Published: 30 June 2024
Last updated: 22 August 2024
My parents are no longer together, but I am close with them in different ways.
My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. He is an atheist and rejects organised religion, but he doesn’t reject his culture. I was raised to know that I was Jewish first, Australian second. I don’t think he even meant to raise me this way - but hearing what had been done to his family in Europe, that’s the conclusion I came to.
My mother’s family is from Maaser el Chouf, a mountain village in Lebanon. She’s third generation Australian.
She has always been sympathetic to the Jewish people and to the Palestinian people - Lebanon is right next to Israel and has the world’s largest population of Palestinian refugees. She was always saddened that Lebanon never took those refugees in as citizens, and was originally sympathetic to the Zionist cause after WWII.
Just after October 7, my mother expressed her sadness and outrage at Hamas’ massacre. When Israel responded, she expressed the same for the bombing of Gaza. She held two truths at once.
A few months later she declared herself to be “anti-Zionist”. I didn’t think much of it, because I, too, have understood that word to have different meanings over time. I assume she meant that she was anti-expansionist, anti-settlements, anti-one-state and-that’s-Israel.
I still think that’s what she means. She does not deny that Jews need a home and that, for many of them, their home is Israel. But this proclamation of anti-Zionism seemed to mark a turning point.
Recently, I sat on my Mum’s floor crying because Josh Burns’ office had been vandalised with the words “Zionism is fascism”, there was a sticker next to my favourite cafe reading "real Jews reject Zionism", and outside my office there was yet another round of antisemitic graffiti that read “Free masonry = JEWISH control. Let’s end this.”
None of my friends had said anything (to me or online) about this antisemitism that was on display right in front of them. Instead, they shared posts about the Lancet report and Fatima Payman’s dismissal.
My mum was very sympathetic. She hugged me while I cried and said the people who vandalised Josh Burns’ office were cowards.
Then she said, “Rachel, I understand why you’re upset by all this. But I am surprised that someone as empathetic as you would care more about this antisemitism than about the people dying in Gaza.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I cried more. In truth, I thought to myself, “Fuck, they’ve got my mum, too - they’ve made her believe that one suffering cancels out another.”
So, I responded through tears, “Mum, when I talk about violence against women, do you think that means that I don’t care about climate change?” She immediately shook her head no.
“So why would you think that me caring about Jews means I don’t care about Palestinians?”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t really need to say anything.
Comments4
Daniel2 October at 10:09 am
Well written Rachel, great piece
Rebecca Arthur12 August at 10:06 pm
Beautifully written insightful piece. Thankyou Rachel.
Joshua10 August at 12:03 pm
Wonderful piece
Ruth Wilson10 August at 12:11 am
This unfolding personal account illuminates, as a philosophical treatise might fail to do, the emotional and intellectual challenge of holding two opposing truths simultaneously. I am happy that the author and her mother are managing to live with their differences, and hope that, in time, the either/or fallacy might emerge as the common enemy.