Arna's Children: Jenin Refugee Camp

June 6th, 2008

We just watched a film about the situation in Jenin. There was a lot about suicide bombing and the need to fight and die to protect yourself, your people, your land, and your integrity. I wasn't expecting the intensity or the rawness of it. I started crying the hardest when I thought about Tomas and young men in Oakland who have died for superficial, insignificant reasons. I think I'm hard and real 'cause I come from a place plagued by violence and unfulfilled male egos. But this struggle is real. My tears leaked out in a steadier stream when I realized that the initial reason for my tears was personal. This is not about me. I can be invested in this plight without relating it to myself. How selfish am I to think that my empathy stems from a parallel reality? Things do not need to coincide or mirror one another in order to support each other. The word responsibility flies at and around my head at least twenty times a day here. That's 100 responsibilities and counting. I even employed the term overzealously in my application for this program. "It is my responsibility as a Jew." "It is my responsibility as an American." "It is our responsibility as human beings." No. Responsibility does not belong to me and my power is not infinite enough to belong to it. I have no responsibility here. What I have is love and I am ready to offer it to any and all people in the name of humanization. In my identity crisis during finals, I broke down because I realized that all I am genuinely good at is loving people. But, once again, just like my overtrusting nature and overexposed heart, my weakness has evolved into my strength. You see, the love that this situation requests does not need responsibility. I refuse to fall into the footstep-beaten path of duty. This is not my duty. My tears are selfish, yes. But my tears are pure, all condescending poison cleansed with a downpour of love. I do not know where to go from here, but I know how to travel.