I'm an Israeli-American and I choose humanity

A couple weeks ago I went to the dentist for a routine teeth cleaning. My hygienist was young, with kind eyes and a calm demeanor. As she began to pick away at the plaque on my teeth she asked me a very specific question that for a moment caught me off guard.

“Are you by any chance Turkish or Lebanese? I’m trying to figure out your last name.”

“No,” I answered. “I’m Israeli.”

There was a brief pause as she cleaned my teeth before I thought to reply.

“That’s a very specific question. What are your ties to the region?”

“I’m Palestinian,” she replied.

“Oh wow. I’m so sorry.”

I don’t know if it was the right response but I blurted it out. Both of our communities are living in absolute hell and have been since Oct. 7. She went on to explain that her mom was from the Northern West Bank and her father was from Gaza. We had a hesitant but open conversation about how hard it is to be on any side of this war. We both agreed that we wished the world could understand that we are not our governments and we, equally, want peace and prosperity for both sides. We were, we agreed, on the side of humanity.

When I left, I thanked her for the conversation and told her that I hoped her family was safe. She thanked me back. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the exchange and to feel grateful for the safety to have such a conversation in this quiet dental practice in Wake Forest, NC.

On the flip side of this conversation, I recently had an exchange with an acquaintance on social media. She, a person with no direct connections to the Middle East but intelligent and passionate about world events, was responding to an article I had shared regarding the efforts of the IDF to minimize casualties in Gaza as they work to free the hostages taken into the strip on Oct. 7. She dropped into my DMs to tell me that the information I was sharing was false. I asked for a source and tried to have a dialogue about her different views. That was unfortunately not the way it played out and the conversation was heated and brief.

Of these two exchanges, I walked away from one feeling like there was hope for peace if two people from opposite sides can have so much common ground. From the other conversation, I walked away feeling like I had just lost one of my safe spaces.

I am a Jewish American/Israeli mother living in North Carolina. Each of these is a major part of my identity. I need to think about the generational trauma that I, as a Jew, carry around - every time there is an antisemitic remark made or attack perpetrated. As an Israeli, I have been told on multiple occasions that I, personally, have Palestinian blood on my hands. As a mother of Jewish American/Israeli children, I need to think about the world I want my children to live in. The world I choose is the one that encourages dialogue. The world in which two people, regardless of where they come from, can agree that humanity comes first.

Throughout this war, we have continued our practices at home to make sure our children know who they are and where they come from. They are young still but they know there is a war happening. They don’t know all the details but if you ask my 6 year old who the bad guys are, he will say Hamas. I need to make this distinction because even he, at age 6, knows this is not a war between Israelis and Palestinians or Jews and Arabs, but rather a war between the country we come from and a terrorist organization that exercises unimaginable cruelty. My children know that they are Jewish and Israeli and I hope they carry pride in that. I hope that they will not be made to feel ashamed of their cultural identity the way people have tried to shame me for mine. The best thing I can do for them is provide them with a strong foundation so they know who they are and that who they are is good even when many in this world try to convince them otherwise.