On October 7, 2023, I woke up in Washington D.C. to see Hamas raining terror and chaos on Israel. I saw videos of Israeli children being dragged out of their homes by Hamas terrorists and joyful concert goers murdered at the Nova Music Festival. I had spent so much of my life learning about the Holocaust and how to prevent it from happening again, but the phrase “Never Again” feels hollow when you’re watching a terrorist organization massacre your people.
Though I’ve never been to Israel, and I consider myself a secular Jew, I feel tied to Judaism. When I was younger, close friends told me I wasn’t a “pure Jew” because my Judaism was passed down through my father and not my mother. According to strict Jewish Law (Halakha), children whose Judaism is passed down to them maternally are considered religiously Jewish, while those whose Judaism is passed down to them paternally are considered ethnically Jewish. Regardless of this, I’ve been raised to believe that I’m as Jewish as anyone else. It doesn’t matter whose bloodline it comes from. I’ve spent time with my Nana to learn about her Jewish relatives who fled the pogroms in Belarus, like my great grandfather who lived in tenement housing on New York’s Lower East Side. My connection to Judaism may not be through Hebrew school or through attending temple every Rosh Hashanah, but my Ashkenazi roots still run deep.
Because of the politically homogenous community I’ve grown up in, I’ve never learned what it means to have to defend your ideas and thoughts. For the most part, the Parker community, like me, leans Democratic. On many topics, we seem to agree with one another and find community easily. Voices from the opposition often remain silent. While I wasn’t at Parker in the days immediately following October 7, I was aware of the spaces they were holding for Jewish students to come together and talk about their grief and ask their questions. On October 24, 2023, Jewish Student Connection held a gathering in partnership with the Anti-Defamation League (ADL). The meeting, as publicized by Jewish Student Connection, was open to all upper schoolers, regardless of religious affiliation. Having a student-led organization provide a safe space for all students to learn and understand more about this conflict, was unique and provided students like me, who were looking for support, the comfort in knowing that my school cared about me.
I assumed that because a significant portion of Parker’s community is Jewish, the majority would agree with my opinion regarding October 7 and the violence against Jews in Israel. However, I came to realize that, regardless of religious affiliation, everyone had different beliefs on this conflict. When I looked outside the Parker bubble, I realized that I had been generalizing the opinions of Jewish people. In reality, not all Jews believed that Israel had a right to defend itself, and not all Muslims wanted Israel to give back land. In sensitive conflicts like this, making assumptions can do a lot more harm than it can do good. When I looked back at my Parker community, I realized that many Jewish members did not agree with my beliefs, a terrain that was foreign to me.
My experience in D.C. taught me how to debate with pro-lifers and second amendment champions, people I may previously have been afraid of. I learned to respect these viewpoints and the people who shared them. But I wasn’t prepared to interact with anti-Israel and anti-Jewish activists who spoke out following October 7.
When I first talked to my dad about October 7, I bombarded him with questions. Half were asking for context of the conflict between Israel and Palestine and the rest were all something along the lines of “why would Hamas do such a thing?” and “why do people hate Jews so much?” To be honest, I think the second question answers the first. Hamas is capable and does terrible things to Jews because they hate Jews. Hamas’s charter, the “Covenant,” states “The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them. Then, the Jews will hide behind rocks and trees, and the rocks and trees will cry out: ‘O Moslem, there is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill him” (Article 7). Hamas’s purpose is to kill Jews.
Initially I assumed that the world would be rioting in the streets against Hamas’s horrific actions. Because we live in a post Holocaust era, I expected Europeans and Americans to speak out for the lives of the hostages and those murdered on October 7, not all of whom were Jewish. Instead, I watched a shockwave of antisemitism hit the Jewish community and the support I once yearned for never materialized. In the next few months, media outlets reported breaking news regarding encampments on college campuses. The first one I really paid attention to was Columbia University in New York City. The university’s campus was covered with Palestinian flags, keffiyehs, and signs saying “Disclose Divest.” Protestors stood outside chanting “from the river to the sea Palestine will be free” and burned Israeli flags. I would get videos on TikTok of Jewish students at Columbia being harassed by protestors and physically harmed because of their religion. Now an everyday staple like walking to class was unsafe for Jewish students. It got to the point where I became physically sick looking at all the content on my social media feed.
I’ve never been taught to hate someone or a group of people for who they are, but I must admit, seeing videos of college students berate and abuse Jewish students for wearing a Kippah, or a Star of David makes me lack respect for these protests. In a world and country that’s already so divided, why spend your time preaching hate against people you don’t agree with?
My opinions were a part of the minority of social media users. The comment sections of these videos were filled of anti-semitic users anonymously using TikTok to harass Jews. Videos were flooded with comments that constantly labeled Jews and Israelis as the oppressors and Palestinians as the oppressed. Not all Israelis are Jewish, and not all Jews are Israeli. Labeling a religion with a nationality is a big reach and causes confusion, especially when it’s on social media. Because I felt like social media was not providing me with the content I needed to understand this conflict, I switched to more fact based news outlets. One of these was “The New York Times.” I quickly learned that I couldn’t trust all newspapers and definitely not this one.
For a paper run by an Ashkenazi Jewish family, the Ochs-Sulzberger’s, “The New York Times” has failed to accurately represent the Jewish perspective in the content they push out. In October of 2023, just weeks after the Hamas attack on Israel, “The New York Times” published an article with the headline, “Israeli Airstrike Hits Gaza Hospital, Killing 500, Palestinian Health Ministry Says.” Following the release of more information on the strikes, the headline was updated to “Israel and Palestinians Blame Each Other for Blast at Gaza Hospital That Killed Hundreds.” The change in headlines was due to the dispute between who carried out the strike. It was later revealed from Israeli intercepted audio recordings and data that the U.S. designated terrorist group Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) was responsible for the strike. After this information became widespread, “The Times” took accountability through an editor’s note claiming that they “relied too heavily on claims by Hamas, and did not make clear that those claims could not immediately be verified.” After I heard that a newspaper like “The Times” failed to accurately report on a missile strike, not once, but twice, and then blame it on information they’d acquired from a terrorist organization, I stopped spending my time reading it. Like other students who care about learning and understanding conflicts like these, I want fact based headlines and articles that are legitimate. Isn’t their job as a news outlet to report usual factual and vetted sources? Though seemingly unintentional, nothing says “we want to lose credibility” like citing a terrorist organization.
Across all different media platforms, I wondered why seemingly no one was condemning the horrific acts of Hamas on October 7 and were instead starting the timeline on October 8. The conflict between Jews and Muslims didn’t begin on October 8, and it didn’t even begin on October 7. It’s been going on for more than a thousand years, meaning that no one person understands just how deep this conflict goes. But I still wonder why people started the debate on October 8. Was it because it gave their argument more credibility? Was it because starting on October 8 makes Palestinians look more oppressed than Jews in current times? My [minority] opinion is that there shouldn’t be a competition as to who is more oppressed. Religiously motivated massacres like October 7 shouldn’t be ignored just because they diminish the other side’s argument. I may have grown up in a homogenous community, but even I know that it’s extremely difficult to debate the other side without at least educating yourself on their opinions.
Although I’m excited to leave Parker and be exposed to new ideas from new people, there is an underlying sense of fear I still hold after October 7. I’ve seen how supportive Parker has been to those affected by Hamas’s actions against Jews, and I feel safe knowing that my small community wants me to feel protected and heard. However, I know that next year in college, those spaces for me to share my raw emotions will be more limited and be faced with scrutiny from those who disagree. In a perfect world, I’d be able to block out that noise and just listen to what I want to hear. But I know that I live in a reality where it is unfair for me to silence their opinion because I don’t like it. College will afford me the opportunity to be exposed directly to a new side of this conflict that I’ve never experienced before. I’m prepared to listen and learn, even if I’m extremely anxious.
On March 23, I saw the film “October 8” with my dad. I went into the movie knowing it was about the rise in antisemitism on college campuses, and I came out knowing more. I listened to Tessa Veksler, the former Student Body President of UCSB talk about what it was like to be surrounded by people who hated her just because of her faith. I listened to Sheryl Sandberg explain how hard it was to ask her friend if she would hide her similarly to how people hid Jews in the Holocaust. And I listened to Representative Richie Torres (D-NY 15th District) express the importance of uniting against the real enemy of October 7, Hamas, rather than spending time hating Jews and Israelis for something they themselves didn’t start.
When the movie ended, I felt a surge of emotion. Immediately, I crumbled into my dad and cried as the credits rolled. While October 7 did shatter my illusion of security, it also ignited a fire within me. It made me realize that though I may not be in the majority opinion regarding October 7, those who do agree with me are willing to speak out, regardless of the consequences. I know that when writing this, backlash is inevitable. However, I will not allow the voices of hate to go uncontested. I will use my powerful voice to advocate, to educate, and to guarantee that “Never Again” is more than just a phrase—it is a promise.
