Crossing Over

Over the past week, our delegation has had the privilege of hearing from many, many courageous Palestinian and Israeli people who are resisting the occupation in a variety of forms, through rebuilding demolished homes, documenting human rights abuses, speaking about the abuses they committed serving in the Israeli military, supporting refugees, holding public vigils, and many, many other ways. I have been in awe of the work that they have done and the trials in which they had suffered. However, while I have felt a lot of pain and lamentation for those who are oppressed, I have often felt that I'm still not able to fully absorb and wrap my head around the discrimination and suffering that people have experienced.

However, while in Bethlehem, we did have the opportunity to share in an ordinary, everyday, ludicrous effect of the occupation. The main checkpoint in Bethlehem crosses just from one part of the city unto the other, still in the Occupied Palestinian Territories (because the separation wall cuts through West Bank territory, rather than on the legally recognized Green Line).

The lines to cross through the main checkpoint in Bethlehem are so long it often takes hours in the mornings when many people come through to go to work, so people must arrive at 5am in order to get to work by 9am.

There are three turnstile areas that people must cross through which reminded me of what the cattle walk through on my dad's farm. The whole experience felt dehumanizing, as I felt I was being treated as a criminal just for wanting to cross to the other side of town.

We had to go through metal detectors and show our passports, which upon viewing, the Israeli soldiers said "God Bless America" over the PA system for everyone in line to hear (much to my embarrassment). There was a question about the visas that the Australians in our group had been issued, but when the soldiers saw they were friends of The Americans, they let them go through without question. Tears welled up in my eyes at this ridiculous privilege that we carry with our passports, and the tears began to flow when the Palestinian man behind us was detained for not having the right paper with him, when he was taken aggressively away and slurs shouted at him.

What a travesty it is that through the luck of being born in a certain place, having a certain color skin, or a certain piece of paper, allows you to break the rules and receive special treatment while others are treated violently and dehumanized!