On deck for me now, is “feel, enlightened”(46).

My very complicated relationships with organized religion, nationalism, Judaism, Zionism, and whiteness have been triggered beyond words by the Israeli/Hamas atrocity.

I was raised less religious per se, more with a cultural identification centered around Israel. I have been there a number of times, both to study and visit. The beautiful side I was shown is intrinsically interwoven into my Jewish identity.

My father fought in WWII and my grandparents immigrated to the US because of the pogroms in Eastern Europe. I grew up with the narrative that because of the Holocaust we had to protect Israel. It was the only thing keeping us safe as a Jewish people who are constantly under threat. 

What do you do when the very thing that holds your identity, love, nostalgia, community and spirit is exposed as the vehicle for the genocide of another people?!

I did not learn about the occupation of Palestine until recent events. It was always the rhetoric that our Arab neighbors unjustly wanted to destroy Israel, my people’s safe place.  

Safety. Please tell me what that means, and where I might find it?

This isn’t just my story, it’s your story too. 

Don’t think you are “safe” or that you are above reproach, because you are not.

Our history is such that both the oppressed and the oppressor have been bound together in a web of cruelty designed by survivalism. Depending on the context, we all have the capacity to either do harm, or be harmed. 

Until we are able to decolonize our brains and take accountability for our actions, we will remain stuck in this cycle of never ending despair. 

As the world cracks even more open, the truth is being displayed. It’s not even hiding in plain sight, it is naked before us. And yet, I can see now how trauma is blinding, because I know how it blinded me. 

I’ve learned something about enlightenment. It has always been available, but it can’t be taught. It must be embraced. 

Best I can do is hold space for you to awaken to your story as I boldly go in search of mine. 

Only I can see what I couldn’t see before. Likewise, your vision is yours. But I do hope someday you will join me, because from here what I can see is hopeful.