š£ The Courage to Speak Out
Iād be a fraud if, I didnāt step in and share the discomfort Iām experiencing. For some, it will be uncomfortable. So feel free to leave.
šš» I took a big step last week and talked about something that made me uncomfortable. It felt greatālike, dance-around-your-living-room-in-your-underwear great. It was liberating to speak up. I even wrote a note about how much I love this Substack space as a place to be open and genuine.
But thereās still a massive elephant in the room. You might not be able to see it, but it sure is trumpeting loud and clear at me.
You see, as Iām sure you know, as artists, everything we see, hear, and experience affects our work and output.
Our cauldron of taste and sensibility comprises many things, from where our ancestors were born to what we ate for dinner today.
So, Iād be a fraud if, while I share the pretty pictures, creative exercises, the mental health woes, the ups and downs of life in Brighton with my family, I didnāt step in and share the discomfort Iām experiencing in other areas.
But for some of you, it will be uncomfortable. So feel free to leave here.
š© Letās get real: the world feels like itās gone to shit
And Iām deeply disturbed.
I canāt watch the news anymore and will avoid politics, especially on social media. I readily unfollow anyone who shares their political view from the comfort of their armchair with an AI-generated image because itās trendy.
I see people shout for freedom and express the horror experienced by one group while simultaneously demanding the destruction of another. Itās like watching a bizarre circus where everyone has forgotten the point of the show.
Unlike my drawings, a personās point of view and perspective is never black and white. There is nuance in everything.
But, like the details in my drawings, you'll discover many shades of grey if you look deeper into every situation.
With this in mind, witnessing the outrage and hate on our streets and University campuses, Iāve asked myself these past weeks:
When did empathy become a one-way street?
Have we buried our compassion alongside our heads in the proverbial sand?
šŖš» āCourage, the most important virtueā
This week, I listened to Bari Weiss's TED talk āCourage, the most important virtue,ā which inspired this post. Hereās why.
is the creator of The Free Press, a media company ābuilt on the ideals that once were the bedrock of great journalism: honesty, doggedness, and fierce independence.āShe was once considered a liberal, but when she appeared on the ticket for TED Vancouver, there were calls to cancel her for giving a talk aboutāwait for itāfreedom of speech. Because her ideas donāt fit the current narrative of the apparent āloud minority/majorityā? (Who knows š¤·āāļø)
In her talk, Bari goes some way in eloquently describing what the less articulate, like myself, feel. Because until now, I havenāt dared to speak up out of fear of having the āwrongā opinion according to - well, Iām not sure?
And so, to the crux of the matter.
A Brief Autobiography
I have a complicated history as a descendant of Jews who were driven out of pogroms in Russia and Poland before the First World War. I suppose Iām a āwatered-downā version. Iām not Jewish because I donāt have a Jewish mother. Yet, at school, my brother and I would get the usual jokes about being tight, money-grabbing Jews and having big noses. We didnāt quite fit.
Along with this confusion around identity, I took my 18-year-old self to Israel and volunteered on a Kibbutz. I felt an affinity towards Israel and the plight of the Jews after the devastation of the Holocaust. I wanted to understand my ancestry. I wanted to know why, despite the horror of the Second World War, in 1940s London, my father experienced antisemitism at the hands of his peers and teachers - one teacher even told his mother, āWe donāt want dirty y*ds in this school.ā He was 6 years old.
I spent around two years in Israel, including time in Northern Israel and Tel Aviv. I met my son's father, a British Jew who had made aliyah and emigrated to Israel, on the Kibbutz. (We returned to live in the UK, and a long story ensued between now and then between us, which is irrelevant to this particular story!).
My time in Israel was filled with all kinds of emotions. Itās a unique, diverse, cosmopolitan, beautiful, and misunderstood country. Its people include Jews, Muslims, Christians and Druze. Like Bari Weiss, Iām a supporter of Israel but a critic of its government and its politics.
As a young woman, my experience there and with my now ex-husband's family confused me all the more. Marrying into even a secular Jewish family, I experienced rejection by some of the people I naively thought I would have an affinity withāparticularly some of the older relatives because I didnāt have the right mother.
I felt connected yet apart. And still puzzled.
At the time, I took this as rejection. But now, with a bit of mileage and a lot of reflection, I see there was a lot of defence and protection in those experiences, too. I've grown older and wiser (well, older at least š), and I've realised Iām so much more than that initial search to understand my identity.
Iām more than a bloodline. Iām a glorious cocktail of values, emotions, and experiences that make me a wonderfully unique human being. And guess what? I concluded I value ALL humans, regardless of ethnicity, colour, or background.
However, Iāve learnt over the years, especially in the past few months, that not all humans share this value.
Confronting the Bias
During my time in Israel, I saw first-hand the ignorance and one-sidedness of the Westās mainstream media.
I remember waking up one early morning to the sound of a loudspeaker from an army van, being told in Hebrew to head to the bomb shelters/safe rooms as Hezbollah terrorists threw rockets over the border from Lebanon into Northern Israel - a common occurrence.
I also remember the burnt-out buses and debris from suicide bombers on the side of the road as we took regular trips to Tel Aviv. Soldiers, not much older than me at the time, casually walked around with weaponsāsecurity guards on every corner, bus station and shopping mall. Attacks and the threat of violence were part of everyday life in Israel.
Yet reports of attacks by terrorists on Israelis were and still are as rare as rocking horse shit. I learnt very quickly that Israel would always be on the back foot, simultaneously attacked, both physically and morally.
Seeking Balanced Compassion
Iām not here to educate or argue or make a political point. While my ancestry and experience are complex, my mindfulness practice has taught me the importance of compassion.
This is my message.
Something awakened in me in the days following October 7th, and war broke out once more. People around me who were proponents of peace, quickly called for the saving of one side yet were silent to the pain of the other.
Particularly as a woman, this bias has been starkly epitomised by the #MeTooUnlessUreAJew movement and the silence from the UN, the international community, and so-called feminists around the world. Their silence in the face of the atrocities on October 7th is deafening.
I only ask, that while we bear witness to the pain on the streets of Gaza, we also recognise the terror experienced by the victims of October 7th and the continued threat to the existence of Israel. While we acknowledge and address the pain of one group, let's also recognise the deep-seated terror and psychological damage experienced by the other.
There is no arguing with the pain on either side here. Compassion must be inclusive, acknowledging the suffering of all affected.
Celebrating Courage and Open Dialogue
Alright, back to Bariās brilliant talk. This brave, courageous woman is my hero this week. My mantra recently has been āCourage over Confidence.ā And believe me, itās been put to the test.
Itās nine months to the day today since October 7th. Bari reminded me that for the reasons Iāve described and many more, I canāt stand back and be silent out of fear of being considered āon the wrong sideā. This isn't about sides; this is about our humanity and freedom of expression.
The rise in antisemitism on the streets of the UK, Europe and the US, the demonisation of a people due to a conflict on a land thousands of miles away, in a region that most do not understand and will rarely, if ever, set foot in, deeply disturbs me. What bothers me more is the silence. I canāt be one of the silent. I have to be courageous and speak up.
I hope you will listen to the talk. At the end, Bari has an impromptu chat with the head of TED, Chris Anderson. Despite the cancel brigade trying to shut her down for daring to have an opinion, he stood up to her detractors and gave her the stage anyway.
And she owned it. She spoke with intelligence and wisdom and reminded us of the importance of open dialogue.
Lastly, and if youāre still here, I want to share this interview with another brilliant woman, Lucy Aharish. Lucy is one of the most prominent television broadcasters in Israel and is the first Arab Muslim news presenter on mainstream, Hebrew-language Israeli television.
āAn Arab. A proud Israeli. A Muslim married to a Jew. In short, Lucy Aharish is an iconoclast.ā
All of these conversations I share are about protecting our liberty, everything we cherish and valuing ALL human life, regardless of religion, policy, or politics.
We are so very fortunate to live in our little bubbles here in the West. Please donāt take it for granted.
Stay open. Stay creative
š¬ And Finallyā¦A Quote to Live By
āThe most important thing in life is to dare. The most complicated thing in life is to be afraid. The smartest thing in the world is to try to be a moral person.ā
~ Shimon Peres, Israeli politician and Nobel Peace Prize winner.
In 1993, in his role as Israeli foreign minister, Peres helped negotiate a peace accord with Yasser Arafat, chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), for which they, along with Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, were jointly awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace in 1994.
Well done for speaking out . I have only been on Substack a short period as I donāt do the standard social media circus . I donāt watch news or politics as I find we only see snippets and never the true stories that play on behind the scenes. I donāt really get the whole racism thing as I live by my values of accepting everybody as one regardless of the colour of their skin or religion . Carry on following your inner voice and being true to yourself . Thankyou for helping me understand a bit of the madness in a human way .
Amazing well done.
I do not understand all the hate in the world
I have spoken my opinion but find it harder and harder. Because of the response I may get.
I wish I was more articulate