Above is a sample image from my work in progress, Metro Diaries (a multimedia piece). Stay tuned.

A documentation of the Occupy Wall Street protests in downtown Manhattan. Interviewees where selected at random and photographs range from the early to final stages of the protest.

Moving regularly between the West Bank and Israel became extremely traumatizing for me. Articulating this is difficult. In Jericho, my emotions were heightened. Not only from being with someone I love, but seeing and living his and his neighbors struggles every day. In Haifa, I felt the need to guard my emotions. People aren’t warm and welcoming, in fact they are often cold and aggressive. I also wasn’t surrounded by willing friends, caring family and homemade food.

I tried to like Haifa, I really did. But I felt alienated by my inability to speak Hebrew, and I felt defensive about my sensitivities toward the West Bank and my Arab friends. While Haifa is mixed, I soon came to realize that just because Israeli’s can name a token Arab friend, doesn’t mean they politically accept Arab rights to any of their land. Speaking to Israelis in Haifa, I experienced a lot of contradiction. People who believed they were open-minded and indiscriminate, in fact subconsciously bought into the political propaganda that had been so deeply planted most likely in their military years. I have some wonderful Israeli friends in Haifa, but I felt the need to avoid politics whenever in their presence.

According to Khalil, a translator and former BBC produer that I worked with in Haifa, this is Israel’s biggest success: creating a social dynamic that divides the Arab population by developing an Arab elite and an internal concept of “other” amongst Arab groups. This prevents Arabs from the ability to unite as one Arab people against Israel. He says Israel does this by favoring and giving benefits to certain Arab populations over others. This allows for a natural division to arise organically.

I’ve spent a lot of time learning about Arab identity and culture while shooting this film. As much as many Arabs living in Israel seem to be disconnected from those in the occupied territories, they aren’t entirely separate. For example, after a suicide bombing, Jews stop shopping in Arab towns until things settle back down. This reaps financial hardships on those have absolutely no relation to the terrorism that often occurred on the other side of the country.

Reem, a woman I worked with on the film, began to explain the relationship between Israel and its Arab populations. We discussed the involvement of Arab soldiers in the Israeli army. Palestinian Arabs are not required to go to the army because of a conflict of interest. Although it is illegal to deny someone a job because he is Arab, most employers circumvent this law by requiring military service before hire. However, Druze and many Bedouins have remained loyal to Israel and serve in the army because of an agreement made by their ancestors. The Bedouins’ inherent nomadic sense is highly utilized by the Israeli military. Yet according to Reem, if all hell breaks loose, there will still be a division under the surface. Israel will still see Arabs as Arabs despite their allegiance to the Israeli nation.

Furthermore, Israel continues to strangle Bedouin and Druze villages by purposely building communities that surround the Arab villages limiting their expansion as populations continue to grow. Even in northern Israel, Arab’s feel that any or all of their land could be taken away at any time. Though they legally own it, somehow they have no rights to keep hold of it. This creates a lingering feeling of impermance, fear and discomfort in ones own home.

I met two Arab guys from the Golan who began to explain their own identity confusion. As Syrians living in Israel, they are banned from returning to Syria, though are denied citizenship by Israel. They have no passports, no citizenship, and therefore are not recognized internationally. They don’t necessarily identify with Palestinians, and though they speak Hebrew and grew up in its northern tip, as minorities, they also don’t identify as Israelis. Their parents fought hard to prevent them from mandatory military service and though live amongst land mines and dangerous reminants of war that the Israeli government takes little responsibility for when problems arise.

As one comes to realize, especially in the north, the division between Arab and Jew is oversimplified. There are different groups of Arabs with varying viewpoints and experiences toward the Israeli state. In fact, the same goes for Jews. Jews of Arab decsent, despite the beliefs of many Ashkenazi’s, are often treated somewhat lower on the totem pole. This was confirmed by the Syrian on the plane and by my 21 year-old Yemen Jewish Couchsurfer during my first 2011 trip to Israel. Many non-Sephardic Jews don’t ackowledge the discrimination, possibly because they don’t experience it firsthand.

You find yourself face-to-face with the simple facts of life when there is less materialism and modern fluff to distract you. You are more often consumed by the sadness of death and loss when there is little to do to take your mind off of it. While Jericho has its historically breathtaking landscapes and ruins, a combination of cultural restrictions, poor upkeep and extreme heat makes it terribly difficult to escape sheer boredom.

Therefore, without the distractions from bars, parties, shopping, etc. you have more time to focus on your family and those around you. Relationships forge deeper connections. Friends more easily become brothers. Sadness and happiness brought by birth and death feel real and powerful even if they’re not yours. Life feels raw and more emotionally vulnerable.

There’s no doubt about it, Jews are pushy. It reminded me of standing in line at an Italian airport. Yet another thing us Jews and Italians have in common! Everyone was trying to cut ahead, to role their wheelies over other people’s feet, to give dirty looks as they passed others literally praying for their lives (pre flight prayers from the Torah).

And now I’m sitting on the plane, behind schedule because people refuse to take their seats. And boy do Jews love to kvetch. She wants to sit next to him. Her baby doesn’t have its own seat though she only paid for one ticket. Calming this bunch was quite a feat and I commend the stewardesses for finally getting us out of the gate.

The man sitting directly right of me’s breath smelled so bad that, with my eyes closed, I knew when he’d turn to look out the window. During my last two trips to Israel I hadn’t sat far enough back in the plane to witness the Hasidic migration toward the rear bathroom for midday prayer. I would’ve thought it to be somewhat of an unholy place to pray, but they’re the experts. I asked one man how they know when to observe midday prayer if we are continuously changing time zones. He said they go with the time at the nearest city. If the lights weren’t off and the shades down I’d have sneaked an iPhone picture or two.

The man with bad breath was a Syrian Jew. I soon came to learn about the racism he had experienced in Israel because of his Arab background. Security and soldiers couldn’t grasp the concept that he had an Arab name, spoke Arabic, looked Arab, but prayed in Hebrew. He was subject to numerous searches and questioning every time he entered and exited the country. So much for a Jewish homeland where ALL Jews feel safe and equal.

We finally landed and as we slowly approached passport control I felt my stomach tighten. I knew my spiel, “I’m a nice Jewish girl here to visit family and friends”. I’ve heard so many horror stories about people being questioned for hours and taken into private rooms, so I made sure to get my story straight. In fact, my roommate in Haifa said as a German Christian, she was taken to another room for questioning. The passport control woman promised not to stamp her passport in case she wanted to travel somewhere else in the Middle East, but then out of spite she stamped it anyway.

My passport control agent asked me if why I was visiting Israel. I told him to see my family. He then asked if I had a husband and why I was staying so long in Israel. I joked that I needed time to find myself a nice Jewish boy. In response he told me, “I know it’s unethical, but I would’ve really liked to have met you.” And I was worried about getting in?!

Douglas, a 77 year-old man living in midtown Manhattan describes the evolution of his sexuality and how he came to discover his love for erotic art. He now manages two erotic art estates and has even published his own homoerotic artwork. This piece is about self-discovery and the lifelong struggle to locate and define one’s own value within a larger social context.