Some of my favorite childhood memories include gathering around the table and lighting the Menorah candles, sitting on the floor with my cousins while playing dreidel for M&M’s, and singing “Go Down Moses” during Passover seder. I am so proud of my Jewishness, and I am so thankful I was raised with the values and traditions of Judaism. I wouldn’t be who I am today without the tiring journey of learning my Torah portion for my Bat Mitzvah or stressing over which multiple of 18 I should give as a gift for Bar Mitzvahs. But what does all of this mean if I identify as pro-Palestine? 

I have felt antisemitism throughout my life. In elementary school, kids would call me weird for not celebrating Christmas. In middle school, peers would draw swastikas on my paper, and now I get the occasional joke that I must be rich or have aspirations of becoming a banker. 

Yet, I never truly felt I was in imminent danger when these moments happened. The only time I have felt the fear of being attacked for my Jewishness is when Zionist Jewish people claim that I am a self-hating Jewish person for being pro-Palestine.

Sitting on the train to Connecticut to celebrate Rosh Hashanah with my family, I’m forced to think about my grandparents and their generation. This is the generation that survived the Holocaust and truly needed a homeland. Israel means everything to them. It means hope, freedom, and safety. Israel is, in their eyes, a savior. 

But I am disappointed in Israel. I so badly wish Israel was this incredible homeland I was taught about where anyone and everyone could go to be free from religious persecution. I wish I could be proud of Israel, but at the end of the day, I am not. 

Perhaps the idea of Israel is beautiful and powerful, but the execution is ugly and terrifying. To me, the idea of a place where not only Jewish people but everyone can live freely is Jewish and beautiful, but Israel is not that place. Israel is not a place where Palestinians and many Arab or other populations can live freely. I can understand Zionists and their desire for a homeland, but they are clouded by the idea of what Israel was meant to be and not what the reality is.

Anti-Zionism is not antisemitism, and Israel is not Judaism. Everyone must stop equating the Israeli government and state of Israel to the Jewish religion or Zionism with being Jewish. It is possible to be anti-Semitic and a Zionist and to be anti-Zionist and Jewish. 

Growing up, I went to Hebrew school and was taught by older generations that to be Jewish means to love Israel. So, when I learned of Israel, I saw the land of milk and honey instead of seeing the reality of violence and oppression. Anyone in my community who saw anything different was not only considered anti-Israel but also anti-Jew. 

Judaism taught me to love my neighbor, respect everyone despite their differences, and be kind. But when I think of the actions of Israel, I think of apartheid, oppression, and hate. So much biased information and propaganda was spread to me as a kid. Whether it was Hillel or birthright, the idea that Israel was great was always pushed on me. I was taught that Israel was the victim and they were constantly under threat from other countries in the Middle East, and I never asked questions. It took me many years to finally do the research myself and truly start to see for myself the truth.

So, despite what I was taught, I have now learned that my Jewishness has nothing to do with Israel and never will. I am not a self-loathing Jewish person and never have been. I am proud to be Jewish and disappointed in Israel, just like so many others.

“I stopped going to Jewish spaces,” said another Jewish student from The New School when asked about how their experience has changed after talk about Israel has heightened. “I fear that they will be Zionists,” they continued. “It seems that the people that are the most aggressive towards me for being Jewish are those who are Zionists. They yell at me for being a self-hating Jew.”

When I first moved to New York, I was so excited to be in a place so dense with Jewish people and culture. I grew up in a place with a small Jewish population, and the only people I could celebrate with were my family. I looked forward to being able to go to Jewish spaces and meet other Jewish people, yet because of the hostility and fear around differing views within these spaces, I have been unable to do this.

I personally do not wish to break bread with those who support violence towards Palestinians, so I feel as if my ability to meet other Jewish people and interact with Jewish spaces overall has been impacted and damaged. Zionists love to argue that pro-Palestinians are the ones who separate and target Jewish people, but, in my experience, it has been the opposite. 

I am not a self-loathing Jew. The Zionists are the ones who loathe me.