There Is an Apocalypse Happening Right Now

And what solidarity can look like in this moment

Admittedly, I’ve been struggling to write about Israel-Palestine, as many folks like myself who aren’t part of a historically marginalized group are these days. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I also don’t always know what I’m talking about and it’s hard to put myself out there with such a sensitive topic. But I write a weekly newsletter about the apocalypse (climate change-related or otherwise) and one is happening as we speak and it feels irresponsible not to write about it.

But first, I want to give a shout-out to

Garrett Bucks

who writes about all things antiracism in such a humble, compassionate, vulnerable way. He wrote about this in his newsletter,

The White Pages

last week titled “The day the latest war started” and I urge you to read what he wrote because it sheds light on what many of us are struggling to say and why and also putting a fine point on why we do have to say something. 

So I’ll begin with this quote from his essay:

“Today, I still don’t know how to stand effectively with all those who are currently so frightened. I don’t know how to craft this message without inadvertantly causing more harm. I do know, however, where the work lays, particularly for those of us with the most layers of privilege and protection.”

And with the latest news of the IDF’s assault on Gaza,

Sara Sadek

wrote this great post about showing up for the kids of Gaza and this one about how to talk to your own kids about what is happening in Gaza–both of which where she provides some great resources and action steps. 

In these times, I do often lean on what others have said, but today, here is what I have to say.

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As we all know by now an apocalypse is happening in the Middle East. On October 7th, Hamas carried out a series of attacks which included the torturing and killing of Israeli citizens, killing 1,400 people. We’ve seen horrific footage and reports of what was happening on Kibbutzes, a music festival, and in the streets. In response, over the past eight days, Israel has cut off food passage, water, and electricity from the Gaza Strip and dropped over 6,000 bombs killing thousands of Palestinians with a death toll only on the rise.

I’ve personally kept my public commentary on all of this to a minimum because, as someone who is not a part of any marginalized group and someone who is constantly trying to understand the conflict, I won’t ever say the right thing. I suppose that is my disclaimer. But that’s not an excuse to not speak up. This is my attempt. A big part of that is that I think it’s more important than ever to stand in solidarity with humanity. 

I’ve reached out to Jewish friends and Palestinian-American friends who I know are hurting; who I know are not only grieving the losses of their people but are also afraid for their own safety from the increase of antisemitism and islamophobia. They are also feeling isolated in their fear and grief because many people just like myself don’t know what to say, so they don’t say anything.

In a text exchange last week with my Jewish friend in Baltimore, she mentioned how alone she felt, particularly at work, where her Jewish colleagues seem to be the only ones saying anything to her. The backlash in antisemitism is personal to her, her family, and her community. Her kids are afraid, she is afraid. Jewish people and Israelis are hurting with the generational trauma that comes from being persecuted through the ages. 

The same goes for the Palestinian Americans and Muslims in my network. They are also grieving and experiencing reverberations of trauma and persecution through post-9/11 islamophobia. As I write this, millions of Gazans were told to evacuate to the Southern part of the region lest they stay in the path of the bombs from the IDF. Even one of the few hospitals in northern Gaza that is treating many of the injured was told to evacuate in advance of the impending ground offensive. Of the nearly 3,000 people killed in Gaza, one-third of them are children. And the situation is evolving rapidly, so by the time you read this, it may have gotten so much worse. Palestinians are hurting from an apartheid system at the hands of a government with a great deal more power. And currently, the people of Gaza are living in an active war zone.

This is an apocalypse. All of the people we see suffering, their lives have changed irrevocably. And what this calls for is perspective; perspective of the human beings who have no control over what is happening and what we want for these people in the future, what we all deserve for our future. And what they deserve is what we all deserve: a future free of violence and oppression. A future of love and community.

As a progressive person who follows a great deal of progressive and antiracist-focused content on social media, I have often gotten the feeling that if we say the “wrong” thing in the “wrong” way in our expression of compassion for Israelis, it could come off as support for a nationalist right-wing government and, therefore, cast as a defection from support for the movement for Palestinian freedom. And on the other hand, a critique of the Israeli government often brings on accusations of antisemitism. To be clear, the latter accusations are not something I hear from my Jewish friends. Writ large, though, the right-wing Israeli government has done a great job at perpetuating this narrative. So for many without a direct stake in what is happening, it can feel like entering tricky territory to comment. But that shouldn’t keep us from standing on the side of humanity.

What I urge, specifically those of us who believe in justice and freedom from oppression is that this is a moment where we can acknowledge the complexity through solidarity. There is complexity in what we see happening, but we also cannot close our eyes and just hope it goes away.

“Many of our Jewish friends understand the complexity of the Middle East politics between Israel and Palestine,” my friend in Baltimore texted. “Many of our friends and family in Israel disagree with the Israeli government, have been peacefully protesting, are friends and neighbors with Palestinians and are for a two-state solution. Jews value life and justice.”

She was explaining her and her kids’ real fear of antisemitic hate could be directed their way. “Our communities need support, love, solidarity,” she wrote. 

And I know my Palestinian-American friends are feeling a similar hurt and scared as well with the rise in islamophobia. These fears are not unfounded. Horrifically, a six-year-old Muslim boy was murdered by his landlord in a hate crime in Chicago. And with the continued bombardment of Gaza by the U.S.-backed right-wing government, they need solidarity. Around the world, synagogues and mosques are on high alert because of the increase in antisemitism and islamophobia. 

The point is, that the humanity of Israelis/Jews and Palestinians/Muslims are not mutually exclusive. You can support Jewish people and grieve with Israelis while also doing the same for Palestinians. You can advocate for Palestinian freedom while also fighting against antisemitism.

Solidarity is the only way through this apocalypse. 

In an NPR conversation on Friday with a rabbi and an imam in the U.S. about how they’re counseling their congregations offered inspiration about how we can all react in this moment.

In this conversation, Rabbi Sharon Brous recalled a comment from Dr. Yasmeen Abu-Fraiha, a Bedouin doctor from Soroka Hospital who has been treating many people in Gaza: “[S]he said the real dividing line is not between Israelis and Palestinians but between those who believe violence is the answer and those who believe there is another way. And I believe there's another way.”

Imam Mohamed Herbert echoed these sentiments: “It's those people who have decided that violence is the only answer. And that really, really stuck with me - that this shows that there actually is a way to have a conversation.”

Rabbi Brous and Imam Herbert left the conversation with words of love, solidarity, and care for each other and their congregations and it was an expression of what we need to keep in mind. Their compassion and solidarity expressed is an example of how we can all engage with this crisis and Rabbi Brous left us with a thought that feels resonant for all of us: 

“There’s always a dawn that comes even after the deepest darkness…our job as human beings is to come and sit with each other in sorrow until we’re able to walk toward the light.” 

A final note: Solidarity absolutely calls for care, but it can also mean calling for action. One area where we, as Americans, can take action is to do our best to ensure that the U.S. is not funding the IDF’s campaign against Gazans which is amounting to war crimes. In that, you can call your Congressperson to ask them to stop funding this war on Gaza.

Some other recommendations on what you can do:

• Learn about the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict in this Vox video.

• Follow Anat International and Linda Sarsour with updates about how to support Palestinian people

• Follow Jewish Voice for Peace on Instagram and people like Sari Beth Rosenberg on Instagram

Another Note: This story has couched this conflict as a Jewish/Muslim conflict between Israel and Palestine. But I should acknowledge that both Israel and Palestine are made up of more than just Jews and Muslims. There are non-Jewish Israelis and there are non-Muslim Palestinians. And often these minority groups experience just as much violence, but with very little representation.