I am Jewish, and I ardently believe in fighting for what is right. These two parts of my identity are not mutually exclusive, but they are treated as dichotomous at Wash U. Instead of embracing diverse Jewish students as valuable allies in social justice movements, Wash U’s activist spaces have all but removed Jewish students from their ranks and branded them as the oppressors themselves. Alienating our campus’s Jewish population does not advance the moral arc of justice; rather, it perpetuates exclusion.

I have always connected Jewish values with human values. Caring for others and pursuing justice for the world’s Davids against its Goliaths was emphasized throughout my time in Sunday school as a child. Standing up for what I believe in was one of my main takeaways from my Jewish upbringing and understanding of Jewish history. It was not until college that I discovered that many of my peers deem my worldview, informed as it is by Jewish tradition and history, to be incongruent with global justice. Although not espoused by all campus activists, it felt as though the efforts to do good and support other communities that I have embraced throughout my life were erased by respected voices who painted my Jewish peers and myself as white supremacists and settler colonists.

In December, members of a white supremacist group defaced “The Story that Never Ends,” a mural of Black leaders located on our campus, covering a beautiful portrayal of Black history with disgusting Patriot Front logos. Black students were outraged, along with the entire campus community. This act of hate explicitly targeted Black students, but I, too, began to feel unsafe on campus knowing that white supremacists, who indiscriminately target both Jewish and Black people, were so close by. This fear and uncertainty increased exponentially when students like me were publicly equated with such a hateful ideology. 

Wash U Black and Palestinian Liberation (BPL), a non-recognized student group on campus with a large following, posted a “spot the difference” infographic comparing a photo of the Patriot Front vandalism to Wash U Hillel’s Birthright Israel trip in early February. Calling Hillel an organization that is “fundamentally inseparable from the greater rhetoric of white supremacy and colonialism that groups like Patriot Front espouse openly” was baffling to me. I was shocked that Jewish students, known targets of white supremacy, were called white supremacists – and by a group of activists whose mission I thought I supported. I had to wonder why Jews have been targeted by white supremacists throughout history if we are, in fact, just like them.

At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Something didn’t feel right about what I had just read, but no one seemed to be fighting back. I questioned for a moment if this post was actually hateful or if I was simply looking for antisemitism where it did not exist. But the realization hit me: one of the most insidious aspects of modern antisemitism is its subtlety. It has become easy to identify notoriously hateful iconography; no one will doubt that an alt-right rally filled with people waving Nazi flags is antisemitic and dangerous. When the symbols are less obvious, however, it can be difficult to accurately assess their danger. 

True, this post did not say outright that “Jews are evil and the root of all problems.” If it did, we would have condemned it instantly. Nor did it say, “Jewish students at Wash U are directly responsible for the suffering inflicted on Palestinian people.” But, to be frank, it didn’t have to. The subtle assertion of Jewish double loyalty and a “conceal[ed] allegiance,” the erasure of non-white Jewish history and identity, and the call for “Death to all forms of Settler Colonialism!” after labeling a Jewish student group as supporters of settler colonialism did that work already. The first slide of a holiday season post from December (since taken down), featuring a cartoon insinuating that hook-nosed Jews killed Jesus and forcibly removed him from Bethlehem, did that already. The misguided notion that Israeli Jews engage in “population replacement” (which, for reference, is an idea stemming from white nationalist ideology) did that already. 

BPL’s rhetoric effectively demonizes Jewish students and furthers age-old antisemitic tropes in a seemingly fashionable way, masking antisemitism as valid displays of anti-Zionism. Ultimately, there are numerous avenues for criticism of Israel and the Israeli government that do not equate Jews with the very same ideology that prompts their support for the state of Israel in the first place. I implore BPL to try one of those avenues in their next post.

It is important to acknowledge that this ideology coming from a revered activist group is isolating and counterproductive. Public condemnation of Jewish campus organizations sends a clear signal that Jewish students who support Israel’s right to exist are not welcome here. The activist exclusion of Jewish students is not endemic to BPL, but part of a larger culture of Jewish student alienation in leftist campus spaces. Last May, for example, #MeToo Wash U shared a post about Israeli state violence and its relation to sexual violence, stating that “the annals of genocide, colonization, and imperialism attest to the proclivity of colonizers, belligerents, occupying forces, and state forces to weaponize sexual violence for the purpose of subjugation.” Of course, the post was followed by a disclaimer that #MeToo Wash U condemns antisemitism, just in case. Jewish students took to the comments to share their confusion and worries that an account such as #MeToo, meant to be a safe space for all survivors, would draw such distinct lines. 

Jewish students like myself desperately wish to be part of these important campus dialogues, but it is increasingly difficult to feel accepted or even tolerated in the world of Wash U activism. Following BPL’s posts, Hillel hosted a social media processing event where community members voiced their frustrations and concerns to members of the university administration. During this event, Jewish students shared that they were: concerned about “peers assuming/generalizing all Jewish students’ views on Israel,” “that our non-Jewish peers believe that Israelis, and by default Jews, are white supremacists,” that “students at Wash U have a fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to be Jewish,” and believe being both progressive and Jewish is impossible; disturbed by comments that anyone pro-Israel is not welcome at events combating white supremacy; “feeling unwelcome in activist spaces at Wash U;” and keenly aware that “every pogrom starts with ‘blame the Jews for x.'” As these concerns illustrate, Jewish students are scared. We are scared of facing violence, even when we try to fight against hatred. We feel isolated and lost in a world where we are not given a seat at the activist table. We are confused, since our shared faith has inspired us to fight for just causes, and we are now excluded from the fight. We are saddened that we have turned to organizations like Hillel for community, only to be told that this community is dangerous.

Not only is the exclusion of Jewish voices deeply upsetting on an emotional level, but it is also counterproductive to the broader aims of social justice at Wash U. According to Hillel, approximately 1,800 Jewish students attend Wash U, comprising 24% of the student body. To put things in perspective, a 2020 Pew Research poll indicates that 48 percent of U.S. Jews ages 18 to 29 feel attached to Israel. Should so many young Jewish adults be written out of the conversation simply because of positive sentiment towards the land of Israel? Why should nearly a quarter of the student body be excluded from campus activism based on a single sentiment? With so many Jewish students eager to fight for others, to do what is right, and to apply their values to global causes, why are we constantly being silenced?

Jewish students belong in activist conversations at Wash U – and not as a mere footnote or disclaimer.  It is not comforting to read a harmful post written off with a platitude of solidarity, and it is certainly disquieting to feel put down after finding the courage to stand up to it. I urge my fellow Wash U students to engage in some self-reflection: evaluate when Jewish voices are considered in your own personal brand of activism, and deeply question the times when they are not. I hope that we can all think more deeply and collaboratively and truly begin to work together to fight against the world’s ills. When all is said and done, I hope that our school community can look back with great admiration for our campus’s ability to engage in successful intergroup dialogue and our propensity to unite for what is right. It is certainly a lofty goal, but I wholeheartedly believe that our campus will be more vibrant if we can appreciate diversity in activism. In my own life, I will continue to fight for all Davids. Will you do the same?