Two Planets, One Warped Reality

I wasn’t planning to write this. I’m working on a longer, more structured piece about the psychology behind all of this—the shame, the need to do good and be a good person, the projection, the emotional manipulation disguised as justice. Where the shame comes from But then I saw her. A girl sitting in Tel Aviv with a sign about her brother, still being held hostage by Hamas. And I knew I had to share this first This isn’t just some political issue. It’s a reality, It’s human real human lives. And the dissonance between the world I live in and the world I grew up, along with the entire rest of the world these days, It has become truly unbearable. So I wrote this—for her, for me, and for anyone else caught between these heartbreaking realities.

I saw this girl today, sitting on the street in Tel Aviv with a sign that said her brother is still being held captive by Hamas. Being a Jew raised in the U.S., now living in Israel, I feel like I’m straddling two different planets.

A world where I wake up, scroll through social media, and see old friends and peers—genuinely good people—trying to do the right thing, trying to stop human suffering…

But somehow justifying terrorism. Defending Hamas. Parroting slogans they barely understand.

And then I go for a run and see a girl sitting on the street—her brother still being held hostage by the very people those same peers are cheering on.

And my mind feels like it’s going to explode from the dissonance. From the impossibility of holding these two realities at once. From the grief of watching people I genuinely care about—people I have empathy and love for—fall into a narrative that denies humanity, history, and reality.

Not just my humanity. But hers. Her brother’s. This entire nation’s. And what’s happening to Jews across the globe. And not just Jews— But anyone who values freedom. Anyone who stands for life, for truth, for the right to exist.

Because this isn’t just about one people. It’s about a growing blindness. A world that forgets. Or maybe… just refuses to see. People who think they’re standing for justice— But don’t realize what they’re standing on. Don’t realize what they’re standing against.

Because when you’re so far removed from the consequences, It’s easy to believe the lie. It’s easy to follow the crowd. To forget history. To ignore reality. To silence the ones still living it.

They don’t see it—not because they’re evil, but because it’s not right in front of their eyes. Because it hasn’t happened in their life personally—yet.

They see what’s curated for them. What fits into bite-sized posts and viral slogans. Not the centuries of context. Not the complexity. Not the humans. Not the stories. Not the lives.

And that’s what makes it so difficult. Because I know they mean well. But good intentions don’t protect people from being used. From becoming pawns in a narrative designed to erase us.

I know these people aren’t monsters. They’re empathetic. They want to help. They’re trying to be good. But they’ve been swept into something far darker than they realize. And they don’t know what they’re cheering on.

I’m working on a longer piece about the psychology of all this—drawing from my own life, my experiences, and everything I’ve studied and lived. How inherited guilt, privilege, and a desperate desire to be “good” can make people vulnerable to manipulation. And another piece—about where I believe that shame really comes from.

Because I don’t think most people are acting from hate. I think they’re acting from unresolved pain. And unless we learn to face it, to name it, and to heal it— We’ll keep projecting it onto the wrong things.

Because I truly believe it starts with the self. With unprocessed shame. With a need to disown your own story and over-identify with someone else’s. With a refusal to feel. A refusal to slow down. A refusal to take the time to truly educate yourself.

Because the danger of our short attention spans—of this era of social media—is terrifying. You can think you’re an expert on a cause thousands of miles away, Convinced you understand the truth, When all you’ve seen are short, curated snippets of reality.

This isn’t just about politics. It’s about humanity. About people being led by collective wounds, not informed understanding.

But today, I just needed to share this.

Because I can’t imagine what it feels like to be that girl. Because if I feel like the world is upside down— If my stomach is in knots from the dissonance— I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to be her. Or any of them. The ones still waiting. The ones still praying. The ones still hoping someone, somewhere, is paying attention.

To sit on the street and feel the world turning its back. To see musicians, influencers, and strangers chant for the destruction of your country—your family. To hear people glorify the very group holding your brother underground.

People who haven’t read a single book. Haven’t spoken to an Israeli. Haven’t visited. Haven’t served. Haven’t lost anyone. Haven’t had to give up years of their life to protect their country.

Haven’t grown up knowing that one day, they’ll be handed a gun— Not because they want war, but because they want peace. Because they want their friends, their families, their people… to simply exist. To make it to their next birthday. To walk down the street without fear.

They haven’t lived in a place where terrorism isn’t a headline— It’s a daily reality. Where children grow up with trauma as a baseline. Where you hear sirens instead of alarm clocks, And prepare for chemical warfare—not earthquake drills. Where grief is a part of the language. Where you live every single day knowing the countries surrounding you want you gone. That they don’t just hate your government—they hate your existence. They want your country wiped off the map. They see you as the devil of the earth.

They haven’t sat on a bus wondering if it might be their last ride. They haven’t scanned for exits at every public place they go. They haven’t carried a weapon— Not to feel strong, but to feel safe.

They haven’t lived that. They haven’t felt that. They haven’t suffered the consequences of what they’re so confidently speaking about.

And yet they sit on comfortable couches, Scrolling through curated content, Deciding what’s best for a country they’ve never stepped foot in. For a people whose history they’ve never studied. For a conflict they’ve only seen through filtered slogans and trending hashtags.

And that’s what makes it so painful. Because this isn’t some abstract political debate. This is life. This is loss. A people aching to be understood. A story misread by the very voices who think they’re fighting for justice.

And it’s not just about us. It’s starting here—but it won’t end here. This is affecting an entire people, an entire culture, an entire religion. And if it doesn’t stop soon, It will ripple out. It already has.

Because when the world loses its grip on truth— When it begins to cheer for death and call it justice— It’s not just the Jews who suffer. Eventually, everyone does.

And yet they claim to know what peace looks like?

You don’t get peace from death chants. You don’t build justice on lies. You don’t liberate by silencing victims— And calling rape, mutilation, kidnapping, and burning babies resistance.

If that is peace to you, Then maybe it’s time to question what this movement really stands for.