I grew up in an almost all-white town. In my school I could count on my hands the number of people whose skin was not white, and on less than a single hand the people who I knew followed a faith other than Christianity. I did not know a single Jewish person.
I grew up knowing what racism was – it was obvious. It was name calling. It was vile graffiti. It was monkey chants in the stadium. As a white girl in an almost all white town, I was sure I knew what to look for. I was proudly anti racist, anti-homophobia, anti-hatred.
I was 17 when I first met a Jewish person. That person was a Holocaust survivor, Kitty Hart Moxon, who paced the stage wearing a tracksuit, telling us her incredible story. She was preparing us for a visit to Auschwitz with the Holocaust Educational Trust – a room full mainly of people who were much like me, and for whom Jews were people we read about in books, but had never met in real life.
Visiting Auschwitz was life changing. I vividly remember the babies’ clothes on display. I remember the dawning realisation that if the Nazis thought that the owners of these tiny baby grows deserved to be murdered, then what we were learning about was something unlike anything I had ever really thought about.
This was a hatred that went so much deeper than anything I could ever possibly imagine.
We got back on coaches – the same 17 year olds that had laughed and joked on the journey out were now stunned into silence. I knew in that moment that I wanted to do something with my life to make what I had seen at Auschwitz make sense, to remember and honour the dead.
And after a few years away at university, I started out on my journey to do just that. I started working at the Holocaust Educational Trust, where I have now been for 17 years, and where I am now chief of staff.
I remember feeling like I would be putting my history degree to good use, that sharing the memory of the past was something vitally important that I could play a role in. I still feel that way. But what I definitely did not fully understand when I joined the Trust was that my work would not only be about history.
Since October 7th I have been appalled by the growing audacity of people from all walks of life who are showing their true colours as they share views that should cause utter revulsion
Because despite learning about and considering the Holocaust, and despite being so sure that I understood what racism was, what I very quickly came to realise when I started working at the Trust is that I did not know what racism looked like in all of its forms.
I did not understand the nuances of hatred. I did not understand the quieter, more insidious ways that hatred presents itself. I did not understand that racism is not always loud and proud.
And I certainly did not understand that racism today can be and often is targeted at Jewish people.
Over the years I have realised how narrow my understanding was. Today, I have seen time and again how the Jewish community is targeted. Now I can understand that antisemitism is certainly not always loud and proud – but more than that, antisemitism is often denied, even by the antisemite.
And since October 7th I have been appalled by the growing audacity of people from all walks of life who are showing their true colours as they share views that should cause utter revulsion but which are instead celebrated. Unlike 17 year old me, I consider myself well-versed in antisemitism today – but still I have been shocked by the antisemitism that I have seen over the last year.
When I met Kitty Hart Moxon for the first time, I was awestruck by her. Today, many years later, I still am. I still remember her telling us that for her, speaking out was an act of defiance
My understanding of antisemitism did not happen overnight, but rather is thanks to all of the amazing people who are speaking out about antisemitism today – the brave Holocaust survivors I have the pleasure and privilege of working with, my brilliant colleagues who speak out about antisemitism and work to make sure it is understood, and of course, the incredible people who were nominated for the Pete Newbon Award for the greatest contribution to the public understanding of antisemitism, for which I have had the honour of being on the judging panel.
We judges were very fortunate to see a huge number of applications showcasing some of the most inspiring ways in which antisemitism is being rebutted and challenged today.
The applications we saw showed that this issue is being addressed by individuals from all walks of life, all in their own unique way. And of course our winner, Heidi Bachram showed incredible dedication and perseverance, creating a memorial for the victims of October 7th and standing steadfast in recreating it again and again every time it was vandalised. Heidi is a powerful reminder of what it means to be an ally.
When I met Kitty Hart Moxon for the first time, I was awestruck by her. Today, many years later, I still am. I still remember her telling us that for her, speaking out was an act of defiance.
This weekend’s awards are a reminder that today there are still many inspiring and passionate people defiantly speaking out, refusing to be silenced by antisemitism.
