archive, but the fact that it also stands as proof of the existence of indigeneity.”

Joanna, and many of the artists she features in Narrative Threads – such as Sliman Mansour, Larissa Sansour, and Kiki Salem – use tatreez to express connection with their homeland, across different mediums.

“I use Palestinian embroidery in my work because it has so many layers of meaning,” says Joanna. “At first, I was using it as a way to express things, almost as a language. And then it became something deeper; it was more about connection. How do you create artwork that gives people a sense of connection?”

Like_Joanna_Barakat
Joanna Barakat, Like, 2024. Cotton thread on cotton, 12 x 12 cm

Tatreez beyond protest

Reflecting further on the changes seen in the 1960s and 1970s, the embroidered dress evolved from being worn mainly by rural women to becoming embraced by many and worn during protests — a tradition that continues to this day.

“The protests you see happening for Gaza, a lot of people are wearing embroidery,” says Joanna. “When you're wearing something, your body is participating in the protest.”

But modern tatreez is not just about protest, but also about celebrating Palestinian culture and heritage, and there has been an upswing in people interested in learning tatreez.

Joanna ran her first tatreez workshop around eight years ago, and has held them regularly since; importantly, they’re not just practical, but also a space where participants learn about tatreez’s history and symbolism.

The Tatreez Circle Instagram account, which Joanna set up in 2018, is also a demonstration of how tatreez has been embraced.

“I started teaching workshops because we were worried that people would forget about Palestinian embroidery,” she says.

“It's actually quite the opposite. People are celebrating it. They're loving it, they're engaging in it, and it's amazing to see that.

“I feel like when people come together in community and they're doing something, a practice with their hands, they're connecting to Palestinian culture in a meaningful way.”

Narrative Threads will be available for purchase on 28 August 2025. You can buy your copy here

Sarah Shaffi is a freelance literary journalist and editor. She writes about books for Stylist Magazine online and is the Books Editor at Phoenix Magazine

Follow her here: @sarahshaffi

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