Eighty years ago, American soldiers liberated some of the darkest places on Earth – concentration camps. They saw the horrors of the Holocaust with their own eyes. For many survivors, these soldiers were more than just liberators – they were saviors, the first bright light in years of darkness.
America became a refuge, a safe haven, and a country that stood against hatred to protect the future; a country that worked to build a world of coexistence and was proud of its different cultures.
Today, as I travel through the US, I see a different nation – one that seems to have turned its back on the very people it once rescued. A country where freedom of speech is often prioritized over safety and security, where the rise of antisemitism is undeniable.
For the first time in years, I feel a sense of fear wearing my Star of David in public. And yet, I wear it – because our Jewish ancestors faced far worse. But the fact that I even hesitate worries me. How did we get here?
Hate crimes against Jews in the US have surged. The Anti-Defamation League reported a nearly 400% increase in antisemitic incidents following the October 7 attacks. Universities, the homes of our future leaders, have become places where Jewish students face hostility. Just recently, thousands of students, many from highly ranked institutions, took to the streets – not to condemn terror but to defend a group that kidnapped and murdered infants.
What does this say about the next generation of leaders? About the moral compass of our society? How can we continue calling these academic institutions the Ivy League when they foster fear on their campuses for minority groups and when standing with terrorists is not deemed inappropriate?
Have we forgotten history? Forgotten the alliance that once made the US a beacon of hope for Holocaust survivors? America is home to the world’s second-largest Jewish community, and for decades, it has been one of the safest. But today, that sense of security is slipping away.
Defying antisemitism: Jewish resilience in the United States
Yet, as I walk through New York, I am reminded of resilience. Despite the statistics, despite the threats, I see people proudly wearing kippot. In airports, travelers pause to lay tefillin. Kosher restaurants display their signs with pride. The Jewish people have always endured, and they will again.
This past month, I had the honor of being part of a delegation in both New York and Pittsburgh – two communities grappling with the growing threat of antisemitism.
Yet, despite the fear, I was once again reassured by the faith, strength, and unwavering spirit that make these communities unbreakable. I saw allies stand in solidarity, and I saw Jewish communities standing stronger than ever, refusing to be silenced.
I walked through streets where synagogues were eager to shape the next generation of Jewish students. I met students who, despite facing hostility on their campuses, refused to hide their identity. I listened to survivors of past tragedies who reminded me that Jewish resilience is and always will be part of our identity.
I saw allies – Christians, Muslims, etc. – who stand in support with their Jewish neighbors, refusing to let hate win. In a world where history risks being forgotten, these communities choose to remember, to educate, and to fight back with an incredible amount of pride.
This is the America I still believe in and the one of which we should be proud.
The writer is manager of the Holocaust Education Program of Sharaka, a nonprofit, nongovernmental initiative based in Israel, Bahrain, and Morocco that works to build people-to-people peace and engagement. She runs the Instagram page @mymissiontoremember.
