Back in San Francisco

I got back to San Francisco the day before yesterday.

Getting through the airport wasn't as terrible as I thought it might be. But, after going through security, I sat down to eat some pizza which I reluctantly bought (I didn't want to support Israeli business, especially overpriced business at the Tel Aviv airport, but I realized I was extremely hungry, because I'd kind of forgotten to eat in all the hectic-ness of getting ready to leave). I looked across the food court to another restaurant called "Cumin: A Taste of Israel." There were pictures of shawarma and falafel sandwiches on the sign. The name was written in English in the middle and in Hebrew on either side. I don't know why, but the sign triggered all the anger I think I must have been repressing during the trip. It began simply as anger at cultural appropriation- how dare they call this a taste of Israel? Falafel and Shewarma are Palestinian, not Israeli. I thought "A taste of Israel" would have been a sign better suited to the checkpoint on the way into the airport, or one of the two stations where they search you on the way in (once before you get your ticket from the ticket counter and once again afterwards). As I let myself dwell on these thoughts which I'd been pushing away for most of my trip in order to stay in the moment and be as effective as possible, the anger expanded. I was angry at the people around me for speaking Hebrew. I was angry at them for being Israeli. I was angry at myself for being angry at the people around me, because I knew it wasn't their fault, and that my anger should be channeled towards the State of Israel, not its people, and not its language. Anger at individuals speaking the language they were raised to speak is not productive. I knew this. Yet I couldn't stop the feelings. I sat and ate my pizza as the occasional tear slid down my face. All the metaphors often used to describe anger: boiling, hot, explosive (metaphor, remember, metaphor) -- they suddenly all made sense to me. I gathered myself together and went to the gate. The anger subsided to an extent, but it was still resting in the back of my mind. As the plane took off, it was overshadowed for a moment by the feeling that I was leaving, and I wasn't ready. I was not done there.

I got home exhausted, and immediately took a nap.

When I woke up in San Francisco, my first response was something like denial. I really felt like if I left the house and went around the corner, I would be down the road from, say, the international house in Tel Rumeida.
Each time I did leave the house, I was almost surprised not to have to go through a checkpoint, and not to see any soldiers on the streets. It's amazing how quickly things like that become normalized. Suddenly it felt like a privilege to be able to move freely when going from my house, to the market to buy vegetables, and back again. Compared to life in Palestine, it is a privilege. But it shouldn't be.
It took about a day and a half before the reverse culture shock started to hit me. I was standing in line at Trader Joe's, and I'm not sure if it was the massive amounts of people, the over-abundance of stuff for sale all in one place, or just a random coincidence of timing, but suddenly, I felt an intense wave of anger come over me. It was different than the anger I felt at the airport, because I felt removed. I felt far away from the source of my anger. Again, there was a rational voice in my head telling me that I wasn't far away at all, because Israel relies on funding from the United States for its army and thus for its existence. But I wanted to be back there. I am torn between exhaustion and wanting to rest, and frustration, wanting to keep acting and resisting.
I haven't been able to talk about much other than Palestine since I've been back. I didn't realize while I was there exactly how much I had learned about the daily realities of the occupation. I've spent a lot of time so far describing checkpoints and other restrictions on movement for Palestinians, explaining all sorts of absurd Israeli laws, the Wall, everything. People are shocked. I think a lot of people here don't realize the realities over there, even if they are "aware" of the issues. I'm glad people want to listen, because as I said, I haven't been able to stop talking about it.
Now I'm trying to collect my thoughts, make a plan for returning when I have the money, figure out the details of the video work i want to do when I go back...

I don't know if anyone will keep reading this since I am no longer in Palestine, but I hope to type up something more detailed about the situation in Tel Rumeida and elsewhere in Palestine, since I realized I never actually did that, I just started talking about my personal experiences with things, and my observations.
Also, some of the kids' drawings from Tel Rumeida are going to be displayed at a bookstore in San Francisco. I will post that when it happens as well.