Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

https://www.jpost.com/israel-news/article-843061

Maybe We Can Smile Tomorrow, as an Act of Resilience and Affirmation

“Smile,” the woman said to me when I told her that no, she can’t take a chair from the table where I was sitting in this busy coffee shop. I had already given one of my tables to them and told a few people in her group that they can’t take any chairs from around my table, which I needed for my own group that would be meeting soon.

She reminded me of men in NYC whose lewd hoots and howls would often include demands to smile. It is not a positive connection. Her comment was annoying; though, I know it was not meant that way. My basic suggestion is if you don’t know someone, don’t tell them to smile. And my next suggestion is that if you do know someone, don’t tell them to smile—unless it’s for a picture.

Sorry, not sorry, lady, but I’m not in a smiling mood. I’m wearing a bright orange sweater today for, what I fear is in memory of, Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir Bibas. I chose to envelop myself in this pain and to declare it; though, I assume that I’m the only one here who knows what it represents.

It’s hard to be alone in your specific awareness of the world. This is a time when it is especially hard to live outside of Israel, where the Bibas babies are at the forefront of people’s minds today. But it shouldn’t be. This should be everyone’s awareness. How are we enabling such monsters to continue terrorizing Jews and the non-them world?

Yesterday morning, I was at a social event at temple when I received a text from a friend confirming (we now have final, forensic confirmation that Ariel and Kfir were returned in coffins, their mother is still unaccounted for) that they had been killed. I went to the bathroom to cry in a stall. I didn’t share the news with anyone. Even in Jewish circles, my focus on Israel makes me an outlier. This is not a regret; in fact, I’m proud of this. It pushes me from what could be self-centeredness. But, still, it is always to be aware of a separation.

What do I live for? What do you live for? What would make you wear your broken heart publicly?

Today, I craved a sufganiyah (jelly donut). As I walked to Voodoo donuts, I realized that Kfir Bibas was too young to have ever had one, which is such a staple of Israeli childhood—and adulthood, too. This is for Kfir and his brother Ariel, who won’t be able to compare whose donut had more jelly in it.

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And to those who continue to support and encourage the monsters who kidnapped and killed entire families, and young people from a peace festival, and today—today!—planted bombs on buses in the Tel Aviv area (thankfully they exploded when no people were on them—were they planted by newly released terrorists in this deal, ready to resume trying to kill Jews?)—you are monsters, too. This is not about politics or policies or politicians. This is about humanity. Find yours!