A Necklace I No Longer Tuck Away
In the aftermath of October 7, I began wearing a Jewish star. Not long after, I added dog tags calling for the return of the hostages and a small yellow pin. Yet as a therapist, I never wanted my religion to play any role in the therapeutic process, so before each session, I would discreetly tuck my Jewish star necklace beneath my blouse. My clients come from many backgrounds, including Muslims, Catholics, atheists, and Jews, and I always sought to be a neutral presence, focused solely on the concerns they brought forth. I did not want my religion to be a distraction, especially as the war in Gaza escalated, with public discourse growing increasingly polarized, even within the Jewish community.
That is, until the Bondi Beach terrorist attack in Australia shocked us all with its wanton murderous hatred. Once again, the familiar whispers in my head grew louder: Is it time for all Jews to make aliyah?
Suddenly, concealing my Jewish identity no longer felt neutral. It felt like a retreat. I began to question whether hiding my Jewish star out of a concern for another person’s comfort came at the expense of my integrity. I remembered a saying I’d often heard, “silence is acceptance,” and I realized that from now on, I needed to stand visibly, shoulder to shoulder, with my community.
This internal reckoning was reinforced on a frigid night as I participated in a solidarity rally held at Park East Synagogue, where I stood with 1,100 Jews who gathered in the blistering cold in response to rising anti-Semitism.
A week prior, Zohran Momdani’s misguided, knee-jerk rush to defend the pro-Palestinian mob disrupting a Nefesh B’Nefesh immigration event at that same synagogue brought me to my lowest point. For the first time, I felt genuine fear at the prospect of living in New York under the new mayor-elect. My hometown no longer seemed safe or welcoming to my fellow Jews.
And yet the solidarity rally itself offered a welcome counterpoint as speaker after speaker reminded us that the Jewish community is not merely part of the fabric of New York’s story, but foundational to it. Looking around at the crowd, young and old, religious and secular, women and men, I gained strength with the realization that when we stand united, the Jewish community is stronger than the haters. Despite the cold that left my fingers and toes numb, my heart was warmed by my fellow Jews and the non-Jewish allies who stood with us.
One day, I hope my family will choose to run towards Israel and not run away from NY. When that day comes to make aliya, it will be a choice grounded in hope and commitment, not fear. Until that day, I will live as a proud Jew wearing my Jewish star openly and always.