This guest post was written by Anabelle Harari. Her bio appears below.
An
Israeli-American Living in an American-Israeli City
(or it the other way around?)
(or it the other way around?)
This past fall I signed up for a
photography course. It was run by an American who was completing her masters in
Art Therapy. The advertisement read as follows:
“Are you a new immigrant looking to gain
some photography skills? Come learn how to use photography as a method for
exploring aliyah and liminality.”
I was sold.
While technically, I am not a new immigrant
to Israel, I certainly feel like one.
You see, I was born in Israel and shortly after my family moved to America. I
grew up like any other Jewish kid in northeast Philadelphia- listening to the
Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears, hanging out the mall on the weekends, and
while at times I really wished I had blonde hair and my name was Ashley- I felt
like I fit in.
However, there was one caveat- I was Israeli.
My family spoke Hebrew in the house, we
never had goldfish or Doritos in our kitchen- only imported Israeli products, I
listened to Eyal Golan on the way to school, and while all the other kids at my
Jewish day school ate white bread sandwiches with peanut butter and jelly, I
ate pita bread with chocolate spread.
Fast forward 15 years and I find myself
in Israel once again. While I have been traveling in between Israel and the
States for a while now- visiting friends and family, the obligatory birthright
trip as well as a few other Jewish programs that bring wide-eyed Americans to
experience Israel- I built a life for myself in America- not Israel.
However, when it came time for my
boyfriend to study at a yeshiva- we knew the only choice would be to spend some
time in Israel, specifically Jerusalem.
I arrived here feeling pretty confident.
I speak the language- what more is there to really know about living in Israel?
Turns out- a lot. Living in Israel has not only pushed all my boundaries, it
has also made me realize how utterly American,
I really am.
I enjoy my space, I enjoy central
heating, but mostly I enjoy not being yelled at or being asked when I’m going
to get married every other day. By American standards, Israelis are rude. They
are loud, they are pushy, and they are extremely nosy (read: the married
question coming from the guy at the grocery store).
And while this can become frustrating
beyond words, I have come to actually appreciate this “rudeness.” The guy at
the grocery store may be judging me, but he actually cares that I marry a nice
Jewish boy. And the aggressiveness? After yelling at me about why I didn’t have
a Tuedah Zeut card, the woman at the bank actually invited me to her home for
Shabbat.
Does it make sense? No. Does it have to?
Not really.
Being in Israel has made me value my
American-Israeli upbringing. It has allowed me to take a critical look at the
things I experience on a daily basis, and it also has made me appreciate this
in-between state of being. Not quite American, not quite Israeli.
It seems that I have found the perfect
place to be not quite this and not quite that- Jerusalem. Jerusalem is a
liminal place in itself. It’s Israeli, it’s American, it’s everything in
between jammed into one neatly packed city.
So now, when people ask me what it is
like to live in Israel again, I give them my short yet complicated answer- it’s
liminal. And I leave it that.
Anabelle
Harari is a graduate of Mount Holyoke College. She is a sustainable food blogger and the
community attache for BirthrightIsrael Experts. She lives in Jerusalem and you can connect with
her @thelocalbelle.