I like to think of myself as a liberal, open-minded person. I proudly wear my United States Democrat hat, have attended seminars on tolerance and advocacy for minorities, and have been called the "politically correct policewoman" of my family. Yet I still stereotype. None of us like to admit that we stereotype other people, but it's nearly impossible not to. As an American Jew, I've grown up in a community with strong opinions about Arabs and Palestinians, in both an American context and an Israeli context. So when ISI climbed the mountains of the Galilee at 8 am, ears popping as we made the trek from Kibbutz Degania to the Israeli-Arab town of Deir al-Asad in the upper Galilee, I was nervous. We were attending a coexistence seminar and spending the day with Israeli Arab teenagers, and we didn't know what to expect. However, our misconceptions about what Arabs would be like-- that they were extremely resentful towards Jews and Israelis, that they would think of Americans as infidels-- were soon shattered.
Maybe it was just circumstances and a stroke of good luck, but our ISI group clicked extremely well with the teenage Israeli-Arabs. At first the conversation was slow, but as soon as we asked for their facebooks, the group exploded into a flurry of teenage excitement and social media. We took numerous selfies and exchanged all forms of social media, talking to each other on WhatsApp long into the day after the seminar ended. The girls of The group made many new friends, including a few girls who had spent time in the States. Zaha al-Dabbah was a vivacious 16 year old with dark hair that had dyed ombré on the bottom and long french nails manicured to a tee. Her English was as perfect as her nails, and it was no surprise when she told us she had spent a year in America. "I was in Clinton, Missouri, but it felt more like plain misery", she said. Her time spent in Miami was much more exciting, and Zaha shared with us stories about her prom night in Missouri, a botched communion experience at a church, and how much she enjoyed Miami beaches (and boys).
As fun and light-hearted as our two hours with the Arab teenagers were, as soon as the cameras started rolling for interviews, the conversation got serious. Nadia, Zaha's sister, told us about her experience facing discrimination in an Israeli airport when she came back to the country after traveling to Romania with a Jewish Israeli friend. Nadia told the group that she was detained for "over three hours, and they made me take my shirt off to check if I had any explosives". Not all of the teens said they had experienced discrimination personally, but many of their friends and family had.
Saleem Al-Dabbah, an 18- year old high school graduate on his way to college to study physiotherapy, closed his interview with a profound and heartfelt statement that left the entire room clapping. "I just want to be able to eat dinner in Lebanon and then go sleep in Syria.. I never want to see another gun again", he said when asked what his version of peace looks like. That sounds like something coined in a propaganda room, but it was evident that his statement came from the heart.
Saleem and his sisters came out to the bus before we left bearing the much-welcome gift of cookies in a Tupperware container. As we said "Shukran, Shukran" (Thanks, thanks) and hugged and clasped hands for the hundredth time, I realized that if a group of teenagers from polar opposite circumstances could connect and befriend each other in the space of 2 hours, peaceful relations are not such an unrealistic dream. The Arab teenagers stereotypes of "fat Americans who are lazy and rude", as one Arab teen put it, were dissipated, as were the ISI groups' stereotypes about Arabs who didn't have the same definition of peace that we do. Some say that these programs for youth are overrated and not productive, because once we mature and become adults, we face harsher issues and become less tolerant and open minded. I refuse to believe this is true. We walked out of that Israeli-Arab community center in shock and awe, waving goodbye to the boys who were waving to us from their rooms and realizing that boundaries created by years of war and resentment had been obliterated by the simplest form of communication: a conversation.
-- Lily Greenberg Call, 16, San Diego
No comments:
Post a Comment