Monsters Among Us
and they don't have to hide
When I was younger, like so many other children, there were always monsters around. They lived under my bed, in my closet, in my basement. I would turn off the lights and run up the stairs, turning back to make sure nothing was chasing me. Sometimes there were even sharks in the pool, and I would climb out as fast as I could to make sure they wouldn't bite at my legs. Monsters, Inc. was a massive hit when I was five years old, and even if we laughed at the movie, there was still no guarantee that Sully or Randall weren’t going to come out of my closet. I don’t know how much I ever truly believed in these monsters, but I certainly wasn’t going to get caught slipping taking my time going up those stairs. Boogeyman tales to scare children and correct behavior have existed for centuries, and the combination of a developing imagination and the fear of the unknown makes these scary monsters a common theme in childhood development. Eventually, we grow past them, learn our lessons, and (mostly) stop believing something is going to come out from underneath our bed and either eat us or abduct us to the monster realm.
It is only later in life—how late depending on our privilege and luck—that we learn about the real evils of the world and come face to face with humans and institutions we find to be monstrous. Something that has become clear to me in the month and a half I’ve been living in Umm Al-Kheir is how lucky I was that my monsters were supernatural. The children around me don’t have that blessing.
For those who read my writing here but aren’t seeing the videos I am posting on social media, the monster I am referring to is named Shimon Attia. He lives in the nearby outpost of Chavat Shorashim (Roots Farm). If you go to their Facebook page, you will see no trace of the Palestinians living nearby. You’ll see visits from second-grade girls from the local school in Susya, Members of Knesset from the most right-wing parties, and holiday celebrations. There are sheep, settler youth under Shimon’s command, and his wife and children—along with renovations likely intended to make the farm a tourist destination one day. Their bio reads: “We came to establish the farm with great love. We love the country, the nation, and together with God, the Blessed One, who sent us on this mission. Be with us.” What has become clear from the reactions to our videos—on my social media, other activists’, and even some Israeli outlets—is that while the vast majority of the world is not with him, the institutions that hold power in this area are. For Shimon, who is clearly a radical extremist and couldn’t care less what anyone not Jewish and settler-aligned thinks about him, that is all that matters.