I grew up in what many would call the ‘Jewish Bubble’. On the outskirts of London, we live like any other British teenagers, the only difference being that the majority of us attended faith schools, meaning our exposure to other communities was fairly limited. When everyone around you shares your culture, you tend to not question how different you might be from the rest of your country. Having this perspective meant we couldn’t always understand why our Jewish educators were so desperate to instill a sense of Jewish pride within us. We were so sheltered in our own version of reality, that the idea of needing such a strong Jewish defense seemed way too intense. What could be so different in the ‘real world’?
We were very naive to think society would be as inclusive as we imagined. It may even come as a surprise to many of you that Jews aren’t truly safe in our post-WW2 world. Although it’s exactly this mentality that fuels the problem.
Currently, Jews make up 0.2% of the global population, and in accordance with the ADL global index, 1 in 500 people are Jewish, whilst 370 have never met a Jew. This statistic became very real to me when my bubble popped and I moved to university. I was distinguishably different on sight and became many people’s first Jewish friend. Some even found it funny to consider that we still exist in our little communities and ate food they’ve never seen before. But why is this so detrimental?
It’s this lack of exposure that allows antisemitism to fester so ruthlessly, as people feel less of a personal connection to a community of people, and are thus less likely to empathise when Jews feel discriminated against. It also contributes to the white-washing of our ethnic-religion, where the majority of people in the Western world may only know of Jews to look like Adam Sandler or John Hill, or only be familiar with the atrocities of the holocaust when it comes to Jewish genocide. Placing the primary focus solely on Ashkenazi Jews without supplementary education about how the Jewish diaspora came to be, breeds the misconception that Jews are just another shade of white. The limited representation silences the experiences of Mizrachi (like my West Asian and North African self), Sephardi, Yemenite, Karaite and Bukharan Jews. Meanwhile, this white-washing places a new, entirely undeserved, and misinformed target on our backs, as a Jewish identity becomes grouped in the majority. This serves to exclude us from the conversation focused on protecting minorities, whilst strengthening the use of conspiracies and scapegoating (some of the oldest and most common methods of antisemitism).
It’s this ‘Jewish Privilege’ mentality that allows for ‘Dirty Jews’ to be chanted by Black Lives Matter protesters in Paris, ultimately alienating black Jews. Such a display taints the movement’s message, by politicising a religion and failing to realise that social justice cannot be attained without intersectionality.
The effects of this rhetoric can also be seen with regard to the scandals within the Labour party. I’m a leftist, yet on multiple occasions, I’ve been called a conservative Islamophobe and was told I was overreacting, for simply suggesting that we deserve better than to pick from the lesser of two evils. One form of discrimination shouldn’t be considered more pressing than another, and my political identity shouldn’t be assumed based on my desire to not be subjected to hate speech. As a Jew voting in my first general election, I felt utterly disenfranchised and helpless.
It’s become apparent that we’re constant targets of gaslighting. Even now, writing this, I have a subconscious worry that I’m playing the victim. I consider that maybe I’m making too much of a fuss whilst others might have it worse than me. However, in the past few months alone, we’ve seen a Rabbi stabbed in the head in Stamford hill, the Chabad houses in Oregon and in University of Delaware fall victim to arson, a Ukrainian Orthodox man beaten in a supermarket, a car ramming down two Orthodox men in Brooklyn, a Jewish-owned bar in Berlin being vandalised with anti-Semitic graffiti and burned to the ground, a Jewish man being beaten up in Williamsburg, and swastikas sprayed across my own area. Antisemitism never disappears, it’s just ignored and allowed to fester until it’s too late. Not talking about this issue and shaming Jews who do is appalling, terrifying, and causes overwhelming amounts of damage.
I also attended a BLM protest this summer. Whilst I was there I met someone who supported the movement, yet believed that the murder of George Floyd had been orchestrated by the likes of the Rothschilds and Soros, to distract us from government control. Claiming there’s plenty of videos out there that share the ‘truth’, and lamenting the way they all get deleted at such a fast pace. I find it so incredibly unnerving that individuals can feel so oppressed by the removal of anti-Semitic content. Us tackling hate speech only serves to further fuel their belief that the Jews are in control, leaving us stuck in the constant trap of unavoidable abuse. The same goes for Wiley’s 48-hour anti-Semitic rampage. The rapper referred to Jews as the ‘real enemy’, stating ‘Jewish people, you have me sick’, and in-line with notorious anti-Semite, Louis Farrakhan, who wrongly accused the Jews of funding the slave trade. Wiley had convinced people that in order to be anti-racist, you had to be anti-Jewish. With 500,000 followers, what can a community of 300,000 Jews do to counteract such a voice? His cancellation only seemed to prove his point to his supporters, as though the big powerful Jew had silenced the truth once again.
The thing I find most heartbreaking about these incidents is the way they pit minorities against each other. Wrongly identifying your oppressor only weakens the liberation movement by shifting blame away from the actual culprits. I refuse to generalise and demonise the BLM movement or any other social justice cause. I simply hope to highlight the subtle, anti-Semitic traps that parasitically creep their way into progressive groups. To me, that is the most frightening form, as it turns a safe space for change into a weapon against me.
As Jews, we suffer tremendously from generational trauma as a result of centuries of expulsions and genocides from all corners of the globe. It’s not uncommon for Jews to have pre-packed bags and an escape plan in case their country decides to turn against them. Jews are also known to suffer disproportionately from anxiety and troubles with sleeping. But I can understand why when we live in a world where Holocaust deniers actually exist, a country where anti-Semitic attacks increased by 82% in 2019, and under a political system where neither party feels good enough. Growing up, we used to get asked a lot if we identified ourselves as ‘British’ first, or ‘Jewish’. This past year has brought to my attention that I will always be forced to identify as a Jew primarily, as I don’t have the privilege to choose otherwise.
I appreciate that antisemitism may be one of the more complex and confusing forms of discrimination. Issues such as scapegoating mean the reason for our oppression is constantly contradicting. We have simultaneously been the capitalist enemy, yet also the communist enemy. We are targeted as a minority, yet also attacked for blending in with the majority. The intricacies of it is what causes me to worry that we’ll never be able to triumph, especially considering how small our platform is. However, I truly hope that this new era of conscious anti-racism brings a wider understanding of what it truly means to be tolerant of Jews.
Written by Leann Yfrah
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