The last frontier

Last time I was home was in May 2023, the last time I brought home to me was in December 2023 when my parents and younger brother came to spend Christmas and New Years with me and my husband. After doing money and vacation days calculations, my husband and I decided to venture to Peru this past June.

We chose El Al, after October 7, I needed to fly with an airline that would guarantee me I would make it back to Israel no matter what. Going home is hard for me, and not for the long endless flights and layovers, but for all the mixed feelings that start to flare up the moment I start my journey at the Ben Gurion Airport.

I go through the first security check, all good, typical questions. I check in my luggage, get my boarding passes, nothing special. Let’s now do the carry-on/bags control. This time I don’t only have to go through extra security, but I’m singled out in a corner while the rest goes on. When I asked why, a very angry security woman answered back that it is based on “security grounds”. It’s okay, I can do this, I have done it before.

My emotions are flaring up, I started crying. Security woman doesn’t seem to care. She is even more annoyed and I am just trying to understand when will I be enough for this country. I married an Israeli, I work for an Israeli company, my family and friends support the country, I sent my man to the army without complaints, I am here. I did not run away when things got messy, I stayed.

And yes, I know some Jewish people sometimes are also sent to the extra security at Ben Gurion, but being singled out every single time I fly without my husband is starting to be too much to handle. I have stories from each time, and it hurts to remember. Side note: If this was done to a Jewish person abroad, it would be all over the news. A bit of double standards but I let it pass because I am in love with an Israeli, and apparently, I am an obvious threat to national security.

Another girl finishes checking my stuff, I am clear to go. I grab my stuff, my dignity and my tears and go to passport control. Of course the machine doesn’t recognize my passport so I go to the little cabinet to the right and literally beg the woman there to “just let me go”. She looks at me confused but actually lets me go. I made it. I survived Ben Gurion security as a migrant woman in a partner visa process with an Israeli citizen (wanna know more? Check Mixed Neshamot in Facebook and Instagram).

A couple hours after I landed in Peru someone sent me a message on Twitter suggesting that I take this time to reconnect with my country and to be careful of not getting lost in another land’s drama because I know nothing about their history. I deleted the message and laughed. I have had the pleasure to share meals, events and more with Yehoshua Ben Arieh, may he rest in peace, a very known and important Israeli historian. I am part of his family, I have heard directly from him, and also read his papers, on how this country was built. Ain’t nobody gonna tell me I don’t know about Israel. I know what I got myself into it, and I am proud of this land and its people.

3 weeks passed by and it was time to come home. My husband joined me after the first week, despite a little issue with Iberia, his flight was good and we had 2 amazing weeks exploring Peru and Colombia. Time to go home, though.

I talked about my emotions at the beginning, and even though it hurts me to leave Peru, this time it was different. Did I want to stay in Peru? Sure thing, but was my heart aching for Israel? definitely 100% yes.

I didn’t notice until the typical interrogation by El Al security in the Madrid airport that part of me was holding my breath freaking out that we would run into a stupid antisemitic dude and my very Israeli-full-of-rage husband would react to it. We successfully pass security, we check in the luggage, they even take our carry-on for free.

We walk to our gate and there they are, my people, my Israelis. Loud, grumpy, with a billion backpacks and bags, mixing Hebrew, English, Spanish, Russian and more. My adopted family, the family that definitely did not want me but has made room for me. We start boarding and my heart starts beating differently, like going back to a normal pace, somehow I did not notice how crazy it was beating for the past 3 weeks.

I’m home. It’s a plane, we still have 5 hours to go, security, picking up the luggages and a long ride until we get to our cute apartment in Jerusalem, but I already feel safe, I feel home. ElAl really represents the last frontier. If flying abroad, once you cross their gates in another airport, you are exposed, vulnerable. But if flying to Israel, once you pass their security abroad, you are home again.

My feelings for Israel, I suspect, will always be mixed. A bit of crying and frustration, compensated by love and safety. I am on the final leg before applying for citizenship and I thought it would be interesting to share a weekly blog on how it feels to be a Mixed Neshamot in a country that was not built for us but for the ones we love and we gave up everything for. Should I?