Vermont, Please Do a Little Better

I have written many love letters to Vermont before.

I have written about how much I love the fall in Vermont and how beautiful the crisp air is. And how equally stunning summer is. 

I am grateful for my sweet childhood in Montpelier, where my parents walked to work down quiet streets and where trips to the co-op were filled with lingering chats with neighbors and friends (even though I usually just wanted to speed my mom up!)

I cherish my memories of walking to school and to my friends’ houses. It was so innocent in many ways.

I love how much hasn’t changed in sweet Montpelier – how the fabric of my childhood is etched in its streets.

However, underneath the Vermont landscape, there is something buried and painful. 

It got unleashed in October of 2023 and I can’t unsee what I saw.

For many Jewish Vermonters like myself, there is an undercurrent of antisemitism, veiled as antizionism. And sometimes the undercurrent becomes a tidal wave, washing over our picturesque towns.

Some ugly snapshots include:

• Jews in Vermont weren’t welcome at a Pride event
• A brutal hate-filled campaign for a city counselor spot where I live now.
• Just look at reddit when some lawmakers recently traveled to Israel, if you can stomach it
• Antisemitic graffiti is prevalent
• The local media often ignores Jewish issues (this story doesn’t include any Jewish voices)
• Vermont is the only state in New England which does not require the Holocaust to be taught to our students.
• Speaking of schools, my own high school, Montpelier High, saw a few instances of antisemitic graffiti. That breaks my heart. I don’t think I knew a Jewish teacher at that school. 
•  Even an elementary school reported a hate symbol carved into the door.
• More vandalism, this time at a synagogue.
• The anniversaries of October 7 came and went without any mention from any political leader. Just silence.

While painful, hate-filled graffiti can be cleaned up and brushed away (and as usual, the rhetoric of “at least no one got hurt” remains). 

But, there was hurt. Maybe not physically. But there was emotional scares that linger.

And these marks seen in our communities lead to actual violence.

The effects lead to a fraught local climate in which Jewish identity, foreign policy, and public accountability collide.

The result dictates that the effects can be chilling.

The results dictate that signs accusing Israel of gen*cide pop up in my neighborhood and I feel so anxious walking past them. (Btw, it’s not genocide. And that word is too loaded- also see Holocaust inversion).

I respect my local lawmakers and have even gratefully met many of them. They are caring individuals. Yet, they are at times contributing to the culture of making antisemitism acceptable, especially when they take every single opportunity to criticize Israel. (As usual, criticism of Israel is ok, except when it’s held to a higher standard than other countries).

I don’t want to be so angry.

I want to believe in dialogue.

I want to believe in a safe future for everyone – of all ethnicities, here in Vermont and in Israel.

I want to believe in empathy and nuances.

But when that feeling of safety is taken away, what happens then?

When synagogues don’t have enough resources for endless security, what happens then?

When our isolation continues, Jewish lives suffer. And communities shatter.

**

I don’t have the answers on where we go from here. 

What I do have, however, is a little hope.

Community organizations that work to create positive, safe communities in Vermont give me hope.

My workplace strives to be a balm, even though it can’t please everyone.

I rest in the words of so many inspiring Jewish writers and teachers and keep reading stories of our people with courage and awe.

And for now, that might be enough.

***

Addendum: It is now post the initial ceasefire and we watched the return of the (barely) living hostages. And as the shakiness and weariness is maybe beginning to fade, so many questions remain. It’s hard to know where we go from here.

And still, still, not all the hostage bodies are back in Israel yet. Two more soldiers were  recently killed.

The silence from many are loud. Were they not really interested in peace, after all??

The dichotomy of these past two years is palatable. Many lives went on normally, unphased. (or worse, some happily joined into the chorus of Israel-bashing, often based on misinformation)

And for many of us in the Jewish diaspora and in our homeland, it was a time of deep suffering.

The veil can’t be covered anymore.

And for now, the yellow ribbons remain, yet I cautiously danced on Simchat Torah, clutching a Torah and holding onto hope, knowing I am not alone. 

And knowing that dawn always, always comes, even in just a crack.