Know Your Boundaries: Thoughts on J Street 2013

We were playing a get-to-know-you game in the J Street U breakout session, and we were standing up from our chairs whenever a statement applied to us. There were statements like, "This is my first J Street conference" or "I helped to found a chapter at my university." I stood up when appropriate. Then the facilitator said "I am deeply concerned by the Occupation." I sat dumbly and watched as the entire Mid-Atlantic region, a delegation of 130 students, rose to their feet.

It's not that I'm not concerned with the Occupation. I am. But this is all very new and shocking to me. This is the first organized event I've ever been to where I've even heard the word "occupation" being used. This is the first time in my life I ever heard someone suggest altering the Israeli flag to depict more inclusive symbols and changing the words of the Israeli national anthem from "Jewish soul" to "Israeli soul." And this is the first time I've ever put quotes around the word "democracy" when I use the phrase "Jewish 'Democracy,'" because suddenly I'm not sure if what I thought was the only democracy in the Middle East even is one.

I support the 2 State Solution. But I also NEED Israel to exist as a Jewish state, one in which Judaism is institutionalized. I need Judaism to have a physical space in this world. I don't think it's enough to have a lot of Jews living in a country so the country has a Jewish character in its culture and values. I don't want Israel to celebrate the Jewish holidays the way America celebrates Christmas. In America, I appreciate that many people say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." Because that's what I signed up for by living in America.

In Israel, I want the bus banners to still switch between the name of their destination and "Chag Channukah Sameach," And I would like the Jewish Sabbath to be recognized in some formal way. And I would like Jews to have a special immigration policy that allows them to become citizens easily and quickly.

BUT. I want Israel to provide work permits to asylum seekers living in South Tel Aviv. I want Bedouins living in unrecognized villages to not fear the destruction of their homes at any moment. I want Palestinians in refugee camps to expect clean running water. I want Druze villages to receive the same funding for their schools as their Jewish neighbors. 

I also feel strongly that Jews need to address the problem of pluralism in a way that enriches Judaism without forcing everyone to adhere to the strictest possible observance. To me, this means creating a system in which everyone has the freedom to practice in the way that they please while respecting other approaches. This will require some major creativity and breaking away from the status quo. 

--A day later--

Another challenging day at the J Street Conference. We had a session to plan our advocacy work tomorrow and I met some nice people and I met some people who didn't make it too hard to dislike them. Then I got in line for a long time to listen to Biden speak, who was very late because Bibi is visiting and the government is shutting down. 

Biden made a lovely speech. He was charming and funny and made it unequivocally clear that the US supports Israel and that a two state solution is an absolute requirement. 

I am glad that I heard Biden speak today, because he left me with hope for the situation, and he diverted some of my attention away from the horrifying fact that I am much more right wing than I had originally thought. He closed with a quote from this poem:

“Human beings suffer,

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.

No poem or play or song

Can fully right a wrong

Inflicted and endured.

History says, don't hope

On this side of the grave.

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change

On the far side of revenge.

Believe that further shore

Is reachable from here.

Believe in miracles

And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:

The utter, self-revealing

Double-take of feeling.

If there's fire on the mountain

Or lightning and storm

And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing

The outcry and the birth-cry

Of new life at its term.” 

― Seamus Heaney

Reflections at Reagan National

I was waiting in the airport, applying to medical school, and AMCAS asked me a very good question:

"What is the significance of your experience?"

The experience he was referring to, of course, was my volunteer work this summer at the women's shelter in Israel.

I tried clumsily to sum it up for the application:


Seeing the reality on domestic abuse on a daily basis completely changed the way I see the world. I began to see these "victims" of domestic abuse as victims of societies that prioritize honor over everything--including life itself. I saw how common domestic abuse is and how powerless I was to change that while working at the women's shelter.
I befriended many of the women and I adored the children. Because of the nature of the shelter, though, the families came and left unexpectedly. I never knew if my favorite women would be there the next day. I began to understand what it must be like for the ~40 children who spend months of their lives in that shelter.
Working with the three 15 year old girls had the biggest impact on me, however. We talked about race, racism, Ethiopia, Israel, President Obama, relationships, and regular teenage girl things like The Vampire Diaries. These young women taught me so much about strength and overcoming adversity. Their mothers were victims of domestic abuse, and that is why they were living in the shelter. However, they were determined to not experience the same cycle of abuse. They worked diligently on their English and other skills so they would be able to be financially independent as adults. It was an honor for me to know them and for me to help them for a summer.

But that isn't it.. is it? I couldn't tell AMCAS the true significance of this experience. I couldn't send this message to faceless people on the other end of the internet, flipping through thousands of medical school applications. I couldn't tell them how angry I feel when I think about the suffering I witnessed. I couldn't tell them that there was a Bedouin women who came to the shelter the last week I was there and she wouldn't look at anyone or speak to anyone, and then one day I asked her in broken Arabic "What's up?" and she cracked a smile. I couldn't tell them that the Ethiopian girls I worked with were the most beautiful people I've ever met, that they handled being 15 in a women's shelter in the middle of nowhere Israel better than I handled being 15 in picture-perfect suburban America in a loving, safe home.

I couldn't tell AMCAS that the reason I want to be a doctor is because I want to be alone in a room with a woman and recognize signs of abuse and be able to shut the door and speak with some authority and do something about it. I want to be able to perform reconstructive surgery on someone who has been forced to undergo FGM. I want to be able to give back some health autonomy to women who have never been allowed to make a choice for themselves. I want to give women CHOICES. I want to sit across from my patient and listen to her and have some expertise to be able to deal with what she is going through.

Because I felt fucking powerless at that shelter this summer.

I wasn't a social worker. I wasn't a director. I wasn't a volunteer coordinator. I wasn't anything!! I was a friend--and that meant something. But it wasn't enough and I need to be enough. That's why I need to be a doctor. It is selfish!! I can't help it. I need to be enough for someone.

I couldn't tell AMCAS that.