To Diaspora Youth

Story
I dip my bare feet into the sand and once again regret not having anything to swim in. That's one of the few downsides to when you don't plan your trip and just get up and go when the mood strikes.
It's almost evening. The humidity that haunted us the entire day finally let go of its grip. We found a nice cafe on the beach to sit and talk. I should mention that I'm in Tel Aviv visiting Mike. I already saw his apartment, played backgammon and had a nice time just hanging out with a good friend. We are a bit talked out now. I can see that he's excited about the army. His enlistment is in just eleven days and he is slightly concerned about what to expect in the next two years. He's really hoping that he will be sent to Golani but I can see that there is still a slight doubt whether he can make it in there. I, however, have absolute certainty that he has nothing to worry about. Yes, it's true that Golani is arguably the toughest place to serve in and because of that, one of the most difficult divisions to get into. But this is Mike. In the time I've known him, I've seen him succeed in every little thing that he put his mind to. I even admit to being jealous of him. It's a good jealous, because I know that I'd never be in his shoes so there is nothing but happiness and admiration in this jealousy.
"Did you hear about Sebastian?", asks Mike. "He's still in Israel. He's planning to go back to Columbia for now but he wants to convert to Judaism and move here."
"Are you serious? Why? How? That's insane", I exclaim with surprise and confusion.
"He just really loves it here. He's planning to go into the army too."
"Wow, that's really cool." I say with delight.
"Yeah, we need people like him here. And you know about Inga, right? The Swedish girl. She's also converting and making Aliyah."
We're interrupted by a dread locked waiter who brings us a quarter of a sliced watermelon and milkshakes.
"Looks good, no?", he asks.
Mike gives me a look and I understand that the tip we're leaving just halved. We discussed this at lunch and Mike's stance is that he does not want to be spoken English to by Israelis unless he asks.
"How do you say watermelon in Russian? WateRRRmelon?", he asks.
"Arbuz", I reply.
"Oh, yeah. Irit asked me to translate 'grapefruit' in class and I said 'gRRRapefRRRukt' and the Russians said "Ahhh".
I smile but have nothing more to add. Mike tries his 'prishake' and looks out to the sea.
"So I was offered to go with a Birthright trip for free", I throw in and take another bite of the melon. "You know, as a local. I don't know if I can though."
"Just go. It'll be fun. Convince them all to move here."
"I don't think that everyone should do that. You gotta be ready and..." I struggle to find the words. But I don't need to continue; Mike understands.
"Yeah, it's also important what they do there, but we need more people. I just tell them all to make Aliyah. But they have excuses. When I went to see my friend that time in Jerusalem, everybody was like 'Oh, it's so cool that you live here. I want to do that too. I want to go into the army and stuff, but can't. I just can't leave my family, or I gotta finish school, or, hehe, I loved this one, I have too many friends there'. Friends!? That's your excuse?"
I don't know what to add. I just smile, lean back, sip my milk shake, and watch the sun drown in the Mediterranean Sea leaving behind itself gorgeous collection of colors as a reminder of a beautiful and relaxed day.

Address
My dear Diaspora Youth, not so long ago I was amongst you. We had movie nights, Shabbat dinners, solidarity events and so on. Now, as somebody from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, please consider the following:
I am not interested in what you would do or how much you love this country. It's very easy to love it from afar. We need you to do more. Yes, there are many reasons why you're still there, but if you really want to support us, talking about it is not enough. Fight anti-Israel sentiment on campuses and workplaces, buy Israeli products, donate money, get involved (AIPAC) and vote smart. Instead of going to Cancun for the tenth time, come discover more about Israel.
All you "Zionists", Zion is here. By being there, you're continuing your exile. And as members of Diaspora, the rules of Diaspora apply. You get to live in a foreign land and try to catch some of our news that reaches your shores. You get to worry about assimilation and antisemitism in your backyard. You get to carry this unexplained feeling of regret with every passing day. What you don't get is the right to criticize the decisions we make or the people we are. You don't get to build your life in Israel. You don't get to love what's not yours or even tell us about it. You're a century behind - at a time when you have no home for your nation. You don't get to talk for us. Your passport and with it your voice are sitting unused here.
An yet, you have an important job in Diaspora - so do it well. But silently. There simply is no reason to try to convince yourself and others that you care. Just keep caring.