sweet jerusalem

i met a man today in jerusalem who speaks seven languages. he is an armenian christian, born and raised in jerusalem, so for his whole life he has spoken a combination of arabic, hebrew and armenian. he attended a french school in jerusalem, where he learned french and spanish, both of which he now speaks fluently, and his mother is italian. he attended university in the united states and speaks english so perfectly that on the phone i thought he was american. seven languages, one life.

in the first moments of our conversation, i asked him question after question about the solid facts of his existence - where he grew up, where he lives now, what language he uses most frequently, what kind of ID he has here, what kind of citizenship he holds. eventually he laughed, and told me that, "you americans are always trying to simplify, always trying to place things in neat categories. it's simpler for you to understand that way, but it doesn't always work, does it?" i had never stopped to consider how i analyze the world and my experiences, but when he said this, i immediately knew that he was right. the concept of a person without a dominant national identity is almost impossible for me to understand, and even if subconsciously, i was completely unsatisfied by this man's seemingly fluid identity. living abroad, my perception of myself as an american is permanent and ever-present - it is the first thing people ask me, and the first piece of information i offer upon meeting someone. the concept of identity in this conflicted land is completely different, though, solid and flexible, personal and political, real and fabricated.

there are israelis and there are palestinians. most israelis are jewish, and most palestinians are muslim.

and then there are muslim and christian and druze israelis, and christian palestinians.

and there are russian-jewish israelis and european-jewish israelis and arab-jewish israelis and african-jewish israelis, and all of them have a special place in the social and economic hierarchy.

and there are greek-orthodox christians, and roman catholics, and latin catholics, and armenian christians, and ethiopian christians, and some of them have been here as long or longer than the jews and the muslims, and some of them are only here as visitors, and some of them are not religious at all, but their religion is what distinguishes them from the rest.

there are west bank palestinians, and jerusalem palestinians, and gaza palestinians, and palestinians in exile, and palestinians who identify as refugees, and palestinians who don't.

and everyone draws all or part of their identity from their land, or their lack of land, or the land that they perceive to be theirs. a refugee in a camp in bethlehem may never have seen his family's land in the galilee, but ask him where his home is, and he will tell you the name of his village, and promise you that his family will return home some day. a young israeli who has lived his entire life in an israeli town may try to understand the history of war and occupation in his country, but what is he to do if his identity is also so closely tied to his home, his land? if a person lives away from her original country for a long enough time, can her perception of homeland actually change, or is she permanently tied to the place where she was born?

at the same time, identity here is derived by arbitrary divisions and categorizations superficially designed to ensure security. jerusalem palestinians can't travel in the west bank, and west bank palestinians can't travel to jerusalem, nor can they travel in yellow-plated cars - cars driven by foreigners and israelis. and israelis can't travel in the west bank without a permit, and vice versa.

and there is fateh and there is hamas. and in gaza, there is not enough killing already, so these groups have started to attack one another. their political loyalties result from their oppression, their animosity toward one another is derived from the absolute desperation of their situation.

in the united states, our perception of identity may vary - gender, religion, ethnicity, sexuality, political party - but in comparison to the layers and layers of identities that people carry here, often wearing them on their sleeves, ours is a simple system of categorization. even in this system, potentially conflicted identities - a gay christian, a black republican - trouble us, confuse us, often make us angry. i'm slowly learning that here, conflict is such a permanent staple of life that it is necessarily wedded to one's identity.