(1) When we feel the need to de-center or universalize the Jewish experience.
It’s okay for the Passover Seder to be just about the story of Passover. It’s okay for Holocaust remembrance commemorations to be just about the Holocaust. It’s okay to condemn antisemitic incidents without then feeling the need to add a long list of other bigotries we also condemn.
It’s okay to center the Jewish experience during Jewish events, holidays, or in response to bigotry that targets Jews. It doesn’t mean we don’t care about other issues. It just means that, right now, we are talking about the Jewish experience. That doesn’t take away from anyone else’s experience. They too deserve to have their moment, rather than latching onto ours.
Judaism teaches many universal lessons, but Judaism, Jewish identity, the Jewish experience, and Jewish peoplehood are not universal. They don’t belong to everyone else. And that’s okay. We should make no apologies for it.
(2) When we minimize our own experiences with antisemitism.
This one comes on wide spectrum: from uncomfortably laughing along when our non-Jewish friends make jokes invoking antisemitic stereotypes to denying that when our peers call to “globalize the Intifada,” they are calling to globalize violence against Jews. Maybe we do recognize these incidents as antisemitic, but we’d rather not make a mountain out of a molehill, because we are told other marginalized groups or minorities are suffering more.
Why do we gaslight ourselves?
Every time we let these antisemitic incidents slide, we are laying the groundwork for more antisemitism. We are telling the people around us that a little antisemitism is acceptable. It’s not. Distasteful jokes will very quickly turn into serious rhetoric, and serious rhetoric will very quickly turn into violent actions.
(3) When we internalize the narratives that antisemites have long told about Jewish history and identity.
The non-Jewish world has been distorting the Jewish story for thousands of years. People will always say things about us, our peoplehood, our identity, and our past that are untrue. I don’t believe that it is possible for antisemitism to ever entirely go away. But what I do believe is that it’s when we start believing these false narratives that we have truly lost.
Tell me: before the pogroms, before the expulsions and even the Diaspora, before the blood libels, before the conquests and subjugation, before the genocides and the Holocaust, how would your ancestors have conceptualized their own culture? How would they have understood their own place in the world? And how powerful would it be if we could try to see ourselves through their eyes, rather than through the eyes of those who have a stake in distorting our story? These are things that I think about really often.
(4) When we feel the need to prove to others that we are the “good” kind of Jew.
Virtually every antisemite in history has divided Jews into two categories: the “good” Jews, who validate the antisemite’s beliefs, and the “bad” Jews, who don’t. It’s bad enough when antisemites do it. It’s even worse when our fellow Jews feel the need to assure antisemites that they’re “not like the other Jews.”
This sign of internalized antisemitism can show up in many contexts. Maybe you disparage Hasidic Jews and their different, often insular culture in front of your non-Jewish friends. Maybe you are anti-Zionist, and you must convince your peers that you are the “moral” kind of Jew. Whatever the scenario, by insisting that you are different from other Jews because you are the “good” kind of Jew, you are also implying that being Jewish is, by default, not so good. That’s antisemitism.
Jews, like anyone else, can be good or bad people. Most of us, like all other people, are something in between. But that has absolutely nothing to do with our Jewishness and everything to do with the fact that we are human beings, with all the complexity that that brings.
(5) When we feel ashamed of Jewish success stories.
In many ways, the Jewish story is a story about persecution and oppression. But it’s also a story of transcending persecution and oppression, of overcoming impossible obstacles and creating our own success stories. This stands in sharp contrast to the attitudes in some circles today, where marginalization often translates to social legitimacy.
We don’t have to apologize for our creativity, ingenuity, and resilience in the face of what have historically been impossible conditions. We don’t suddenly become powerful, manipulative oppressors – or another antisemitic trope of choice – because we’ve continued searching for ways to successfully move forward. Jewish ingenuity doesn’t make us better than anyone else, but it certainly doesn’t make us bad or guilty.
(6) When we think its best to keep our heads down.
We have a right to advocate for ourselves as much as anybody else does. For centuries, we’ve been accused of playing the victim, of “whining” or “complaining,” of being the reason that antisemitism exists in the first place. None of these things are true.
That’s not to say that we should act recklessly, and we should always take our physical safety into consideration. But shaming ourselves into silence doesn’t help us, either. Calling out antisemitism is not the problem. Antisemitism is the problem.
In all fairness, advocating for ourselves can be a really unpleasant experience. It almost always comes along with a wave of gaslighting. But it’s one thing when antisemites gaslight us. The last thing we need to be doing is also gaslighting ourselves.
(7) When we subject fellow Jews we dislike to antisemitism.
Jews famously disagree with each other a lot. Luckily we are not obligated to like every other single Jewish person. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to subject those we dislike or vehemently disagree with to antisemitic rhetoric or violence.
As I always say, antisemitism is an ancient form of bigotry – one that has murdered millions – not a valid punishment for bad behavior.
That’s not to say, of course, that you can’t critique other Jews when you disagree with them. But much like “criticism of Israel” that utilizes antisemitic tropes, conspiracies, and/or stereotypes is antisemitic, so is “criticism” of Jews that uses antisemitic tropes, conspiracies, and/or stereotypes.
Likewise, excusing the antisemitism of others when it’s directed toward Jews you dislike is a telltale sign of internalized antisemitism.
(8) Taking crumbs.
(Shoutout to @hilalove for the phrase!).
Supporting Jews once – or even many times – does not make people incapable of also perpetuating antisemitism. Letting antisemitism go because so and so person is generally “a great ally to Jews” is just arguing that antisemitism is okay when the “right” person does it. But antisemitism is never okay.
No ally is going to get it right 100% of the time. We are all constantly learning. But a true ally, in my opinion, acknowledges the feelings of the Jewish community and makes amends when they’ve made a mistake.
Like other marginalized groups, we deserve more than the “bare minimum” of allyship. We shouldn’t accept “small” indignities – for example, jokes that invoke antisemitic tropes – in exchange for the right to live. Genuine allies support our right to exist as full, Jewish human beings.
(9) When we distort Jewish culture to appease others.
I see this one from anti-Zionist Jews a lot. You don’t need to recite 3000-year-old Jewish prayers in English or Arabic in lieu of Hebrew because Hebrew might be “triggering” to others (what’s that saying? Your triggers are not your fault but your healing is your responsibility). You don’t need to say “Next year in liberated Al-Quds” or “Next year in liberation” at the end of a Passover Seder because “Next year in Jerusalem” discomforts someone else’s narrative. You don’t need to “de-Hebraize” Yiddish (that’s just Old German) or skip the parts of the Torah that talk about the Jewish people’s eternal connection to the Land of Israel.
You are entitled to your political views. You are not entitled to invent a new, whitewashed, diluted version of “Judaism” to get Jew-haters to like you (tough news: they will not like you anyway).
The Jewish people have survived for thousands of years precisely because we’ve resisted these efforts to change our culture, to coerce us into assimilation.
(10) When you only engage with your Jewishness to condemn other Jews or to absolve others of antisemitism.
If you never advocate for your fellow Jewish people or otherwise meaningfully engage with your Jewish identity but only bring up your Jewishness to condemn other Jews whose politics you disagree with or to absolve accused antisemites of their antisemitism (“as a Jew, so and so isn’t antisemitic”), we have a problem here. Your Jewishness is not a shield or a trick to pull out of the back of a drawer whenever you find it useful or convenient.
Weaponizing your Jewish identity is problematic to begin with; weaponizing your Jewish identity when you otherwise don’t engage with it in any positive manner is a textbook sign of internalized antisemitism.
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