Sneetches on Beaches

I am a Star-Bellied Sneetch. For those unfamiliar with Dr. Seuss’s Sneetches, here is the introduction:

Now, the Star-Bell Sneetche

s had bellies with stars.
The Plain-Belly Sneetches had none upon thars.
Those stars weren’t so big. They were really so small.
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

But, because they had stars, all the Star-Belly Sneetches
Would brag, “We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.”
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort
“We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!”
And, whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
They’d hike right on past them without even talking.

So obviously I’m applying the Sneetch metaphor to Israel. I know some people tend to get their knickers in a twist when they hear the word “apartheid,” but I can say with conviction after living there for the past 13 months that members of the Palestinian minority in Israel are treated as second-class citizens. Continue reading

How the NYT crumbled my heart into a pile of dust and ash

I am sad.

No, not because it’s Valentine’s Day and I have no one to share it with. Actually, I’m sickly happy about that. I’m sad because my childhood perception of my country is slowly but surely being shattered.

Whether it’s this Islamophobia of the ignorant punditry surrounding Egypt’s revolution or the broad realization that so many Americans will put their personal interests before the greater good, my world is not what it once seemed.

When I was a child (so like, five minutes ago), The New York Times was, in my mind, the newspaper. “All the news that’s fit to print,” and like so many, I took that to mean not all what it literally means but also to mean something like “truth.” In my upper-middle class educated white girl world, The New York Times told it like it was and like it should be. Then I strayed from conventional paths, renegade that I am, and tumbled out of my box.

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Happy Ignorant Hannukah, from the JA

I almost unsubscribed from the Jewish Agency’s newsletter this morning. I mean, I have no idea why I get it anyway … because I taught Hebrew School? Because they ‘know about me’ and are trying to not-so-subtly bring me over to the dark side?

But I took another look at today’s mailing – Hannukah greetings! and wishes for Jewish prosperity and remembrance of Israel – and I was struck with in fact the usefulness of this newsletter. Yes, it’s the Jewish Agency, and no, I don’t agree with pretty much anything they do or say. But it’s a fascinating study of the rhetoric of this debate.

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I got prooved.

“Hello, Ariel?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi, this is Karen from the Jewish Agency. I just want to let you know that we have your Proof of Jewishness. Would you like us to mail that to you or fax it?”

Yup, I’ve been officially proven Jewish. That was

possibly the most surreal phone conversation of my life. My identity has never been defined so succinctly before, or in such a casual tone of voice. Continue reading