Diary of a Desperate Housewife

This an exerpt from my 800 page unpublished novel, "Diary of a Desperate Housewife," which begs the question of how one's seemingly nice Jewish neighbors could support Israel even during the Jenin Massacre. Our antagonistic protagonist, Fatima Shaykh, is a New Jersey Muslim version of Judy Blume's "Wifey." This unsent letter, written to Fatima's teenage neighbor, represents Fatima's attempt to understand Jews; a quest which becomes a Faustian nightmare.

When you tied those blue and white ribbons around your tree, I never understood what would have caused you to stoop so low as to cheer on the genocide of the Palestinian people. You have a large house on the prestigious North Side of town.

What makes you so comfortable with the destruction of the homes of others? You have a father, who adores you and works hard to support you and your mother. He gives you anything you want and need.

What makes you so gleeful and self-complacent when other children's fathers are dragged out of their homes to be arrested without charge, imprisoned indefinitely and tortured? Since you are clearly willing to accept the murder of Palestinian families for the sake of confiscating their property for the arrogant indulgence of 'the Jewish people,' how can any of your American neighbors feel safe from you? How dare you insult my family with your ribbons of Jewish supremacism? Who do you think you are? Perhaps the real question is: who do you wish you were?

You were adopted by a Cohen family, whom God had punished by denying them children. For every Palestinian child murdered by Israel, God makes another Jewish couple infertile. Your contemptuous behavior is surely a result of low self-esteem. Your parents made you think there is nothing more important than being one of the priesthood of the Jews, the pretended descendants of Aaron.

When you turned three years old, your parents hung all your pacifiers on a tree in the backyard and told you that a magic bird was coming to fly away with them. It worked like a charm. They taught you that to be a good girl is to believe your parents' lies. They have never stopped lying to you, and like a dutiful daughter you believe their lies. You did not want to have to reject your false inheritance out of shame for the crimes your people committed in order to give you what you have.

Your father and mother sent you to the Holy Land to play with guns, but they did not explain to you that no matter how many IDF soldiers you suck off, you will never be a Jew. Even if some Palestinian killed you, as he would have every right to do, the Israeli government would never allow your body to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. You are nothing to them but human trash.

In your misguided and vain attempt to make yourself marriageable to Jews, you helped incur the anger of two billion Musims and every decent person in the world against the country we share. Every one of them has the right to kill you, IDF soldier in uniform, except me, because for me, it's personal.

So I wrote this book for you. Since your parents refused to stop you from traumatizing your neighbors, then it is my duty as your "wicked stepmother" to rein you in, little princess. The Jews sent Americans to die for Israel. I trust that when the Americans realize what you did, they will back me up.

This book is dedicated to you, for I hate you more than I hate my own life.

Karin Friedemann