On redefining words and ruining lives.

This went up at Open Zion/The Daily Beast yesterday. Here’s the top – click through to read the rest, won’t you? It’s ever so edifying!

National Public Radio reported yesterday that “Israel has dramatically increased its demolitions of unauthorized Palestinian homes in the West Bank and east Jerusalem.”

Thousands of Arab homes have demolition orders against them in east Jerusalem and the West Bank’s Area C–the Israeli-controlled portion of the territory that makes up more than 60 percent of the land.

The Israeli military recently handed over demolition orders to an entire Palestinian village in the Hebron hills. Among the 50 buildings slated for destruction is a school.

The word “unauthorized” is the one that often trips people up–because come on, now. If I were to start building, all willy-nilly, in my backyard, wouldn’t my zoning board issue its own demolition order?

The difference is that my zoning board (and yours, too, probably, unless you’re living under occupation) is not ideologically opposed to me and mine building new homes or expanding old ones. My zoning board hasn’t used my efforts to provide a home for my family as a tool against me and mine for decades, in an effort to drive us from the town in which we’ve lived for generations.

To read the rest, please click here….


1 Comment

  1. dmf

     /  July 13, 2012

    for fridays and recognizing where the center lies

    Carrying my daughter to bed
    I remember how light she once was,
    no more than a husk in my arms.
    There was a time I could not put her down,
    so frantic was her crying if I tried
    to pry her from me, so I held her
    for hours at night, walking up and down the hall,
    willing her to fall asleep. She’d grow quiet,
    pressed against me, her small being alert
    to each sound, the tension in my arms, she’d take
    my nipple and gaze up at me,
    blinking back fatigue she’d fight whatever terror
    waited beyond my body in her dark crib. Now
    that she’s so heavy I stagger beneath her,
    she slips easily from me, down
    into her own dreaming. I stand over her bed,
    fixed there like a second, dimmer star,
    though the stars are not fixed: someone
    once carried the weight of my life.

    “Gravity” by Kim Addonizio