In Israel, racism is standard procedure

“Identification cards, please,” said the woman at the entrance. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as soon as I heard the words. I passed the woman my card. She looked over it without a second thought and my female friend was given the same treatment. We were quickly waved through to enter the party. As soon as she saw our male friend’s ID, she clucked and shook her head slightly. I knew exactly what had happened; she saw his city of residence and his name, both of which are distinctly Arab. She raised her hand in a “Stop” gesture and the security guards made sure that the three Arab men in our group stayed on the other side of the barrier, as the harsh May sun beat down from above.