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In this Story, I Look At Contradictions.We’re lined up on the couch in a little row. Our micro-mini golden doodle granddog, curled up, eyes closed; our three-month old grandson fast asleep in his dock-a-tot; and me. We’re in Culver City, California, on a Thursday afternoon in June, in a friendly Los Angeles neighborhood, filled with retirees and young families, hipsters and screenwriters, dogs and more dogs. As I gaze out the front window, I see a large Palestinian flag waving in the breeze. It belongs to the Syrian man who owns Jackson’s Market and Café. I get it. He’s collecting funds for Gazans. My son asked how I feel about the flag.

I shrug.“And how would you feel if it was a MAGA flag?” he asks with a hint of a grin.“Worse,” I say.“Yeah, that would bother me far more,” he acknowledges.He and I are both solidly rooted in our Jewish identity…Jewish and liberal.In a city where it’s cool to be Jewish (so I’m told), stars of David are worn proudly and this merchant gets to freely fly the Palestinian flag. In my mind, supporting the Palestinian people does not equate to being anti-Semitic. I’m aware that not everyone agrees.

We live in strange times. Israelis, those with whom I relate, want the hostages returned and a new government put in place. The most right-wing members of Netanyahu’s inner circle threaten to leave the coalition if the war ends too soon, which will mean new elections and possible indictments for the prime minister. I know I’m not alone in my utter horror over what happened on October 7th, in my pride over the Israeli people’s response in caring for one another when the government and military were on a coffee break. I also know that despite the fact that Hamas was democratically elected and that most Palestinians poled supported the unprecedented barbaric invasion, no civilian population deserves to be bombed and starved. Of course, Hamas embedded itself in and above schools and hospitals. We know that. But there’s a lot more to know and far too few of those who protested in university encampments were able to identify which river and which sea they were chanting about. History isn’t monolithic or absolute and the Israeli narrative of what’s occurred over the past 75 years is quite different from the story a Palestinian will share. Yet both people lay claim to the land. And there have been decades of attempts at peace treaties, but it hasn’t been possible to make peace with an enemy that doesn’t recognize your statehood. And no more children, no more people, should be killed. All of it is true in my limited perspective.

Like so many other things we try to categorize and label, there are no absolutes. War is brutal and rarely leads to equitable outcomes. Violence and hatred are part of the human condition. Because I happen to be a Jewish American, I’m committed to the safety and self-determination of Israelis, my people. Because the man who owns the market and café is a Syrian American, he’s supporting Palestine.

And so, dog on leash, baby in stroller, I order a Fatoush salad at the Jackson Market, honoring the owner’s roots and mine. We can peacefully co-exist, at least here in Culver City, for the moment.