Antisemitism in My Bones: A Granddaughter’s Plea

As the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor, the rise of antisemitism isn’t just an abstract concern; it reverberates through my entire being, echoing the trauma that my family has endured and survived. The world today feels eerily familiar, as if history is attempting to repeat itself while too many remain silent or indifferent. This rising tide of hatred is not just a threat to the Jewish community but a profound indictment of our collective humanity. The world needs to wake up before it’s too late.

I grew up hearing stories from Holocaust survivors. It was part of my education —tales of survival, of unimaginable loss, and of resilience in the face of absolute evil. I travelled to Poland in high school to bear witness and learn with holocaust survivors. These stories were not just a part of my family history and core to my education; they shaped who I am and how I see the world.

While my grandmother never spoke about the holocaust and the trauma she ensued, it was known. My grandmother was on one of the first Kindertransport in December 1938 leaving behind her family, never to see them again. My grandmother’s life wasn’t easy. But she was a woman of extraordinary strength, bore witness to the worst of humanity. She also carried with her an unshakable truth: that the world is capable of turning a blind eye to atrocity, and that vigilance is the price of survival.

Today, as I witness the resurgence of antisemitism, I feel the weight of my grandmother’s experiences in every fiber of my being. The hate speech, the desecration of synagogues, the physical attacks—these are not just isolated incidents; they are part of a growing trend that echoes the dangerous rhetoric of the past. The fear that many Jews feel today is not new; it is a fear that has been passed down through generations, a fear that too often has proven justified.

But what terrifies me most is the world’s silence. There is a pervasive apathy, a dangerous complacency that allows antisemitism to fester and grow. Too many people, governments, and institutions are unwilling to confront this hatred head-on. They offer platitudes instead of action, and in doing so, they allow the poison of antisemitism to spread.

We cannot afford to be passive. The lessons of the Holocaust are clear: hatred left unchecked will escalate, and indifference is complicity. The world needs to wake up to the reality that antisemitism is not just a Jewish problem—it is a societal one. One that threatens the very fabric of our global community.

I carry my grandmother’s legacy with me, a legacy of survival and resilience, but also of responsibility. It is our duty—my duty—to speak out, to demand that the world pay attention, to remind everyone that “never again” is not just a slogan but a call to action. We must confront antisemitism wherever it rears its ugly head, whether in our schools, our workplaces, or our governments. We must educate the next generation about the horrors of the past so that they can recognize and resist the early signs of hate.

The world needs to understand that antisemitism is not just a threat to Jews; it is a threat to the principles of justice, equality, and human dignity that we all hold dear. When one group is targeted, the very foundation of our shared humanity is at risk.

As the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor, I feel this urgency in my bones. The world cannot afford to remain asleep while the flames of hatred are fanned once more. We must wake up, speak out, and take action—before history repeats itself in ways too horrifying to imagine. My grandmother survived the darkness of the past; it is our responsibility to ensure that such darkness never falls again.