The New Don Quixote: Facebook

Only six days have passed since Yinon Magal, the charismatic M.K. from the Jewish Home Party, was first accused of sexual harassment in a Facebook post, and today he resigned his position in the Israeli Knesset. Magal never denied the facts detailed in the post (that was done by his many friends who used typical victim blaming techniques to fight back). However in his first response to the post Magal condescendingly chided the accuser for "shaming" him in the social media.”

I, for once, am thankful that Facebook could do this important service for victims of sexual harassment. A year ago I wrote an essay about a similar case in which Facebook became the voice of the women, who were victimized by a powerful man, and the effect this campaign had on empowering them.

In the last few weeks we witnessed extensive protests in the social media against the decision to award the Landau award, by the national lottery association, to the writer Yitzhak Laor.

Please keep reading in the Times Of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-new-don-quixote-facebook/

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For Better And For Worse: A Woman's Best friend

Last week I came across an article in The Atlantihttp://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/10/how-friendships-change-over-time-in-adulthood/411466/ about friendships and how it changes throughout the years.

Since friendship is an important part of life, and by chance I am now in the US visiting an old friend, I decided that it was a good time to share my essay about friendship, and especially about the institution of the “best friend”:

My mom's best friend called me on my mother's birthday to let me know that she hasn't forgotten that date. The friend is 97 year old and my mother has been dead for almost 20 years. Still I wasn't surprised, isn't that what best friends are all about, to be there for you forever and ever?

Pkease keep on reading in the Times Of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/for-better-and-for-worse-a-womans-best-friend/

 

 

This essay was published originally in Red Room  2013

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Beggar-woman

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Red traffic light. I stop my car at the crossing under the bright hoarding praising the government’s work. A beggar-woman standing on the divider side rushes to the car window with hope. Little child may be partially dosed with drugs rests on her shoulder. Some flies are resting on his running nose like permanent habitants. Her eyes evaluate the passengers in the rear cabin. My daughter looks at that cute, but unhealthy child on her shoulder. She fumbles for some coins in her purse, rolls down the glass and gives her some. She leaves the window to reach the other car behind. Light is still red. Suddenly a big, Government sponsored hoarding of proposed flyover looks dull to me through the front glass. Finance minister on the radio is boasting for a double digit growth rate increase next year. I see through the rear-view mirror; a beggar’s child opens his sedated eyes for a while only to close it again. Light turns green. I slowly push on the accelerator, still watching them in the mirror. She runs towards the divider side iron-railing, holding coins in her hands. Child goes to sleep again, similarly to my countrymen, who are dosed with the vices of cast-ism, religious apathy and cultural racism. And the white-capped leader is still shouting on the radio about his government’s achievements.

 (Note-photo source internet)

 

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Strength and Beauty

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Every day this mother earns her keep.

In a difficult way yet surrounded by serenity and beauty.

With the countless women making the same living, she has two shifts.

Morning and afternoon every single day for at least 2 hours each trip.

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Two passengers up to six she rows her boat.

A master at rowing she maintains balance throughout the ride.

No matter how light or heavy her load she rows her boat with ease.

Her arms in rhythmic movement she stirs her boat steadily forward.

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Like this man who rows his boat with his feet the women use their feet too.

To give rest to their arms, their feet amazingly take over in control of the oars.

I asked the tour guide if it would be okay to take a photo of her.

He asked her permission and she smiled gently with approval.

 

I saw myself in her with strength keeping the fort intact.

I saw many more mothers who work hard without complaint.

The lines on her tired face yet beaming with pride for the job she holds.

She smiled for me as I snapped a quick shot and I felt the validation it gave her.

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As we headed back to shore I asked the tour guide to ask her if she was tired.

It’s a silly question, I know, but I wanted to hear her answer.

She smiled as she replied, yes, it was the end of her day too.

She accepted her gratuity with humbleness as I handed it to her.

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I stepped off her boat and shook my head in amazement.

Looking back at all the women who row their boats I took a deep breath.

How wonderful it is to witness the strength of a woman without complaint.

God does surround us with his beauty no matter what the circumstances are.

 

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