Listen — I’m a Jewish, Islamic, and Middle Eastern Studies major, and I’d be lying if I told you that our campus climate has consistently fostered comfortable, informed areas for dialogue about Israel and Palestine.  

“We’re American,” my mother of Lebanese-Colombian heritage assured me as I told her that, for the first time in my life, being Lebanese felt uncomfortable (to be honest, it hadn’t really felt relevant to my social life until last year). 

“Stop posting on social media and drawing attention — you wouldn’t want to close off any opportunities for yourself,” my dad chimed in. For a while, I complied with this. After all, it felt like whatever I said would have me slapped with one of two labels: a pro-Palestine antisemite (“She posted herself in a keffiyeh…”) or a pro-Israel traitor (“Have you seen her Zionist friends??”). 

Condemned to this binary, I felt hopeless. There was no room for someone who was both pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian — populism was all the rage. Every action and conversation established an “us” and “them,” or a perceived elite. At least, I felt this was the case until I had to listen to something for my class called “Arabs in Israel,” taught by Professor Ayala Hendin. My classmates and I listened to the podcast “Unapologetic: The Third Narrative,” hosted by Amira Mohammed and Ibrahim Abu Ahmad, two Palestinian citizens of Israel. 

That’s right, these two are part of the around 20% of Israeli citizens with Arab (non-Jewish) background. The Arabs within Israel became citizens either by remaining after the 1948 declaration of the State of Israel (’48 Arabs, like Ibrahim) or elected to be citizens after the 1967 border expansion to the Golan Heights, and in rare cases East Jerusalem (’67 Arabs, like Amira).  

As detailed in their podcast, Amira and Ibrahim found themselves in a difficult place after the Oct. 7 attacks, in which all Israelis were targeted, whether they were Jewish or Arab. Despite this, anti-Arab sentiments rose, as some Jewish Israelis wondered if Arab citizens could  pose a threat to their safety or to national security. In a time of confusion and fear, any statement, post, or stance came under extreme scrutiny. This led many Arabs to be silent, as the benefits of speaking out were dwarfed by the threat of being fired, arrested, or accused of treason or terrorism. So, Amira and Ibrahim started a podcast featuring their third narrative, one that challenges the dichotomous definitions we’re so used to hearing. On the show, they explore their complex identities and host a range of guests — Jews, Arabs, Gazans, and Israelis. Every episode ends with an affirmation: “All of us, Israelis and Palestinians, Arabs and Jews, all of us deserve better.”

Now this isn’t to say that they get on the mic and sing “Kumbaya.” On the contrary, Amira and Ibrahim are willing to agree and disagree with each other, their guests, and their listeners. They stand proudly in the midst of the Israeli government’s crackdowns on freedom of speech, like the detaining of Arab Israelis for questioning or their sanctions on Haaretz, the longest running newspaper in Israel, for hosting a diverse array of views. By speaking out, they ensure that an independent narrative continues to be dispersed.

As Israelis, Amira and Ibrahim acknowledge their privilege. They tell listeners all about the discrimination they face as Arabs living in the “Jewish and democratic” state, but how in Gaza, the West Bank, or Egypt, they would be attacked for their political views. The Palestinians living in these areas face incredible hardships and don’t have the same safety and freedom of expression that they do. 

Mirroring the language of “Unapologetic,” I want to say that all of us WashU students, Jews and Arabs, Palestinians and Israelis, Christians and Muslims — whoever — we all deserve better. When we separate into groups (especially those conducted unofficially on Instagram) that force us into the binary, we lose so much nuance. If we were to amplify Arab-Israeli voices by sharing podcasts like “Unapologetic,” we would help increase understanding of this population and combat negative stereotypes. To find something relatable in these voices would make it hard for Israelis, and the international community at large, to demonize an entire population. It is up to us, as academics, students, and intellectuals, to challenge ourselves — take a one-credit Dialogues across Differences course, be a radical listener to a diverse array of speakers, take classes where you may be the only voice that differs from your classmates, and speak out in instances of hatred on campus. We owe it to Amira and Ibrahim — to everyone affected by recent tragedies — to be unapologetic and authentic to ourselves and to converse meaningfully with each other.