The sun isn't up, but I am. I'm standing in my kitchen making a chocolate ganache for my child's birthday cake. Waiting for coffee to brew. I've made the ganache so many times over the years for birthdays, summer gatherings, cupcakes simply because it's Tuesday, but I pause this time, reach for the cookbook the recipe is in, and trace the words on the page. The recipe comes from Yasmin Khan's beautiful Zaitoun: Recipes from the Palestinian Kitchen. It's an ode to a decadent cake she had once at a Palestinian restaurant in Haifa called Douzan, run by a man named Fadi Najir.
I'm whipping a ganache for my child's birthday cake, worrying about making the cake look like a cat and how, if the forecasted rain becomes a reality, I will fit all the grown-ups and kids attending the party in my house. A world away, other parents wait for their kids to be rescued or returned, while others send their children off to war and others write the names of their kids on limbs.
To live in this moment is maddening. To go online, click on a headline, or into Instagram feels like willingly walking into a house of horrors. Everyone is suddenly an expert, with no room for discussion. I want to be on the side, not pointing guns at children. Does it exist?
I have long been uneasy; that's the best way I can describe it, with U.S. policy in the Middle East. But I am also sure that even though I was a political science major and wrote a paper on Hamas in college, I am not an expert. I know my reference point for the situation is vastly different than so many others. I am neither Jewish nor Palestinian. The closest I have ever been to Israel or Gaza is an airport in Dubai, which is not close at all. I have lived my entire life at a time when the state of Israel has been an established military might, unlike many older Americans for whom much of theirs, Israel was a brand new country that needed weapons and money to survive. I am not an expert on Israel, Gaza, or the U.S. policy in the region, and thankfully, I don't have to be.
I choose to be an expert on my child, though. So far, I've mostly shielded her from the events happening thousands of miles away. An option so many parents, inside and outside of Israel and Gaza, have not had. Yet, I wonder what reference point will be my child's and others her age? How will it differ from my own?
After the hostages are rescued, after the bombs stop, after the dead are buried alongside the dreams, what happens next? How does a generation decide they want something different? Decide that the answer to violence isn't more violence. That the answer to trauma isn't to inflict more suffering? How does a generation decide they want something better and that they can create it? How can I support that?
I think creating a different future starts not by declaring oneself an expert but with curiosity and compassion. About other humans, their reference points, and the stories we tell and are told. About the world, we could have.
We've started to talk about media literacy, although I don't call it that with my child. I'm setting the foundation for thinking through where she gets information, thinking about who is telling the story and who is benefiting from the story. It's a skill that I'm pretty confident will never go out of style.
Open The New York Times, The Guardian, Al Jazeera, and Haaretz. Which truth do you believe? All of them? None of them?
The SIFT method, developed by digital literacy expert Michael Caulfield, has four steps for determining whether information is reliable.
Stop and think: Before reacting to information, take a moment to pause and consider what you're reading, hearing, or watching.
Investigate: Where is the information coming from? In other words, who created it, and what is that organization's or person's background? Do you understand what, if any, are the author's political, ideological, institutional or personal biases? Is there contact information for the source? What's the purpose of the information? Is it fact or opinion? Is the author trying to make an argument?
Check: Is what they are telling you accepted widely? Are there other people and organizations saying the same things? Does evidence support it?
Trace: What is the date of the information and the last time it was updated? Follow the claims, quotes, and images to their origin.
The chocolate for the ganache is from Uganda, the recipe from a Palestinian restaurant in Israel, the cream from a farm near our home, the vanilla from Tonga—I couldn't make my child's cake without curiosity about the world, without compassion and respect for people I've never met and likely never will. We can't create resilient communities without curisoity, compassion and respect either.
~ Bridget
P.S. Here are a few things that I've been up to:
Published: A much-needed fun piece on Garbanzo Beans vs Chickpeas for Martha Stewart.
Working: On an article on carbon-neutral dairies for Modern Farmer, I just turned in an updated book manuscript to my editor.
Reading: Lots of children's books, which, as Emory University Miriam Udel recently wrote, can remind us of our shared humanity.