After many months, back I am at the keyboard, because when all else fails all I have is my fingertips and a wireless connection, and because there's nothing else I can do.

I suppose you can congratulate me. I've been here six months and am experiencing my first war.

I updated facebook today sounding hopeless and responding to worried and caring friends. Then I updated again with this:

"Sharon says to her American friends: if you're gonna stand on that side of the ocean and tell me this is going to make me safer, I have nothing else to say to you."

Yes, yes. Look who's self-righteous now. Normally I'm not one to burn bridges. But today, no one cares if I'm a citizen or a left-wing social justice activist from a different country here to contribute my skills to the general bettering of the world for a limited time period. And I have to say, it makes me a particular shade of purple when I hear Americans talking about how much they "support Israel" this week, and by that mean that they are in favor of the massacre in Gaza.

Tell me: who exactly is it that you're supporting? Because it's not me. I'm not Israeli but I do live here at the moment and I could be blown up any number of ways all the same, and this thing you support is making it, if anything, significantly more likely. Imagine you're in Boston and there's a massive airstrike against Amherst and 380 people have died and a thousand wounded in the past three days.

Lets not overreact here--relatively speaking, I'm quite safe. My fellow fellow, however, is hiding in a bomb shelter in Be'er Sheva. He'll be fine, I'm sure, but I just want you, my "I support the IDF" American friends, to understand that the unbelievable escalation of violence on the part of that army you love has made me afraid to get on a bus. No, things are not one-sided and no, that doesn't mean I'll take this "you're just blaming the victim" nonsense.


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"I guess the only way to say it is that we're scared to death of peace," said Nitzan.

Today my roommates and I convened a gathering of Arab and Jewish friends to share our anger and pain and try to organize together. In our opening round, we shared how we were feeling. I listened to everyone else, and then said something along these lines:

Maybe it's stupid to say, but I feel like I have less experience with this than all of you. You have all lived here your whole lives, and gone through many things like this--maybe not as bad, maybe worse. This is the first time in my life I've been so close to a war situation like this. I'm not experienced--I don't have the tools, don't know how I'm supposed to deal with it. I don't know what to expect. Will it get worse? Will it stop soon? Will I be afraid to ride a bus or go anywhere near central Tel Aviv or downtown Jerusalem? And of course I have friends and family writing to me, worried about me, and what am I supposed to tell them? Yes, I'm perfectly safe... for the time being? I don't know.


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And of course, almost grotesquely, life here goes on uninterrupted. I have a great job, wonderful friends, a solid support system, privileges out the wazoo, and a partner who didn't get offended when he called at midnight to wish me happy new year and said, "I have several things to wish for you--" and I said, "Can I call you right back?"

But more on those another day. Tonight I'm meditating on what it means to be in a society scared to death of peace.

And praying for a peaceful new year.