When Simply Showing Up Becomes an Act of Courage
After fifteen years, my husband and I finally returned to Israel.
It should have felt familiar. Instead, it felt heartbreaking.
The airports weren’t crowded. The hotels had empty rooms. Restaurants had open tables. Tourist sites that once buzzed with visitors stood quiet. For a country built on welcoming people from around the world, the silence was impossible to ignore.
But what struck me even more than the empty streets was what I kept hearing.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for supporting Israel.”
“Thank you for being brave.”
Not once. Not twice. Dozens of times.
I couldn’t understand why anyone would call what we did brave.
We weren’t soldiers. We weren’t aid workers. We weren’t walking into danger. We were simply visiting our homeland, spending time with our people, supporting local businesses, and embracing a country that means so much to us.
No one thanks someone for vacationing in Greece, Scotland, or England.
Yet because it was Israel, visiting had somehow become an act of courage.
That realization stayed with me.
During our trip we shared meals in a Druze village. We ate in a Muslim-owned restaurant in the beautiful Old City of Acco. We met Israelis from every background imaginable—Jewish, Muslim, Druze, Christian—living, working, laughing, arguing, and building lives together.
It wasn’t the caricature so often portrayed across social media.
It was real life.
Unfortunately, reality rarely goes viral.
Narratives do.
For generations, decisions about the Jewish people have too often been made before the facts are ever considered. Today, social media accelerates that process, reducing an extraordinarily complex reality into slogans and hashtags that leave little room for truth, nuance, or humanity.
That reality has consequences.
This week, much of the world’s attention has turned to the new Memorandum of Understanding between the United States and Iran. People will debate its merits. Governments will weigh strategic interests. Markets will react. Those conversations will continue.
But as someone who works every day with Jewish students and families, I cannot ignore another reality.
Whenever tensions involving Israel rise, Jewish communities around the world often experience the consequences.
Students become afraid to wear Stars of David.
Parents wonder if their children will be safe on campus.
Synagogues increase security.
Jewish businesses become targets.
The politics may be thousands of miles away, but the hatred often arrives at our front doors.
This isn’t about Democrats or Republicans.
It’s not about left or right.
It’s about recognizing that antisemitism has an extraordinary ability to adapt to whatever political moment it finds itself in. It comes from every corner of the ideological spectrum. It changes its language, but its target remains the same.
History has taught us that ignoring hatred because it seems distant never ends well.
As President of Mothers Against College Antisemitism, I have seen extraordinary people from every faith, ethnicity, and political background stand beside us. Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Druze, Persians, Black, Hispanic, Asian, and countless others have refused to let hatred define our communities.
That is where hope lives.
We cannot fight this alone.
Now more than ever, we need people of conscience to stand together—not because they agree on every political issue, but because they agree that hatred directed at any people is unacceptable.
The Jewish people should never have to earn praise for simply visiting their homeland.
No one should be thanked for being “brave” enough to walk the streets of Jerusalem.
The day that becomes ordinary again will be a day worth celebrating.
Until then, we will continue to speak.
We will continue to educate.
We will continue to build bridges with allies.
And we will continue to stand up—not only for Jewish students, but for the simple belief that truth matters, facts matter, and every person deserves to live free from hatred.
If you’ve been wondering how to make a difference, this is your moment.
Join us.
Stand with us.
Because hate grows when good people remain silent—but it loses its power when people of every background choose to stand together.
