Israel: My Jewish Heritage Does Not Condone Your Genocide
<p>A charismatic server, white linens, bubbles of balsamic in dishes of yellow green olive oil, and wine. We are nestled in a low lit Italian restaurant in the Marina District of San Francisco. I don’t feel comfortable here because they gave me food poisoning a decade ago, but it wasn’t my dinner selection. Several generations of family and my partner are sharing a meal. My partner is meeting some of my relatives for the first time. We range from toddler to septuagenarian, Californians and Texans, healthcare workers, a spiritual leader, a tech salesperson, and students. My partner is the only gentile. As I poke at the food with trepidation, the conversation of the table shifts to travel. One of my relatives shares the itinerary from a recent trip to Israel. They ate, saw holy sites, visited a farm, and a bullet factory. — It takes me a moment, then another, to process. The first thing I ask is whether taking a toddler to a bullet factory is safe. The relative says yes, they even gave the toddler bullet parts to play with and take home as a souvenir. The rest of dinner passes in a haze…</p>
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