Witnessing what was previously subject-matter...

Racial segregation and racial prejudice have always been subjects to me, you know, something I’ve read or heard about but never really seen or experienced.  This week that lack of experience has been brutally replaced by a few up-close-and-personal encounters with the nasty beast that is racial segregation and prejudice. 

The first encounter came as I was returning from my first service project in the Jerusalem Old City.  The large bus I was on began to pull to the side of the road at an unusual place where there was no bus stop.  As the bus came to a stop I saw a few Israeli soldiers in their green uniforms motioning to the driver of the bus while two other soldiers began boarding our bus.  I had been warned that this might happen.  The bus system in Jerusalem is separated into two systems, one for Israelis and one for Arabs, in an attempt to decrease terrorist attacks.  The Arab buses get stopped occasionally to make sure that any Palestinians aboard have proper documentation to be outside the West Bank.  We travel on the Arab buses.  I got out my USA passport as the Israeli soldiers maneuvered through the bus with the automatic rifles around their shoulders bouncing around in people’s faces.  A few passengers had Israeli passports, but the majority of the passengers showed their “green card” as proof they have legal permission to come from Palestine to Jerusalem for work (the bus I take stops at the checkpoint into Bethlehem [Paelstine] right after my stop).  For the Arab passengers with Israeli passports, the soldiers glanced at their passports and moved on.  For the Palestinians with green cards, the soldiers took the card, inspected closer, asked a few questions and then moved on.  The soldier barely needed to see the dark blue cover of my USA passport (combined with my western European features, I assume) before moving on.  Besides being a tense experience for me, I sensed a darker, more sinister current flowing beneath the surface.  When the passengers began to realize what was happening, they went instantly from energetic and animated to silent.  I was silent because I was spooked, but these passengers had no reason to be afraid; they knew what was happening.  They were silent, I suppose, because there is simply nothing to say at that point for them.  Here I am, an outsider, witnessing them in their moment of most embarrassment, deepest shame.  The casual, businesslike exchanges that I just witnessed were likely the roughest and most angering reminder of their situation as Palestinians.  The green card in their hand is the mark they received as a foreigner, an alien, and a guest in the land their family had cultivated for centuries previously. The unholstered and loaded weapon on each soldier is a reminder that they cannot be trusted, they are suspected to be violent, and that at any moment they might need to be controlled by force.

Checkpoint with the wall in the background

The second encounter occurred with a few friends after a pleasant evening in Bethlehem, Palestine.  We indulged and ate some American food, felt guilty that we ate burgers while in the Middle East, viewed some impressive graffiti on the wall separating Israel and Palestine, and then walked back to the checkpoint to reenter Israel.  The checkpoint keeps Palestinians without one of the few coveted ‘green cards’ out of Israel.  We had gone through the security at the checkpoint several times before so we were surprised this time when it was congested and we had to wait.  An Arab family ahead of us had set off the metal detectors, so we waited while they were searched.  I thought this somewhat strange because I had set off the alarm with my watch or my belt or some coins nearly every other time and each time the guard had simply waved me through.  It must be a new guard or a different policy on weekends, I thought to myself.  After a few minutes of waiting, my friends and I began to wonder aloud as to what was going on.  A few young Arab men behind us must have heard or sensed our dismay, because one of them said to us, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.  You’re not Arab.” He said this very matter-of-factly and with a smile, not meaning to ridicule us.  His hidden frustration was not lost on us.  This prophet’s words couldn’t have been truer.  We finally moved through security and, of course, I set off the metal detector.  I had my passport in hand and so I unthinkingly raised it to show the guard.  I was motioned through without further inspection.  Let me rephrase.  After setting off the metal detector, just like the Arab family had done moments before, I used my caucasian traits and USA passport to buy my way past security.  In a moment of blatant racist superiority, instead of preparing to be searched like the others I lifted my passport to the guard.  And it worked.  I communicated correctly:  “I’m American and I can be trusted.  I’m no Arab. I’m no Muslim.  I clearly have no intentions of harm. I’m not like the Palestinian family in front of me with their measly ‘green card’….”    It took much later reflection to realize how disgusting this act was. 

There is so much more reflection that follows this, but it’s super late here and I NEED to sleep. I hope to continue some of these thoughts somewhere else.  I also hope everything is well with you in the States.  Message me somehow.  Shalom

The wall is unnecessarily large

Graffiti by Banksy is common. This piece is self-explanatory