Deaf, but not dumb

I used to sing.

I used to compose melodies, compose songs. On occasion, I would even perform.

I used to be that girl in the class whose friends would ask her to sing to them one song after another during recess. I was that girl who when leading the class in the morning prayers all would remain silent just so they could hear my voice. That girl whose pals would prod on to sing with the band at their sweet sixteens.

And I was that young woman who pranced through The Village with confidence in the New York City nights, striking up a tune with random bands that were jamming it up and trying to beat out a career. I was one with the music. It was in my head, in my heart and in my stride. So I fluttered from one mock stage to another, singing Folk, Country and Rock & Roll just for the fun of it.

It was second nature to me, the pulse of the various lilts, timbre, tempo and mood of the music that filled my willing ears, and I imitated it all, the sound, from explosive to the temperate, the distinctions and the nuances belonging to each genre, and after a few rewarding shots of Tequila Sunrise, laughing about it all with my friends.

And then, I became deaf.

And I was in denial.

I refused to believe that I could be touched by what was inherent in my family line.

But, I was.

I refused to believe that the effects of hearing loss would change my world.

But, it did.

I refused to give in to reality. I rationalized, adjusted, excused and explained away.

I concentrated on reading lips, matched my responses to people’s facial expressions, smiled when I had no other recourse and either ignored or shrugged it off when some people assumed I was aloof to what they were saying.

I fooled myself into believing that I could fool everyone else. One year, I even joined a theater production company securing a major part, a singing role. My song opened up the show. It was a heavy metal number…I got away with it. That time. Until I asked “what?” just a tad too often. Until I couldn’t pretend to hear someone calling out my name from a few steps behind me. Until I couldn’t recognize cues. Until I could no longer hear the music as more than just background static. Until I could deny the facts no more.

Yeah. I always prided myself on being able to deal with the real. But this was one facet of my life that was too hard to accept. My friends kept diaries or journals. I wrote songs. Some friends sought therapy for one thing or another. I sang.

But I don’t sing anymore. To deny reality is futile and at some point, one needs to wake-up. I can no longer deceive myself or others. Because ultimately you know, deep down, no matter how much you want it to be otherwise,

It is what it is.

So, yes. I’m deaf, but not dumb and denial for me will never be any part of the equation.

Much like today in our endless desire for peace and where many of us cling to the illusion of a peace deal with enemies who do not want peace or any form of coexistence. Today, where too many of us choose denial, and where something other than common sense is commandeering their sensibilities.

C’mon, did you really think I wasn’t going to get to this?

We are now in a time where precedents are no longer considered credible, as if historical patterns are no longer reliable guides, and the highly likely, the probable, the expected, and the imminent is dangerously and hastily dismissed.

It’s come to the point where I can do nothing more than laugh at the foolishness of those who insist on analyzing prevailing circumstances while deceiving the mind and the senses, exploring fabricated variables, examining non-existent possibilities, and probing solutions to a conflict where solutions simply do not exist.

Sadly, in the current scenario where PA’s Mahmoud Abbas told American negotiators that he would not accept an “end of conflict” clause in any deal, those in denial remain in denial.

Abbas’s statement, however, simply capped what we already know.

It’s really quite simple my delusional friends.

Yes, I’m talking to you — those who proudly consider themselves leftists, and those who fancy themselves pragmatists. And those, especially those who believe they can thwart age-old hatred with what they mistakenly call logic, when in effect it is nothing more than obstinate western arrogance.

The hatred of Jews is deeply rooted in the Moslem world. It didn’t just start 47 years ago, or 100 years ago. All your wishful thinking will not change that. All your analytical skills will not rationalize it away. All the quasi variables you summon up to support your theses are useless when the name of the game we are dealing with is pure, unadulterated hatred reinforced by their Koran and preserved within their culture.

If you cannot comprehend that it is nothing more and nothing less than that, you are only fooling yourselves. It’s called, denial. You’re living it, breathing it, and if you don’t wake-up, you will die from it.

If your enemy does not seek peace, proving this consistently by actions more than by words alone, you have no partner for peace.

By the Arabs refusing time and again peace deals that would have indeed given them yet another state that included control over Judea and Samaria, and by indoctrinating their young to hate and kill the Jew “spawned from apes and pigs,” by insisting that setting free murderers be a precondition for negotiations, by idolizing those same murderers of our children and our babies as heroes, by claiming that the entire State of Israel belongs to them, by systematically destroying ancient Jewish artifacts from the Temple Mount and revising historical facts, negating any Jewish connection to our ancient land, and fostering a belief system to blot out our very existence, by making all lands in which they reside “Jew-free” necessitating the placement of signs in these areas that warn Jews not to enter under threat of death, and by adhering to strategies and dogma that in no uncertain terms would render the downfall of Israel, you have no partner for peace.

They want us dead. Period.

It’s in their actions that you refuse to see. It’s in their speech that you refuse to hear.

It is what it is. And you are in denial.

I may be deaf. But I’m not dumb.

About the Author
Author of THE GILBOA IRIS (Gefen Publishing House) and SETTLING FOR MORE: FROM JERSEY TO JUDEA (Urim Publications).
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