And after Israel attacked Hamas I was forced to ask myself some very tough questions about what I knew, about the meaning of what I was seeing and my relationship with all my so called Jewish friends. I hit pause and put them all on probation. While I educated myself.
I. Me. Not anyone else.
Sadly, it didn't help the relationship when a few of old friends offered to help. And launched into a script, no better word to describe it. I am a writer. And the disrespect they showed me to think that I wouldn't notice speech patterns, that I wouldn't recognize propaganda.
When thousands of children are murdered in any way, I don't want to hear history, but compassion, empathy and loud voices demanding it to stop.
In all fairness to my Jewish "friends," I believed them every single time they brought out antisemitism; my bias, a result of my feelings towards the Holocaust. I think an orphan is able to understand the atrocious nature of entire family lineages disappearing. It bought unquestionable loyalty to the Jewish community and the State of Israel.
I shamefully confess to have lived my entire life with a prejudice against Arabs.
I shamefully confess to know nothing about the abhorrent conditions Palestinians are forced to endure.
It would confuse me tremendously to see the extent of their contributions to our society, how a creative and artistic group were so torped by religion dogmas to become so radicalized. And each time they killed civilians it enforced my bias even more. To merely state that I was a "friend of the Jewish community" lacks the depth necessary to understand the respect and admiration I felt towards Jews.
A group of people hated around the Arab world merely on religious ground; family oriented, industrious, hard working, generous and above all devoted to each other.
Then they started killing; and killing in a way we have never seen before social media was invented: proudly, unapologetically, violently, sadistically and above all, shamefully deceitfully.
The community I once admired began murdering children, babies, everything in sight while telling us that they were not doing that. "We are good, remember?" was the underlining mantra of their statements. Pulling on our collective memories of the Holocaust to confuse us while they launched yet another attack. And killed more children. In hospitals. Where desperate people were trying to save their lives. And people I once respected pontificated, "They were told to get out."
Just like the Holocaust, when I was 9 years old, children in the future will read about this carnage in disbelief. Incredulously asking:" Are these the same people who ancestors died in the Holocaust?"
I was way too young when I looked the adults around me, no father, no mother, a grandmother that might have been Palestinian for her inability to protect me while loving me with all her heart. ❤️
Way too young, five or six years old, when I noticed that their words didn't match their actions. And that I didn't like them. I chose not to drink. Not to smoke. Not to do drugs. Not to be promiscuous. And above all not to be a bully. And the catalyst to my personality was the flowers I picked up along my formative years: sexual abuse, love, Holocaust and Slavery.
The final event that would bring all cohesively together was my Catholic confirmation, where I was unceremoniously forced out. Like the Palestinians. Because I asked too many questions: about God, about the nature of God apathy towards our suffering, about pedophile priests.I dare to ask questions no one want to know the answers to. Like the Jews.
Questions that get you banned from your community. Alienated from your friends. Your tribe. Questions that are important to know the answers to, such as:
is the Jewish faith the same as the State of Israel?
Is the Jewish community the same as their government? Can we judge one and arrive at a precise definition of the other?
Are all Jews unimpeachable?
Did you know about the apartheid taking place in Gaza?
Di you know about the killings? The "settlers?" ( it sounds better than militia, than murderers.)
And what about IDF policies: "Shoot to maime." "Make our presence felt." Night after night for 73 years. Our "democracy" in the middle east.
How ironic that my confirmation would take place with my Jewish friends.
And I asked questions upon questions and it became obvious to me that I was lied too. That the community I admired didn't learn compassion from the suffering of their ancestors but that in turn, they learn all the hateful traits associated with the Nazi regime.
I asked the questions and learned that complexity is a word that delineate the frontier of ignorance and purposeful blindness. I learned the simplicity of any complex issue; the importance of the allocation of the word "complex."
You are either ignorant and don't know or a malignant militant making sure others don't know.
But I know now. And it will be many many years until I am able to see The Terrorist State of Israel the way I see Germany. How ironic that the country that invented the Holocaust are peaceful and dutifully guarding human rights. And the descendants of the Holocaust victims, The Terrorist State of Israel, reflect back from the pages of History all the evil their Jewish ancestors were forced to endure.
And lie about it. And hurt children
