During my 32 years in Israel, my politics have shifted Left, and, while I certainly have Israeli friends whose political leanings are considerably further to the Left than mine are, I’m more to the Left than quite a few of my friends here. I’ve never been afraid to call out and criticize the Israeli government, its policies, or military policy vis a vis the Palestinians. I’ve been called a traitor for being a vocal proponent of a two-state solution – which I still believe should happen, though at this moment, I have no idea how.
At times, my writing has been controversial, causing explosive exchanges. I’ve been chastised by some Jews and Israelis for being too far Left, and I’ve been chastised by leftists outside of Israel for not being Left enough. I’m an Israeli who will often take the time to point out that the Palestinians elected Hamas in 2006 because at the time, the Fatah leadership was seen as being very corrupt, while Hamas was providing the bulk of social welfare services that were desperately needed by the local population.
Their terrorist activities might not have been a red line, but for most civilians in Gaza, they were voting for what they hoped would be a better, easier life – who wouldn’t want that? So much has happened in the 17 years since that election, but the one thing that hasn’t happened since is more elections, and I’d be willing to bet that this is not the life that the people of Gaza envisioned for themselves when they cast their votes so many years ago. I’ll be the first one to say that stating that “the Palestinians voted for Hamas” is not the argument or the justification you think it is.
Connecting with others in the Middle East
Over the years, I’ve managed to connect online with others around the region – Palestinians, Egyptians, Jordanians, and Lebanese, as well as other Israelis and Jews with views similar to mine. While some of these online connections were limited to the occasional “like” or comment, others have felt more like friendship, inasmuch as friendship is possible without meeting in person, or having met only once or very long ago. Beyond the politics, we talked about our lives, we cracked jokes. We got to know each other as people, and I really liked these people! I’d be lying if I said there were no challenges along the way, especially during Israeli incursions into Gaza after repeated rocket attacks.
It was always during those times when I hated Hamas the most. I hated them for not caring about their own people. I hated them for poking us repeatedly until we responded. I hated that innocent Palestinian civilians were dying as a result. When people would point out that Israel was telling the Palestinians to leave their homes before air strikes, I would ask where they were supposed to go, as though displacing hundreds of thousands of people already living in hell should be seen as a good thing.
If we are comparing this to seeing them get killed instead, I suppose it’s the less worse option (and that’s if Hamas would actually let them go instead of forcing them to stay, which also happens), but I never saw it as a “good” solution – one that would serve any of us well or somehow lead to something better, even when I also believed that Hamas needed to be stopped somehow.
TO THE best of my ability, I tried never to lose my humanity, to think about and mourn the losses on both sides. To cling to the notion that both sides deserve to live in safety and security, in Israel and in Palestine – two sovereign countries side by side (I still want that, for all of us). Sometimes, it made me feel quite alone – never patriotic enough for some on my own side, and never vocally condemning my own side enough for some on the other side and others. But despite these periodic clashes (a word that some probably believe is inadequate), I thought we managed to hold on to the good bits, and that’s what got us over the bumps.
On October 7, though, the murderous rampage of Hamas broke it all, including the illusion that these “friends” would, at the very least, deem my anguish and anger following the massacre of 1,400 people and the kidnapping of hundreds more to be valid and understandable. Even before Israel began to respond, though, I witnessed almost no words of condemnation from them for what had happened, no words of comfort, no words of horror (though I have been moved to tears of gratitude by those who have). No concern for me or my loved ones.
And after years of showing support, of neither trying to delegitimize their pain and anger nor judging them for it, I’ve been hit with the harsh reality that they have no interest in doing the same for me. I’ve been quietly unfriended, called a supporter of war crimes, and more. People who don’t see my grief and rage as acceptable. People who have chosen to block out all of the good that they’ve ever seen in me and leap to erroneous conclusions instead of acknowledging that I have been writing from a place of overwhelming pain – as I have acknowledged in them for years.
If they had chosen to speak to me instead of judging me, or if they had chosen to give me space to grieve and be angry, they would have discovered that my beliefs haven’t changed. I still want peace for Israel and Palestine, and I still hate that innocent civilians are dying regardless of what side of the fence they’re on. I grieve for this catastrophe that Hamas has violently foisted upon all of us – Palestinians and Israelis.
Maybe I’m naïve, but it never occurred to me that my grief wouldn’t count. It never occurred to me that condemning evil could be conditional. And it never occurred to me that I would be thrown away by people I cared about for the “crime” of grieving while Israeli.
The writer is an American Israeli living in northern Israel. She has written for various local and international publications and news organizations and works as a grant writer for a nonprofit organization in the education sector.