It has been hard for me in these past few weeks, watching the news, staying abreast of the “conflict” in Gaza. Although I am an African American woman living in the Western World, I am married to an Israeli man who is personally tied up in the affair. The conflict for me is that most of my friends are progressive, and as intellectuals and African Americans, they align themselves with the plight of the Palestinians. Supporting my husband and Israel in this “conflict” is not a popular position.
So I do what I do most often when I am confronted with a problem: I write. I love my husband dearly, and through my love for him, I have come to love Israel. Through my Christian faith, I am very familiar with Judaism, as it is the foundation for Christian belief. My husband was in the Israeli army prior to his travel to America two years ago, and fought with both Palestinians and the army from Lebanon. From an early age, both sides are indoctrinated against one another over religion, land, social beliefs, appearances, the list goes on and on. I remain neutral because I know how prejudice and discrimination affects an entire nation. Because Israel’s claim of their land is found in the Bible, I somewhat supported their claims to the land, believing that eventually both sides would come to mutual understanding and find a way to peacefully coexist.
Those dreams came to a halt late December as Israel, long tired of the daily barrage of missiles from the Hamas in Gaza, finally returned fire and began an attack which has resulted in the death of over 1,000 people. My husband says that the Hamas promised to use children as shields when the bombs dropped and that Israelis never put children in harm’s way during an offensive. They have bunkers which children, women, and the elderly are safely escorted to in times of heavy military fire. He says that the Hamas knows that dead children will spark the world’s sympathy for Palestine and hatred for Israel and that this is done purposely.
Even so, I saw the pictures and my heart sank. The little children who are still innocent and now don’t have a choice in whether to try to bring peace or more violence to their region. I see my husband’s tears over his country being torn apart by violence, war, and hatred. I know that he will go to fight if it comes down to that and I am anguished that this is happening in our lifetime. How America will respond, as ally or mediator, has yet to be decided. And I sit here with so much riding on this conflict, our future, our children’s future, my husband’s fate, and a country’s image. How will it end, and how will I continue to support my husband throughout this conflict?
