Over twenty years ago I thought of myself as being a Palestinian Sympathizer. Various life experiences altered my views. I’ll admit that I have my biases with any individual or group that wishes my family, friends, myself and or my people dead. If I only had one or two examples to share, I might have left things slide — yet after several scary situation I’m a different person and my views changed.
I grew up secular with little knowledge of my faith, so back in 1999 I went to Israel searching. At the time I knew very little about Israeli politics or the conflict with the people who refer to themselves as being Palestinian. I’ve always believed everyone deserved a homeland, yet after my experiences I have a strong belief that Israel belong to Jews — and yes, being anti-Israel IS being antisemitic. Israel is the only place in the world Jews can always call home.
Back in 1999 I went to Israel for the first time. I stayed in Jerusalem for several months. From the moment I arrived I was warned by several people that it was dangerous for Jews to shop in the Arab quarters (which is now referred to as the Muslim Quarters) within the Old City of Jerusalem.
I was naive when I believed people were people, no matter where they lived or what faith they followed. I didn’t want to subscribe to the fear. I watched the news in the United States, and truly believed I’d be safe. My friend Pinky felt the same way as me, so we went shopping in the Arab Quarters.
During our excursion we went to a few stores, before going into another shop which turned into “the little shop of horrors”. At first the owner was very friendly and helpful. Between Pinky and myself, we must have spent a few hundred dollars on souvenirs for our friends and family members back in the United States.
After our purchases were complete a group of men came out from the back room of the store. The shop owner along with these men were shouting at us. “You dirty Jews get out of our store, we don’t want your filth here. Don’t ever come back”. Both Pinky and I were in a state of shock. We left immediately. As we walked out we realized this group of men were following us. We started to run, yet they continued chasing us down the narrow road. We were both frightened and feared for our lives.
Suddenly as we were running, a man grabbed my arm pulling me into his shop. Pinky followed, in hopes of protecting me. Both Pinky and I were terrified. We had no idea who the man was or why he pulled me in. Once inside the man told us to go into a back room and hide. To our relief the man was attempting to protect us from what we believed were members of Hamas.
We hid for about thirty minutes. During that time we got to know this hero who saved our lives. As we spoke we learned our hero grew up in Park Ridge, IL (suburb of Chicago, near where I was from) and went to Maine East High School. As we spoke, I discovered our hero knew a friend of mine who also went to Maine East.
When it was safe for us to leave the store, our hero wanted to give each of us a gift of anything in his store. I felt funny taking anything, especially since he already risked his life to save ours. Our hero insisted, picked up a sterling silver Star of David and handed it to me. He continued on by saying “I want you to have this so you remember me”, and continued by saying “not all Palestinians are terrorist”. The Star of David is something I still have and cherish.
During this same visit to Israel I was living with a family. I remember watching English speaking news on TV. I kept hearing about Arab mothers tying bombs on to their children and putting their babies on buses to blow up Jews. I never heard of this occurring before. This type information was never reported on the news back home. Sadly twenty something years ago it was a common practice.
After working with abused and neglected children for years, I couldn’t understand why Israeli child protective services didn’t intervene by removing the remaining children out of the homes of the parents that murdered their youngest.
Several different people explained to me that if Israeli Government removed Arab children out of their homes, that the news media would twist the story, and make it into something anti-Arab, instead of attempts to protect children. It was at that time I first heard Golda Meir’s famous quote: “Peace will come when the Arabs will love their children more than they hate us.”
My next experience of the hate that many Palestinians had for Jews occurred a few years later when I returned to Israel and lived in Jerusalem. I had a regular hair stylist who I became friends with. He cut my hair on several occasions. Sadly the last time I saw him was an experience I’ll never forget.
My stylist was cutting my hair as we were both chatted. A group of men entered the salon and called my stylist over. I had no idea what was going on, yet I could see terror in the eyes my stylist.
Another stylist came over to me and explained that he would have to finish my hair, that my stylist was unable to finish my hair now or in the future. My stylist was Palestinian, and the men (who I believe were connected to Hamas) who entered the store warned my stylist if he was caught cutting the hair of another Jew, that his family members would be harmed and or be killed. He was also ordered to never communicate with me again.
A few months after my stylist was barred from cutting my hair or of any other Jew, I went with my friend, Elisheva Buxbaum to Hebron for a business meeting.
The only safe way for Jews to go to Hebron from Jerusalem was by taking an armored bus (which I had done in the past). Elisheva and I took the bus from Jerusalem to the Cave of the Patriarchs, and then started our walked to where we were having our meeting.
We walked a few blocks before I noticed my shoe laces were untied. I was about to bend down to tie my shoes when Elisheva stopped me. I had no idea how dangerous that could have been. Elisheva explained to me that we had to walk through an area under the control of Hamas to get to where we were going. She explained the odds were that there were several people inside their homes with assault weapons aimed at us. Elisheva said bending down to tie my shoe, meant we were targets practice for those who hated Jews. With my heart being fast, we continued on our way to this vitally important meeting. All I can say is this was a totally different type of experience then if I had been walking alone in a bad neighborhood of Chicago at night.
Elisheva and I continued walking a few more blocks when suddenly we were surrounded by a group of men with assault weapons. If it wasn’t for the IDF watching us, and coming up behind us in a tank, neither Batsheva or I would have survive.
Once we got to the meeting, Elisheva told me she wanted me to have the “Hebron experience”, that’s why we walked. Elisheva said on our way back that we would take an armored bus. I was angry at Elisheva at the time, yet with hindsight I learned the valuable lesson she wanted me to experience.
A few weeks after I left Israel, there was a suicide bombing downtown Jerusalem in front of the Sbarro restaurant on the corners King George and Yaffe roads. This was the very location and time that once a week I would meet my friend Batsheva weekly at the same time of the terrorist attack. I can’t help but be grateful I left Israel when I did, if I stayed longer both my friend and I would have been killed for being Jews.
The last straw for me was when my friend Chezi Goldberg was murdered. It was on January 29, 2004 during a terrorist attack on the #19 bus in Jerusalem, Israel.
Chezi dedicated his short life to helping teens at risk (survivors of childhood emotional, physical and sexual abuse). He was a valued resource to the organization I founded, and to this day is truly miss him.
Chezi and the other eleven people murdered on that bus did nothing wrong. They were not violent people. They were just taking a city bus home.
Once again I have to say, I have a difficult time being supportive to any individual or group of people who wish myself, my friends, family, and or my people dead.
