An excerpt from the keynote presentation by Terry Greenblatt of Bat Shalom (preceded by Maha Abu-Dayyeh Shammas of the Jerusalem Center for Women, Women's Centre for Legal Aid and Counseling) at A Day of Dialogue - A World of Women for World Peace. The day was organized by Congresswoman Eddie Bernice Johnson, and held at the Library of Congress on May 9, 2002.
...I decided to share with you this morning a short piece that I hope will open for you a tiny window into who we Israeli women are, and how I, as a Jewish Israeli feminist, do my peace work.I live in Jerusalem, and since September 2000 I and many of my colleagues have spent much of the past year and a half being scared, as we Jewish and Palestinian Israeli women have been relentlessly and creatively and courageously opposing the escalating violence, oppressive occupation and human rights violations in our region.
We are scared as we protest in the streets of Tel Aviv and in Palestinian villages under siege. We have stood huddled in small groups of 6 or 7, as well as with the thousands of women and men in 150 cities and towns around the world who stand in solidarity with us. We are harassed and cursed, spat upon and arrested. And again I am scared, as we raise our voices for a peace born in justice -- the only kind of peace that will ensure long-term security for our two peoples -- and scared again as we demand a mutually negotiated agreement that provides each side with the land, historical narrative, resources and dignity it deserves.
With placards and posters and Women in Black 'chamsot' we stand in downtown Jerusalem along with other peace and human rights groups and coalitions and say, "No to War, No to Occupation, No to Assassinations and No to Closures." AndI am frightened as I edge as far away as I can from the young Israeli man who is demonstrating only two feet away and chanting, "Maspik harugim, maspik ptzu'im, rotzim lirot alfei aravim metim" -- or "Enough Jewish dead, enough Jews wounded, all we want to see now are thousands of dead Arabs." In Hebrew it rhymes.
Anxious, as I sit across from a Palestinian peace and liberation colleague before an Israeli-Palestinian women's political dialogue, and she opens with a smile, and then a tear, and looks over and says, "Terry, my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." Frightened again, that I am not large enough to hold her pain, scared that I could potentially drown in her well of desperation.
And on the days that I stood witness as part of the Israeli women's Checkpoint Watch, monitoring and documenting human rights abuses at Israeli checkpoints around Jerusalem, the three women who are on duty with me tentatively exchanged emergency phone numbers with each other in case something should happen while on duty. I found that my stomach only calmed down when I crossed back into West Jerusalem, and all that I was left to deal with was the normal level of anxiety that accompanied us as we made our individual ways home, traveling on the public buses and in taxis that do not always make it to their destinations without blowing up.
And I shudder at the chilling Emails I receive at work that read: "I know you are an enemy of Israel and Jews everywhere. As the God of Israel has promised, your bones will be crushed, and your name will be forgotten. Blessed is God, who crushes the enemies of Israel."
One of the most painful and alarming times for me is early morning, when I open the newspaper with the first cup of coffee and read about another Palestinian woman forced to give birth on the dusty ground, exposed to passersby and soldiers guarding the checkpoint through which she has been refused entry - all in the name of Israel's, and my, security. And I must take responsibility, as an Israeli and as a Jew, for educating and socializing and militarizing that 18 or 24-year-old soldier who is empowered at that moment to allow a pregnant woman access to medical care or to let her lay on the ground like an animal. He is my people; he is my son, my husband, my brother. For he is both the bravest and most Jewish part of myself -- as well as the most profoundly fearful and racist and oppressive part of myself.
And it is frightening for me to realize that part of the reason that the young soldier is able to watch the woman, oftentimes a woman younger than himself, and remain unmoved and unconvinced by her screams of labor or her pleas to be permitted to pass through to hospital care - is because we, as Jews and as Israelis, have demonized and dehumanized that young woman to the point at which the young soldier no longer needs consider her a human being at all. No human rights to protect - no decency deserved. And once again I am scared that the wounds and horrors of our historic persecution as a people, unless examined and healed, will allow us to continue to rationalize and legitimize such unconscionable behavior.
And perhaps the greatest fear of all, the one that lives inside of my Jewish closet and that I rarely share publicly, is that because I might ultimately be unable to live with so much fear and contradiction -- because I fear for my family's survival, my nation's survival - that one day, possibly tomorrow, I will read another short article in the newspaper about another woman, another birth, at another checkpoint, in another city. And I will rinse my coffee cup in the sink, set it to dry on the drain -- and no longer be outraged and afraid.
I believe that existing borders are not necessarily an obstacle for women. Led by our feelings and instincts, women will cross them. Nothing will stop us. It is scary to me, that as bad as the current situation is, no one is asking us what we -- the women -- think or have to offer; no one has yet realized how critical our contribution is to the process. As women we want to be able to look our children in the eyes, without shame, and tell them that injustice was committed in our name, and we did our best to stop it. Even when we are women whose very existence contradicts each other, we will talk -- we will not shoot.
There is much talk now about an International Quartet peace negotiations. Colin Powell has already prepared us for the outcome, when he said this week that no one should have high expectations from the conference. Women in the peace and anti-occupation movement in Israel are recommending that expectations must remain higher than ever before, because we cannot afford them not to be.
I leave you this morning more afraid than ever before - because the Security Council, or you in your positions of power and influence, might enjoy and even learn from our presentations, and still not use all of that power and influence to ensure that we women are part of all peacemaking and peacekeeping initiatives in our region. For as we all are aware, ignoring is quite different from ignorance - you really have to work at it. And we shall all, all of us, be held responsible for the evil we may have prevented.
I thank you for your time, and your attention.
Page last updated May 21st, 2002