A Jewish Mom’s Lament: Sending my Baby to College in a Post 10/7 World
Last spring, when my son was a junior in high school I wrote about the complexities of his college search in a post 10/7 world. It is now late August, over a year later, and he is about to embark upon what I hope will be an incredible four years. But the untroubled attitude with which my daughter began her college journey in 2018 is missing. She chose a small New England liberal arts school where the Jewish population hovered around 10%. I was concerned. She was not. By second semester she had published an article in the school newspaper entitled “Being Jewish at __”. The premise was that yes, Mom was correct, it’s strange to have people point to my Jewish star necklace and ask what it is, but I’m going to make it work. And she did. She became active in the Jewish Student Union and I shifted my thinking- a small Jewish population with no Hillel or Chabad could be empowering for the students who had to organize challah bakes and high holidays themselves.
Sad, but I long for those days. My middle son, who studied at a large public University in New England also started before 10/7. His school’s Jewish population hovered around 20%, and so I sent him off without a worry. But on day one during an ice breaker, a peer asked him what his stance was on the Israel-Palestine conflict after learning he was Jewish. He sidestepped the question, and I can’t really blame him, because after all, one’s favorite bagel order shouldn’t be political.
Sad, but I long for those days when it was still a bit of surprise to be asked your feelings about the conflict, or when confronting antisemitism on campus meant having to explain to the administration why hosting a campus wide speaker on Kol Nidre was insensitive. (True story-daughter’s school)
And no, I am not naive. I have followed BDS and SJP since their inception, and was certainly aware of how a far left agenda described as progressivism was seeping through the cracks of the ivy covered walls. I knew my children would face challenges for their Jewish identity. I also understood that the premium I placed upon their Jewish experience in college was quite possibly informed by the choice I had made to attend the only secular Jewish university in the country. The feeling that after growing up as a minority I was surrounded by people who intrinsically understood my culture was freeing.
My wish should be simple: for my children to learn and discover the world in an environment where they can exchange ideas without worrying about being ostracized, and where they can represent themselves proudly. I want them to meet people from all paths of life, but also have their Jew crew. I want professors to present divergent narratives but also model civil discourse. And, of course it would be wonderful if they could walk across campus and actually see the faces of protesters who are calling for the annihilation of our people.
The reality, as I look in the rearview mirror is that this was wishful thinking even when my daughter attended school pre 10/7. Intersectionality (a dirty word in my opinion) has driven left leaning campus politics off of a cliff. And pro Israel Jewish students, even politically liberal ones like mine, are forced to play defense. Or to stay silent.
Sadly, my youngest hasn’t even set foot on campus and is already on the offensive. While registering for classes, he considered a first year seminar on indigenous people. It intrigued him, but he was worried that the subject of colonialism might come up (likely) and conversation could turn toward the “colonizing oppressor state of Israel” (also likely). He asked, with a touch of guilt, if I thought that was a reason not to take the class. Yup! I was simultaneously impressed and horrified that the thought occurred to him.
Later while perusing activities for orientation week he found one called, “All the Things Your Orientation Leader Won’t Tell You.” Sounded cool until he uncovered that the sponsor of the event was an unofficial and underground organization who was likely going to let the first years know all the terrible ways the university supports Israel. I was happy to learn that this event quietly disappeared from the website- a good sign.
This self-protective approach to cultivating an educational experience is an unfortunate necessity for our Jewish students. And it’s sad. And frightening. And it’s everywhere. So for the next four years I am going to accept that two things are true at once: He will hopefully find a thriving Jewish community, even as he encounters challenging circumstances.
As a family we decided that to be safe on campus as a Jewish student in the wake of October 7th meant going to a school where there is a large Jewish population with plenty of Jewish organizations. Once that choice was made, he became an expert at sussing out the climate for Jewish students and crossed several colleges off his list. The school he settled on has a large Jewish population but ADL gave it a “C” on its Campus Antisemitism Report. Not great, but after doing our due diligence, it felt right. We reasoned that where there are Jews there is antisemitism, but there are multiple Jewish organizations and Jewish adults- people to help him navigate the turbulence he is bound to encounter. Peers who will live a shared experience. And although I am angry at all that has transpired for the Jewish people in the last few years, and although I am not generally optimistic I can’t help wondering if this will deepen his connection to Judaism and strengthen his identity. When I asked if we could attend Hillel’s shabbat dinner the night before move in, with a dramatic sigh (only for effect) he said, “If we must.”
Yes, my son, we must.
