When everyone wants to talk about Palestinian rights, is it possible to care about antisemitism too? Illustration by Mira Fox
Dear Bintel,
I’m a student in an American public school, and I’m an Ashkenazi Jew. My family perished in the Holocaust, but some of us managed to get to the U.S. So, obviously, I’m pretty sensitive about antisemitism.
When my friends talk about the racism or discrimination they face, I’m always by their side 100%. Hate — whether toward Christians or Muslims, African-Americans or Asians — is completely unacceptable. But whenever I talk about antisemitism in universities, and my concern for American Jews, I never get the same response from them. They always bring the topic back to how Israel is still invading and killing civilians in Gaza. I know what’s happening to the Palestinians is bad, but I can’t help feeling like they bring it up to prove that antisemitism is justified.
Or they will bring up injustice happening to the Muslim students at our school. Yes, I do care about the Muslim students deeply. (The hate is getting worse for them, too!) But how does that relate to what I was saying? I simply just want to fit in, and have others care about our injustices like I care about theirs.
It’s always: “They didn’t mean it that way” or “I’m neutral about the war so I can’t comment,” but never, “I’m sorry somebody put that graffiti there.”
I’m not blaming the people at my school, but how do I get them to understand bad things are happening to me and the Jews? How do I separate anti-Zionism and antisemitism? And how do I know what is my own paranoia, and what is actually rooted in antisemitism?
Sincerely,
Misunderstood
You touch on a really tough issue here, Misunderstood. The rhetoric around the Israel-Hamas war has been white-hot, and that’s led to a lot of high-emotion sweeping statements, purity tests and knee-jerk reactions to anything having to do with Israel and, by extension, Jews.
All antisemitism is bad, to be clear. But these days, some Jewish leaders are characterizing all criticism of Israel or public support of Palestinians as problematic. Bintel sees a big difference between, for example, swastika graffiti on a Jewish student’s locker and spray-painting “Free Palestine” in the parking lot. Both the statement and its placement are relevant to determining whether something has crossed the line.
When I asked what kind of incidents you were talking about with your friends, Misunderstood, you told me someone had sprayed “die Israel” on your brother’s campus. I get why that would raise your hackles — “die” is a harsh word. But I also get why your friends might read it as a political slogan and not a threat of violence.
Reasonable people can disagree about how dangerous any given slogan is. Some people feel that “from the river to the sea,” for example, is expressing an active wish for the destruction of the state of Israel and the deaths of Israelis. Others see it as a political philosophy and a rallying cry for liberation that poses no threat to Jews or Israelis as individual people. The same is true of “die Israel.”
I think the bigger issue is that you do not feel like your friends are emotionally supporting you, hearing your point of view or empathizing with your experience.
So start by sharing that experience — lead with your own feelings. Instead of saying something like, “Isn’t it antisemitic to say Israel should die? Don’t you care about the Jews?” say something like, “I’m worried about my brother and myself; a lot of people blame all Jews for Israel’s actions in Gaza and it scares me.”
And don’t forget to add: “It hurts my feelings when I express fear and you reply with political reactions instead of a hug.”
It’s a trope in therapy to urge people to use “I language,” but it can make a big difference. Telling people how you feel, and what you’re experiencing, instead of making accusations about what people meant or broad statements about the world, usually elicits more understanding — and less defensiveness.
Your friends might not understand why graffiti saying “die Israel” feels so personal and scary for you, so explain it. You can bring up the way white supremacists are adopting the term “Zionist” to cloak their antisemitism, or the way that people are using the war to stoke broader hatred against Jews. Just try to keep it rooted in your own experience, and how it impacts you — maybe you’re worried about speaking up in class or that you’ll get yelled at if someone sees you going to services at the campus Hillel. Give your friends the chance to empathize with you.
Also, keep things in perspective. Antisemitism on campuses is real, but people involved in pro-Palestinian protests have been arrested, expelled, had their degrees revoked and, most recently, been detained and threatened with deportation. In many cases, what has happened to these activists is more tangible and immediate than the general feelings of fear or discrimination Jewish students have experienced. Both matter, and the crackdown against pro-Palestinian protesters doesn’t excuse lashing out against Jews, but it’s understandable if your friends are feeling more affronted about one than the other.
The reality is that politics will probably inevitably seep into conversations about graffiti related to the war. You should be ready to have those discussions, and to discern the line between your personal emotions and your friends’ political stances. They might not agree with every one of your feelings, and that’s OK as long as you can navigate those differences.
Now if there are other antisemitic incidents that are directed toward you, or express hatred for “the Jews” instead of criticism of Israel, and your friends still explain those away, that’s a different issue. Some things can be read differently by reasonable people — but a swastika, an accusation that Jews control a major global system, or someone targeting you just for your Jewishness all cross the line. If your friends can’t see the difference, you may need to get some new friends.
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