“I need a cell for a Jew,” the Israeli cops driving the jeep called into the jail. I was the Jew they were referring to and the jail was the infamous “Muskobia,” in the heart of West Jerusalem. This was the end of a long and tiring day that began with a protest in the village of Nabi Saleh in Palestine. I was covered in sweat, tear gas, dust, and quite a bit of the disgusting skunk liquid that the Israeli army sprays on protestors.
It was a hot day and my arms were full of bruises, my elbow and wrists sprained from the soldiers twisting them during the arrest. But regardless of the fact that I was protesting with Palestinians, I was still a Jew and when I was sent to jail for the night the authorities needed to make sure I was in a cell for Jews.
White privilege it seems, like skin color, doesn’t go away even in situations like that. Not that the cell for Jews was a room at the Marriott — far from it. There were eight or ten other guys, it was so full of cigarette smoke that I could hardly see from one end of the cell to the other, and when one of the inmates called for help because he was sick
— source mintpressnews.com | Miko Peled | Nov 26, 2021