L’Chaim
My decision to move to Israel and my decision to give up alcohol are spiritually the same.
Giving up alcohol is another way of saying my idea of fun is not the same as yours. It helped me get comfortable with not fitting in. It’s alienating not to drink, especially in a society where alcohol is so intertwined with acceptance and humour, like wine jokes on birthday cards and alcohol bants from your boss. I used to love getting wasted with my friends. Truly, I did. But then I moved away and lived in a different country for five years and realised I prefer waking up without a hangover. I can write articulately every single day and sleep really well every single night.
When I gave up alcohol I thought I’d miss out on making connections, but instead the opposite happened. The people who like me for who I am came into my orbit and the people who are only interested in getting fucked up spun out into the solar system. Now I have clear-headed conversations with everyone I love. Every second is authentic so my friendships are deeper and healthier.
I wanted to move to Israel since I first visited in 2018 but I was terrified of what my peers would think so I held back and racked my brain for somewhere less controversial to live. But it had to be Israel because it’s the only place challenging enough to keep me interested. I’d made so many assumptions about the country that turned out to be entirely unfounded. Last Friday, for example, I went to Shabbat dinner at my friend’s cousins house in Tel Aviv. Her name’s Shula Keshet, she’s about 60 years old and an artist. About halfway through our dinner she brought out an image of a man drawn entirely out of Hebrew lettering. “I drew this image of Ben Gurion using every racist thing he’s ever said about Mizrahi Jews.”
Turns out Shula is a leading activist in the Mizrahi feminist movement. I spent the rest of the evening learning about how Mizrahi Jews, who come from around the Mediterranean, Middle East and North Africa and make up about 50% of Israel’s population, are marginalised by Israeli society both for the colour of their skin and their gender. Shula’s work spans three decades and aims to support all marginalised women in Israel, whether they’re established residents, new immigrants or refugees. This is just one example – every time I go to a Friday night dinner I get some mind-blowing new perspective on the nuances of this country, the kind of stuff that doesn’t make headlines in the Guardian.
It’s fun living in Berlin, but living somewhere like Tel Aviv means perhaps I can make a difference. I believe in full autonomy and freedom for the Palestinian people, so I can volunteer with organisations that promote that. Here, I have a responsibility. I can vote against right-wing leaders. I can share people’s perspectives and experiences. I can be challenged every single day. Also, and I think this is important, I’ll live outside my echo chamber.
Here people care less about alcohol because they don’t need it to lose their inhibitions and to be quite honest I’m not sure they have any in the first place. Often I’ll think two people are having an argument in the street and a minute later they’re laughing and hugging like old friends. The place feels like one big share house. People don’t say ‘excuse me’ when they ask for directions, they just walk up, start talking, have a discussion and walk away again. People here seem free of self-consciousness, which means nobody cares if I drink or not. It makes no difference to them.
The other night I was on my way to meet a friend of a friend, as you do when you move country, at a wine bar. It was 9:30pm and as I walked my heart felt heavy as lead. I was imagining those first few moments when I sit down and he offers me wine and I say no. And I can’t even speak Hebrew. I’m a social deadweight.
So I get there, sit down, he offers me wine, I say ah no actually I don’t drink, and he says “oh you’re the only English person in the world who doesn’t drink then. I’ll grab you some water.” And we don’t speak of it again.
Can you imagine that scenario in England? I’d turn up and say hi I’m Alice no alcohol for me thanks oh and p.s. I’m moving to Israel. They’d have to be extremely open-minded to stick around. But if they were to, I’d tell them how much happier I am without alcohol, how I’m less anxious, more confident, more productive. I might tell them about the antisemitism I experienced at school and at work that teachers and bosses either ignored or dismissed because they didn’t understand it. I might tell them about how lonely and isolating I found living in Germany, and how in Israel I feel energised and seen. I might tell them about the work I plan to do here.
I’ve been here four weeks now and have had a more versatile range of political discussions than I’ve had in five years in Berlin. Everybody has a different view. Everybody has a different story. Everybody has a different opinion. And I’m just listening and learning. I have to hold my tongue at times but I decided a while back not to try and change anyone’s mind because I’d be burnt out within a month.
Yes, my peers who support BDS will be spitting with fury and see my being here as complicity. But I interviewed a wonderful photographer recently, and he said something that resonated: “It’s become more difficult to navigate the middle ground because things have become so divisive. Like, if you’re not 100% on one side then you’re complicit. And I think that’s a dangerous mentality because it means I’m not able to be a free-thinker.”
The occupation will continue with or without me so I might as well try and make an impact on the ground. And just like with alcohol, the people who are open-minded and curious will come into my orbit and the ones who are closed off and hell-bent on their narrative will blacklist me.
So with alcohol and with Israel I’m swimming against the tide. It’s extremely hard-going and lonely sometimes, but other times it’s exhilarating. And the discussions I’ve had with friends who are curious about me living here are so raw and vulnerable that we’ve become closer as a result. So I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, because I only get one life and if I spend mine worrying about what other people think it’ll probably be really fucking boring.
United Palestinian Appeal seeks to alleviate the suffering of Palestinians in the West Bank, the Gaza Strip and refugee camps in Lebanon and Jordan, and to contribute to the long-term socioeconomic and cultural development of Palestinian society. You can make a donation here.
–By Alice Austin