A STUDENT'S VIEW - Antisemites have always wanted Jews to feel like outsiders. They want us to question whether we belong. They want us to wonder whether our neighbors accept us, whether our institutions will protect us and whether America is really our home. We should refuse to give them that victory.
At a moment when antisemitism has become increasingly visible in American life, fear within the Jewish community is understandable. Jewish students have faced hostility. Antisemitic rhetoric spreads rapidly online. Political movements across the ideological spectrum sometimes tolerate language about Jews that should be immediately condemned.
With every incident comes the same troubling question: Is America still safe for Jews?
We should take that question seriously. But we should also be careful about the answer. Because if American Jews begin convincing ourselves that we are strangers in our own country, antisemites will have accomplished something far more damaging than spreading hateful words. They will have weakened our sense of belonging.
America is not a hotel where Jews have been temporarily permitted to stay. America is our country, too.
Generations of Jewish Americans have helped build it. Jews have served in America's military, started businesses, taught in its schools, practiced medicine in its hospitals, served in government, advanced science and technology, created art and strengthened communities across the country. We have participated in the American experiment not as spectators, but as Americans.
That history matters because one of antisemitism's oldest lies is that Jews are permanent outsiders whose loyalty can never be trusted. We cannot allow today's antisemitism to revive that lie in our own minds.
There is an understandable temptation when a community feels threatened: turn inward. Protect ourselves. Stay among people who understand us. Become suspicious of institutions that have disappointed us. Some of that instinct is natural, but isolation cannot become our strategy.
The strongest response to antisemitism is not Jewish withdrawal from American life. It is deeper Jewish participation in American life. We should vote, volunteer, serve on community boards, run for office and become teachers, journalists, attorneys, entrepreneurs, and public servants. We should build relationships with Christians, Muslims, Hindus, and people of every background who believe Americans should be able to live openly without fear.
And when another community is targeted by hatred, we should stand beside them not merely because we hope they will someday return the favor, but because opposing hatred is an American responsibility. The message should be unmistakable: We are here. We belong here. And we are not leaving American civic life because someone wants to intimidate us out of it.
Jewish Americans are also increasingly pressured to explain another part of our identity: our relationship with Israel. Criticism of an Israeli government or its policies is legitimate. Governments should be debated and criticized. But there is a difference between criticizing policy and treating Zionism or the belief that the Jewish people have a right to national self-determination as something inherently shameful.
Jewish Americans should not have to renounce Israel to prove our loyalty to America. We should reject the premise entirely.
Millions of Americans maintain deep cultural, religious, and emotional connections to countries and communities around the world. That does not diminish their American identity. Jews deserve the same respect. I can care deeply about the safety of Jews in Israel while caring deeply about the future of the United States. There is no contradiction.
The fight against antisemitism cannot be reduced to Jews protecting Jews. It is bigger than that. Antisemitism thrives on conspiracy theories, collective blame, and the idea that a society's problems can be explained by pointing to a sinister group operating behind the scenes. Those ideas do not stop with Jews.
When conspiracy replaces truth, democracy suffers. When intimidation becomes acceptable on campuses, intellectual freedom suffers. When politicians excuse hatred because it comes from their own political camp, public trust suffers.
That is why confronting antisemitism is not asking America to grant Jews special treatment. It is asking America to live according to its own principles: freedom of religion, equal citizenship, freedom of expression and equal protection under the law. Those principles belong to every American.
There may be people who want Jewish Americans to feel uncomfortable enough to disappear from public life. We should do the opposite. We should become more engaged, more visible and more confident not because America has always lived up to its ideals, because it hasn't, but because those ideals remain worth defending.
Patriotism does not mean pretending our country is flawless. It means believing strongly enough in America to demand that it become better. Jewish Americans have been part of that work for generations. My generation should continue it.
I refuse to allow an antisemite to decide whether I belong in America. I refuse to allow hatred to turn my Jewish identity into a reason to retreat. And I refuse to accept the idea that being proudly Jewish somehow makes me less American.
Antisemites have spent centuries telling Jews that we are outsiders. In America, our answer should be simple:
Not here. This is our country, too.
(Shoshannah Kalaydjian is a young Jewish student who writes about education, identity, and the challenges facing the next generation. Growing up in today’s climate, she has witnessed firsthand how rising antisemitism affects young people in classrooms and on college campuses. She is committed to sharing the perspectives of Jewish youth, amplifying student voices, and encouraging leaders to create safer, more inclusive environments for all students.)
