Here I am. I’ve established my perch for the summer months. On the fourth story of a Jerusalem apartment building, there is a charming apartment with lots of windows cracked open and a kitchen with creaky cabinet doors. Towards the back of the apartment, there is a large room with a twin bed in the corner and a window that also acts as a sliding door. Through this door is my very own mirpeset, or balcony, which looks out onto the hills of Jerusalem. Next door, my neighbors’ porch serves as their drying rack. Whiffs of fresh laundry smell occasionally drift by. Birds occasionally swoop down from up high, and every morning they chirp to wake me up. Below me, there is a field with small fruit trees, tufts of bushes, and cacti lazily leaning towards the sun. The Jerusalem cat, similar in nature to the New York squirrel, densely populates this particular field. Someone in my apartment building has been feeding them, so they congregate by the dozen in this small yard, a multicolored herd, mewing, creeping about, and dozing in the midday sun.

I take a deep breath of sweet air, and smile.

I am lucky to have this small balcony. It is my own, and on it, I can reflect without feeling pressured to think a certain way. Here it is. Jerusalem, Israel. Sometimes, in the activist community, I’m afraid to say the word Israel. Among some of my Zionist friends, I’m afraid to say the word Palestine. I’m sure that both of you are reading this blog, and both of you had visceral reactions to these two particular words.

Before I start posting for the next few months I wanted to tell you a little bit about where I am coming from.

These words, these places, are loaded heavily with anxieties and joy, passion and fervor, sadness and anger. I feel lucky to have a family who looks upon the Israeli-Palestinian conflict from many different perspectives. As I’ve grown up, my mind has twisted and turned in many different directions. I’ve hungered to know all sides of the story.

So here I am. Somewhere lingering in the cloud of the politics of this particular region. I seem to be an anomaly-I’m a young Jewish person who supports the existence of the State of Israel, but also wants to devote her life to the pursuit of social justice.

Though I know there are many others like myself, I often feel like I don’t belong. In the activist community, I’ve been called a racist. I’ve overheard myself being called a dirty Zionist. I’ve seen my opinions invalidated because of my “conservative” political opinions. I feel I have to hide what I believe in to be taken seriously.

In the pro-Israel world, I’ve been called an “Arab-lover.” Just a few nights ago, I was laughed at for engaging in conversation with an Arab waiter. “Why are you talking to a suicide bomber?”, she said. I fear working with particular organizations because their “politics” might prevent me from being employed by a mainstream Jewish organization that is pro-Israel.

In the past few years, I’ve felt frustrated. I feel that the whole conflict has turned into a war of words. When I did the David Project Israel Advocacy training program in my final year of high school, I felt uncomfortable with what they were teaching us. They warned us that there would be people in university that would try and delegitimize Israel, so they gave us a grab bag of responses and a quick log of history to throw back at any arguments made. I got to university, and all I heard were people shouting at each other. There was no dialogue, only debate. There was no conversation, only claims.

I came to Israel for the first time when I was 13 years old. My teachers and classmates told me that it would feel special, that I would never want to leave. When I landed, I didn’t feel that way. I thought it was neat that everything around me was Jewish, but it was still an alien culture.  It felt bizarre. When I lived here for the year when I was 18, engaged in Torah study, I didn’t really allow myself to think about the region critically. I was mostly engrossed in my own bubble, living in the old city and focusing on religious study.

But now, I am present.

Every moment, I will be here, with all the kavannah (intention) I can muster. I will be a part of this community, and attempt to understand every storefront, every interaction between people, and every tense stare between conflicting parties. I will think about history and politics, but I refuse to become caught up in the aforementioned war of words. I am here; I am interacting with human beings. I will try not to discount what anyone has to say. This summer, my soul is vibrant. I see myself like Jacob wrestling with the angel. I am struggling with Jerusalem, for Jerusalem.

Sometimes, people ask me if I am going to move to this country. I tell them that I will only move here on one condition: if I know that I can make a meaningful contribution of social justice leadership to the country. Only if I feel I can contribute to the process of “Litaken Olam B’malchut Shakai”, to make this region a place of God. A place of peace, of harmony, of justice.

This blog, in the following few months, will be observations. I will not make overtly political statements. I will share with you what I see, and how I understand things from the perspective that I come from. I have explained to you where I am coming from, and I respectfully ask that you not turn this blog into a war of politics. Please don’t throw your protest signs violently at one another, or at me.

I look forward to embarking on this very important journey with you.

In peace, בשלום, and مع السلام

Hadas/Dasi