So, it was brought to my attention this past week – quite a few times – that I am a dual citizen.
Being a dual citizen is fun, you get to have two identities. At least, two more than all the other ones you have from other various circumstances. As far as my dual citizenship:
> I’m me, the American, who loves shopping.
> I’m me, the Israeli, who loves meat chips wrapped in soft bread.
> I’m me, the American, who indulges in getting drunk stupidly occasionally and pissing off the French neighbor downstairs.
> I’m me, the Israeli, who has no patience for outerworld frivolties like waiting in line.
> I’m me, the American, who feels patriotic and unbreakable.
> I’m me, the Israeli, who is hard to the outside but somewhat fragile on deeper notice.
In Israel, I’m embarrassed to be known as American; in America, I find myself needing to defend my emigration to Israel. In Jerusalem, I miss New York; in New York, I long for Jerusalem.
I guess dual citizenship keeps me on my toes, though not in that fugitive-refugee kind of way.