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A s an outspoken Zionist, my initial reaction to the Penn for Palestine piece last week was unadulterated anger. My instinct was to respond, as usual, by coming to Israel’s defense, highlighting the historical inconsistencies, factual inaccuracies and half-truths reported in the column.
W hen OkCupid user s visited the site using Mozilla last week, they were greeted with a message: “Mozilla’s new CEO, Brendan Eich, is an opponent of equal rights for gay couples. We would therefore prefer that our users not use Mozilla software to access OkCupid,” adding that “if individuals like Mr. Eich had their way, then roughly 8 percent of the relationships we’ve worked so hard to bring about would be illegal.”
On my first day of spring break, I got the first of many emails about Hey Day.
While members of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement were busy boycotting SodaStream, a company whose factory in Meshor Adumim employs 500 Palestinians from the West Bank and 450 Arab Israeli citizens, the civil war in Syria raged on. And while some fixated on Scarlett Johansson’s support of Soda Stream, Israel was saving Syrian lives.
W hen I was a freshman at Penn, I was terrified by the seemingly dangerous abyss that was West Philadelphia. I don’t mean the West Philly in which we live. The idea of venturing past 41st Street was unnerving, to say the least. When my grandfather told me about the apartment he used to rent on 43rd and Baltimore, I admitted I wasn’t sure where that was.
S haun White was the favorite to wi n the snowboard halfpipe at this year’s Winter Olympics. He finished fourth. Many were surprised and some disappointed by his apparent “loss” in the event he had previously won twice. Making the Olympic team for the third consecutive time, while also heading up a successful band and designing his own clothing line, just wasn’t enough. He had “let us down.”
I saw “The Social Network” with my mom right after it came out in 2010. I walked out of the theatre raving about how interesting and insightful the movie had been, while my mom, admittedly not a Facebook user, insisted that she “didn’t really get what the big deal was.”
I was in Israel for 129 days. That meant 129 sunsets, 129 breakfasts, 129 walks and 129 opportunities to do something new and exciting.
Growing up in Marietta, Georgia, I was a proud liberal. Like my parents, a blue dog Democrat. At a young age, I didn’t necessarily know what being a liberal meant, but I rubbed it in the faces of my classmates, who, like their parents, identified as conservatives. We enjoyed engaging in debates, as if any of us really knew President Bush’s motivation to invade Iraq or whether or not Al Gore had really won the election. Being a liberal, nonetheless, made me unique. I wore it proudly like a scarlet “L” emblazoned on my being.
On Oct. 9, 2013, I set out with a simple task. Actually, make that two tasks. One: Ask interesting-looking, friendly strangers to write down one sentence about themselves, in any language, and then let me take their picture with it. Two: Don’t come off like a crazy person.
“Excuse me, can you hold the stroller while I go to pay?”
Ha-Iriya. Al-Baladiya. City Hall. I look up as the train arrives at City Hall Station in Jerusalem, read first in Hebrew, second in Arabic and third in English. I look around — men in black hats, women in hijabs, girls in short skirts, soldiers in uniform. During ordinary moments like this, I am reminded of the city I have come to love so much, the city in which I currently live: Jerusalem.