“Zionist” isn’t a dirty word.

Being raised Catholic in South Texas means that Israel was never on my radar. My family didn’t, and honestly still doesn’t, have any strong opinions or stakes in the questions of the Middle East. Even when I began studying Judaism in high school, Israel still never really crossed my mind. It wasn’t until I was in college at a liberal arts school, that has the goal of getting students to “think globally” in the mission statement, that I began to learn about Israel. Most of my classes revolved around ancient Israel and it wasn’t until  I became interesting in visiting Israel that I pushed myself to learn about the modern state of Israel and the Middle East.

Even though I knew little to nothing about modern Israel, the negative side of the State was the majority of the information I learned. I quickly learned numerous reasons for boycotts and sanctions against Israel. With these thoughts in the background, which are voices I still hear on a fairly regular basis, I felt supporting Israel meant being judged as someone who was against human rights, uneducated and noncritical.

“Zionist” became a dirty word. It was a word associated with the extreme political right, and a word I dreaded being associated with. I distinctly remember a conversation during my first trip to Israel, studying abroad in the Summer of 2011, where I became apologetic for thinking about moving to Israel for school or work in the future. I had to explain that I was drawn to the land, culture and history but NOT a Zionist. I didn’t want to be mistaken for having the ideals  traditionally, and negatively, associated with Zionist ideals. I knew I wanted to dwell in the Land, but didn’t want to keep others from also making this Land there home. I wanted to live freely as a Jew in Israel, but not if that meant others couldn’t live freely in the same Israel. I wanted to gain every opportunity the Land had for me, the hopes and dreams of the past 4,000 years, but never at the expense of another human being.

These are all things I still want, and even though there are caveats to  each, I have realized that this doesn’t mean I am not a Zionist. Zionism doesn’t have to been colonialist or racist. It doesn’t have to deny other people rights or support dispossession. At it’s best, Zionism does none of these things and still promotes a Jewish (Democratic) State in the Land that has become defined as Israel.

This doesn’t mean I can’t be critical. It doesn’t mean I can’t hold the same values I did before, i.e. justice, equality. It does mean that I encourage a Jewish State that at it best holds true to the Jewish value of dignity of the human person.

I am reaching a stage where I am not ashamed to say, “My name is Elisheva, and I am a Zionist.”

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U.S. Election 2012- Hope for Minorities, Like Me

This morning, I woke up and watched the final moments preceding the announcement of the elected U.S. president. Just a few minutes into watching, the magic number of 270 electoral votes was hit. Even though Romney had not yet conceded, I knew that Barack Obama was going to continue to be my president.

I am one of the most apolitical people I know. I would not call it apathy, but I am the first to acknowledge that I am not educated enough on any political issues. I can not even believe I am writing a reflection on anything related to the presidential election right now. Despite my limited attention to politics, I could not help but think of a true shift in the political paradigm of the United States in the days leading up to the election.

For the first time in U.S. history, there was no White Anglo-Saxon Protestant candidate.  And in the days leading up to today, I knew that regardless of the outcome I was excited for this shift. I am not saying that White Protestants can not make good candidates, but the realization that the country was for the first time voting outside of this demographic that has been the vast majority of presidents was thrilling.

Not as a Democrat, not as a Republican but as a young, Jewish, Hispanic, female U.S. citizen, this gave me hope. No matter which way you cut it, I am a minority (even if the female population is technically the majority statistically). The fact that regardless of which candidate would be president, my president, the president of the United States, would also be in the minority was reason to smile and feel more secure in the future of all minorities in the United States.

I struggle with being a minority in both the United States and in Israel, but then  moments like this make me feel the weight of the worth of the historically repressed and underrepresented voice- my own voice included.