{"id":49507,"date":"2021-05-31T15:44:15","date_gmt":"2021-05-31T15:44:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/politicallycorret.co.il\/so-do-you-condemn-the-violence-or-four-stories-about-home\/"},"modified":"2021-05-31T16:05:38","modified_gmt":"2021-05-31T16:05:38","slug":"so-do-you-condemn-the-violence-or-four-stories-about-home","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/politicallycorret.co.il\/en\/so-do-you-condemn-the-violence-or-four-stories-about-home\/","title":{"rendered":"\u2018So do you condemn the violence?\u2019 \u2013 Or: Four stories about home"},"content":{"rendered":"

Translated by: Amit Meyer<\/strong><\/h4>\n

I was born in Rishon Letsiyon, in the neighborhood of Ganei Esther, on the coastal city\u2019s eastern side. When I was four, we moved to Mishor Hanof, a developing neighborhood for the new Israeli middle class that emerged in the 1990s. We built a house from scratch. In that big house in Mishor Hanof, I laughed, I cried; that\u2019s where I ran away from and that\u2019s where I returned to. That was where my mother taught me sewing and cutting, painting on walls and writing. There, my younger sister would run around with her blankie and pacifier. There, my older sister got ready for her wedding, dresses were sown, festivities were celebrated. There, we would stay glued to the TV at times of war, and when that horrible time came, that was where we took care of my dear mother who fell ill. There, we hugged, cried, clutched the sofa in fear. There, we still carry on the traditions she had taught us. And damned be anyone who dares telling us, \u201cWhy don\u2019t you move?\u201d<\/h4>\n

This personal place is where I start from in writing this text, which is sure to draw some harsh reactions. Just like everyone else in Israel, I\u2019m watching the TV networks, which keep on reiterating the narrative by which the latest wave of Arab violence erupted out of thin air. Their disposition toward violence just exploded like that. They can\u2019t be trusted. Arabs, mentality\u2026 There isn\u2019t really a need to repeat all that. And when someone in the studio even tries to explain where that unbearable violence came from, they cut to commercials, or even worse, hurl at them: \u201cBut do you c-o-n-d-e-m-n?\u201d There\u2019s no room to hear the actual story, to decipher what that violence is rooted in, and so, every time it boils over we\u2019re just taken aback, surprised by it.<\/h4>\n

On Thursday night I was mind-boggled watching Moav Vardi, a journalist I truly appreciate, interviewing Knesset Member Aida Touma-Sliman. She unequivocally condemns the violence and, when asked about the reasons for it, provides a clear explanation. When she\u2019s done going through it, Vardi, in a verbal juggling act, takes a long time to press her on semantics: But do you understand the reason? And if you do \u2013 do you justify it, then? But how can we understand? Is there nothing else in play here? He asks, hinting at some mysterious unknown. Perhaps the aggressive Muslim beast that lives within each and every Arab. Touma-Sliman responds well, sprinkling condemnation of violence after every other word, because she knows that\u2019s what is expected of her at this time. She reminds Vardi that he already asked her about the reasons, and there were her answers. And understanding violence does not mean justifying it. They end their conversation respectfully, and I\u2019m left confused. What did I just see?<\/h4>\n

And so we wander, between times of war and calm, oblivious and with eyes shut. I can understand that; if we open them we run the risk of acute sadness. But if we open them, we may also find an opportunity to correct injustices before the frustration simmering below the surface erupts all over again. And if we don\u2019t make amends, at least we won\u2019t be so shocked and surprised next time a wave of protests emerges.<\/h4>\n

The way I see it, the whole story is one about home, and that\u2019s the story I want to tell. I chose four cities that have become flash points of the latest unrest, but also have a room deep in my heart. Acre, Lod, Haifa and Jaffa are all cities I know and love intimately; four mixed cities tied closely with the oh-so-pretty term, \u201cco-existence,\u201d which the past days revealed just how deeply fake it is.<\/h4>\n

This text doesn\u2019t include the story of Sheikh Jarrah, which Liron Cohen, \u201cPolitical Homeless,\u201d wrote about so well in the Hebrew edition of this publication, where she also foresaw the flare-up that has engulfed our cities. It also leaves out the stories of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip and in the West Bank. But while mainstream Israeli media outlets go out of their way time after time to make a definite distinction and draw a clear line separating between \u201cIsraeli Arabs\u201d and the Arabs of Gaza, I propose drawing a different line, the one that connects them.<\/h4>\n

Apart from the fact that they are part of the same people, and in some cases even family, they all undergo very similar processes, with varying intensities and forms. What happens in Sheikh Jarrah \u2013 a wild no-man\u2019s-land \u2013 is at the very core of the connection between Arab citizens of Israel, living under Israeli rule and dispossessed of their homes by force of law and gentrification, and between Arab residents of the West Bank and Gaza, living under blockade and deprived of their independence and freedom by force of arms. The collective Arab trauma spares no one, be it inside Israel\u2019s borders or outside the territory it claims. It is this very trauma that moves and shakes, and at times inflames, the roots of both the Israeli and the Arab condition as one.<\/h4>\n

\u00a0<\/h4>\n

\u05e2\u05db\u05d5 \u0639\u0643\u0627 Acre<\/h2>\n

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