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The Middle East
“I'm from the middle east” I say.
Immediately a possibility for kinship
Lights a fire behind their eyes
Teeth shine as a smile widens on their face
“Where” they ask.
I say the name of my motherland
The country my people fought for
The country where my parents took their first breath
And the country where my great grandmother took her last.
I say the name of my home
Six letters my people prayed to hashem would be ours to say
And yet
When I say Israel
Their face falls.
A scowl replaces the smile
Eyes boring into me
They speak
And then I remember.
We are now the oppressors.
We are now racists.
And murderers.
And terrorists.
Is there any use trying to change their mind?
Why show them articles
And research
By intelligent people
When their phone has already convinced them?
When one minute videos
With misinformation
Etched their way into their brain?
Their words grow louder
And louder
And now we rule the banks
And now we are greedy
And nasty
And ugly.
I try to turn
But their hands
Gruff with holding signs
Streaked with red and green and black
They grab my shoulders.
They’re yelling now.
I cry as my face contorts.
A unibrow.
A pointy nose.
I have become the lies.
But I think of my family.
Of my cousins fighting for their lives,
Of my grandparents that just want a home
Without a shelter as their bedroom
And missiles staining the sky above.
I say am yisrael chai
And I am myself again.
Their hands are now at their sides.
They are emotionless.
I turn around
And walk away.
I can't change their mind
But I don't need to.
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so sick of the genocide bandwagon