Daily Fashion Arabia in Conversation with Sara Jayyusi, Founder of Deerah.
Article & Graphics by Rania Abdalla
Photos by Deerah
Photos by Deerah
Stitching Resilience: How Deerah Weaves Palestinian Heritage into Modern Threads Amidst Global Uncertainty
In a time when the pandemic had put the world on pause, many found themselves at a crossroads, grappling with unforeseen challenges and uncertainties. Among them were Sara Jayyusi and her husband, Omarr Daylaq, caught in the eye of this global storm while in transition from Saudi Arabia to Canada. Marooned in Jordan as borders slammed shut, they experienced a unique stillness that spurred an equally unique endeavor — the birth of Deerah, an e-commerce platform dedicated to preserving and promoting the art of Palestinian embroidery, or tatreez.
"We found ourselves with an abundance of time, and in the absence of any other pulls on our energy, we recognized a gap in the market," Jayyusi shared. With travel restrictions firmly in place, a generation of Palestinians in North America was disconnected from the cultural artefacts that embodied their heritage. The traditional pathways — family members bringing tatreez from Palestine or Jordan — had been disrupted. "We decided we could be that bridge," Jayyusi added.
Launching Deerah was far from a lavish endeavor. "We started with just a few hundred dollars and an idea," Jayyusi said, underscoring the modesty of their initial investment. The first batch of products were machine-embroidered, not hand-stitched. Yet what the offerings may have lacked in artisanal craftsmanship, they more than made up for in cultural and emotional resonance.
From the get-go, Deerah was animated by a sense of purpose far greater than mere commerce. Jayyusi aimed to use the brand as a vehicle to tackle deeply rooted prejudices against Palestinian culture, a byproduct of decades-long colonization and conflict. "One of the insidious tactics used against us was cultural marginalization, an attempt to paint our heritage as 'backward' or 'uncivilized' compared to Western norms," she said.
In confronting this stereotype head-on, Deerah evolved from machine-made products to a finely curated range of handcrafted embroidery, transforming the narrative around tatreez from one of nostalgia to one of modern relevance. "It was never just about making clothes. It was about changing the conversation. We wanted to showcase that our culture is not just beautiful but also incredibly intricate, fashionable, and modern. Most importantly, it is something to be proud of," Jayyusi emphasized.
Now, with each hand-stitched garment sold, Deerah is weaving a new narrative, one that stitches together the rich tapestry of Palestinian identity with the threads of modern fashion. Far from being a relic of the past, Deerah proves that tatreez can be both a bridge to history and a pathway to the future, stitched together by the resilient hands of artisans and the indomitable spirit of a community.
Deerah's Ethical Revolution: Journeying into the Heart of Palestinian Refugee Camps to Elevate Tatreez Artisans to Global Recognition
As Deerah gained traction in the e-commerce landscape, founders Sara and Omarr sensed that their initial goal—to rejuvenate traditional Palestinian craftsmanship—needed more depth and context. This realization led them to an often-overlooked setting: the Palestinian refugee camps in Jordan. It was a decision that would fundamentally alter their brand's vision and objectives.
"Initially, I only had an intermediary—a tailor who connected me with the embroiderers," Sara Jayyusi said. "But there was an itch to meet these artisans, to understand their process, their challenges, and their lives." She faced initial pushback with warnings about the conditions of the camps, but her persistence paid off. What she found there not only changed her perception but also revolutionized the ethos of her business.
"The conditions were horrendous—worse than Syrian refugee camps I had visited," she said, describing overcrowded rooms with inadequate roofing, no insulation, and a stark lack of basic necessities. Yet in these hovels, the art of tatreez persisted, albeit exploited. "I found out that these embroiderers were working on pieces for big brands, sold at luxury stores like Harrods, and getting paid almost nothing in return," Jayyusi added. Her voice quivered with a mix of anger and urgency.
If the art of tatreez was to survive and flourish, these artisans needed more than just a platform. They needed equitable treatment and the ability to pass down their skills without fearing financial ruin. "If we don't pay these women fairly, this art form will die. They won’t teach it to anyone because they’re not motivated to work in it anymore," Jayyusi said.
Challenging the conventional wisdom that pits profitability against fair labor practices, Jayyusi began to alter Deerah’s operational fabric. "My drive might be anger, but it's not negative. It's about justice, fairness, and preservation of an art form," she explained.
The impact was immediate and profound. A case in point is one embroiderer who initially invested all her earnings in her children's education, reluctantly anticipating that they would move away from tatreez. "I told her, you don't have to put everything into your children's education. Maybe invest in a better home for yourself," Jayyusi said. Fast forward two years, and the same embroiderer's daughter, who is studying to be an architect, took up a tatreez project because it was now a profitable endeavor. "She saw value in it—monetary and cultural," Jayyusi added.
In an industry often criticized for its shallow trends and disposability, Jayyusi and Deerah are building something enduring—a bridge that connects the skilled hands of forgotten artisans in overlooked corners of the world to global markets, all while preserving a cultural tapestry that's dangerously close to fraying.
Elevating Tatreez: Deerah’s Quest to Rebrand Palestinian Embroidery as High
In a market that often equates value with brand names and commercial glitz, Deerah finds itself in an uphill battle to recast the value narrative. "It's a long road ahead," Jayyusi admits, reflecting on how Palestinian embroidery or tatreez has been historically marginalized and undervalued. "We have all been conditioned to think of it as something you might pick up casually, like a souvenir, rather than appreciating its cultural and artistic value," she added.
Jayyusi argues that this perception contrasts sharply with how other forms of embroidery, especially those labeled as 'couture,' are treated. "It’s the same level of craftsmanship, the same amount of hours, if not more, poured into each piece. Yet one is considered high art while the other is relegated to the realm of crafts," she points out. The problem, according to her, is not just the devaluation of the art form but also the systemic underpayment and exploitation of the artisans.
However, Jayyusi is not one to wallow in the challenges. She sees them as opportunities for change. "We've already seen some shifts in consumer mindset. There are people who are willing to pay for the real value of tatreez because they understand its cultural significance and the level of skill involved," she says.
Despite the strides Deerah has made in bringing this art form to international platforms, Jayyusi believes there's a lot more ground to cover to change consumer behavior significantly. "It's not just about convincing them to buy. It's about educating them on why they should value this form of art equally to any 'high-end' embroidery they might find in a Parisian atelier," she explains.
In the era of conscious consumerism, where ethical and sustainable practices are gradually becoming more than just buzzwords, Jayyusi's mission seems aligned with a growing global awareness. "The art of tatreez deserves to be recognized not as an alternative to mainstream fashion, but as an equal, as a valid form of sartorial expression with its unique story and history," she says.
The road ahead may be long and fraught with challenges, but Jayyusi remains undeterred. "If we can get more people to see that value, then we’re not just preserving an art form; we're restoring dignity to an entire community of artists," she concludes.
Challenging the Status Quo: Deerah Puts Palestinian Craftsmanship on the Global Fashion Map
Deerah has a unique position in terms of branding and representation, especially when it comes to traditional Palestinian embroidery. "People purchase items that align with a feeling or identity they aspire to have," Jayyusi explains. "When they see models on a yacht, living their best lives, they're buying not just the product but the lifestyle it represents. The challenge for us is to make people see that Palestinian embroidery also offers something aspirational."
For Jayyusi, the key is top-notch representation—think high-quality photography and compelling storytelling. "When someone sees a Palestinian woman looking fabulous in a Thobe, captured in a way that elevates both the garment and the woman, it triggers an emotional response," she says. "They might think, 'I am Palestinian, and I want to feel powerful, rooted, and unique.'"
Jayyusi is passionate about ensuring that cultural representation isn’t just done well, but is also done by the people who understand the culture best. "We should be profiting from our own heritage, rather than allowing big brands to hijack our artisanal work," she argues.
She emphasizes that learning from Western couture houses should not overshadow the intrinsic value of traditional crafts. "We can be trailblazers in our own right. We have just as much, if not more, to offer in terms of value and story," Jayyusi concludes.
In a marketplace saturated with big-name brands selling not just products but lifestyles, Jayyusi’s stance is a wake-up call. It's an invitation to consider not just what you're buying, but also the heritage, craftsmanship, and community you're endorsing with your choice.
The Craft of Intentionality: How Deerah Balances Heritage and Accessibility in the Age of Fast Fashion
Deerah offers a dual approach to its products: machine and hand-embroidered items. The reasoning, according to founder Sara Jayyusi, is both financial and ethical. "Hand-embroidery demands higher prices to fairly compensate the artisans. However, we want these garments to be accessible to everyone, not just those who can afford luxury," says Jayyusi.
To balance accessibility and sustainability, Deerah takes a lean approach to machine embroidery. They collaborate with Jordanian shops to produce small, limited runs—no more than eight of each item. "We intentionally keep our numbers low to minimize waste," Jayyusi explains. The strategy occasionally frustrates customers when items sell out, but it aligns with the company's commitment to mindful production.
As for the hand-embroidered pieces, these are made-to-order, mirroring the traditional practices of Palestinian artisans. "We don't stockpile materials. Everything is sourced locally once an order comes in," says Jayyusi. This customization extends from fabric to thread to accessories, cut precisely to each client's measurements. The resulting garments are not just fashion statements but heirlooms, potentially lasting a lifetime and passed down through generations.
Jayyusi is passionate about the philosophy underpinning these production choices. She references the utilitarian yet meaningful approach her ancestors took to their clothing—every item was durable, functional, and carefully crafted. "In our fast-fashion world, so much is purchased out of a sense of emptiness or trend-chasing," she says. "I want our garments to be chosen out of love, to signify a connection to our heritage and our land."
In a world increasingly leaning toward mass production, Deerah's intentional methods harken back to an older, more purposeful form of craftsmanship. Jayyusi's approach challenges us to consider not just what we buy, but why and how it's made.
Deerah Reclaims Authentic Palestinian Heritage Through Time-Honored Craftsmanship for the Eco-Conscious Generation
For her, each Deerah purchase should be an act of love, a tactile connection to the storied tapestry of Palestine—a land rich in cultural resonance but also marred by heartache. "When someone chooses Deerah, they're choosing to intertwine their identity with a narrative that's complex but compelling, beautiful even in its moments of pain," Jayyusi articulates.
In an unexpected but resonant twist, the brand finds its most sustainable practices rooted deeply in the past. "Our ancestors knew a thing or two about longevity and stewardship," she says, referencing the brand’s recent campaign that focuses on traditional care techniques for embroidered garments. The antidote? Simple olive oil soap, a staple in Palestinian homes that's as eco-friendly as it is effective. "The fabric comes out immaculate. No need for synthetic detergents or complex chemical equations. Sometimes the best solutions are the ones that have stood the test of time," she muses.
For Jayyusi, this is more than just a branding strategy. It's a reclamation of forgotten wisdom. While the world heralds innovation, Deerah beckons us back to time-tested, sustainable practices that were once second nature. "In this pivot toward progressive and eco-friendly solutions, people often overlook that the answers may lie not in the future, but in a return to our roots," she concludes. In essence, Jayyusi sees Deerah not just as a brand, but as a love letter to sustainable heritage—one stitch at a time.
Enriching Tradition: How Deerah Balances the Preservation and Evolution of Palestinian Tatreez for a New Generation
In the world of traditional Palestinian embroidery, or tatreez, there are two prevailing schools of thought, according to Sara Jayyusi. One camp argues for the strict replication of historical motifs and styles unique to each region of Palestine, preserving the art form's cultural legacy. The other promotes innovation, updating tatreez to make it more relevant for contemporary tastes.
"I find merit in both approaches," Jayyusi says. "It's critical to document and understand the historical context—each motif, color scheme, and regional variance. Our generation has only recently started doing this, thankfully filling a gap in cultural preservation."
She cites the work of Widad Kawar, who leads a center in Jordan that has produced comprehensive books on Palestinian and Jordanian embroidery. "Now that we have this foundation, it's time to consider how tatreez can evolve," Jayyusi adds. "It's not about replacing tradition. It's about enriching it."
For Jayyusi, the ongoing documentation and reinterpretation of tatreez is not merely an academic exercise but a vibrant, living dialogue between past and future.
Threads of Change: How Deerah Navigates the Dynamic World of Tatreez
The art of Palestinian embroidery, known as tatreez, has always been an evolving tapestry of cultural exchange, says Sara Jayyusi. Contrary to the notion that these traditional motifs are rigidly tied to specific cities or regions, Jayyusi notes that a fascinating fusion has always been at the heart of tatreez.
"For instance, the couching stitch predominant in Bethlehem arrived there due to the influence of visiting Roman Popes," she explains. "That technique then spread to the Christian community in Jerusalem and eventually migrated to Yaffa. Women taught each other new styles and created hybrids, especially when they moved cities due to marriage."
This exchange accelerated in the post-1948 era, in refugee camps where Palestinians from diverse regions coalesced. "The thobes (traditional dresses) started displaying a broad array of colors and more floral designs," says Jayyusi. "The women used whatever thread was available, resulting in a rich medley of styles born out of necessity and shared experiences. They called these the 'camp' styles."
Far from being static, tatreez is a dynamic language of threads, adapting and growing while still rooted in its rich heritage. "It's multidimensional, shaped by a multitude of influences and events," Jayyusi concludes. "That's the balance we aim for—innovation without losing touch with our foundational heritage."
if you start like your own global brand, as a designer, as a wife, as a daughter, that this, like this trend would be followed by everyone like this global trend. would be followed by everyone what would that be?
If Sara could spark a global trend, it would be simple yet profound: "Spend a day with the person who created your garment." In an era marked by fast fashion and detachment from production realities, Jayyusi advocates for a shift in consumer consciousness. "Understanding the craft, whether it's embroidery or sewing, changes how you view clothing. It makes you less inclined to consume mindlessly," she says.
This philosophy is not just about sustainable consumerism; it's a lens to better understand the human stories behind each product. "When you spend time with artisans, whether it's an Italian shoemaker or a Palestinian embroiderer, you gain more than just a product—you gain a piece of cultural storytelling," Jayyusi explains.
This is especially vital for marginalized voices, like Palestinians. "For us, telling our story isn't just sharing history. It's an act of resistance against erasure. Artistic expressions like embroidery serve as a potent channel for narratives that have been systematically silenced," she adds.
In an age where production is often hidden behind the doors of factories, where technology has sometimes eclipsed the hand that guides it, Jayyusi’s proposed trend is not just a call for mindful consumerism, but a call to recognize and respect the artisans and the cultures they represent. "Learning the story behind each stitch, each crafted item, might just make us more informed, empathetic consumers," she concludes.
In an era where fast fashion and instant gratification reign, Sara Jayyusi's philosophy—whether it's the art of Palestinian tatreez, the ethos behind her hypothetical global brand, or the lessons she'd impart to the next generation—stands as a refreshing counterpoint. She reminds us that behind every thread, stitch, and cultural symbol is a story that demands to be told and preserved. But Jayyusi goes further: She encourages us not just to listen to these stories but to engage deeply with their creators, to understand the craftsmanship and life circumstances that inform them.
As we navigate a world increasingly shaped by the shallow and the immediate, Jayyusi calls for a return to roots, to the meticulous and the meaningful. Whether it's appreciating the intricate designs of traditional embroidery or understanding the human labor behind a piece of attire, her message is clear: Connection, compassion, and cultural preservation are not antiquated concepts but essential threads in the fabric of a fulfilling and sustainable life.
So, whether you're choosing a piece of embroidered art, deciding on a brand ethos, or shaping young minds, Sara Jayyusi invites you to pause, to appreciate, and to understand. Because, as she so eloquently puts it, when we do so, we're not just enriching our lives; we're honoring the myriad human stories that are often lost in the noise. And in a world in desperate need of more empathy and understanding, that's a lesson we can all stand to learn.
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