Conjunction

I support Israel, but… loving Israel today is like embracing a wounded body, where each scar tells a story of pain but also survival. It’s not an easy choice; it’s not blind support; it’s a love that comes with the weight of understanding that light and darkness coexist on the same streets, in the same homes, and in the same eyes.

The country is at war, but the war is not everywhere. A silence echoes in Tel Aviv, where the beaches still welcome bathers. Still, the sound of the waves is often interrupted by a bitter reminder that other lives are being shattered just a few kilometers away. It’s this duality that torments. Living here is a constant paradox—where life continues with an almost defiant intensity. Still, the shadow of what’s happening in Gaza, in the north, and along all the borders never lets us forget that peace is an unattainable luxury for many.

I support Israel, but every siren that rings out reminds us that security is fragile. We don’t live under constant explosions, but we live with the constant awareness that the next attack could be just a second away. The country’s borders are like open wounds that never heal, always ready to bleed again. The north is tense, with recent drone attacks from Hezbollah heightening the collective anxiety. Even when there’s no imminent attack, the air is heavy with the expectation that it will come.

And in the midst of all this, we try to love. We try to live. We try to build families, raise children, and maintain friendships. But how do you love entirely in a place where fear is a constant guest at every meal and celebration? Marriages here are like promises made under the weight of an impending storm—promises to love despite fear, care despite uncertainty, and resist even when everything seems lost.

Loving Israel today is an act of resistance. It’s not a simple love; it’s not a romantic love; it’s a love that twists under the weight of reality but refuses to give in. It’s a love that questions, challenges, and demands more humanity, compassion, and justice because supporting Israel is also a responsibility to fight for a future where love isn’t an act of survival but peace.

I support Israel, but I support it with open eyes, a heavy heart, and the stubborn hope that this country, which has already overcome so much, can finally find a way to heal its wounds, both internal and external. And maybe, just maybe, we can finally love without fear, pain, or the constant shadow of war on our shoulders. In the end, loving Israel is loving the possibility of a different tomorrow, where peace is not a distant dream but a tangible, lived, and achieved reality.