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Sarah Tuttle-Singer
A Mermaid in Jerusalem

At the Jerusalem chapter of the ‘We Don’t Care’ club

I won't worry about what you wear or whether you take seconds. Nor will I explain what you can google, and won't accept anyway. But we'll dance and laugh and keep going
Mismatched socks. (iStock)
Mismatched socks. (iStock)

Shalom, and welcome to the Jerusalem chapter of the “We Don’t Care” Club.

Some Things We No Longer Care About:

1. The Parents’ WhatsApp group.
Someone’s kid forgot a water bottle. Someone else wants to make sure the snacks are organic. Someone’s starting a war over the class trip bus stop. Mazal tov to all — we’re muting the chat for eight years.

2. Being “likable.”
Not a TED Talk. Not a therapy session. Just vibes and boundaries.

3. Having to provide ignorant people with explanations.
“Actually, Zionism is…”
Nope. Google is available. We are not.

4. Making everyone feel comfortable.
Been there. Done that. Still got blamed.

5. Jew-hatred with a ring light.
Just because it’s trending doesn’t make it truth.

6. White savior 22-year-olds on TikTok discovering Palestine like it’s a music festival.
Welcome to the region. Now please sit down.

7. Calorie counts. And whether you’re judging us for having a second drink.
It’s wartime. Give people the damn bourekas.
And I’ll take a refill on that whiskey.

8. People who unfollow every time hostages are mentioned.
Mazal tov. You’re free to go.
Horrifically, they’re not. #LetThemGoNow

9. Comments that start with “As a Jew…” and end with blaming Jews for literally everything.
Revolutionary take, Josh.

10. Thinking perfect words will protect anyone or that there’s such a thing as “a good Jew.”
Some people see a Magen David and their brain goes offline. It’s not on us to fix that.

11. Explaining that Jewish trauma is real. Again.
We were busy crying over kids’ drawings in stairwells. Sorry we missed your DM.

12. What you wear or don’t wear on your head
Sheitel? Cool. Hijab? Cool. Tichel? Cool. Tarboosh? Very very cool. Streimel? Cool (except in the summer and then not so cool.) Nothing? Cool. From your roots to your cankles, we do not care how you dress.

13. The idea that anger makes us unreliable.
Actually, it makes us alive.

14. Being called “too much.”
Cool. So is Jerusalem. And it’s still here.

15. Apologizing for grieving, for dancing, for surviving, for staying, for hoping.
Nah. Not today.

16. Influencers
If you’re moaning about Greta and the selfie yacht and still manage to post a thirst trap with “Free Palestine” in winged eyeliner, we reserve the right to judge just a little.

17. Whether we look tired.
We are. Next question.

18. Trying to convince people we don’t hate Palestinians.
We don’t. Our hearts are broken. For the dead, for the hungry, for the children on both sides who wake up screaming. But if you can’t hold that truth alongside our grief, that’s your limitation — not ours.

19. Being asked to “condemn” things we didn’t do.
We’re lighting yahrzeit candles, writing eulogies, and praying for hostages. Stop tagging us in your rhetorical guilt.

20. Whether people think we’re “complicit” for existing.
We were born into this. We live here. We breathe here. We love here. That’s not complicity — that’s continuity.

21. Trying to win hearts and minds on Instagram.
This isn’t an audition. It’s real life. And some days we’re just trying to make it to pickup without crying in the checkout line.

22. What Europe thinks.
That ship sailed, sank, and was looted during the Inquisition and then burned during the Holocaust. We’re not waiting for validation from the people who built museums out of our ashes.

23. Whether our kid has matching socks.
Jerusalem is uphill both ways. Move on.

24. Outrage fatigue.
If you’re not tired, you’re not paying attention. If you are tired, come sit.

25. Whether it’s too soon to laugh.
It’s never too soon. It’s how we’ve survived everything.

About the Author
Sarah Tuttle-Singer is the author of Jerusalem Drawn and Quartered and the New Media Editor at Times of Israel. She was raised in Venice Beach, California on Yiddish lullabies and Civil Rights anthems, and she now lives in Jerusalem with her 3 kids where she climbs roofs, explores cisterns, opens secret doors, talks to strangers, and writes stories about people — especially taxi drivers. Sarah also speaks before audiences left, right, and center through the Jewish Speakers Bureau, asking them to wrestle with important questions while celebrating their willingness to do so. She loves whisky and tacos and chocolate chip cookies and old maps and foreign coins and discovering new ideas from different perspectives. Sarah is a work in progress.
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