It should not be difficult to mourn both Jewish & Palestinian suffering

When my mother converted to Islam, I tried to convince her not to wear the hijab. But it was as futile as if she would’ve asked me not to sleep with men when I came out of the closet.

I messaged her about the dangers. As a journalist, I was uncomfortably aware of how deadly a stranger’s ignorance could be.  

Related:

What will it take for us to stop fighting insanity with insanity?

How many more of our precious people of all ages will have their lives cut short under the banner of “freedom to bear arms”?

Enough time passed without incident that I forgot she made herself a visible target. 

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Then, I read about and saw videos of Hamas terrorists slaughtering over a thousand Jewish people – almost in real-time – from the comfort of my iPhone. Throats slashed. Women raped, then killed. Babies beheaded. The lucky ones seemed to be shot in the head or taken as hostages.

I wasn’t yet as familiar as I should’ve been with the problems between Israel and Palestine, but I didn’t think condemning – mourning – the death of innocents could be controversial. 

The Internet was riddled with opinions, but much of them lacked empathy. I discovered that individuals I respected as intellectuals became tone-deaf to human suffering. There seemed to be a justification for every dead Israeli body – a filter for humanity. 

A mother’s last breath was blamed on colonization. 

An elderly person beaten to death was from the Zionist generation that had it coming. 

Hundreds of young people massacred at a music festival was understandable because of apartheid. 

Watching these atrocities happen on a feed sharing a space with travel photos, culinary experiences, influencer ads, and thirst traps embodied the morbid world we live in. I was reminded of a pandemic wiping out millions, but bosses and landlords were only concerned with how your health impacted their livelihood.

Most surprising was seeing folks – especially queer folks – pushing the narrative that the developing war was between Muslims and Jews. I expected more from a community that has historically been oppressed, villainized, and murdered in cold blood solely for our identity.

A Black queer female journalist I met last year on a press trip – let’s call her Tracy – messaged me about a meme I reposted. 

It had said people supported Israel “whether you know it or not” by outlining the terrors of Hamas. I  thought I fixed it by putting in an asterisk that opposing Hamas also supported Palestinians. From my research, it was not their leader but their captor, a monster playing dictator. 

Tracy was upset I was spreading misinformation. The meme had specified countless unimaginable crimes against humanity – but she said Israeli authorities admitted they couldn’t prove babies were beheaded. Definitely killed, but their heads might have stayed intact. 

This became the first and last discussion I actively engaged in about the Israeli and Palestinian conflict. I tried to explain to her my opinion didn’t matter regarding claims to the land; I only wanted to make people aware Muslims and Jews were not enemies of each other – they’re Biblical cousins! 

Tracy clarified she opposed Hamas but was also anti-Zionist, anti-colonizer, and anti-Israel. She said it was my duty to do “the work,”  as if reading a few articles would make me an expert on a lifelong conflict. Also, she meant I should educate myself until I agreed with her. 

Our conversation ended because Tracy argued people “don’t wake up and become terrorists,” insinuating Israel was responsible for the bloodbath of its people. I said such heinous actions could only come from people who were intrinsically evil, and this offended her.

But as I was beginning to learn I was not anti-Zionist enough, a gay Jewish doctor – let’s call him Devin – DM’ed me a video of an influencer breaking down all the ways Palestinians were not the victims. He also shared a meme questioning why all the Muslim places of worship weren’t under heightened security surveillance like Jewish temples – implying the hate crimes were only happening from one side. 

I warned Devin that his vendetta shouldn’t be against Muslims and that he was unconsciously projecting Islamophobia.

But as the world was still processing what had occurred, the Israeli government started indiscriminately bombing the hell out of Gaza, and social media exploded with more justifications. 

Thousands of innocent Palestinians killed was an inevitable part of the war. 

The Israeli government was more humane than Hamas because it warned them to leave even though there wasn’t anywhere to go. 

White phosphorus fell from the sky, burning the skin of anyone it touches – children make up 50% of the population. 

More bombings, more photos of kids being dragged out of crushed concrete and rubble. Blame Hamas for starting it! 

Palestinian journalists on the ground plead on Instagram they could be making their last post.

At last, everyone seemed to agree bombing a hospital was wrong, but it went viral quicker than the Israeli military could clarify it wasn’t responsible – the rocket was a misfire from the Islamic Jihad. 

I saw Tracy reposted a meme blaming the medical attack on Israel, and I warned her she was potentially spreading misinformation. 

“Kk,” she responded, but she didn’t take it down. 

A few days later, a six-year-old Muslim boy was stabbed to death in Illinois, and I was devastated to see Devin so quickly proven wrong. 

I don’t know how to end the genocide in Palestine or fix the grief in Israel. I can’t help protect the Jews any more than I can the Muslims. I have no solution for permanent peace, but I still dare try to find it in my own voice and actions.

There are unhinged maniacs shouting death to the Jews or Muslims, depending on where you are. Folks rip off posters of the estimated 240 Jewish children, women, and elderly taken hostage by Hamas as a sign of “solidarity.” The Israeli government obliterates thousands of people with rockets in the name of “justice.” I think about hostage situations in movies and how securing the safety of civilians is always more important than catching the bad guys. Unfortunately, Palestinians are faced with the deadly “nuances” of real life.

These are not actions I comprehend. But I understand pain, grief, and hopelessness.

I see my friends advocate for those with whom they consider to share their identity or woes they empathize with online, and I applaud them for speaking up. It shouldn’t be any person’s burden to carry the cross for every persecuted face. But as I watch individuals blur the lines between vocalizing support for one group and denouncing another, I want to shake them by the shoulders.

Don’t you know what you’re doing? You’re repeating history in all its gruesome clichés.

I challenge queer people to be the first to use our own difficult history to acknowledge there is no grey area for humanity. After all, most of us are privileged enough to watch chaos and form opinions through a screen.

Until now, enough time has passed that I forgot my mom’s life could be altered at any moment because she covers her head. I also don’t think about the fact my little brother is half-Jewish on his dad’s side, and the world will know it because of his last name. (I suppose they could equally worry about me walking past the wrong person while wearing a mesh top or leather pants.)

Avoiding discrimination or hate crimes is a game of luck. But so is where you’re born and how those around you treat the identity you slide into this world with from the womb, like everybody else, as well as how they treat the identity you willfully become – the one you’d rather die than not be able to claim. 

Lucky is being born in a place where secondary trauma is all you’ll ever know.

Unlucky is being born in an open-air prison and growing up only experiencing need.

Lucky is living in the only democracy in the Middle East with pride in your religion, that is, until your fortune changes when you attend a music festival remembered as the biggest Jewish massacre since the Holocaust.

Right now, the most unlucky are the Palestinians paying with their lives for sharing a nationality with the murderers, as well as any survivor stuck in a cycle of hatred.