Things That Make Me Cry
Or, more resources about Israel and Palestine
Welcome to the Chaos Palace is about coloring outside society's boring ol' lines.
More specifically, it's about ADHD, parenting, queerness, and Judaism. To get new ideas (big and small) about how to expand the boundaries of societal rules, along with updates from my own Chaos Palace and conversations with folks who are whistling their own quirky tune for just $5 a month. Let’s get messy (and chaotic) together!
A note:
Writing about Israel — my homeland — is the hardest writing I do. This isn’t everything I think about Israel and Palestine. It’s where I am now, on January 16, 2024. As all people, I am always learning and growing. If you have something to contribute to the conversation, I welcome it as long as you write from a place of kindness and compassion. I hope you read these words with an open heart. For previous roundups of resources about Israel and Palestine, click here and here.
On Monday morning, at 9:30 am, I got a message in the WhatsApp group I use to keep in touch with two of my closest friends in Israel. “OMG are you ok???” one friend wrote. “Yes. We’re ok. It’s scary. Reminds me of our childhood,” the other friend replied. They didn’t need to say more for me to understand there had been a terror attack.
Nonetheless, I asked. My heart dropped into my stomach as I typed with shaking fingers. Two Palestinian men had stolen cars and mowed down civilians around the city where my friend lives with her husband and two kids. One elderly woman died; 17 others were hospitalized with varying degrees of injury.
According to reporting by CNN, Hamas leadership called these violent deaths a “natural response to the occupation’s massacres and its continued aggression against our Palestinian people,” encouraging their supporters to carry out more such attacks on Israelis.
On people like me.
I’ve known these two friends for two and a half decades. We’ve been through a lot together. I knew exactly what my friend meant when she said it threw her back to our childhood — it threw me back, too. Back to the day there was a car-ramming at the junction near my house that sent me running for my phone, frantically calling my parents to see if they were alive. Back to when we decided to spend my friend’s birthday in, only to discover the following morning that the restaurant we’d intended to eat at was blown up the night before. All the kids we were supposed to meet were either in the hospital or dead.
Back to the worst day, when my older sibling called home to say there had been a bombing. Asked me to try and call our parents. Told me the name of the hospital. Got cut off.
I was 10 or 11. Too young.
On Monday morning, at 9:30 am, I was in New Jersey, feeding my kids breakfast. There were, thank G-d, no bombs around. I was safe. But I didn’t feel safe — I felt like the teenager I had been. Running. Afraid. Of everything.
I am thinking, these days, about the legacy of trauma. How things don’t end when we think they do. It’s been 20 years since the second Intifada, those years of turmoil and death and injury and destruction. There is a part of me that will never heal, that will always feel bone-cold terror when I hear fireworks. When I get a panicky text asking if a friend is alright.
The years of the second Intifada coincided with the years during which I was a teenager. Formative years, as they say. And, indeed, a big part of how my psyche was formed had to do with the constant, palpable fear I felt during those years.
I know the hold this kind of trauma can have on a person, how its tentacles hold you in their grip. Which is why, when I think about the future of the Land I come from, there is a pit in my stomach. Will we — and I do mean all of us — ever be released from the grip of the trauma being forged in these weeks and months?
There are a lot of ways to destroy a people.
In 2023, some 14 million people lived in Israel and the Palestinian territories. And whoever is left when the dust settles will be some kind of broken. Heck, I feel broken and I’m not even there right now.
I think of my friend’s kids. Why should they know the sound of an air-raid siren? That metal-taste in your mouth when you’re running to a bomb shelter? When we were kids, we didn’t want this for our kids. Back then, the future seemed far away enough to solve things before we made our own families. Now, I don’t know if it can be cleaned up in our lifetimes.
I think of the children in Gaza. No home, no food, no clean water. Bombs explode everywhere, reducing their homes to piles of rocks and dust. Why should they know the sound of a jet dropping explosives, of a building crumbling? Why should they fall asleep wondering if they’ll live to see tomorrow?
When I wash my baby’s chubby belly every evening, I think about the bellies of the displaced children who cry to their mothers in tents outside Khan Younis. The empty bellies. I think, if my babies were hungry, I would probably hate whomever kept the food out, too. Those mothers, those children, those fathers — the tentacles of their trauma will grip them for a long time.
I imagine Israeli and Palestinian souls hardening in towns, cities, villages, makeshift tent encampments. Fear turning to rage turning to vengefulness.
The shadow of today is long, and I fear it will block out the light for many years to come. It scares the shit out of me.
Nonetheless, despair is not an option, as the New Yorker’s David Remnick wrote when the war first broke out. Even with a lump of fear in my throat, I continue to believe there are people who want a future where the skies are not a source of fear. In fact I know these people exist. And I feel a responsibility to amplify their voices. Here are a few that help me understand.
History Podcast: Part III
I’m slowly wading my way through the work of translating and organizing a conversation between Professor Hillel Cohen and podcaster Ariel Klatchkin. In it, the two men speak about the philosophical differences between Palestinians and Israelis. There is no judgment here, no supremacy of opinion. There is only open curiosity and willingness to hear what other people are thinking.
There’s a lot in this document, which I’ve made public so it can be shared far and wide. You’ll find links to relevant sources, footnotes where I explain words or concepts and add my own thoughts, and highlighted passages that I found particularly potent.
“The first step towards talking about agreements and peacemaking is for people to understand how others experience their reality,” says Professor Cohen, who has been studying the conflict and its history for decades, “You don't have to accept it, you don't have to adopt it, but at least see how they see it.”
I am trying to be able to see all sides. I am trying to remember what my faith teaches me — that we are all created in the image of the Divine. I am trying to learn about what happened/is happening so I can work towards a future where no one knows the sounds of bombs, and guns, and sirens.
In the linked document, you’ll see three parts. I’ve added a few bullet points to the beginning of each with the main themes included in each section.
Highlights of Part III Include:
How the framework of settler colonialism applies (or doesn’t apply) to the actions of the Israeli government
The idea of “strategic stupidity” — intentional gatekeeping of information in order to minimize opposition to various policies (on both sides)
How linguistic barriers keep people apart (on both sides)
Current events as an opportunity for right-wing extremists (on both sides)
Reading Resources
In Hebrew: This report about how the same battalion that shot down Israeli hostages were also involved in shooting Palestinian militants who had already surrendered is very detailed, horrifying, and depressing. Maybe I’ll translate that, too, if you would be interested in it. Let me know in the comments?
In the NY Times,
writes about what the future of Gaza may look like after the war.In Jewish Currents, Maya Rosen writes about the role of disease in the unfolding humanitarian crisis.
The organization FactCheck.org is doing an excellent job of battling misinformation and disinformation. This breakdown looks at the facts behind three things that a lot of folks on social media claim didn’t happen, but definitely did actually happen on October 7th.
The NY Times reports on the vast (and clearly expensive) network of tunnels Hamas built under Gaza during its years of leadership in the Strip.
In Hebrew: This profile of Masha Gessen in Haaretz’s weekend edition was compelling and left me with a lot of food for thought. This is a gift link, so you should be able to access it.
In the NY Times Thomas Friedman argues for something I’ve been screaming for a while: The United States to be tougher on Netanyahu’s government. A lot tougher.
- wrote about how capitalism is playing a major role in the United States’ decision to attack Houthi militants in Yemen in this piece. As I wrote to him, I find his description of the Houthis too kind and wish the brutality and indifference to human life with which they, too, treat Yemeni citizens didn’t get lost amid the descriptions of all the other horrific things being done to Yemenis. Nonetheless, it’s a helpful, well-researched, and compellingly written piece.
- is a wonderful new publication, bringing forth personal essays by people in Israel and Palestine and their experiences. Honestly, I recommend everything on there. Here are two to start with:
- writes about staying aware of one another’s humanity, about how he views antisemitism, about grief, and more in his essay, “threading the needle.”
Listening Resources
Unapologetic is “a new voice concerning the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.” I binged the whole thing, and can’t wait for the next episode. It’s not always easy for me to hear, but it’s always important. Ibrahim and Amira are two activists continue to fight for peace and human rights despite it all and I find them inspiring.
This episode of Plain English with Derek Thompson is called “The Fragile Hope for Peace in Israel-Palestine.” It’s part of a series I found very compelling and helpful.
Two episodes of On the Nose, a podcast by Jewish Currents, were really interesting to me:
This episode of On the Media by NPR is an excellent illustration of something I’ve been trying to grapple with for a while now, namely the way in which Israeli media bias creates an echo chamber that lacks the Palestinian narrative. I wish they also talked about how other media outlets lack the Israeli narrative. But, as an Israeli, I’m primarily interested in looking at my own people’s institutions and how they do or do not function. And I’ve been noticing the missing portrayal of Palestinians’ suffering for a while now.
This is a special edition of dedicated to exploring the nuance within the conflict in Israel and Palestine. I hope it’s helpful! For more ideas (big and small) about how to expand the boundaries of societal rules, along with updates from my own Chaos Palace and conversations with folks who are whistling their own quirky tune, make sure you’re a subscriber.
Hi Mikhal, I'm so sorry to hear about the traumatic experience of your friends and also the traumatic memories from your formative years. I have never lived under such violent terror so I can only imagine what it could do to your nervous system and psyche. My grandma did suffer from trauma during WWII and my mom from famine and political turmoil. I have inherited the trauma through different means. That makes me feel extreme sympathy for the innocent victims especially children in the current Israel Palestinian war. You are doing important work by making meaningful conversations between people in opposing countries accessible. I completely agree to the idea that peace won't be possible unless people listen, with curiosity, what the other side is going through and acknowledge the validity of their lived experience. One doesn't have to agree but simply acknowledge that each individual's experience is valid. Allowing space for witnessing is the beginning of understanding and only then can peace have a chance.