To Whom It May Concern: I Surrender

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Helping me and my family?” 

“Because you’re my neighbors in the world,” I replied. 

But that wasn’t the whole truth.

I had just liquidated what was left of my crypto from the 2022 bull run and sent it all to help my friend in Gaza. 

But today, as the Greta Thunberg debacle unfolds, I can actually see myself in her smug, arrogant, yet kind-natured face. Witnessing her ‘kidnapping’ and humiliating deportation, the end result of fetishizing Palestinian suffering became glaringly obvious. The painful self-awareness was the motivation I needed to begin to close this chapter of self-righteous indulgence in the name of activism and solidarity. 

Like Greta, I’ve always been the type of passionate, privileged white woman who usually gets my way. I’ll pull over to break up a fight or pick up a stray. Nothing has ever seemed out of reach for me and I’ve always been driven to make a difference. 

When I came out as queer, I was adopted into a tight-knit friend-group in the LGBTQ community who changed my life. They were my chosen family through thick in thin – or so I thought, until October 7th. Within weeks, I lost one of my closest friends. Then I was discharged from therapy over my ‘Zionist-aligned views.’

Before there was even a ground invasion, my so-called community had devolved into a bigoted, hate-fueled lobby unwittingly activated by Iran. 

In response and reaction, I became obsessed in turn. I blew money I didn’t have on a trip to bear witness. I photographed kibbutz K’far Aza and know more about the conflict than I have any business understanding. I walked the Nova site and met with hostage families. Back in the States, I patted myself on the back for giving a talk on the growing problem of antisemitism in the queer community called ‘An Inconvenient Zionist.’ 

Most notably, I befriended a man in Gaza who is opposed to Hamas. The evolving importance of our friendship eclipsed hobbies, work, chores, friends and family. He was the brightest part of some of the darkest days of my depression. And I like to think I was a good distraction for him as well. 

Of all the humans in the world I could take an interest in, I chose a pen pal on the other side of the world I’ll probably never be able to meet. But why him? A nagging voice questioned why I hadn’t taken such a keen interest in the suffering of anyone else in the world. It felt unbalanced, but I justified it, while criticizing others in the west who were equally obsessed. I became a self-declared subject matter expert on the conflict in the Middle East.   

Meanwhile, in the real world, I had no idea how my neighbors were doing and I’m unable to make ends meet, too busy fighting with everyone over a war that affects none of us. 

I wanted my moral clarity preserved in this historical moment. It was important that I distinguish myself from my misguided peers on the left, and that I stood by my Jewish friends extra hard. I can definitively say I’ve accomplished that. I know where I stand, but have nothing left to prove. 

I’m declaring: enough. I can’t save the world. I’ve tried everything in my power to save just my one friend in Gaza and I can’t even do that. The good news is, I’m clear he isn’t my responsibility. He became a proxy for proving a point to the pro-pally people in my life. And that’s not fair to anyone.

I will continue to move forward on our creative endeavors. But any work I do will come from a place of genuine love for my friend trapped in Gaza, rather than the impulse to be right and have the last word.  

We’ve decided the final scene will be shot when we can meet safely in person for coffee. That could be later this year, it could be in 10 years. But my motivation to tell his unique story is no longer fueled by my insecure inner child, desperately trying to manipulate you into loving her. 

The director asked me to complete the sentence: “At the end of this film, the audience will…” and I came up with something that sounded good— but thanks to the ridiculously shameless flotilla publicity stunt, I can see I was driven by a secret agenda: that the haters would see for themselves how wrong they were and they can etch “Boy, did she ever show them!” on my headstone. 

Hamas may be handicapped, but unfortunately, they were able to infect the hearts and minds of millions with hatred and there’s no film I can make fast enough to undo that. The more I try, the worse it seems to get. Before the ground invasion even began, Israel had lost on the digital battlefield, and to this day continues to be under existential threat while suffering from deep civil fractures within the state itself. It makes me sad, but I need to detach and focus on my own life working now.

And to all the anti-Zionist Israel haters: I surrender. I hope we can agree to disagree and stop with the moral theater. But I won’t be feeding the social media algorithms any longer in the name of activism that leaves me depleted. Effective immediately, I’m resigning from a role that no one asked for me to sign up for, while there’s a couple weeks of spring left. And there are still some butterflies in my garden.