Democracy for Some, Apartheid for Others
The Israeli army closed the city of Jericho on one of the busiest tourist days of the year. We spent hours waiting outside the checkpoint.
The Israeli army closed the city of Jericho on one of the busiest tourist days of the year. We spent hours waiting outside the checkpoint.
When my daughter said that I speak Hebrew, a girl in summer camp pantomimed firing a gun and asked, “Is your mother one of them?”
Under different circumstances, I would have asked my wise friend Tally for advice on how to be a good friend to someone who is dying.
My children’s cousins in the Jabalia refugee camp are fasting for Ramadan. On the other side of our family, their cousins are doing Passover cleaning.
I enjoyed cultivating the Tooth Fairy as a heroine. Forat deals with so many grown-up issues – I wanted her to retain some childhood magic.
The Israeli Minister of Culture gave me a Hebrew literature prize. I’m grateful. And trying to reclaim Hebrew from those who use it to oppress.
We turned our lives upside down trying to evade the coronavirus. It finally arrived in a weakened form, leaving us in maddening, beautiful isolation together.
Children are aware of stratification by gender and ethnicity. They notice who works in preschools, who their parents’ bosses are, and who cleans public toilets.
“Do you think one of the neighbors would try to hurt the children?” Osama asked, trying to decipher the societal codes that surprised us both.