The Third, Unseen War

I didn’t go to Ulpan on Monday. Which is sad. Because I’d been looking forward to it. It wasn’t because class was cancelled, yet again. But in its own roundabout may, by absence was war related.

I keep saying that the world is upside down. But really, it’s worse than that. It’s more like the earth has lost any semblance of an axis and is ignoring the laws of physics as it shakes and spins.

I also keep saying that we’ve spent forty-seven days living through and fighting two wars. The war with Hamas, of course, and the war with with the horrifying rise in anti-Semitism.

In the days following October 7th, some of us met at El HaLev to take out our anger, fear, and frustration on wooden boards.

But the reality is, there’s a third war. And that war is with trauma, both past and present.

I know that seems obvious. But I’ll tell you how I know it’s true.

I didn’t go to Ulpan on Monday. Which is sad. Because I’d been looking forward to it.

Last week, I wrote about how much I’ve been sleeping.

Maybe I shouldn’t have written that. Because on Sunday night, I did not sleep. It wasn’t insomnia, exactly. It was more that I felt too sick to sleep.

This morning, I went to turn on the hot water for the shower and went back to bed while I waited for it to warm up.

When I started to get up again after about fifteen minutes, I just couldn’t. I can usually force myself to do what I need to do.

But.

So after a lot of struggle and debate, I finally gave up and sent a text to our class WhatsApp group, asking if somebody could send me the homework.

I didn’t have fever. I wasn’t coughing or sneezing. Whatever was going on was brand new.

I realized, hours later, after I’d managed to pull myself together for a meeting, that what I was feeling could only be described as beaten down.

I have made it through every single trauma I have ever faced, pretty much in one piece. Or at least together enough to slowly but surely put the pieces of myself back together. And I have worked myself to the bone to heal and build a fulfilling life.

Which is why I am so incredibly disconcerted that what finally did me in was Samantha Pearson, the head of a Canadian campus sexual assault center, and the letter she signed denying the mass rape that took place on October 7th.

I know she was fired. Good. But the damage has been done.

The actions of Samatha Pearson and everyone else who signed that hateful letter are beyond the pale. Their heinous and sickening words are a disgrace to the souls who lost their lives in the attack.

Every single day for the past forty-seven days, Jewish survivors of sexual assault and violence, myself included, have had to relive the trauma of not being believed. Or worse, being believed but having our trauma justified.

Since 2016, these three concepts have been at the core of my career in the violence prevention education field, and, more importantly, the core of my beliefs:

“We all have a right to tell our stories, and get the support we deserve, without judgement or blame.”

“The fault always lies with the perpetrator. No matter what.”

“The percentage of women who lie about being sexually assaulted is miniscule. Almost non-existent. Which is one of the many reasons we all need to #BelieveSurvivors.”

Every single day for the past forty-seven days, the unspoken and unwritten “Unless You’re A Jew” attached to each of those concepts has been ringing in our ears.

On Sunday, the noise got so loud it caused physical damage and left me dysfunctional Monday morning.

The fifth principle of empowerment self-defense is “TELL.” Though I believe in its importance deeply, for me, it is by far the hardest of the five. Though as you can see from this post, I’ve been working on that.

That said, I don’t believe that survivors should have the responsibility of telling their stories if they aren’t able to or choose not to.

I am lucky to be able to have a choice, and I am choosing to tell.

When the war started, I got rid of my Facebook privacy settings both literally and figuratively.

I am Jewish. I am Israeli. I am a woman. I am a survivor. Right now, more than anything, I need the world to see me as a human being.

If that means showing my flaws (I didn’t post a photo of an upside down cereal box for nothing) and my painful past, so be it.

I am a survivor of sexual violence. And unlike so many of the women who were raped and murdered in the most brutal of ways on October 7th, I am still alive and in possession of the power of my voice.

I can’t and I won’t speak for those who did not survive October 7th. But I am willing and able to use my voice to speak in their honor, and I will take that privilege seriously.

This morning, I was warmly welcomed back to Ulpan, with all of my homework done.

If I’d stayed home and slept, that would have been okay, too. I agree with Audre Lorde that self-preservation is an act of political warfare.

One step at a time.

Strength doesn’t have an on/off switch. We are always strong. We are never broken.

To my fellow survivors, Jewish and otherwise, I want you to know that I see you. I hear you. I believe you.

Healing is messy, and it is definitely not linear.

We’re so often told that we are not alone. But right now, I know it feels like we are.

I promise you that we are not. We may not have the support of much of the world. But we have each other.

Together, we’ll get through this.

If you are in need of support, I urge you to reach out to The Association of Rape Crisis Centers in Israel.