SCENE: Somewhere beneath the Knesset. Late Summer, 1972. A woman with graying black hair put up in a bun and wearing a string of pearls is speaking to 7 men sitting around a table. One of them has an eye patch. None of the men are speaking. Suddenly, a woman wearing a mustard hijab over a charcoal-grey jacket materializes, Star Trek Style. She’s been doing that a lot lately.
Woman in hijab: Are you Golda Meir, the Zionist?
Woman with hair in bun: I’m also Golda Meir the Prime Minister, Gold Meir the grandmother, and sometimes just Golda. But yes, you found me. And who are you, may I ask?
Woman in hijab: My name is Linda Sarsour, and I have traveled from the future to inform you that you are not a feminist.
Golda: Well, you might be right. All I do is keep this roomful of egomaniacs silent while I tell them what to do. I guess teaching school in Milwaukee helped prepare me for this work. All of the arguments, all of the screaming, all of the tantrums I witnessed. And let me tell you, teaching school was no picnic either.
Cabinet member: Excuse me, can I go to the bathroom?
Golda (shoots him an angry look): Regaa!
Cabinet member (sheepishly): Sorry.
Golda: But enough about me. I heard you’re a Big Macher in the Democratic Party now. Mazel Tov!
Linda: Thanks. So like what do you even do down here?
Golda: Well, Linda…. Last month some of our….’cousins’…. decided that the best way to get the world to listen to them is to sneak into the Olympic Village at night and murder my boys. So now I’m about to go medieval on their asses.
Linda: OMG I just can’t even.
Golda (soothingly): Linda, my dear. I’m only setting these guys up on the World’s Greatest Speed Dating Event. Each of them gets 72 partners. And they’re good girls. Good, good girls.
Linda: I just can’t believe this crime is being inflicted on a Community of Color.
Golda (looks at her tanned olive-hued arms. Looks at Linda’s decidedly pale face. Looks at her arms. Looks at Linda): Tell me more about this Community of Color, Bubbele.
Linda: I refuse to sit silently while you marginalize me and discount my struggle.
Golda: You’re right. I have a better idea. Get the hell out of my Situation Room.
Linda: Fine. I’m leaving for now. But I’ll be back. I have the Right of Return!
Golda: Actually you don’t. But we hope you enjoyed your visit to Israel!
(Linda dematerializes, Star Trek style. Fade to Black)