I grew up in a household filled with many contrasts. My mother was born in Scotland and her mother was born and raised in Jaffa, and defined herself as Palestinian. Her father was British and didn’t know Hebrew even after 30 years in the land. They were a well-off Jerusalemite family. So my mother grew up in a wealthy, liberal and very left wing household.

My father grew up in Rabat, Morocco. His father was an ardent Zionist and in 1956 organized the migration of 60 Jewish families from Morocco to Israel. My father arrived when he was 13, and all throughout his childhood he fought for his right to keep studying (unlike many of his peers in the moshav who were sent to work). Alongside financial difficulties that border-lined poverty, he became the first doctor of Moroccan heritage in Israel.

Politically speaking, he was right-wing. “I grew up with Arabs and I am telling you they can’t be trusted” he used to claim, very differently from my mother. It is probably because of this division that I avoided political topics. I was not interested and did not know what was happening.

I grew up in Jerusalem and we played with the Palestinian kids in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Silwan - we would ride donkeys together. As a kid I knew Palestinians, I did not think they were different from me aside from their economic situation; but when they would come back with me to our neighborhood, my dad would get very upset.

During the Second Intifada my brother was a medical student and worked in a hospital in the center of Jerusalem. As part of the rescue teams, he was among the first responders who aided the victims of the horrific terror attacks. This encounter with the horror and pain deeply affected him, and also me.

I began showing interest in the situation, being slightly involved with left wing organizations and joining protests.

During Operation “Protective Edge” in 2014 I already started feeling like this country was moving away from me, that I could no longer identify with it. I felt that I had to do something -- that this is my country and its actions are carried out in my name. I could no longer remain passive.

After joining a few left wing organizations I still felt as though I was not active enough. It felt like I was busy only resisting, and not doing anything to actively build an alternative. I realized that if I wanted a different future for my children, I would have to take a more practical and meaningful role in the struggle for peace.

At the end of 2018, my eldest son had to join the military. I wanted to send him to defend our country, and not attack and oppress another people. That is not a reality I am willing to live in, and surely not sacrifice everything I hold dear. 

That is how I came to Combatants for Peace: a place where everyone, from both sides, takes full responsibility for our reality and works shoulder to shoulder with our most natural partners in this mission.