A week ago I was at Parliament House in Canberra and burned my Israeli passport.
I’ve had a few people asking me, so I’ve decided to write about the experience.
A week before I traveled up to Canberra I asked my son if he would be joining me. I explained that it was a really important three days so that we could put pressure on our politicians to sanction Israel.
Me: We’re also marching to the Israeli embassy on the Sunday. I’m actually thinking about bringing my passport.
Son: You should burn it!!
Me: Ha!!!!
Son: No, seriously. Burn your f*cking passport.
(Two of my daughters instantly start googling if burning a passport is legal)
Me: I would set myself on fire by accident. I’m so clumsy.
Son: Mum, you need to do it.
My son is super serious about his outrageous suggestion, and I spend the next day trying to decide if I burn my passport at the embassy. My daughters are rightfully worried.
I decide not to do it. It’s just too risky.
But when I pack my bag*, I decide to pop my Israeli passport in.
(*It’s the only bag that I can fit my two banners into as well as the poles that I need. The banners say:
AUSTRALIAN JEWS SAY SANCTION ISRAEL
and on the back they say: ANTI-ZIONISM IS A MITZVAH
The bag is actually my army bag. An IDF bag that I’ve kept since I served in 1993. I’ve stitched an Australian flag over the IDF patch because I needed to fly to Cairo & Jordan a couple of times in the past three decades.)
The rally outside Parliament House on Sunday is smaller than I expect and I recognise so many people from Melbourne. It’s really heartwarming to see just how many traveled up to be there.
Once the speeches are finished we start our march to the embassy.
The closer we get to the embassy the more my chest is burning. I feel so deeply ashamed to be Israeli.
I decide to pull my passport out of my backpack and hold it along with my banner.
The area is familiar to me because it’s where I need to visit every time I renew my Swedish passport.
The two embassies are directly across from each other. I’ve only ever renewed my Israeli passport in Jerusalem, so I’ve never been inside the Israeli embassy.
I start noticing Israeli flags and realise that there is a contingent of Zionists standing behind a line of cops.
Ugh.
These shmucks are just so pathetic. And a group of them have formed that call themselves the Lions of Zion. Or as I prefer to call them, the Liars of Zion. I end up having a staring competition with one of them…I think he’s the leader. Anyways..I won the staring battle which felt good.
I got as close as I could to the entry of the embassy and hold my banner and my passport.
Tears welling up and rolling down my face as the images from earlier that morning flashes in my mind’s eye. A little arm poking through rubble, waving for help. The burnt remains of a body being scooped into a white bag. A mother wailing in the hospital over her shrouded child.
Atrocities committed by the “most moral army in the world” that I had served in for two years.
Cameras started to crowd in front of me to capture a photo of my passport.
I noticed Ibrahim standing not far from me. We had spoken earlier in the day while setting up the rally. He was covered in red paint and had dragged pots & pans on a chain behind him to symbolise the starving families.
He looked shocked when he saw my passport. And within a moment had jumped off the wall and stood next to me in solidarity. He saw my tears and asked me if I was okay. I nodded. But I’m not okay. The country I’m a citizen of is committing a genoc!de.
I had lots of people thanking me later for my courage. It’s so humbling to receive gratitude from Palestinians.
Monday was spent in workshops so we can strengthen our activism. I couldn’t believe it when it turned out that the two women sitting next to me were also doing banner drops over THE EXACT SAME FREEWAY AS ME BACK IN MELBOURNE!! How did we not know about each other? I came away from the day determined to create more awareness and more collaborations with those of us doing direct actions.
Tuesday was my last day in Canberra and I arrived early for the rally outside Parliament House.
As I was watching Uncle Coco gathering sticks for the smoking ceremony, I was mostly reflecting on how wonderful it is to see the heartfelt connection between the Pro-Palestine Cause and the First Nations cause. The two are interwoven and there is such deep respect between the two.
Then it hit me.
Here is a hot burning fire.
And I still have my Israeli passport in my backpack.
I locked eyes with my son who was standing a few meters away. I motioned for him to come over and whispered in his ear:
“Hey, I want to throw my passport in the fire. Can you check with Uncle Coco if he’s okay with that?”
My son returns quickly and says I’ve got a go ahead, but Uncle Coco wants to chat with me first.
I ask my friend to hold my banner and make my way up to the stage.
Uncle Coco shakes my hand and says he’d love for me to use his fire but wants me to check with the organisers first.
Of course. I just needed his approval before anything else.
My son goes off to talk to one of the organisers, who then handballs me to two other organisers.
Nour comes over to me and says:
Yes, you can burn your passport. But this is fully on you.
I nod.
And thank you!
We had already got permission from the next Indigenous speaker to burn the passport while she spoke. Nour explained that the speaker wasn’t due on stage until later that afternoon. How about I burned my passport while the Jewish singer was performing next? I explained that I didn’t want to draw attention away from whoever was on stage. So Nour went to get David Rovics to get the go ahead from him.
Not only did David instantly agree, but he told me that he had the perfect song for when I burned my passport. He explained that both him and the woman that would be singing with him has a “Right of Return” to Israel as Jews in the diaspora, and how much it grieves him that he has more “rights” to the land than the Palestinians who have homes still standing that their grandparents lived in and planted trees around.
I looked up and saw Ibrahim. The same man from the embassy. I whispered in his ear that I was going to burn my passport. Again, he looked shocked and instantly asked if I wanted him to stand with me.
Yes. I would love that.
He pointed to the doll covered in red paint in his arms. A headless doll.
Do you want me to hold it next to you? It’s why you are burning your passport.
Yes. Please.
I then saw Amin. The guy I’ve been wanting to have a coffee with since we were on a panel together a few weeks ago.
Me: Hey, I’m about to burn my passport.
Amin: Good!!
Me: I’m going to throw it in the fire.
Amin: Good!! No. Actually. Don’t throw it.
Me: ???
Amin: Don’t throw it in the fire. Rip each page. Slowly. Take your time. There’s no hurry. Get as many cameras to see you as possible.
Sigh. I had planned on just throwing it in and not causing any fuss.
It took longer than I expected for the singers to get up on stage.
So for a few minutes I just stood there waiting.
And then the reality set in, and the tears started to sting my eyes.
I’m burning my passport. It might mean I can never return to Jerusalem. The one place in the world I feel at home.
The words are so automatic for me. But now they felt clumsy.
At home??
I thought about my friend Zeina. Her dad was 5 years old when he was forced to leave his home. He’s now 82. Time is running out for him to be able to return. I was an outsider who immigrated to Israel as a 10 year old girl from Sweden. With absolutely zero roots in the land. Here was a boy who had ancestors who had lived in the same home for generations.
This is not about me. This is not about my feelings.
This is all about the Palestinian people. The families trapped in Gaza.
By the time I stepped up to the fire, I had the images of the children, mothers, fathers, teenagers and elders flashing through my minds eye. I started to rip my passport for each of them.
It’s the least I can do.
I could hear the roar of the crowd as each page got ripped and placed in the fire.
Time twisted like it does at those rare moments in life when everything else falls away and there is only the here and now.
I stood back up and Ibrahim embraced me.
The love and support from Palestinians is overwhelming.
———–
So what next?
Will I also renounce my Israeli citizenship? That’s what the trolls are asking.
(As well as a few well meaning peeps)
And no, I won’t be renouncing.
We need as many Israeli citizens as possible that support Palestine.
In the next election I want my vote to count.
I know that not everyone will agree with me, but I have asked five different Palestinians and they all said that this is a good idea. Of course the next five Palestinians might say it’s a bad idea. But that’s where I’m at right now. Still an Israeli, but without a passport….doing EVERYTHING I can to get the Australian government to SANCTION ISRAEL. And I hope I live long enough to see a FREE PALESTINE. And if I’m lucky, I will be invited to visit Jerusalem again. And if not, that’s okay. It’s not for me to decide.
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