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When Hussein Mansour opens his mouth about growing up in Egypt, Jew hatred, and Israel, I wish my father was still alive. I met Hussein a decade after my dad died. My father would have loved Hussein as much as I do. I imagine the two of them laughing over silly Egyptian jokes in Arabic. And my dad, Moussa Wahba, would feel as validated as I do. Both Hussein and my father were forced out of their native land for being what they were. My father a Jew had to go, Hussein a Zionist, had to go. There is no demarcation between Jew and Zionist in Islam. Born and raised two generations after Nasser began expelling Egypt’s Jews in 1956, Hussein was told that the Jews “just left” somehow. My family was
