So, I managed to get through four months in Europe without seriously losing my temper. And then, only four days after my return, I have dinner at my parents’ house with more cousins from Russia, except this time ones who have moved to Israel.
This racist pig had just spent a bunch of time up in Kakadu and was making comments about Aboriginal people being dole bludgers. I had shown him health and housing statistics from the ABS site. He then said something about unemployment in Israel and how there were 200,000 unemployed and about 200,000 ‘foreigners’ like Thai people taking those jobs.
“But,” I spluttered, “You’re a foreigner, too, right? You were born in Russia?”
“Ah yes,” he says, smugly, “but I’m an Israeli citizen.”
“So? They can become citizens too, and then they’re no different from you.”
“Oh, no. They are different from me. They can’t become citizens. They’re not Jewish.”
*blink*
*pause*
*blink*
“That’s really racist…” *swallow* *remember where you are* *remember where you are*
“I can’t have this conversation. I’m sorry.”
I walked out. He *followed* me. He accused me of just being too *scared* to have this conversation. Sure I was scared: scared of yelling at a guest of my parents at the top of my lungs.
I must be very naïve, but I honestly didn’t realise you had to be Jewish to be a citizen of Israel. That makes it even *worse*. And I was soooo good. I didn’t even tell him I was pro-Palestinian.
And then, as a parting shot, the arsehole actually had the gall to tell me that people who weren’t socialist at 20 had no heart but people who were still socialist at 40 had no brain. When, with gritted teeth, I informed him I was 32, he said, incredulously, “32? Three two?”. When I repeated myself, he said “You’ve still got time.”
Must. Not. Resort. To. Physical. Violence.