Oh, To Be a Jew

When I was 20 years old and a junior in my undergraduate degree, I spent 5 months mentally and physically preparing to move to Israel for a 7 month internship. My flight was on June 1, 2021. In May 2021, Hamas fired over 4,360 rockets at Israel within 11 days, murdering innocent Israeli civilians and wreaking war and havoc until a ceasefire was implemented at the end of that month. This conflict, deemed “Operation Guardian of the Walls”, re-sparked the Israeli/Palestinian conflict as a focus on college campuses, including my own at the time. 

I remember feeling that advocate voice inside of me reignite. I started writing my feelings and what I observed on campus on my social media platforms, primarily Instagram. People were receptive; non-Jews and Jews engaged with my content. I had tons of conversations that reminded me why Jewish people needed more voices that could articulate into words what they felt but could not themselves express when speaking about the conflict. 

I remember being asked by my friends and people I lived with, “Miki, are you not afraid to go to Israel right now? During this time?” “What about the bombs? How are you not afraid?” My answer to all of them was the same.

Before I share that answer, I want to note that I was not Israeli at the time. I had never experienced rockets at that point in my life, and I had never lived through a war. I know where my answer came from internally, but now, looking back, it is pretty strange and remarkable that 20-year-old me felt this sense of fierce existential threat even though, up until that point, I had only lived in literal and physical peace in California.

Now, for my answer.

I would tell people, “This may seem extreme to you, and I don’t mean to be harsh or radical, but this is how I feel: I would rather die than live in a world where I cannot wear my Star of David around my neck. If Israel is under threat – and if there is no Israel – that likely means I won’t be able to wear my Star of David. So, I’m going to Israel on June 1, whether there is a war or not, because I do not want to live in a world where I, as a Jew, cannot proudly exist. I am going.”

I remember some people going, “yeah, you know what? I get that. Makes sense,” or “I relate to you,” and some people said, “Damn. You’re brave. Good luck.” or “You are crazy. But – I’m happy for you”.

Anyway, that was four years ago. Four years ago, there was no October 7. Four years ago, my physical body had never experienced an existential threat like it has now. Or had it? 

I think about this a lot. Did I feel the physical heartbreak I feel now, post-October 7, before October 7 ever even happened? 

Was 7-year-old me picking up the Diary of Anne Frank feeling what I feel now as a 24-year-old? When peers threw pennies at me on campus in my freshman year of high school because I am a Jew, did I feel this existential threat? I realize that since I was a young girl, there has been a sort of intrinsic lining on my bones and through my being that, when aggravated, allows me to feel this physical threat and this existential feeling of “you do not get to exist because you are different. You are a Jew”. 

Four years later, I am an American-Israeli living, working, and studying in times of war. I have experienced existential threats and gotten used to them. I have learned how to live with them – what a concept. I have learned how to feel that intrinsic feeling through my bones and being and understand how to navigate existing WITH this feeling. How to turn actual pain into production.

And beyond that – how to turn that real pain, that generational trauma (I guess that’s what it’s called), into efforts to bolster security. Working to strategically advance Israel’s ability to continue existing amongst her existential threats that very actively remind us all that the world does not want us around. 

We always tell that little voice to be quiet. That little voice that one could consider to be overthinking – telling it to quiet down so you can live and function without giving into your neuroticism or anxiety. But in Israel’s case, and the Jewish people’s case, that small voice was right all along.

Do I wish it was wrong? Yeah, obviously; who doesn’t wish that the voice telling them, “There may come a day where history repeats itself,” was wrong?

 But I have a thought I want to share:

As 24-year-old Miki,  I don’t necessarily wish it didn’t exist. In theory, yes, as I said, it would be nice not to feel that threat, but the fact that we can live WITH the threat and with the pain in our bones and turn it into fuel to do good is brilliant, no? Is that not the entire point of the Jewish people and, moreover, reminding us of the Jewish State? Is our whole purpose to show the world that when it comes to adversity, we will continue to persevere in a multitude of ways and guide our future generations toward a “Jewish tomorrow” that continues the cycle of turning our victimhood and our pain into ideas? Into startups? Into medical innovation? Into ways to improve higher education? IN ways to give back to the rest of the world? 

A few days ago, I learned some numbers that really show the impact that people with such a passion for life can have by turning their pain into passion and their passion into power.

In 2024, about 2% of the United States population is Jewish. That is about 7 million Jews. In the 2024 Presidential elections, former Vice President Kamala Harris received 50% of her campaign funding from the 2% Jewish population. President Donald Trump received 25% of his campaign funding from the 2% Jewish population. If someone sees these statistics and thinks, “The Jews are so powerful, the Jews are rich, the Jews control the world,” – let them.

Yes, you read that right.

Let them think that. Shouldn’t we be putting our energy into proving them RIGHT? Becoming powerful. Becoming Rich. Becoming individuals who can control their life, career, and goals. We spend so much energy as a people hiding from these stereotypes – hiding our identity just to blend in and be the “good Jew.” I am sorry but we have much bigger struggles than what antisemites think about us now.  As Golda Meir said, “If we have to have a choice between being dead and pitied and being alive with a bad image, we’d rather be alive and have the bad image.” She meant this about the State of Israel, but I think it transcends to the Jewish people too. 

Can 2% of the United States population make that much of an impact? Forget about the United States for one second – the Jewish people make up 0.2% of the world’s population. And there is only 1 Jewish state — just something to think about. 

All in all, there is a strange thing that ties us together, the Israelis and the diaspora Jews: most of us realize the day has come where there are places in the world where we as Jews do not feel safe anymore wearing our stars of David proudly.

There is a real threat – but that doesn’t mean we have no place in the world.

I wish I could tell 20-year-old Miki this. That when the day comes that history is repeating the patterns we fought so hard against, it doesn’t mean you have to die, or you have no place to go. It means you continue wearing your necklace proudly, and you continue finding ways to innovate and implement yourself in today’s world to continuously prove what you, a Jew, contribute to society, your people, and your circles. 

There will never come a time for us to give up. Look at our past – it hasn’t happened yet despite countless genocides, pogroms, the holocaust, and continued terror, and it won’t happen in the future if we continue working hard. 

Anyways – Am Yisrael Chai.