The freedom to not be liked

The beauty of getting older.

I can remember when I was a teen, and an avid Prince fan — the purple one, not the royal one — and I can distinctly recall anticipating the party of all parties that I would get to experience on New Years Eve of 1999. My only reservation was that I felt I would be too old to enjoy it at the ripe old age of 29.

Now as I near my mid fifties, I realise that growing older is not a curse. My eyesight may not be as sharp as it once was, but I see things much more clearly. Age has given me many things. My children, decades of lived experience, and the best gift of all — enough self belief that I no longer care what others think of me.

With my brother in the Summer of 1974 in Australia.

And it’s glorious! The unbridled freedom from needing to be liked. To no longer have my worth tied up to other peoples opinions, is far more valuable than having a face free from wrinkles. Now before you label me a sociopath, let me explain.

Self-worth is our set of core beliefs about our value as a human being. It’s how we see ourselves and who we perceive ourselves to be. And for reasons I wont go into, self-worth and self-love was something that was lacking for me in my youth. I didn’t have the language back then to explain it, or the cognitive awareness to understand it, but it felt like others opinions of me were important. That those who I chose to associate with were an extension of my place in the world. It felt like it mattered.

Low self-worth can cause havoc in the life of a developing mind, and in my case some tumultuous years followed. Self discovery can be a painful journey, and it’s not always pretty. Sometimes you have to find yourself deep in a life that you don’t want to realise the kind of life you do want.

And rarely do we achieve real change without a fight. I made a decision to live my life according to a set of principles — like my life depended on it. And it’s no exaggeration to say that it did. So twenty years on, I’m not the same person I was in my youth. Aging, and living by my principles has afforded me a clear mind, and a spirit free from fear or regret.

So when people tell me it’s brave to speak up for Israel, I have to disagree. When I see something that is so decisively wrong and distorted, I don’t see it as bravery, but mandatory to speak up. Just as I would do if I saw one of my children, or a friend, or anyone for that matter being bullied, I would not sit back and do nothing — because silence can be complicit, and we have seen where that leads.

Not that I believe my voice is important. I am nobody special. Just a mum living in the suburbs of Melbourne raising my children. But if not us, then who?

I don’t fear people’s responses to me, and I don’t mourn the friendships that I have lost for holding the positions that I do. Liking myself is far more important than approval from anyone else. And I have gained so much more than I have lost, as I have found a community of beautiful Jewish and Israeli friends that epitomise the heart and soul of Jewish values, that together we can contribute to a better world.

I am proud to call myself a Zionist — and if you don’t like me, I don’t care.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Me today at 54.