In this blog post I want to express the feelings of one of Maya Tevet Dayan latest Facebook post.
As the war front rages on in Israel, a parallel battle unfurls globally: the Jewish community stands on this front line—Israelis and non-Israelis alike. A disturbing post surfaces on Instagram from someone in the US, “Find a Jew and behead him, free Palestine.” Elsewhere, a warning looms, “Jews, you better watch out,” penned by a blonde photographed at a Starbucks. I find myself in a different city, in another Starbucks, where suddenly every person could be a suspect. Who is after me?
The Jewish community shares their fears in various groups—fear of stepping out of their homes. Jewish students across the US are avoiding universities since early October, some considering dropping out, leading to a massive lawsuit against institutions refusing tuition refunds. A staggering 120 lawyers sit on this case. It’s a colossal phenomenon tied directly to the war in Israel and rampant antisemitism.
For years, I averted my thoughts from antisemitism, believing the anger toward Israel stemmed from its policies in the territories. But now, it’s clear: this isn’t just anger at Israel—it’s an age-old persecution of Jews. This realization compelled me to write a column for the weekend supplement of Makor Rishon, and I always appreciate your readership. ❤️
On Facebook, a solemn post in a large group of Israeli women worldwide resonates, “A moment of silence for all the friendships lost to antisemitism and ignorance. My international dream shatters.” Almost 400 responses echo understanding, each woman mourning a lost friend. One replies, “It feels like 1939 has revisited, and nobody else has knocked on my door for weeks.”
As a visiting scholar at the University of San Diego, I’m friendless but engage with many students. A sticker slogan, “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” sparks my curiosity. The students explain it as a liberation mantra. “Liberated from whom?” I probe. “Israel, of course,” they reply. Their vision excludes Israeli Jews, revealing an uncomfortable truth—a desire for the expulsion of Jews without a destination.
The protests for Palestine are trendy here, yet it’s doubtful the protesters understand the geographical reference. The underlying consensus is that Jews are usurpers: of land, of academic positions, perhaps even in line with the notorious ‘Protocols of the Elders of Zion’. The spread of antisemitism feels like a vintage trend reemerging from the depths of history.
Antisemitism here is not subtle. It’s swastikas on restroom doors, Star of David emblems thrown into the trash, and massive protests echoing calls for harm against Jews. A synagogue in San Diego was vandalized, not in the name of freeing Palestine, but out of sheer hatred. Jewish students face remarks from professors that justify current events as a ‘Jewish problem’, instilling fear and shrinking their presence.
Amidst it all, a new term arises in the Urban Dictionary: “gazalighting,” a play on ‘gaslighting,’ signifying the denial and misrepresentation of facts to distort reality. The term reflects how some perceive terrorism as an excusable act of the oppressed.
Since October 7, I’ve lived in a fog of “gazalighting”—where instead of recognizing Israel as the victim, it’s blamed for the violence. Public support for the kidnapped Israelis is overshadowed by ripped posters and silence, while Jewish institutions increase security measures. America extends help to Israel, but do Americans discern right from wrong? Are they swayed by the narrative without understanding the intentions?
Yet, in a newly formed Facebook group, “Mothers Against Antisemitism in Colleges,” hope flickers. Thousands of mothers, most non-Jewish, band together, determined to support and protect Jewish families and children. Here lies a network of solidarity—a beacon against hate.
Antisemitism is a timeless, spaceless phenomenon, unaffected by logic or facts. It’s a deeply rooted emotion, persistent like love or jealousy. Even the most logical arguments fall short against it. It’s an ancient hatred that has colored my understanding of the past and present.
Now, I grasp the tenacity of antisemitism. It operates on its plane, indifferent to the myriad of injustices that stir empathy. The outcry for other causes doesn’t extend to Jewish suffering. The heart-wrenching reality of Jewish children murdered, women violated, goes unnoticed, while debates over numbers overshadow the horror of the acts themselves.
As I confront this resurgence of antisemitism, the past’s whispers become today’s echoes. The international silences of yesteryears mirror the apathy of today, allowing persecution to persist unchallenged.
In this moment, I invite you, readers, to stand in solidarity against this tide of hatred. To recognize the plight of those targeted and to remember that amidst the darkness, communities of support do exist, ready to uphold the values of acceptance and peace.