I’ve been told I’m “chosen,” that being Jewish makes me a member of “God’s Chosen People.” This is the same logic as being told white makes you supreme.
Being in The Supremes makes you supreme and you know nothing about it unless you’re Mary Wilson, Florence Ballard or Diana Ross, which happens to be a very exclusive club of women who earned the right to call themselves The Supremes.
This is what’s missing, the idea of earning something instead of being born into it and this is dangerous since it steals the friction of struggle necessary to find what you’re chosen to do.
Are you chosen to be a bookkeeper? Maybe if you love tallying-up accounts receivable and deconstructing itemizing deductions.
Are you chosen to be a waitress? Maybe if you love pouring coffee and chit-chatting with cranky regulars.
Are you chosen to be born in poverty, to be dragged behind a truck if you’re gay, to be lynched for whistling at a white woman if you’re black, to live your life in shame on the other side of the wall if you’re Palestinian.
Then the answer is no, it’s not a choice, it’s an unlucky break.
Not being black, which is a beautiful skin tone. Not being gay, which is a gorgeous desire. Those things make you lucky, if you ask me. Once you’re comfortable in your own skin, they can’t steal your pride. As for desire, your penis points to what your penis wants. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
On the flip side of desire, being born into poverty is an unlucky break since it can be traced directly to a plague of human indifference. Being born a Palestinian is an unlucky break since it’s little more than a random title for random people born at this random moment in time at a random geographical location.
59 Palestinians were slaughtered this week while Benjamin Netanyahu and Ivanka Trump celebrated with champagne and selfies.
I don’t blame President Trump. He promised to make Jerusalem the capital of Israel and he did what he said, unlike 3 previous president who said the same thing: Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Barack Obama. Those 3 presidents weren’t so insecure they needed to see their face on a coin. This president craves craves constant attention and a place in history.
Trump sees himself as fulfilling prophecy but it’s fiction unlike 59 people being dead which is real but not really important if you can flip a coin with your own face on it to see what fate has in store fore you.
In light of this, I’ve decided to be Un-Chosen.
If I haven’t earned it, then I don’t want it. If I haven’t put in the time to get to the other side of failure, then the accomplishment isn’t mine to claim. If I haven’t struggled against something I thought I couldn’t do only to find I could do it on the other side of the struggle, then I need to acknowledge the weakness in my own nature and rise up.
Or shut up!
Sipping champagne and posing for selfies while people are being slaughtered is the worst kind of war crime, it’s privilege slapping poverty in the face when clearly the slap is needed in the other direction.