Bashar Abu Ahmad --
"I only look dangerous"

By Tara Graham

Israeli citizenship is a Catch-22 for Bashar Abu Ahmad, who says he's discriminated against at home for not being Jewish and in most surrounding Arab countries for being Israeli.
(Photo Credit: Activestills)

JERUSALEM — Bashar Abu Ahmad hops on his scooter every Friday afternoon to journey from the Hebrew University campus on Mt. Scopus to nearby East Jerusalem. There, he joins a crowd of demonstrators to protest the demolition of Arab homes by Israeli settlers in the neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah.

"The Jews are unjustly occupying the homes of the people living there," Ahmad says. "Some of those Arab families have been in that neighborhood for 50 to 70 years."

Ahmad, age 21, is a third-year undergraduate student studying accounting and journalism. Born in Nazareth, he has an Israeli passport and identity card, but says his Muslim Arab background hinders him from enjoying the full rights assumed by the Jewish citizens of his country.

"They call this a democracy, but I feel I don't have the same voice that the Jewish people have," Ahmad says.

There are approximately 1.2 million Arabs living in Israel, compared to the 5.5 million Jews in the country. This demographic discrepancy renders Arabs powerless at the ballot box, Ahmed says, so he has stopped voting.

"I don't affect government decisions because I'm not Jewish," he says matter-of-factly. "By participating in elections, I risk legitimizing the government in the eyes of the world."

Ahmad is bitter about what he sees as legalized discrimination in his country. When he goes to the local bus station, he is almost always stopped for a random security screening.

"They check my Israeli identity card. Sometimes that's enough, sometimes it's not," he says. "If not, they ask where I'm going and check the contents of my bag.

"Security at the bus station makes me so angry," he continues. "They're supposed to stop everybody they see as dangerous, but I only look dangerous because I'm Arab."

Ahmad notes that his Israeli citizenship is a Catch-22. In his homeland, he feels discriminated against because he's Arab, and beyond the borders, he's prohibited from visiting Arab countries (excluding Jordan and Egypt) because of his Israeli nationality.

And so, to exert some power in an otherwise compromising environment, Ahmad is a regular protester in Sheikh Jarrah. He, along with hundreds of Palestinians and Israelis, congregate in a small park located across the street from the neighborhood where they wave signs, written in Arabic, Hebrew and English, calling for an end to the conflict.

“Peace—Yes. Apartheid Wall—No,” reads one sign.

“Jerusalem: Two Capitals For Two States,” reads another.

Many signs make demands, urging the government to “Stop The Occupation!”

Following a protest earlier this year, Ahmad was detained in a local jail for 36 hours. He moved against the flow of traffic while trying to retrieve his scooter from across the street, he says. Before he knew it, three soldiers grabbed him, threw him in the back of a van and drove him to jail. There, they took mug shots and fingerprint samples.

"I never thought I'd get arrested," Ahmad said, adding he’d done nothing wrong. "As a citizen of a democratic country, I would think I have the right to nonviolent protest."

The soldiers arrested Ahmad and 16 Jews, Christians and foreign aid protesters because they didn't get advance permission to protest. Ahmad said the group repeatedly requested permission, but the police failed to respond.

A judge later ruled that the Sheikh Jarrah arrests were illegal because the protest did not require police authorization (as speeches were not given during the event) and the protestors did not pose any real threat to the public.

Ahmad’s brief time behind bars, along with his highly publicized release, only motivated him to continue participating in the protest rallies every week.

"A few hundred of us religiously show up to the same park at the same time every Friday," Ahmad says. "We chant, wave around signs and play live music for a couple hours."

He pauses to grin.

"Legally, we know we can get away with that," he adds.