As the war drags on in Israel, I find myself grappling not only with the woes of wartime but also with a persistent internal battle against Tourette Syndrome. The weight of my condition is magnified by the societal pressures and perceptions that come with it, especially during times of heightened national stress. In Israel, a country so deeply connected by a shared sense of identity and struggle, being perceived as “other” can be excruciatingly isolating.
Tourette Syndrome is a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive, involuntary movements and vocalizations called tics. These tics can range from simple movements like blinking, shoulder shrugging, and body jerking to more complex actions or vocal sounds such as grunting, throat clearing, or even saying words out of context. These tics are often disruptive and noticeable, drawing unwanted attention and sometimes misconceptions from others. Living with Tourette’s in Israel, even during times of peace, is a complex journey. Living here during a war can really test one’s mettle.
Amid sirens and terror attacks, such as the January 15 terror attack outside my home in Ra’anana, my tics become exaggerated, betraying my inner turmoil to the outer world. In quieter moments, when the missiles and screams subside, the echoes of stares and whispers linger, amplifying my sense of isolation.
The concept of “otherness” in Israel, particularly during wartime, extends beyond physical manifestations. It’s a psychological battlefield where the relentless urge to fit in clashes with the reality of being different. When I was visiting a Jewish holy site in Jerusalem around the beginning of the war, I was detained by the border police for “suspicious behavior.” I could understand their position, seeing an individual jerking around, uttering and grunting strangely can be a cause for concern for those empowered to provide security.
From my perspective, I was nervous about being seen as a threat, which only made my tics worse, making the border police all the more suspicious. After checking my ID and giving me a stern warning about my “behavior,” even as I tried to explain the syndrome behind the bizarre behavior, I was allowed to go. I later reflected that those who “stand out” – risk being perceived as “targets,” not only of external threats but of internal biases and prejudices.
The pain of “otherness” worsens as discussions about Israel within the international arena often veer into hostile territory, echoing sentiments that reinforce the notion of being an outsider. For someone with Tourette’s, this amplifies the struggle, as the desire for understanding and acceptance feels like an elusive dream in an increasingly polarized world.
On a recent visit to the country of Georgia, while going through the security check, my tics visibly worsened. I was taken aside for two hours, subjected to a body search, and was questioned extensively before being allowed to board my flight. The Georgian police officers interrogating me had what to say about “someone like me causing problems during these times.”
The pain of “otherness” is universal yet uniquely amplified in Israel’s charged atmosphere. While my fellow countrymen stand united against external threats, I navigate an internal battle, striving for acceptance amid the noise of conflict. In a country so deeply bound by history and heritage, the struggle to belong when your very existence is marked by involuntary differences feels like an uphill battle against entrenched perceptions.
Imagine navigating a bustling Tel Aviv street or standing in line at a Jerusalem café, and feeling the burgeoning weight of stares and comments that are whispered and derogatorily spoken aloud as tics manifest involuntarily. The sense of being “other” becomes palpable. A few months into the war, on the way to hang out with some friends in Tel Aviv I was stopped by two police officers who were called by a “concerned citizen” about my behavior. While initially on edge about my tics, they were fortunately more understanding than the Border Police were, and after several minutes, I was allowed to continue on my way.
I don’t blame that “concerned citizen,” the Border Police, or even the regular police. I have compassion in my heart for the positions of those people. I can see how in the eyes of my fellow countrymen, already sensitized by the ever-present security concerns, a suspicion towards someone like me – a person with sometimes uncontrollable movements and noises would be justified. I simply aim to educate people like the “concerned citizen” and the “on edge officer” about this syndrome.
A message of personal strength
My message is one of personal strength despite the odds. It is a call to embrace diversity within our own ranks and to cultivate empathy beyond our borders. It is a reminder that the human spirit can endure and flourish, even in the face of adversity and misunderstanding. As I navigate the complex intersection of Tourette’s Syndrome and the realities of life in Israel, I strive not only to survive but to thrive – holding onto hope and the belief that understanding and acceptance can bridge the gaps that divide us.
In a nation that often faces external and internal challenges, the battle for inclusivity and compassion is as critical as any military defense. By embracing our shared humanity, we can create a more empathetic and inclusive society – one where differences are not barriers but threads that enrich the fabric of our collective identity. In this journey, those of us with conditions like Tourette’s can find solace in knowing that our struggles contribute to a broader narrative of resilience and perseverance.
As rockets soar and tensions ebb and flow, my journey with Tourette’s in Israel continues – an ongoing testament to resilience in the face of adversity. My hope remains steadfast: for a day when “otherness” is celebrated, not ostracized; when diversity is embraced, not feared. Until then, I navigate each day with courage, knowing that my existence, however unconventional, is a testament to the unwavering spirit of a nation that thrives despite its complexities.
The writer is a mental health and Tourette Syndrome advocate and writer. He is a graduate of Bar-Ilan University, and works as a customer success specialist at Belong: A start-up that offers personally catered guidance for olim (new immigrants) navigating the aliyah process and relocation services to Israel.