Should I stay or should I go?

Last week I was lying in bed next to my husband talking about life. We were gossiping about work, our friends, the usual pillow talk. Later on we hit the mall to get some stuff for the house. When we were getting ready to go back home a friend texted me that Iran was getting ready to answer us back regarding the successful hit Israel did on their leaders a few days ago.

One would usually run home and hide in the safe room but we decided to drive to Ein Karem and get ourselves a smoothie. Nothing says “I am done with this” more than a Golda shake of limoncello and mango (this is not a paid advertisement, I just really love those flavors). We kept getting more “I am worried” texts from friends so we decided to really go home this time.

Ever since October 7th, I have been questioned by many friends and family members about my decision to stay in Israel. When my husband was in Miluim I think I considered that option for a minute, but more about leaving, it was about having my family with me. Staying alone in an apartment, unable to reach your partner and having to search for news in good English/Spanish was taking a toll on me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My husband’s family is always there for me. But the mixed feelings are the real struggle. With my Israelis friends and family I can relate on the day-to-day life under war, the tips on running to safety and such on. But with my Peruvian family and friends I can speak without the language barrier, plus it gives me the opportunity to explain to them firsthand what is really going on in this part of the world and don’t let the media fool them.

This weekend got me thinking about the idea of leaving the country while we are under war. It has been weeks since the song by The Clash has been on repeat in my mind. Should I stay or should I go? Am I running away from my troubles or staying to face them? The song itself has the answers.

If you say that you are mine
I’ll be here till the end of time

Almost 4 years ago, in the middle of a pandemic, my husband fought with my embassy and his minister of foreign affairs to be able to cross the ocean and marry me. He proved to me and everyone else that when there is a will there’s a way. Peru closed its borders but somehow this Israeli lion sneaked in through the cracks and vowed his life to mine forever.
I know he is mine, and he knows I am his. We both knew the best, and now the safest, place to start our lives together was Israel. As long as he is mine, I will be here. Standing next to him, his family, his people. As long as he is mine, I will deepen and strengthen my roots on this precious and complex land.

If I go there will be trouble
And if I stay it will be double

Moving back to Peru, or relocating to a third country would, honestly, mean trouble for both of us. Papers and permits for Killa, our beloved dog – opening big parenthesis – moving abroad does not give anyone the right to abandon their pets – closing big parenthesis. Both becoming migrants and all the bureaucracy behind it. Stopping my process in Israel, after all the suffering. Finding new jobs. Finding a place to live. Finding a place to live that doesn’t target Jewish people. The troubles list goes on and on.

And yes, staying also gives us both troubles. Uncertainty about the future. Having to stop some plans. Facing antisemitic comments and actions by old (and ex) friends and family members. Isolating our lives and plans from the big picture (aka the world itself). My constant fear is that he will be drafted again. It is double the trouble because we keep facing the challenges of building an intercultural marriage with the added component of an ongoing war that wants both of us out of the picture. Doesn’t the song perfectly summarize that I should stay? was it clear for you, too?

This weekend we relocated some of our canned food back to the mamad. We forgot to buy bottled water so he filled out some bottles we had, just in case. Up to finishing this article, Iran has kept his attacks under their sleeves. Theories that maybe they will attack during Tu B’av are growing stronger.

How could I think of leaving? I found the human with whom I want to spend the rest of my life with and I found the right tribe (aka Mixed Neshamot) to be happy for me that I was able to open a bank account all by myself. A task obvious and natural for a local but a proper challenge for a migrant looking to establish themselves in the country.

How could I live somewhere else knowing my people are here, in Israel? How could I pretend to, again, uproot myself and find new fertile land to let me keep growing as a woman? Who would I share memes and tears about the war with? Who would I sing along עם ישראל חי while feeling my blood pumping stronger than usual because if we keep swimming upwards, we can keep making history?

This is the thing about the Israeli coping mechanism, it is based on trauma and history. You can’t take them down. God did choose them for a reason. It’s built up in their DNA. You can throw all the threats you want at them, they’ll panic for a minute, chin up and go to the shuk to get veggies for the weekend or like me and my friends, go paint pottery confident that we will be here in 2 weeks to pick them up.

You can’t take us down. You can’t push us out of this land.