
Neta Golan being apprehended by Israeli soldiers during a protest by Israeli activists against the siege on Gaza at the Israeli side of the fence, December 2018
Neta Golan writes in +972:
On February 21, I walked from my home in the Old City of Nablus in the occupied West Bank to a shop downtown, to fax a letter to the Ashdod Magistrate’s Court. I had been summoned there after being arrested in January 2020 during a protest against the siege of Gaza. In my letter, I announced that I had no intention of appearing at the hearing, out of solidarity with Palestinian administrative detainees who have been on strike since Jan. 1, and are boycotting the military court system to protest the abusive practice of administrative detention.
The shop owner, who had no idea about the contents of the letter, refused to take my money. Because I have been living in Palestinian communities for 22 years, I have almost gotten used to such everyday gestures of courtesy and generosity. They are but one expression of an invisible safety net that I have come to know and depend on. Every society has its problems, but I feel incredibly fortunate to have the honor of living with Palestinians.
But it was not always so. Growing up in Tel Aviv in a family of Ashkenazi Jews, the narrative I heard was that we Israelis were morally superior to “the Arabs.” My father would tell us to watch our bags and pockets whenever we would enter a Palestinian area. My grandmother would warn us that “an Arab will hug you with one hand and stab you in the back with another,” and tell us around the dinner table that “a good Arab is a dead Arab.”