The Privilege of Being American

I wanted to write a short post about what it means to be an American here, as I felt it was important to communicate to all of you the kind of privilege I've enjoyed while travelling through the West Bank and Jerusalem. Mostly, I want you all to see that my experience here doesn't hold a candle to what Palestinians live through every day.

My identity here is interesting, and I it proffers me many layers of privilege. Every time I pass through a checkpoint, I have the privilege of handing the soldiers an American passport. And even when I'm just walking around, anywhere I go, I can know that as an American I am much safer than the average Palestinian, since if I get stopped for some reason my American passport may be able to get me off the hook (or at least prevent the authorities from doing the worst possible things to me).

When the soldiers open my passport, they read an obviously Jewish last name, and this offers me another very important layer of privilege. I have invoked my Jewishness at checkpoints a number of times already, though I do this only when I think it may make it easier to get my Palestinian friends through, as I don't want to play into the "the land of Israel is for all Jews" propaganda. I certainly do not feel that I have any birthright to this place.

Because of my unplaceable physical appearance, I can pass for many ethnicities. For the most part, when people look at me they see what they want to see. They try to see in me a reflection of their own identities, and this tends to work in my favor. Jews look at me and see a Jew. Arabs look at me and see an Arab (there are some exceptions to this rule, which I will explain later in my post). In Israel and Palestine I am clearly a foreign outsider to both groups, but my experience has typically been that all of these semitic people think of me as a distant mirror of their own ethnicity. I think people generally want to be around people like themselves, and most folks would prefer to think of themselves as similar to, rather than different from, those around them.

However, I am both an American Jew and an Arab Muslim, and I have the wonderful privilege of switching back and forth, depending on what the situation calls for. So when I encounter Arabs, I am quick to indicate that I too am Arab. At that point, they usually say to me, "Yes, you look like an Arab - it's your face" or something to that extent. When I am around Jews, I prefer not to identify with them, except in extenuating circumstances. This is mostly because most of these interactions are so superficial that, for me, identifying as a Jew in Israel would feel like I am communicating a complicity with Zionism. I can't really indicate to these people that I am against Zionism while in public, since this could put me or the people I am with in danger (or just make things more difficult for us in that moment).

As an American, I get better treatment at the checkpoints than any Palestinian can expect, and I have a lot more leeway to resist the demeaning behavior of many soldiers. When I am with a Palestinian, my privilege sometimes gives them a wider margin of error, and there have been a number of times when just showing my American passport got my campanions off the hook (this is only when we're in the car, not on foot). Occasionally, I've noticed that seeing an American travelling with a Palestinian has elicited a resentful response from soldiers at checkpoints, but for the most part it has worked in our favor.

For most of my trip, I have also been travelling in a rental car with Jerusalem license plates. As the driver of that car, I look Israeli. Police are less likely to stop me in that car, and soldiers are more likely to be lenient to me in that car. And it is infinitely easier to get around in a car here than it is to have to take one bus from the hotel to the bus station, another bus from the bus station to the checkpoint, and another bus from the checkpoint to whatever is my final destination. And remember, that also means going through the checkpoint on foot and likely waiting in long lines, possibly in inclement weather. But I just get to drive through checkpoints, sitting in the comfort of my car as I wait in line. Also, buses and services (pronounced "ser-veeces) stop running at a certain hour, so having a car means I have a lot more flexibility in terms of when I have to leave wherever I am.

Finally, as an American working with an NGO, I have the privilege of mentioning my NGO affiliation in interactions with IDF soldiers and Palestinians, and it seems to work equally well with both groups. For the soldiers, my affiliation with an NGO means that I am allowed to pass through what they call "humanitarian" checkpoints or "humanitarian lines" at regular checkpoints. This kind of organizational affiliation is also often sufficient explanation for why an American is in the West Bank. For Palestinians, as soon as I tell them I'm with an NGO (and give a one-sentence description of our work) they are put at ease that I am on their side, so to speak. In the West Bank, NGO is a little bit like code for "I'm here to help, not hurt, your community." (There may be exceptions to this point, but this has been my experience to date.) In Jerusalem, it also indicates that I am not merely an annoying tourist, and it has opened up many opportunities for interesting conversations. Maybe too being affiliated with an NGO gives Palestinians a sense that if they tell me their stories I am likely to share their suffering with the rest of the world in some way... I could be wrong about this, but it's a thought.

Some of these markers of identity can work against me as well. Often, I don't want to be mistaken as an Israeli, and I do everything in my power for that not to happen when I am around Arabs (which is most of the time). In a car, this is difficult. I have certainly encountered looks of resentment at times when I'm not on my best behavior. I am trying to be just a little bit deferential to Palestinians, as this offers a real contradiction to the way most Israelis and foreigners treat them, but there are times when I am tired or sick or both (like right now) and it is hard not to fall into the trap of resting on my privilege. I too can be an ugly American, though I try my darndest not to be.

So as you read about my experiences, I hope you'll remember that what I am seeing and living is nothing in comparison to what happens all the time to most Palestinians here. Don't look at my stories and draw the conclusion that the occupation is merely a minor nuisance and life here clearly isn't all that bad. It IS that bad. Really.