The following article has been translated from the original Hebrew.

I was born in this city, and I’ve lived here all my life. My feet know its streets and alleyways in a deeply personal way. So many memories from different stages of my life are tied to this place: walking through the Old City with my late father, youth movement overnight activities in the Valley of the Cross, cutting class at Hebrew University on Mount Scopus, meeting the true love of my life in salsa lessons at the old Baratton club, also on campus. And of course, the births of my two children at Hadassah Ein Kerem hospital.

Alongside the sweetest memories, there are also bitter ones—like the stench of " skunk spray {1}" at Damascus Gate during Ramadan nights.

 The same police known to look the other way during the Jerusalem Day Flag March—when tens of thousands of Jewish youth, driven by hatred and Jewish supremacy, terrorize the merchants and residents of the Old City almost without interference—know exactly how to quash the festive atmosphere of the holiest nights of the Muslim month and instill  fear in families celebrating the holiday.

Jerusalem is a city of contradictions. A city of breathtaking beauty and heartbreaking ugliness. A city of human connection, and of political divisions.

Yes, Jerusalem is stunning, full of hidden corners of beauty. Yet it is also unbearably harsh, this city where all manner of political, religious, and social tension seems to burn hotter than anywhere else. All of it spills over, time and again, to a boiling point on Jerusalem Day – especially during the infamous Flag Dance, that violent, hateful parade of Jewish supremacy.

Jerusalem is torn by a bloody, painful conflict. The gap between West and East is glaring. And on Jerusalem Day, during the “Flag Dance,” as the parade through the city is called, the city’s Palestinian residents in the Old City are forced to lock themselves indoors until the storm passes, until the sounds of hate and blows subside.

On this day intended to celebrate our city, many Jewish residents also stay home, waiting for the anger and violence to pass. It is a day when I moved my university class to Zoom, in order to protect my Palestinian students who live in the Old City and East Jerusalem. And I was angry at myself, too, for the paralysis that gripped me as waves of hate and violence swept the streets, trampling over lives that had no choice but to endure them.

This cannot be Jerusalem’s story – certainly not its only story.

This beautiful and aching city is also my city – and the city of hundreds of thousands of residents, Jews and Palestinians alike, who dream of another Jerusalem. And for those dreams to take shape, we need to tell a new story about Jerusalem. A story outlining a vision for a city built for all its people.

And how do we get to that vision? The Spanish revolutionary poet Antonio Machado wrote: “The path is made by walking.” The path, of course, runs through reconciliation and through resolving the conflict – anchored in the principles of justice, equality, partnership, and shared society.

Yes, another Jerusalem is possible. It can be a city where Jews and Palestinians enjoy equal status, equal rights, and fair political representation in the institutions that run our daily lives.

It can be a thriving city, a magnet for people near and far – not just for its world-class institutions of higher learning, but also as a place people long to live and call home.

Another Jerusalem is possible. More and more frameworks for bilingual, shared education can grow here – like the wonderful Yad b’Yad school, where children, and their parents too, learn in the rhythm of everyday life what it means to truly build a shared society.

Another Jerusalem is possible. After all, in sheer beauty it surpasses so many capitals around the world. It could be a true center of government and diplomacy, offering thousands of sought-after jobs.

Another Jerusalem is possible. Already today it boasts a lively, fascinating, and diverse cultural scene. But it could be so much more – with joint festivals of music, art, poetry, and theater that truly celebrate the city’s national, religious, cultural, and human diversity, and the creative energy bubbling up in every corner.

Another Jerusalem is possible. Even now there are so many spaces where Jews and Arabs work and study side by side: in hospitals and clinics, on campuses, in malls. But it could be so much more, with shared marketplaces, cultural venues, and leisure spaces where the richness and variety born from two cultures meeting as equals would fully come alive.

Another Jerusalem is possible. And the path to that Jerusalem begins with understanding that its holiness is not reserved for Jews alone. It can be an interfaith center where Jews, Muslims, and Christians live out their faith in a spirit of tolerance and mutual respect.

Another Jerusalem is possible. This city can be more. So much more. Cleaner , more inclusive, more diverse, safer, more prosperous. It won’t happen on its own. It will take political decisions and real resources. The “Hope from Jerusalem” document by Ir Amim offers the roadmap.

Another Jerusalem is possible – if we choose to tell a different story for her and walk the winding road that leads us there.