Jaffa/Tel Aviv
Today will be my second full day in Tel Aviv, built alongside and incorporating the Palestinian city Jaffa. It is the second largest city in what is recognized as Israel and has the most modern/cosmopolitan feel. Thankfully my arrival went smoothly and I got to rest, spend my days easily, wandering the city on foot, bus, and skateboard.
It feels mostly strange and sad being back. I vaguely remember some places — Carmel Market, Uganda Bar, Ben Tsion Blvd, the gay pick up spot (that happens to built on a Palestinian cemetery ) — but the people and spaces that I knew and felt comfortable in are gone. There is no Anarchists Against the Wall, no queer anarchopunk house or club, members have left, moved on, or in at least one dear human’s case (Renen Raz, may his memory be for a blessing), passed on. The leftist vegan bar-event space Rogatka is long closed.
The city today is flooded with with nationalist and hostile imagery and rhetoric — images of Israeli hostages are everywhere, FCKHMS (“fuck hamas”) stickers and graffiti, Israeli flags, and Bring Them Home signs. There is a protest camp advocating for government action to bring home the hostages at all costs. Even the biggest gay bar I could find , Shpagat, had a large “bring them home” sign above — I worry for what that means about the space and community outside of activist spaces. A friend shared that the tenor of these protestors has changed with the ongoing slaughter perpetrated in Gaza, noting that these attacks are not really serving to rescue people’s missing loved ones. To me, every such shift feels like way too little way too late. But it did peak my curiosity.
[I did dip into my first bomb shelter experience when an air raid alarm went off and some Israeli boys at a fashion shop ushered me and the other drivers/bikers/pedestrians on the street inside and underground. One of my fellow passers-by took the opportunity to check out the backstock they kept in the basement shelter. It was over as quickly as a it started — I understand there was a group of small missiles launched into the region south of the city; no one was injured]
Not everything has been horrible though. Yesterday I had the opportunity to visit 2 amazing centers in the city — both new since I was last here. The first, the Trans Center, is a multi-ethnic left-leaning space for transgender and trans-friendly people. English is a minority language there, after Hebrew and Arabic and there are health, social, art, advocacy, social work, and community resources for all. It is also an activist space (led by the Gila Project) and is not shy about noting that trans rights start with human rights for all. Every single person I met there was incredible and doing good work. I was surprised that I did not feel myself called to self-censor in that space, a rarity for me in Israeli spaces.
The other space I got to check out for the first time was the House of Solidarity, a pandemic-era organizing and event space above a pizza parlor. Last night I attended a presentation in a 3-part resistance series with a new friend from the trans center — the presenters including (if i understood right from my phone interpreting) a Mizrahi (middle eastern Jewish) comic-podcaster and a Palestinian professor (info to come on both) discussing how to hold onto their integrity and humanity in the face of mass murder and genocide at the hands of the Israeli government and real suffering on the part of members of the Israeli communities that have lost family and friends to the attacks on Oct 7th and the ongoing hostage situation. At the same time, this was not a peace at all costs crowd. In the words of one presenter, “Justice has to come first, peace will come with justice” (that was about the limit of my hebrew comprehension). As my new friend noted, it was a mostly personal set of reflections and not necessarily an activist planning session — but it also felt like a balm to the largely online (or online-influenced in person) discourse I’ve engaged with since Oct 7th (I’ve been on the road this whole time). While the key points of the occupation, vigilante and state violence, and genocide are not complicated —they must end before anything else can be accomplished— decolonizing and unraveling generations of trauma is a complex and emotional process.
