MARCH 28, 2016, Carol Jahshan a Lebanese American psychologist
and artist, completed a 3 month sabbatical in Israel
As a Lebanese woman who grew up in Beirut and made the move to
the United States at age 22, I think it is fair to say it was an unusual choice
to spend a 3-month sabbatical in Israel at the end of 2015. Add that my father
was born in Haifa in 1948 and left with his family for Lebanon at that time,
and my choice to live and work in Tel Aviv is even more interesting. To be
honest, I had some misgivings and fear around this decision, but at the end of
a 3-month working collaboration at Bar Ilan University, there was no doubt that
this visit had been a very positive and eye opening experience for me on many
levels. It is an experience that I wish were much more common amongst my fellow
Lebanese because of the humanizing and understanding it added to my perspective
on Israeli society and especially regarding Israelis themselves, who I grew up
knowing only through the lens of news reports and conversations that were
invariably unfavorable. I would like to share my story.
However, as a proud Arab woman, nothing I have ever done was as
profoundly countercultural as applying for an educational leave to work with an
Israeli colleague for a semester at Bar Ilan University in Ramat Gan. I
wrestled with telling my family that I had made this decision. When I did, I
was met with resistance at first, then reluctant encouragement, and many
questions.
“Why, of all places, would you want to visit Israel?” I was
asked more than once.
“You won’t be allowed into the country, or if you are it will be
a very difficult, humiliating experience.”
I was told that if people knew I visited Israel, I might never
be allowed back into Lebanon.
“Don’t talk about
politics with anyone!” (In Israel? Now that I have been there, I think that is
a funny one!)
I was told not to let my own friends and extended family know I
was going.
There was a lot to consider.
Before arriving, I also wondered whether it would be wise to let
people in Israel know that I am Lebanese. After all, this was a country that
had invaded Lebanon on more than one occasion, a fact that had made a big
impression on me and my generation growing up. In the end, my curiosity
outweighed my uncertainties and I traveled to Israel with a heart and mind full
of both.
My surprise came when my taxi drove through Ramat Gan, where I
initially stayed. I looked out the window and saw the striking resemblance the
streets there had to Hadath, the Lebanese town where I was raised. I could have
been in Lebanon as far as I could tell from the view. I am not sure how I
imagined Israel would look. Very modern and powerful I supposed, but that a suburb
of Tel Aviv resembled Lebanon so closely was not what I had expected.
For most of my first week or two, I kept to myself. Largely,
this was due to anxiety on my part. Anxiety that told me “if I interacted with people,
they would realize I was Lebanese and I might be discriminated against or
possibly worse. It turned out that I had no need to be anxious. I let people
know that I was from Lebanon and was met with smiles. I let people know that my
father was born in Haifa in 1948 and that same year his family took him to
Lebanon where he lived most of his life. More smiles and friendly curiosity. I
was welcomed “home”. I was invited into a variety of people’s homes for Shabbat
dinners. This was not the reception I had expected at all.
One of the most moving interactions came from an Israeli man who
had served in the Army in Lebanon. Without talking about politics, without
talking about right or wrong, he apologized to me personally for the damage
that the incursions caused to the Lebanese people. Another Israeli man
expressed his concern and empathy for the Arabs of ‘48 (of which my father was
one of the youngest) and I understood that here was a man who very simply
wanted good relations and who did not have ill will towards Arab people, or to
me, in any detectable way.
I wanted to cry when I heard these men. The idea that such
thoughts existed in Israel, especially by former soldiers, was something that
never, ever would have occurred to me. The human element of the interactions I
had in Israel as an Arab woman had broken through the rhetoric I have heard for
years, and had touched me. I had no reason to fear telling people where I was
from. Among the many complex feelings I felt in Israel, one of the most undeniable,
surprising and important, was feeling absolutely “welcomed”.
As a woman living in Tel Aviv, I felt safe and respected. I was
never stared at or harassed. (I wish I could say the same thing about my
experiences in Beirut.) Despite the fact that the right-leaning government
tacitly endorses abysmal treatment of Arabs in the Territories, there is a
stark contrast in the way other groups like gay people, Ethiopians, and women
can thrive in Israel as compared to how they are treated elsewhere in the
region. Tel Avivians, I realized by living here, are notably fair-minded, and
in many ways not much different from my own friends at home.
Dreams of peace
My black and white image of Israel has been shattered. My
understanding has increased. I am truly glad I visited. I am proud to have
Israeli friends and I am grateful to my colleagues for their generosity and
talent. I will never view that the Occupation is good for anybody, not even in
the long run, for the settlers insisting on building there. But I see that
there is tremendous decency in Israeli society, that there are people who I
really, deeply like, with whom I have common interests and ideas. People who
want to live peacefully, do their art, their science, their jobs, raise their
children and see them happy. People I can genuinely relate to.
Friendship bridging political and religious divides
I am very proud to have taken the culturally bold step of
crossing the bridge and experiencing Israel. I was moved deeply when I realized
how many Israeli hands reached out to support me during my stay. My attachment
to the region and my love for my family there shine as bright as ever but now,
when I think of peace, I also wholeheartedly dream for the peace and well-being
of Israel and its people.
