What could I possibly write?

Ever since the war on Gaza, I have been trying to write this blog. Each time I began from another moment – the first demonstration against the Israeli attack; the disinformation in the news in Israel; the panic and despair in the eyes of women around me; the pictures on Al Jazeera, the political persecution of anti-war activists.

Every time, after two sentences, I stopped. I couldn't find the strength to keep on writing. Something in this overwhelming helplessness held me tight. Every word and every sentence seemed unbelievably weak, helpless and to a large extent, useless. What could I possibly write against this vast amount of blood, body parts, bombed houses, and complete indifference to human suffering?

What could I possibly write to be heard in this ocean of racist ideology? The fact that I will be writing in English and probably for people from the "First World" gave me little comfort. After all, the dehumanization of Arab and Muslim people is a global phenomenon, clearly evident in Europe and the US.

For example, it is quite easy to forget that the mass-killings and the civil wars in Africa cannot be separated from the history of European colonialism and the subsequent policies of global financial institutions such as the World Bank, IMF and WTO. It is not just the primitive rockets and explosives cooked in one's home kitchen that make our life a living hell. It is also the transparent violence in the well structured bureaucratic channels, institutions and "security" concerns of different sorts. And this is something that the "First World" is really good at.

The silent agreement of world's government (in contrast to the loud protest of the people) to the killing in Gaza showed quite clear that it is not about some emotional sentiment towards Israel, or about various anti-Semitic versions about Jews controlling the media or the economy or the world, but a dominant ideology. The lives of Arabs and Muslims became (as they in fact always were?) so terribly cheap. In fact, this massacre might even save the Western countries several dozens potential immigrants of the wrong race, ethnicity, colour and religion.

I feel so helpless in the face of this miserable machine of ethnic cleansing, this systematic oppression which produces soldiers and leaves little space for critical thinking, for even a chance to imagine a better life.
So how come I am writing all this, without stopping in the middle and feeling the uselessness of it all (even though the urge is quite there, I assure you)?

A week ago, in honour of the International Women's Day, more than 800 women marched through the streets of Tel Aviv. This city of mine, usually so indifferent and Jewish-only, was a site for a radical feminist protest, for an attempt to build Jewish-Arab/Palestinian partnership and solidarity.

We marched under the slogan "Stop Crimes against Women", demanding to stop war crimes, economic crimes, sexual crimes, racist crimes and heterosexist crimes. In the end of this march, we took the portraits of the major criminals – Ehud Barak, Tzipi Livni, Avigdor Liberman, Shimon Peres, and others – and threw them into the trash bin of history, right where they belong. It is perhaps the historical perspective and the certainty the power balances often change, that gives me hope – and new fears along.