In the Middle

Tomorrow is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Sunday is Eid, the end day of Ramadan, the holiest month in the Muslim faith. Jerusalem is a mess as both the religious and secular communities make their preparations and foreigners flood the streets…. but Jerusalem is always a bit of a mess depending on the angle of your gaze.

Since I have been here, I have danced to late night Israeli Hip-Hop and eaten vegetarian food in the market. I have walked through Israeli settlements and impoverished neighborhoods of Hebron, prayed that we remember what the wrestle if for at the supposed feet of Jacob. I have held dear friends, I have yelled at friends I have cried and laughed and made new friends. I have prayed at the Wailing Wall and bathed in an outdoor mikva purified by moonlight. I have gone to a demonstration at the Gaza Boarder calling the Israeli state to exchange Gilad Shalit (one Israeli prisoner) for 450 Hamas prisoners. I have compiled information for people back in the USA on ways to engage, organizations to work with and tools to stay sane. I have been compiling information about home demolitions, seen demolished homes in bedouin villages and realized that the issue is not about the demolition of structures called “homes” but about the demolition of spirit, of traditions and ancestral connection to land, demolition of the possibility of coexistent self-determination.

I have talked to journalists and direct action activists, legal theorists and co-existence musicians, and what I can tell you is this. There are many ways to engage in this struggle… this struggle for a reality in which all people are safe, healthy and have the freedom to live their lives as they choose with equal rights to land, economy and education. There are radical ways and moderate ways and all are needed though they sometimes counter each each other. The BDS (Boycott-Divestment-Sanctions http://www.bdsmovement.net/) movement is picking up steam, and while I sometimes find it to be extreme, extreme might be needed in order for the Israeli State to change it’s policies. I encourage all of you to research and understand the BDS movement, and if nothing else, support the Palestinian Economy through purchasing Palestinian products such as Canaan (Alter-Eco) Olive Oil, Zatoun Olive Oil and Dr Bronner”s soap made from Canaan Olive Oil.  (Check out http://www.drbronner.com/olive_oil_from_the_holyland.html) Supporting the Palestinian economy is a peaceful way to support Palestinian self-determination and thus a more peaceful future for both Palestine and Israel. While I am no economist, I understand that boycotting the Israeli economy has the potential to damage the Palestinian Economy as well and so I question the validity of this boycott.

I am in the middle. In the middle of comedy and tragedy, of secular and religious. I am in the middle of the state of Israel; in between Israel and Palestine as I travel many days between the West Bank and Israel, between their hour time difference, between languages and customs and different cab prices. I am in the middle of deconstructing my love and hate for this place; in the middle of feeling at home and at war with home. I am in the middle of loving and hating my jewishness and wishing it defined me both more and less than it actually does. I am in the middle of my stay here not wanting to leave and anxious about what is next, I am in the middle of the personal and political, the middle of music rehearsals, poetry editing and drafting humanitarian rights documents. I am in the middle, witnessing myself in the middle and wishing I was anywhere but the middle, feeling lonely in the middle. But here is where I am.

When the vision of Birds Eye Project, (which is still very much in development as I am in development as an artist and educator)  first came to me, it was with the intention of creating understanding and coexistence in the world at large through art and artistic dialogue. This is a huge undertaking, and not a new idea. I needed training in the specific, and to stand in the specific in order to hold a larger vision. Well here I am. My theories (which are still baking) with regard to Birds Eye Project is that through witnessing specific experiences of culture and conflict, we have the opportunity to understand something larger about our own humanity, about our similarities; when looking at conflict with a Birds Eye view, it is possible to see the unique specifics but also how extended communities are affected, connected and responsible. This is also not a new idea, but an intention I hold in my life, in my work; it’s like the butterfly affect, the theory that the movement of a butterfly flapping it’s wings on one continent, can cause a tsunami on another continent. Oppression in the world affects all of us, liberation in the world affects all of us. Imagine a world in which all people have physical liberty; will we then move on to liberate our minds? hearts? I am getting lofty and idealistic here, but sometimes we all have to indulge in idealism in order to keep moving forward.

Over the course of being In Israel and Palestine for the past two and half weeks, I have realized that I have made myself the ginny pig of my own theories. I am like a restless lab rat in a land of sacred places used to justify un-sacred actions. I have been subjected to communication meltdowns, tested friendships and tested ideals. I have been tested by a new and large compassion for the Israeli narrative which until now I have been critical of, almost to the point of demonization. I wanted to push it as far away as possible from any association to me; some may have categorized me as a “self hating Jew”, and many have. And yet I am painfully aware that in many ways this is not my struggle as I am not Israeli or Palestinian.

This time back on the ground here, with my feet slowly finding grounded steps on the earth of this land, I have been struck my desire to be here, in a place where I am not a minority, on land that is talking to me at a depth of my core though I am still unsure what it is saying and it continues to repulse me that it is easier for me as a Jew to be here than it is for a Palestinian who’s parents were born here.

I have been blessed to meet a few other people who are sitting in the middle. The middle is not common here as this is a place of extremes, one side and the other with a common quote everywhere of “yes, but they hate us”.  Boarders and identities are constantly used as a way to divide, a way to keep communication from happening. The juxtaposition is intense.

Last night I saw a post modern dance performance in the Bak’a neighborhood of Jerusalem about 5 kilometers from the Bethlehem Checkpoint. The theater reminded me of Williamsberg Brooklyn; warehouse space, train track, red lit bar. There were two dance pieces; one was an ensemble choreography about interpersonal relationships and the other was a tribute of sorts to the great Greek opera singer Maria Callas. Both used the contrast of beautiful and grotesque movement, grace and carnal sexuality and the dancers were often seen in their underwear. While my eyes are more used to fully covered bodies in this country, I was not uncomfortable as I am accustomed to this kind of material and have been known to perform it myself, but a strange feeling of disjuncture came over me as I remembered having an Iftar dinner with my very religious muslim host family in the Deheisha refugee camp 8 kilometers away just the night before in their home where three grown daughters share one large bed and toast bread on a space heater. Most of the family has never been to Jerusalem, and the Jerusalem they yearn for, Al-Quds they call it “the holy”, is the Al-Aqsa mosque and the visions Mohammed brought back from paradise.  But there I sat 8 kilometers away in Jerusalem with well dressed modern dance goers in heels and miniskirts watching a light-skinned Israeli dancer mock lip-sink Maria Callas in her underwear and robe while her body jerked in simulated orgasmic pulsation. The experiences of this Jerusalem and that Deheisha dinner were worlds apart, and yet neighbors, an experience few people have at all let alone in the same 24 hrs!

The boarders here take many shapes, from walls to separate roads, to separate time zones.  Some times the boarders are simply the walls people put up in order not to see the other side, the other side of the story, the city, the wall. There is the blindness of privilege that most Israelis carry and many Palestinians carry the blindness of a sorrowful rage, albeit justified.

Last week I went to the Bloomfield science museum to see an exhibit called PEACE MAZE that was about how conflict can be navigated to find peace. The museum is designed as a learning center for children and I was excited to see how conflict and peace are being illustrated scientifically to Jewish Israelis and Palestinians who have the ID appropriate to be in Jerusalem. I was hopeful that perhaps the exhibit would illustrate conflict in a way that might be constructive for the future generations to find ways out of this current mess.  But the exhibit wasn’t there. When asked, no one knew why it had ended early. I was disappointed but not surprised.

What I DID learn at the museum, was that sight is the most powerful of the five senses. In an audio visual piece in there was a video of a man clearly repeating the syllable “BA” three times though the video had no audio. The audio portion was a man’s voice clearly repeating the syllable “DA” three times. However when you listen to the audio with the video, the audio begins to sound like “BA”. This instillation illustrates that the eyes over power the ears, that site speaks louder than sound.

Of course, in my preoccupation with the occupation, I thought about the conflict from the perspective of division, of walls, of the lack of ability Palestinians have to see Israel and Israelis to see Palestine; how Israelis are discouraged from seeing the unrecognized Bedouin villages and the Bedouin, Druze and Palestinians are discouraged from working in solidarity with each other. Physical space is carved up making it almost impossible for people from opposing realities to witness each other. I believe this witnessing is essential and yet there are many on the Palestinian side that argue that bringing Israelis and Palestinian together for dialogue is only a way to Normalize the occupation, to make it not look so bad. While I understand this sentiment, and I agree that at times this is true, I wonder, how is the situation ever going to change if Israelis and Palestinian continue to exist as an inhuman “other” for each other?

I have been struck during this visit how invested I am in the coexistence movement, in having conversation and staying in the conversation, that this has been my objective without realizing it. To say that I want to be in the “coexistence conversation” is easy for me to say as a jewish woman (and an american at that), because this conversation has the capacity to make me feel better, make me feel that “my people can kill and imprison your people and give you hell, but we can still be friends, right?” And it’s not right.  I have heard repeatedly from Palestinian artist friends, that they need to tell their stories outside of relationship to Jewish stories, that the occupation needs to end before we can start talking about healing, before we can “all just get along”. And I agree, but the idealist in me wants to know that there is future to build, that if and when we stand on level playing ground, when Jews/Israelis are finally comfortable taking less so that Palestinians can have more, that we know how to hold space for coexistence.

At many times I wish I could take back history. In many ways I wish I did not feel a connection to this place, because that connection is problematic. I wish I could protest the Wall in Belin with fervent angry solidarity. I wish I could give all the land back to the Arab communities that lived here pre-Israel and grant a peaceful displaced experience to the Jewish diaspora pre-Zionism, transform the Jewish yearning for a place of belonging into a yearning for G-d, divine expression, that we could create a world of more holiness instead of this unholy nation state called Israel in a supposed holy land.  But I cannot turn back time. Israel exists, Israel is not going anywhere, there are both Israelis and Palestinians who want the land from the river to the sea, but at this point it is not possible for either to take hold of it.

So, where do we go from here? There are numbers of theories; settlement freezes, jewish immigration freezes into Israel to limit the number of poor new immigrants who need subsidized settlement housing, we can continue to march against the Wall in Bil’in and Nil’in but the military will most likely continue it’s building no matter what the courts decide. I have talked to many Israelis and Palestinians who find it is easier to feel powerless than proactive; to wallow in sadness and anger and indifference.

I wonder where I will go from here besides into my gut wrenched poetry I use as a tool to release the anguish from my body; use my words to engage in fierce conversation in dialogue in which I and my audiences, my dialogue partners, can be changed. I pray that one day I will move into vision for future, vision for Palestinians to have access to basic rights, for myself to feel more at home in my experience of this place, this world, in myself.

If I can change my plane ticket to stay a few days longer, next week I hope to volunteer at an event, to witness dialogue between Israeli and Palestinian youth at an event called Sulhita. As cliché as it sounds, they are the future. Perhaps they will lift my hope……

It is a new year…. may it be one in which sweetness over powers the bitters.