This is a guest post by Esther Kassovicz, updating us on the progress of her project to build bridges between Israeli and Palestinian women, which she first told us about a few months ago in an 11 Questions survey. Fill out the survey and let us know what you are up to! We look forward to featuring your good work soon!

We’ve had a few meetings since my last update, both separately in our respective places and together. I’d like to share with you about a couple of them that I believe can illustrate the complexity of the larger scale situation and also why I’m convinced more than ever that holding space for communication is our best ‘strategy’ forward.

A couple of weeks ago we had our West Bank meeting scheduled. We were all very excited and nervous. For us Israelis crossing the check point into the West Bank is against the law, through there is a way to do it if we get stopped that’s pretty much safe and straight forward. We were however bracing for the unpleasant experience of witnessing ourselves the often humiliating and frustrating experience Palestinians endure daily in using the check points. We wanted to experience it ourselves to possibly understand what it’s like for the Palestinian women.  Also the Palestinian women who are Israeli citizens from the North of Israel were all excited as they don’t get to be in direct contact with Palestinians across the ‘green line.’

However passing the check point went quite smoothly, and after crossing the ugly and menacing famous wall into the West Bank was like having landed in a foreign country—even though I had been there in my childhood before the Intifada. The city was bustling and the development and ongoing building sites very noticeable.  The biggest surprise however was that besides our host and the group’s facilitator, the Palestinian women from the larger group didn’t show up to the meeting although it was on their own ‘turf.’ We kept hoping that they’re held up by their work or something; we didn’t get any notification and we had no idea why they never made it. We all tried figuring out what could have happened, and for the rest of the meeting we tried finding out from our few hosts what it’s like in the occupied territories that could possibly create such a strange occurrence, especially since the Arab culture is renowned for its hospitality, it was incomprehensible also for the rest of the Israeli Palestinian women who were even more offended than we were. Even in retrospect, though we were told there were some issues in the group and some miscommunication, we still don’t completely know what happened and there hasn’t really been direct communication between us.  We have heard from their facilitator that they still wish to continue, and there are even a few more women joining, so we’ll see how we’ll regain a fundamental trust in all our intentions to continue this process. 

The connection with the Israeli Palestinian women though continues to tighten—what to do, the fact that we don’t have a real border barrier goes a long way, and we can even use the same language—they all speak Hebrew. We had a beautiful time with them as they brought the ingredients to make a really gorgeous vegetarian lunch, which we then mixed together, which was very unifying (see attached picture.) Next weekend we’ll meet in their village and we very much hope the women from the West Bank will be able to get their ‘crossing’ permits into Israel by then. Otherwise we’ll meet again in Talitha Kumi where they can get to without needing to cross through Israeli territory.

I’d also love to share my own personal experience of freedom to connect with the Palestinian women from the North of Israel. One day I met one of them after her work in Haifa, and we couldn’t stop talking so she invited me over to stay over in her village to continue. Little did I know that all the women in the group lived in the same neighborhood and when they heard I came to visit, each of them came by and wanted me to show their house. So I visited about 5 or 6 beautiful homes, drank at least 5 cups of Turkish coffee, and juice and cake—you cannot refuse the hospitality. I was received so warmly by everyone’s family in the Muslim village, that my embarrassing inability to converse in Arabic didn’t create a barrier even with the older generation.

Then my friend surprised me last weekend when she called me from Tel Aviv, since she was facilitating the mixed Palestinian and Israeli youth and they were staying walking distance from me. So we got together and all she wanted felt like doing is to stroll in the streets of Tel Aviv that I learned to my surprised she hasn’t really seen much of before.  She is a remarkably independently thinking woman, defining herself almost as an anarchist and a radical feminist, basically daring to interpret the Koran herself, from a woman’s perspective and letting anyone stop her being a good Muslim in her way. I very much admire her spirit and courage, and empathize with the incredible effort she makes to accomplish little things that we take for granted. As outspoken and mature and courageous as she is, she can’t freely decide to live on her own, away from her family unless she marries regardless of her education and internal freedom of thought. But she’s not blaming anyone, she’s ready to take it on—one-pointedly focused to succeed regardless of the many obstacles she’s encountering—in her own culture and ours.

However our bond is empowering for both of us simultaneously. I feel how her rebel spirit connects us for life, and I genuinely wish her success without feeling threatened by it in any way on the contrary. I know how inspiring our coming together is—not only personally to both of us—but to women everywhere. We are consciously leaning into a new possibility of friendship and support that together we may more effectively forge sane new ways to make the ‘impossible possible.’

Book recommendation: To gain appreciation for what it takes for Muslim women outside of the US to gain their personal expression of freedom, I warmly recommend reading Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s book named Infidel which is a striking autobiography of a very bold and courageous Somali woman whose success still bugs a lot of Muslims around the world.