Being a Jew is Special
Brooklyn Torah Gazette | January 12, 2025
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Being a Jew is Special

Brooklyn Torah Gazette | June 27, 2025

The bias is clear, the double standards are plentiful, and the propaganda is effective. I’ve seen even the most well-intentioned ally have their heartstrings tugged on by an artistically beautiful Faces of Gaza photo essay, swept up with so much sympathy they felt the need to repost it. They don’t understand that even this seemingly benign post translates to one very clear message, same as all the others: blame the Jews. They don’t think about the people who may see this and choose to act on it. They don’t realize it poses a very real threat to our families, or how the security guards at my kids’ (Jewish) school now carry massive machine guns on a daily basis. They don’t know when I share photos of my children, I crop out the school name embroidered on their uniforms...just in case.

Being a Jew is special. We’re good people—do I even have to say that? But we are. We believe in peace and tikkun olam (repairing the world). We give tzedakah and perform mitzvot. We contribute positively to society and support other minorities in their time of need. We pray together. Celebrate simchas together. Grieve together. We have an inherent shared experience of resiliency in the constant fight for our survival as 0.2% of the world’s population and the crime of being born a Jew.

While they call for intifada and tear down American flags, we gather hand in hand to sing Hatikvah, call for the return of the hostages, and pray for peace. Can’t they see we’re the good guys? Why are we the last people on Earth to earn the world’s sympathy and understanding, even behind terrorists? I will never understand.

It all feels like a bad dream I can’t wake up from. I want the hostages to come home and the war to end. I want people to stop being taught to hate us from birth. I want to go back to worrying about mundane things that have no bearing on my right to exist. I want to remember what life was like before.

Until then, I’ll pray good triumphs over evil. I’ll hope more people will seek the truth and speak up for us. And I’ll keep being a proud Jew, for there is no other path I could ever choose.

The bias is clear, the double standards are plentiful, and the propaganda is effective. I’ve seen even the most well-intentioned ally have their heartstrings tugged on by an artistically beautiful Faces of Gaza photo essay, swept up with so much sympathy they felt the need to repost it. They don’t understand that even this seemingly benign post translates to one very clear message, same as all the others: blame the Jews. They don’t think about the people who may see this and choose to act on it. They don’t realize it poses a very real threat to our families, or how the security guards at my kids’ (Jewish) school now carry massive machine guns on a daily basis. They don’t know when I share photos of my children, I crop out the school name embroidered on their uniforms...just in case.

Being a Jew is special. We’re good people—do I even have to say that? But we are. We believe in peace and tikkun olam (repairing the world). We give tzedakah and perform mitzvot. We contribute positively to society and support other minorities in their time of need. We pray together. Celebrate simchas together. Grieve together. We have an inherent shared experience of resiliency in the constant fight for our survival as 0.2% of the world’s population and the crime of being born a Jew.

While they call for intifada and tear down American flags, we gather hand in hand to sing Hatikvah, call for the return of the hostages, and pray for peace. Can’t they see we’re the good guys? Why are we the last people on Earth to earn the world’s sympathy and understanding, even behind terrorists? I will never understand.

It all feels like a bad dream I can’t wake up from. I want the hostages to come home and the war to end. I want people to stop being taught to hate us from birth. I want to go back to worrying about mundane things that have no bearing on my right to exist. I want to remember what life was like before.

Until then, I’ll pray good triumphs over evil. I’ll hope more people will seek the truth and speak up for us. And I’ll keep being a proud Jew, for there is no other path I could ever choose.

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