She Will Never Be a Mother

Today I was embracing my recently acquired status of “news junkie” and refreshing my Facebook newsfeed, The Jerusalem Post, YNet, and The Times of Israel for any new information in regards to the horrifically tragic recent “wave of terror.”

As I was scrolling down my refreshed newsfeed page, I saw a video a Facebook friend of mine posted and thinking I have seen it all, I ignored the “viewer discretion is advised” and watched the video.

The video was filmed two days ago immediately following the devastating stabbing of a teenager and young man by two young Palestinian teenager terrorists in Pisgat Ze’ev and depicts one of the terrorists, the 13-year-old, lying on the floor surrounded in blood and heaving in pain while attempting, yet failing to stand up. As the clip progresses, it shows the Israeli police trying to remove all bystanders as an ambulance approaches to take the young terrorist to the hospital. (And for all of you following completely absurd and false news outlets, the blood was from an Israeli civillian who used his car to NEUTRALIZE the terrorist while he was on his stabbing spree.)

After watching this disturbing video, I suddenly realized it is not just the teenage terrorist I was fuming at, but also his “mother”. And yes, I put “mother” in prentices because this creature does not even deserve such a beautiful and honorary title.

What kind of household does this “mother” run that her young son along with his cousin who are both meant to be sitting in a classroom, but are instead running wildly down the streets of Pisgat Ze’ev and stabbing anyone in sight?

He must have a “mother” like this:

From the moment her children are born she kisses them, praying that her kisses are limited. Praying that at a mere age her children will become martyrs. Praying she will be fortunate enough to attend her newborn child’s funeral.

She steals away their innocence while instilling within them words such as, “hate”, “Jihad”, “occupation”, “kill”, depriving them of a carefree and colorful childhood every child deserves.

For her children’s first birthdays, she carefully wraps the plastic knife and the toy gun in vibrant “happy birthday” wrapping paper, anticipating the day they will actualize the message behind these gifts and buy themselves butcher knives and pocket guns.

And when her children come home from school, she props them up in front of the T.V. and allows them to watch shows encouraging and praising any and every form of murder against the “big bad evil Jew”.

She willingly drives her children to the nearby terrorist training camp and with a sparkle in her eyes, she picks them up after a long day, marveling at all the combative skills and tactics they have learned.

She praises her children when she reads their school essays where they state that they hope to fight in order to free Palestine. Her favorite line is, “my mother told me not to give up until I kill as many Israeli civillians and militants as I can.”

She proudly ties her children’s keffiyah around their determined faces, places a rock in their pulsating hands and pleads with them to try and kill at least five Israelis before coming home for dinner.

And when she finally receives the long awaited call that her young teenage son is lying on the streets of Pisgat Ze’ev with blood oozing out of his body and crying in complete agony after stabbing innocent Israelis and then being neutralized, she thanks Allah that he has allowed her to be a successful “mother”.

She will never be a mother, rather an inciter.

A rabble-rouser.

A murderer.

Who bears the blood of her children and the Israeli civilians they have butchered on her hands.

About the Author
Lottie Kestenbaum was born to British parents and grew up in New Jersey. To add to the identity crisis, Lottie made aliyah in August 2012. Hello tri-citizenship! She is currently studying Jewish History and English Literature at Bar Ilan University. Lottie shares more of her aliyah adventures & ongoing thoughts on her blog, Newest Sabra on the Block.