I am very rarely at a loss for words. In fact, I consider them to be one of my greatest gifts. My comfort. Writing is where I am free to be courageous and vulnerable, without feeling “naked” and “exposed” to a world that has not always been so good to me.
But right now, I am struggling.
Today, October 7th, is one that, for many, is riddled with pain, with terror, and with anger. And sadness. Mountains and mountains of sadness.
So, as I have always done, and always try to do, I will attempt to handle this subject with an abundance of grace and respect. For the victims. For the survivors. And for every Jew to have ever let out a breath on this earth.
Three years ago, I was a freshman in college, living in the nation’s capital. I operated with both gratitude and excitement; enveloped by the notion that I was I finally where I was meant to be.
And then it all changed.
I will never forget what I saw on the news that day. Those photos, those videos, those screams; it had been a very long time since my heart had been subjected to that level of pain. Terror, shock, disbelief; they all crashed into me like a freight train.
And yet, I couldn’t turn away.
And not just by choice.
Suddenly, the school that had become my home only months before, morphed into a frightening abyss. I would walk to class, the air around me being tainted by the chantings of “globalize the intifada,” and “from the river to the sea.”
Many nights, I would hear those exact same chants right outside my bedroom window. Eventually, I would have to put in my AirPods to drown out the noise, and secretely pray that the people protesting would tire themselves out. Or grow cold.
I really tried not to be afraid; to hold my head high. Fuck it, I wasn’t interested in letting these people, these “activists” who knew nothing about Israel or its history with Palestine gain the upper hand. Hell, why should my people be the ones to live in fear?
I don’t consider myself to be a “naive” individual, but every part of me was at that time. I foolishly thought that one day, the narrative would turn truthful, that people would look at Israel as the victim and not the aggressor.
And I hate to admit that I was wrong.
Antisemitism has always been something I knew existed. To what extent, I wasn’t sure. But I have come to see its ugliness with my own two eyes; have heard the lies with my own two ears. More than once, I have read something that has caused me to react out loud, right in the open.
Because how do you keep your mouth shut when your people are being raped, tortured, taken hostage, starved, beaten, and murdered outside embassies and at Chanukah celebrations? How do you sit across from peers and faculty, who deny these atrocities, despite a copiousness of proof, and instead believe in the destruction of the one Jewish state that exists? Who refer to terrorists as “freedom fighters?”
If only people had the balls to read a goddamn book…
Ultimately, In my heart of hearts, I believe that NO innocent lives should be taken, on either side, because empathy doesn’t only have to belong to one group. And, also, that Anti-zionism = Anti- semitism. Because when you call for the one Jewish state to be dismantled, you are an anti-semite. The definition of ziomism is simple: it is the “right of the Jewish people to self-determination and a sovereign state in their ancestral homeland” (Britannica).
Lastly, before I go, I leave this message for every Jew reading this: I see you, I hear you, and I feel you. No matter how much people wish to see us crumble, we never will. Because we are not going anywhere. We are forever united. And we will never let anyone dim our light, our spirit, or our joy. Never again. Never forget. Always in our hearts. AM YISRAEL CHAI💙🤍🇮🇱🤍💙
