In a few weeks, I’ll be making my way back to Palestine after some time traveling abroad. As I’ve written and reflected in previous letters, most of my trips outside of Palestine are filled with anxiety and anticipation of my return. In part this is due to my desire to get back to the important work on the ground in Palestine. Primarily, though, these worries stem from my less-than-positive experiences over the past seven years when it comes to crossing borders.
Almost everyone who has ever been able to go to Palestine has likely experienced some of the same hardships I have. If you are Palestinian, Muslim, or of Arab descent, crossing an Israeli border is no less than a nightmare. In the best case scenario, you are made to wait hours while your papers are checked before they ask you some questions and let you in. But typically, long waits are coupled with even longer interrogations, invasive questions, harassment, racial discrimination, strip searches and pat-downs, and, in the worst case scenario, imprisonment in an airport jail cell before you are deported and banned from the country.
It sounds extreme, but it won’t take you more than a quick Google search or a couple of conversations with Palestinian-Americans who have traveled back home to realize that these situations I’m describing are not an exception, but they are the rule. For every single situation I mentioned above, I either have personal experience of it or know someone who has experienced it.
All of this is to say that every time I travel back to Palestine, these are some of the things I think about running different scenarios through my head, wondering if I’ll be let in this time or not.
Recently, I’ve been thinking more about this than usual. Not only because I’ll be traveling again soon but because, as we all know, Israel is currently running a “pilot program” where it’s treating people, specifically Americans, equally. Don’t be fooled. It’s not because Israel has had some sort of awakening and decided to stop being an apartheid state that discriminates against people based on their ethnic background. It’s only because Israel wants to get into the U.S. visa waiver program, and shockingly (but also unsurprisingly), the U.S. is considering them for the program.
I wrote about my qualms with this so-called “pilot program” in an Op-Ed earlier this month, and how I felt that the U.S. and Israel have been putting on a charade or change for the world while the basic principles and tenets of Israel’s apartheid system remain in place.
In response to my article, I heard comments from friends and strangers alike that differed in a range of opinions and perspectives. Many people agreed with me, and those who have had similar experiences expressed their skepticism as to whether things were actually going to change. Others were more optimistic and cited concrete improvements that have already happened when it comes to Israel’s treatment of Palestinian-Americans at its border crossings in recent weeks.
The conversations that have been struck up as a result of that piece have certainly been interesting to take part in. But one thing that, in my opinion, continues to be glossed over or swept under the rug in this entire narrative is the consistent role of the U.S. as an enabler of Israel’s discrimination.
Reading that sentence, you probably are thinking: well, duh. We all know this. The U.S. literally funds Israel with billions of dollars annually, despite the obvious apartheid, among other things.
But when you are actually in the thick of it, it can be really difficult to process or to realize just how much the U.S. doesn’t care about its citizens, as long as Israel is the perpetrator of the mistreatment.
For years, I have seen how American citizens living in Palestine, myself included, have been disregarded by the U.S. government and by those who are meant to “help us” and ensure our safety abroad. When we have reached out for help or to file complaints about the discrimination and harassment we have faced at the hands of Israeli authorities, we have been told “There is nothing we can do” time and time again.
This reality has forced me to confront the sense of entitlement that I and other Americans have. How we are brainwashed into believing and feeling from such a young age that “we are Americans, so we deserve to be treated fairly, by our own government and others.”
To say the past several years have been a reality check for me, both in my privilege and also the way the world, specifically America, works, would be an understatement. That doesn’t mean, however, that I think we should just accept things the way they are. An article, or two or three or four, may not change anything, but at least by striking up a conversation, I hope that it can inspire other Americans to also look inwards and think about how we can find ways to hold our government and leaders more accountable.
