LEAH GROSSMAN (Aish.com)
With antisemitic violence and harassment at an all-time high, it’s a scary time to be a Jew. But you know what feels even scarier? Being a silent one.
Like so many others, I’ve found myself with a renewed connection to my Jewish identity post-October 7th. Sure, I grew up going to Hebrew school and Jewish summer camp. I became a bat mitzvah and felt comfortable parading around our synagogue as the cantor’s daughter. But I never shouted my Jewishness from the rooftops. So why do I feel compelled to do that now? It’s pretty simple, really. Because it feels like my life depends on it.
With antisemitic violence and harassment at an all-time high, it’s a scary time to be a Jew. But you know what feels even scarier? Being a silent one.
Being silent means agreeing with all the lies being told about us. It means accepting what’s happening around the world as normal and okay. It means signing our own death warrant.
I never thought we would be here—I went the first 40 years of my life without experiencing a hint of antisemitism. Yet, the notion of history repeating itself now feels more like a foregone conclusion than an abstract idea.
Can’t they see this is how it started? And how easily it escalated into total disaster
