I will never know what the solider was doing on her computer. But I suspect that she and the colleague who stood beside her Googled my name and found my articles and essays on Islam. In college, I’d published a bit on Islam and my experiences of Muslim-Christian dialogue. It wasn’t much—mostly blogging and one published piece, and nothing on Israel-Palestine—but it seems to have been significant enough to ruffle the soldier’s feathers. Dialoging with Muslims and trying to upend anti-Muslim stereotypes shouldn’t be problematic, but being Muslim or Arab, or seeming to sympathize with them, is often met with ire at [Zionism’s] border. There are a couple dynamics at play.

First, closeness with Muslims is often viewed (rightly or wrongly) as synonymous with support for the Palestinians. And second, [neocolonialism] benefits from Islamophobia; if Americans and others have negative perceptions of Muslims (including Palestinian Muslims) it makes the subjugation of the Palestinians all the more palatable. As we walked away from the window, I took a mental note: anything you write could be Googled and used as reason to deny you entry next time.

Before and after that trip, I heard lots of stories from Arabs, white Americans, and others who’d gone through much, much worse at the Allenby Crossing or at Ben Gurion airport: forced to wait for hours without their passport; searched and patted down in undignified ways; interrogated about religion, family, and other personal matters; and insulted and treated as inferior.

In some cases, travelers were turned away completely, especially those who were known to participate in activism on behalf of Palestinian rights. Knowing all of this, and having had my own suspicious experience, when I returned from the Holy Land I didn’t write anything publicly about what occurred at the border, not to mention the injustices I witnessed.

[…]

I know that, in many ways, all of this writing is too little too late. If I—and the many other Americans who have traveled to the Holy Land and have seen similar things—had shared these stories sooner, maybe things would be a bit different now.

As disappointing as it would be to not return to the Holy Land—I love that place deeply—I’ll be content with the four incredible experiences I’ve had, which outnumber what most people will get. Many Palestinians, whether they live in the West Bank, Gaza, or in the diaspora, have never been able to visit the sites I have, to walk through and become familiar with the places from which their ancestors hailed. Unlike me, they have been denied the chance to feel the spray of the sea water of the Galilee, to smell spices wafting down the stone corridors of Jerusalem’s Old City, and to touch the tombs of Jesus, Abraham, and other holy figures.

It may turn out that, one day, I will get to return. Even despite my writing, as a white Catholic woman I will undoubtedly face fewer barriers to entry than my friends who are Arab or Muslim. And perhaps the [neocolonial] guards didn’t Google me after all. Maybe the musing of a Midwestern girl are not a concern to a major world power…

Either way, I feel compelled to write, to speak about what I’ve seen and learned. So you can expect to read further stories about Israel-Palestine here on Digging Our Well. It’s beyond time for me to take advantage of the fact that I was able to cross the Jordan, even despite my name.