“Dude, are you watching Kanye right now?”

I was trying to get some work done and so had logged off of Twitter, that black hole of permanent distraction. But I couldn’t escape the nonstop emails and texts from my friends suggesting that I drop everything and watch the rapper’s feed. So, like the rest of America, I did.

There, @kanyewest, I was treated to a torrent of pro-Trump statements, including a photograph of West’s red “Make America Great Again” baseball cap, autographed by the president himself. “You don’t have to agree with Trump,” Kanye tweeted on, “but the mob can’t make me not love him. We are both dragon energy.” Not one to miss out on an endorsement, Trump tweeted right back, thanking Kanye and adding a “very cool!” for emphasis.

Knowing that I dislike Trump almost as much as I like Kanye, my friends were curious: Did I admire the artist less now that he’s referred to the president as his brother?

It’s an easy question, one that we Israelis have had a lifetime to ponder.

Growing up in Tel Aviv, I would often grow enamored of a band, a writer or a filmmaker only to discover that my new celebrity crush was, to put it mildly, not a big fan of my country. At first, I resolved to disavow anyone whose politics I found reprehensible. I tossed aside those Brian Eno CDs, convincing myself that I had no business enjoying the music, no matter how entrancing, of someone who was calling for a boycott of Israel. I bored roommates at the time with endless rants against a musician for speaking his mind.