For the past week and a half I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed that my opinions on what happened are not clear. I felt ashamed to feel conflicted. I felt ashamed for not only caring about the Israelis who were massacred in their homes. I felt ashamed when I empathized with the Palestinian struggle and loss. I felt ashamed for the safety I felt when the IDF retaliated.

I went to social media for the first time in a few years - Instagram, Facebook, etc. Every post was filled with sorrow and loss, anger and woe. I felt like my heart was being torn apart, and I kept asking myself - who am I? A peace advocate? A Jewish person? An Israeli citizen? My own identity, one I have carefully cultivated over the years, seemed to not belong anywhere on the spectrum during this war. My values suddenly contradicted one another, my thoughts fighting in their own inner battle.

It seemed as if my understanding of Palestinians classified me as a traitor. If I empathize with the army that has been protecting me, I violate human rights. If I choose peace, standing in the middle, I am shunned by both sides.

I don’t know what I am, I don’t know where I fall in this war. I know I am terrified of what the future will bring - how coexistence will continue in the Middle East. I worry for the future of EMIS (Eastern Mediterranean International School) where years-long friendships are being severed. I worry for my Palestinian friends in the West Bank, and I worry for my closest friends who stand on the front lines in this war.

Every siren sends a shock through my body, every “boom” sound keeps feeding my fear. It is hard to imagine that this is my reality, impossible to consider that I am living during these times. I wonder how advocating for peace, promoting coexistence, will change after the horrors of October 7th, 2023.

I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to feel. Maybe there are others who feel this way as well, maybe they are far and few. All I can do is hope.