I have
spent the majority of the last several weeks living in East Jerusalem
helping to train activists with the International Solidarity Movement
to do non-violent direct action in occupied Palestine. Walking
among the narrow streets of the Old City, sampling the exquisite
local sweets, enjoying coffee and conversation it is hard to fathom
that less than an hours walk away an entire population is living
under lock down. This defenseless, impoverished, population is
allowed to leave their homes only at the whim of their Israeli
wardens. As tanks, armored personnel carriers, F-16’s and
Apache’s, (made in the U.$.A., bought and paid for with
our labor), terrorize this population I can drink a chocolate
shake in an air-conditioned café and feel safe.
I’ve
quickly become used to seeing Israeli’s, (police, soldiers,
settlers) walking around East Jerusalem armed to the teeth harassing
Palestinian men. Occasionally they’ll even stop me, shouting
and cussing demanding my I.D. It seems they go easy on me though,
(after all, I am white.) Occasionally, I choose to exercise this
white privilege and intervene when Israeli’s are being particularly
brutal in their harassment of the Palestinians. I may get pushed
around a bit, sworn at and threatened but my protective racial
bubble seems to keep me relatively safe and sometimes seems to
be large enough to keep Palestinians close by a little safer too.
Today
after a small shoot out close to Damascus Gate Police, Soldiers,
and other heavily armed Israeli’s began grabbing, pushing,
harassing and beating seemingly random Palestinian men. I tried
to intervene with soldiers who were stomping on two young Palestinians
handcuffed and laying on their stomachs and was quickly forced
out of the area by several soldiers at least one of which was
clearly out of his mind screaming, ranting and threatening me
uncontrollably.
I entered a close by hostel for shelter but soon after the Israeli’s
began entering all of the buildings in the area including the
hostel I was sheltering in. Upon entering the hostel a police
officer promptly threw me down and began cursing and threatening
to bash my head in all the while having his hand wrapped around
my throat. He was particularly disturbed by an address of a Palestinian
Support Group he found in my pocket and a Palestinian Kafia (head
scarf) in my bag. I was lucky though; his superior told him they
didn’t have time for trash like me. They had too much “work”
to do. A Japanese journalist in the hostel had his film confiscated.
Here
in “Israel” this behavior barely raises eyebrows.
Palestinians are used to collective punishment, it is expected.
The general feeling at the hostel was that it is lucky I didn’t
get my head smashed in and hey at least they let the journalist
keep his camera. It is amazing what people can get used to. In
fact that is one of the things that is most frightening to me,
how quickly I have gotten used to it.
