I've always been a cautious person when it comes to safety. I always cross to other side of the street when I see a man in the distance if I'm alone, I lock the doors in the car before I even start the engine, and I have a nagging feeling that someone's following me when I'm out at night. You might ask then, what in the world I'm doing living in Israel. Look, I hate to get into politics. This blog was supposed to be solely motherhood. Maybe a gripping story about stitches or mean neighbors here and there, but mostly light and fluffy topics relating to teething and diaper sizes. I am unable to really write about those things however, due to the fact that politics have just about taken over my life.
The world is a scary place for sure, but in the past month I have felt a chilling incline in fear and tension. I am no longer being paranoid to avoid the backroads or to think twice about bringing the baby to the grocery store with me. It is only because this political reality has so completely invaded my life that I sadly realize it now IS a part of my story as a mother. So if you are a mother, a father, a brother, or a sister, and even if politics bore you, especially the never-ending saga in "the Middle East," I ask you to continue reading, because I want to convey the new level of anxiety with which I am now parenting.
The conflict here in Israel seems to be bubbling and I feel... hopeless. My optimism about Arab culture has mostly deteriorated since we moved to Efrat which is nestled into what's lovingly called "The West Bank." It's a strange reality, driving alongside Arabs on the highway, sometimes glancing at one another. A father, a mother, a teenager, some rich people, some poor people. Just people. I hate this, but I can't help but wonder "What does she think about me?" I see a child in the back seat and a horrible question comes to mind: "Does he think I'm evil?" Being an Israeli is not an easy task. It means being pretty much the most loathed subject to a (huge) population of radical Muslims, which frightfully, due to dictatorships and oppression, means most Arabs in this part of the world (and possibly everywhere).
I am not a racist. I do not believe that anyone is born evil. Just a few days ago we went to the American Consulate to get a passport for Coby, and Yehuda Or made friends with a teenage Palestinian girl. He kept peeping over his chair smiling at her, and out of the corner of my eye I watched her warmly smile back. I later glanced at her passport application in her lap and saw that she was from Chevron, one of the most controversial cities in which the Jews and Arabs have a notoriously horrible relationship. It broke my heart that I was surprised to see her smile! But why shouldn't I be surprised?
Just yesterday there was a huge celebration held in Ramallah. Women and children cried tears of joy, men shouted on one another's shoulders, music blasted, and for what? For the release of over 400 Palestinian criminals. I HATE how the media insists on calling them "prisoners" as if this was a swap of POWs. These people are responsible for the deaths of Israeli civilians - brutal, cruel, vicious bombs packed with shrapnel that blasted men, women, and children into pieces. One of these men broke into a home and machine gunned three children watching TV, then moved into the bedroom where he murdered their mother and shot at the legs of a fourth child hiding under the bed. THESE PEOPLE ARE FREE IN MY COUNTRY. Can you imagine if 400 maximum security prisoners were let free in YOUR city? Would you want to leave the house? Would you want your child to wander out of your reach? I am living in a horrible hell of anxiety. Guilty that I cringe at every Arab I see, terrified he or she will attack me. Think I'm being paranoid? Yesterday a Palestinian woman charged at a group of people at the bus stop outside of my grocery store with a knife screaming "Allahu Akbar." Why? She told the police that she was inspired by the heroes finally released from Israeli jails - they are rallying people to continue to attack Israelis, to continue to kidnap soldiers in order to free the rest of their "jailed heroes." I watched the footage of Gilad Shalit hug his father for the first time in over 5 years. I cried tears of joy and relief that this poor boy, who lost 5 years of his life, is finally home. But my gratitude for his life has been quickly replaced by a deep fear. A question and a heartfelt prayer. What will happen next?
There are 2 factors that make me feel hopeless at this point. One, is that the rest of the world is somehow viewing this reality through a skewed, twisted window. I read the American news and it's like I'm reading about a different country completely. The lack of support, and the continued glorification and support of Hamas and PA Palestinians absolutely shocks and terrifies me. It's old news I know, but I'm STILL in disbelief at how biased, and outright illogical the public opinion is about what's going on here. The second, and more depressing issue is that I don't know how the actual average Palestinian feels. Do the Israeli papers simply find the extremists, or is that the norm? Did Hamas force people to sing and dance at these murderers return, or is this truly a cause for celebration for them? Most importantly, when I make eye contact with a Palestinian woman driving in the car alongside me, what is she thinking? What is she feeling? Who am I to her?
Thoughts and answers to any and all questions are most welcome...
Sending love to all.
