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Being Israeli/Succumbing to the Zionist Beast
By Flo M. Low

I came to Israel in the summer of 2003, immediately following my graduation from Barnard College, to pursue “the Zionist dream” in all its glory. I knew the land had already been settled (my grandfather himself a contributor to the effort); that the era of Kibbutzim and “socialism par excellence” had seen better days; and that Ben Gurion’s dream of making the Negev bloom saw the same unfortunate end as the visionary himself. Nonetheless, I arrived in the August heat convinced I would infuse the country with the relentless Zionist idealism that— though obviously still prevalent—had for some unconceivable reason lain somewhat dormant in the two decades during which I had boldly and unabashedly answered its call.

I was also determined, however, to become “one of the locals,” to be born again upon arrival (or shortly thereafter) in an improved Israeli incarnation; not as a different person, simply a more authentic actualization of myself. I cast off the label of “Olah [immigrant]” with great disdain (but not the accompanying sense of elitism) and “broke my teeth” to overcome the shackles of my foreign accent. I learned to make “shakshuka” and begrudgingly agreed to adhere to the custom of the majority, thus subjecting myself to—oh, the horror!—rice and kitniyot [legumes] on Pesach. I bought a Pakal Kafe [Coffee Kit] for use on treks through the Golan or the Jerusalem woods. I even volunteered for the army, having decided long before my enlistment to “Be All That I Could Be,” even though this would require an extra year of no-longer-voluntary servitude. I declared that those who truly wished to perfect their English would do better abandoning their homeland, leaving their families, and enlisting in a foreign army rather than trying to learn The Mother Tongue from me. I would wake up at 3 am for guard duty on a base the size of my parents’ backyard chanting “You chose this – You wanted this – this is your dream” and hobbled along after 105 Israeli teens, heaving, on daily 5 am jogs, Stars of David blazing in my eyes. I was well on my way to being a “real” Israeli—a true pioneer!—and I was going to haul the rest of my generation along with me, as well—even if it meant dragging them, kicking and screaming, all the way to Herzl’s grave.

What I know now, four years later, is that these two dreams are practically incompatible; one cannot live in Israel and maintain the same sense of awe and idealism of those who pray for redemption from abroad. Living here, it is exceedingly difficult to ignore the culture of aggression and masculinity; the monopoly of orthodoxy on all things religious; gross socio-economic deficiencies and gaps; the corruption of all things political; death and taxes; a dearth of intellectualism; and the unbearable hamsin [dry heat waves]. It’s not that it’s entirely impossible maintain a sense of pure wonder and awe whilst living in Israel; it’s just that to do so comes at the expense of social and cultural integration. And that is a price I’ve never been willing to pay –especially given my limited Israeli salary.

Because when all is said and done, I still believe that by participating in Israeli culture and society, I am personally building the Jewish future. Living here is not just about kosher consumerism (both in the culinary and—thanks to the new Tav Hevrati [Social Seal, which certifies that restaurants abide by fair labor practices]—social justice sense) and it’s not just about better weather and scenery (though, truth be told, in the final reckoning, both factors carried substantial weight). I’m still here because despite it all—the sharp elbows, the close encounters, the physical and political heat—life here is good. It is real; it is full of purpose. We might not have the whole “running a modern political state” thing down yet, and we certainly have a long way to go. But we’re young; we’ve got energy, and we’ve got time. We’re informal enough that everyone here has the power and the hutzpah to affect channels of change; we’re naïve enough to believe that some pillars of socialism still can and should be realized, and we’re small enough to realize that our individual fates are interconnected and that we are all dependent upon one another. So there’s plenty of room to be personally involved and to make a real difference. Especially because, since everyone in Israel is too busy talking to be able to listen, when you want to get something done here, elbow use is perfectly legit.