My 8-year-old Saana and I were on a long bike ride one luminous autumn day. While I was looking to the sky for sightings of birds of prey, Saana kept their gaze on the road. Every few minutes, they braked to help caterpillars and snails cross the road safely, tiny lives spared from the crushing weight of tires. Flattened frogs dotted the asphalt, each one a small tragedy that made them wince. At one point, they stopped so abruptly to avoid a snail that I nearly crashed into their back wheel.
During one of these stops, Saana asked, “Maman, can you be against Israel but not pro-Palestine? Like, what if someone doesn’t have an opinion about either?”
