Gaslighting, Excuses, and the Cost of Silence

There are times in history when we must look at two seemingly different situations side by side in order to understand a broader truth. Today, there are clear parallels between what Jewish students are facing on campuses and in schools across America, and what female athletes are experiencing when forced to compete against transgender athletes. At first glance these may seem unrelated. But when you look closer, the pattern is striking: gaslighting, ignoring, and minimizing real harm in order to avoid uncomfortable truths.

For Jewish students, the aftermath of October 7 has brought an unprecedented wave of hostility. Instead of feeling safe on their campuses, they have been bullied, ostracized, and dismissed by administrators whose job is to protect them. In Plano, Texas, reports of antisemitism in the school district were ignored for so long that the Texas Education Agency has now launched a full investigation. The fact that it had to reach this level tells us everything: students were crying out for help, and the adults in charge chose to look the other way.

This same dynamic is unfolding in the arena of women’s sports. At a recent event attended by a Mothers Against College Antisemitism co-founder, the keynote speaker was Payton McNabb, the North Carolina volleyball player whose life was forever changed when she was struck by a transgender athlete on the opposing team. Payton suffered severe injuries, yet what stands out most in her story is not just the physical toll, but the way she was treated afterward. Instead of outrage and protection, she was met with rationalizations, excuses, and an expectation to stay quiet.

Jewish students like Shabbos Kestenbaum and Tessa Vekslar have echoed similar experiences. When they bravely spoke up about the antisemitism they endured, they were not met with compassion or change, but with denial and deflection. They were told they were exaggerating, too sensitive, or misinterpreting the situation. In Payton’s case, her coaches actually instructed the players to come up with strategies to avoid being hit by the transgender athlete rather than confronting the deeper problem. What does this say about the priorities of those in charge?

In both cases, we see the same troubling pattern: instead of acknowledging real harm and standing up for the victims, authority figures place the burden back on the students. Jewish students are told to be quiet, not make waves, and accept that antisemitism is just part of campus life. Female athletes are told to adjust their game, accept the new rules, and pretend they are competing on a level playing field. In both situations, those in power are sacrificing the well-being of young people in order to appease an agenda.

This is not just wrong; it is dangerous. When adults tasked with guiding and protecting the next generation abandon that responsibility, the message to students is clear: your safety, dignity, and future are expendable. Worse yet, it normalizes a culture of silence where speaking up is treated as the greater offense than the harm itself.

What is wrong with this picture? Everything. It should never be acceptable for Jewish students to be terrorized and gaslit on their own campuses. It should never be acceptable for young women to risk permanent injury while competing in sports designed to be fair. Yet in both cases, we see institutions failing the very students they are supposed to serve.

The stories of Jewish students like Shabbos and Tessa, and of athletes like Payton, demand more than sympathy. They demand accountability. They force us to ask: what kind of society are we building when truth is silenced, when harm is excused, and when our children are told to endure what should never be endured?

History has shown us that silence in the face of injustice is not neutrality—it is complicity. Whether in the classroom or on the playing field, our students deserve better than gaslighting and excuses. They deserve protection, honesty, and courage from the adults entrusted with their care. Anything less is a betrayal.