By Anonymous PZ ’26

As I pack for break, a growing mass of sweaters, thick denim, and warm garments pile up at my ankles. These layers will eventually make it in my suitcase and act as armor when I face my family this holiday season. “Family,” my 27-person group chat of uncles, nieces, and grandparents, was once an extremely active chat filled with baby photos, work announcements, funny memes, and political articles. After I sent photos from a recent on-campus action for Palestine, the text chain fell quiet. It was my mother who informed me this was not due to people’s capacity to engage in the conversation – in fact they were all in communication hourly about the Israel-Hamas war – but it was taking place in a new 26-person group chat titled “Fam” my great-uncle had created so that the older generation could freely discuss their Zionist views without an alternative understanding of the transpiring violence. I understood the need for emotional processing with similarly political aligned people, but the silent act of removing me from the dialogue shouted an excruciatingly loud message. There was no room for Palestine in their grief. 

Throughout the last 60 years, my mothers family has increasingly chosen whiteness and wealth over their Judaism and ethnic culture. After the Holocaust, my grandmother changed her name from Ruth to Angelica, and quickly adopted a pseudo-WASP-y identity – decorating Christmas trees with lit candles and taking my mom and her siblings to Easter brunch. There was a complete and utter denial of her Jewish roots. 

As she and my grandfather began working in the U.S., they decided to choose conferences over seders, administrative lunches over Yom Kippur fasts, classical music over klezmer, and adopted academia as their new religion. It was a catalyzing decision that created a generation of people obsessed with academic achievement, financial success, and the shared value of hard work. Judaism vanished from our collective consciousness of ancestry, but the trauma and fear of antisemitism remained. In all honesty, I understood the turn to measurable “knowledge” as a method of self-establishment post trauma. I will never know the horrors of fleeing persecution like my grandmother, nor do I think anyone should – but I understand her need for a self-identity outside of what she had experienced. 

Witnessing the direct erasure my family has inflicted on its own Jewish identity was an awakening experience. I remember asking my grandmother if she had ever celebrated Passover, to which she answered only once; she was 74 and went to a colleague’s house. She had no real recollection of the dinner, or grasp of the holiday. And yet my grandparents are adamant about Israel. Academia was a place where their Zionism could flourish. It was far easier for my family to accept their Zionist identity than their Jewish identity. Unlike my Sephardic Egyptian father who now settles in Tel Aviv, their base for the legitimacy of Israel is founded by an affiliation to institutions supporting imperialism and a desire for pragmatic solutions, rather than a deeply religious and spiritual connection to the land.

While my phone calls with him are just as troubling, especially seeing an Arab man himself being complicit in the ethnic cleansing of a group of people who resemble him both physically and diasporically, my mother’s family’s Zionism derived from a new-founded respect to “practical” global affairs rather than an emotional response. With a family of international relations professors, constitutional lawyers, and consultants, I understood getting my fair share of food wouldn’t be the only war this holiday as the inevitable and essential war of words loomed ahead. 

But how do you actually engage in dialogue with your family? Below are a few tips and tricks for having a generative conversation about the on-going violence:

It is not always productive to engage with Zionists, but we have a certain privilege as students and family members we can not deny 

At demonstrations it can be dangerous to have dialogue with Zionists, but for some of us, our families are the safest of places we occupy. If you have the ability to talk politics with them, utilize the educational resources at your disposal through the Claremont Colleges to ground your political perspective and begin a conversation. 

Familiarize yourself with where your family member is coming from.

You may or may not have access to the same information surrounding the war. It is also possible (like my family), that your diasporic or ethnic heritage is deeply intertwined in your political opinion. Rather than de-legitimize or ignore those roots in both of your understandings, make space for it in the conversation while also prioritizing Palestinian families and their immense loss. If the dialogue moves away from centering Palestinian and Israeli voices, circle back while recognizing it is far easier to understand a war through personal connection. 

Understand what you want out of the conversation 

Your energy to continue to engage in political work and advocacy is essential. You must protect it so that you can utilize it in constructive ways. At the beginning of the conversation try to decipher what would be beneficial about having a dialogue with a family member who has differing opinions than you. Do you want the conversation to be educational? Empathetic? Narrative based? Or perhaps you are trying to understand how the other person imagines an end to the war? Identify what feels important to you and hold your ground. If the conversation deviates to an extent that makes you uncomfortable or feels like it defies your morals, it is important you step away. 

Emotion is not weakness 

It is assumed that within debate there is little room for mourning or anger. In such a brutalizing and deathly war, one can expect to have deep emotional responses to media being shared from Gaza. With loved ones there is always some level of compassion that is assumed within your relationship, so know that you can value your emotional understanding just as much as your historic and political understanding. If an emotional response begins to arise, connect it directly to the war or your conversation goal rather than the other person’s personal stance. Be mindful that crying or bouts of anger can shut the other person down, but that your own emotional processing can be a useful tool for demonstrating the direness of the situation. If one of you seems to be struggling to participate due to a reaction, it is perfectly okay, and actually productive to take a break. These dialogues do not need to exist in a certain time frame. 

Know when to step away (and for how long) 

It is possible the conversation will be upsetting. Whether it be a racist world-view, refusal to listen, or another underlying dynamic. You should take breaks to assess whether you are actually having a generative conversation. It is also important to understand the impact between one another and figure out how to move forward. The conversation may also feel stifling, and in that case, perhaps the conversation should end. Remember: you are not “losing” by knowing your energy would be better spent organizing or working to raise money. You are also not compromising your beliefs by not wanting to fight with your relatives.