I am figuring out what this blog is for and who it is I am writting to.

Last week, I wrote about an event at a bookstore in Asheville, NC. I listed some of the responses to the presentation: sadness, gratefullness, despair, hope, anger… anger directed at our government and anger directed at me. I mentioned that the anger towards me came from a woman who had commented that the presentation was one-sided, that if one were to truely work for peace one needed to also tell the stories of the lives of Israelis (not just of those Israelis working for a just peace, but those suffering from suicide bombers). A couple days after I posted the blog, a Peace Studies program from a college in Iowa dis-invited me. They say they are concerned that the presentation would not be “balanced.” (Had they read the blog? Probably not, but I wondered.) We had already agreed that after my presentaion they would host a panel of different voices. However, in their dis-inviation I was told thay had not found an artist to provide the “other side.” I am surprised that in their minds it needed to be an artist that would offer this “other side.”

How how do we, how do I, get beyond the talk of sides? In what other conflict do we expect one person to tell all stories? And, in what other occupation are we as reluctant to use the word occupation? Or to recognize the difference in power between peoples? I deleted the post. I was concerned I didn’t give enough context to the woman’s argument and that future event hosts would read the blog and get concerned.

Do I need to be more clear on this website about what folks can expect and not expect from the presentation? And I keep clarifying for myself what this is. Stories of Palestinians, of friends, whose lives I want to honor and celebrate and whose deaths I want to mourn. Stories of kids, bakers, teachers, doctors, hairdressers. Stories of hope and creation in the midst of death and destruction. And stories of how some stories hide other stories. So we don’t get to hear about the kids, bakers, teachers, hairdressers.

And the stories themselves change, even when the words remain the same. The paintings and rememberings of the Noah’s Ark story, which begin and end the book and presentation, were painted before the levees broke in New Orleans. Now, when I read about the bodies, of whether Noah looked outside the ark and saw the bodies, something has shifted. We’ve seen the bodies floating in water, if only on tv or the newspaper.