Betrayal
I have written before about antisemitism in the UK. For the moment everything is calm: Ken Livingstone and his horrible fanbase have shut up, the Chakrabarti inquiry isn't due out yet, and antisemitism in the wake of the recent Tel Aviv shooting is a step too far for all but the most hateful. Besides, the West's attention is on the recent Orlando shootings, and for very good reason. (I have avoided commenting on this latter event, because while my heart breaks just thinking about it, that's not going to bring the victims back or help their loved ones.)
I am quietly proud to be an uppity, vocal Jew in a society which wishes its Jews to be compliant rather than critical. I am happy that I have non-Jewish friends who stand in solidarity with me, and a non-Jewish partner who has stood by it all and who wholeheartedly supports me being uppity and vocal.
Based on the 2011 census, there are probably 250,000-300,000 Jews living in the UK, or a whopping 0.5% of the population (although this might be an undercount). Two-thirds of us live in and around London; most of the rest of us cluster in and around other big cities. By contrast, nearly 60% of British people identify themselves as Christian. I'm not saying that this is a bad thing - I'm saying that Jews make up an absolutely tiny proportion of the British population. To put this in perspective, you're more likely to meet someone identifying themselves as a Jedi (0.7%).
Why is this important, you might ask? Because the upshot of this is that there are probably an awful lot of people, especially outside of London, who might never have met a Jew in their lives, or known them only in passing.
Big whoop. What's so special about meeting Jewish people? After all, plenty of people might never have met a Sikh or a Buddhist, but you don't see an outcry about that.
I actually wish there were more of an outcry about things like this. The sad reality is that if you've never sat down and had a conversation with someone, a part of you is unaware that they're a person with thoughts and feelings. This seems trivial, I know, and I'd like not to keep going over this, but the world doesn't seem like it's going to afford me this luxury any time soon.
If you don't know any Jews, it's far easier to talk about "the Zio-controlled media" or "the Rothschilds". You're not the one who's going to have to console your friend or partner when it gets too much for them. You're not the one who's going to walk around all day thinking "I am a horrible person because I'm Jewish".
There is a trope that the Jews think of ourselves as more chosen or special than anyone else. I'm sure that some people believe that, but you can find people from any religion who think that they're superior simply for believing in a certain deity and you can take offence at anything in a holy book. That doesn't mean all members of a certain religion are terrible, awful people.
The reason I brought this up is because I don't think of myself as chosen or special; I take pride in certain aspects of my culture, but to me it's normal and I'm still a bit shocked when someone treats me as exotic. I'm the least exotic person on the planet - I enjoy lounging around reading books, strolling around nature and boring everyone within earshot by talking about physics. I'm no different from a non-Jew and I think people pick up on this.
That's why it hurts so much when I grow to trust someone and they start to say antisemitic things.
I've talked about this a little before and called it a double standard, which I still think is accurate. It's horrid and painful; someone might like me and respect me one moment, but if I tell them I'm Jewish their whole opinion of me will change. There will be no reason for this, save that my ethnoreligious group apparently marks me out as being an awful excuse for a human being because...um...I'm stuck on that one actually.
These are not neo-Nazis with swastika tattoos or nationalist meatheads I'm talking about - people who could be changed, but with difficulty. The people I am talking about are otherwise friendly progressives, maybe old enough to be my parents, the sort of people who are pillars of their local community (except if you're Jewish, of course, then you'll be excluded). These are the sort of people who like and respect me until they find out I'm Jewish and it's difficult for me to explain how arbitrary and unfair and wrong that feels. I would dearly love to sit down with these people and have a nice chat over a cup of tea, so they could see that we Jews are people too, not just a set of caricatures with big noses. I would dearly love to explain what their rhetoric and their actions do to ordinary Jewish people. I would dearly love for them to realise that they're judging people by their ethnoreligious group and not their actions.
Obviously I can't have tea with everyone, but I'd be more than happy to have a polite conversation. Unfortunately the internet's not very conducive to that; I once had someone threaten to release her own personal details over twitter because apparently, having a real-life Jew telling her that maybe, just maybe, saying that Zionists rule the world is an antisemitic trope was enough to scare this poor woman out of her wits. Still, worth a shot.
I am quietly proud to be an uppity, vocal Jew in a society which wishes its Jews to be compliant rather than critical. I am happy that I have non-Jewish friends who stand in solidarity with me, and a non-Jewish partner who has stood by it all and who wholeheartedly supports me being uppity and vocal.
Based on the 2011 census, there are probably 250,000-300,000 Jews living in the UK, or a whopping 0.5% of the population (although this might be an undercount). Two-thirds of us live in and around London; most of the rest of us cluster in and around other big cities. By contrast, nearly 60% of British people identify themselves as Christian. I'm not saying that this is a bad thing - I'm saying that Jews make up an absolutely tiny proportion of the British population. To put this in perspective, you're more likely to meet someone identifying themselves as a Jedi (0.7%).
Why is this important, you might ask? Because the upshot of this is that there are probably an awful lot of people, especially outside of London, who might never have met a Jew in their lives, or known them only in passing.
Big whoop. What's so special about meeting Jewish people? After all, plenty of people might never have met a Sikh or a Buddhist, but you don't see an outcry about that.
I actually wish there were more of an outcry about things like this. The sad reality is that if you've never sat down and had a conversation with someone, a part of you is unaware that they're a person with thoughts and feelings. This seems trivial, I know, and I'd like not to keep going over this, but the world doesn't seem like it's going to afford me this luxury any time soon.
If you don't know any Jews, it's far easier to talk about "the Zio-controlled media" or "the Rothschilds". You're not the one who's going to have to console your friend or partner when it gets too much for them. You're not the one who's going to walk around all day thinking "I am a horrible person because I'm Jewish".
There is a trope that the Jews think of ourselves as more chosen or special than anyone else. I'm sure that some people believe that, but you can find people from any religion who think that they're superior simply for believing in a certain deity and you can take offence at anything in a holy book. That doesn't mean all members of a certain religion are terrible, awful people.
The reason I brought this up is because I don't think of myself as chosen or special; I take pride in certain aspects of my culture, but to me it's normal and I'm still a bit shocked when someone treats me as exotic. I'm the least exotic person on the planet - I enjoy lounging around reading books, strolling around nature and boring everyone within earshot by talking about physics. I'm no different from a non-Jew and I think people pick up on this.
That's why it hurts so much when I grow to trust someone and they start to say antisemitic things.
I've talked about this a little before and called it a double standard, which I still think is accurate. It's horrid and painful; someone might like me and respect me one moment, but if I tell them I'm Jewish their whole opinion of me will change. There will be no reason for this, save that my ethnoreligious group apparently marks me out as being an awful excuse for a human being because...um...I'm stuck on that one actually.
These are not neo-Nazis with swastika tattoos or nationalist meatheads I'm talking about - people who could be changed, but with difficulty. The people I am talking about are otherwise friendly progressives, maybe old enough to be my parents, the sort of people who are pillars of their local community (except if you're Jewish, of course, then you'll be excluded). These are the sort of people who like and respect me until they find out I'm Jewish and it's difficult for me to explain how arbitrary and unfair and wrong that feels. I would dearly love to sit down with these people and have a nice chat over a cup of tea, so they could see that we Jews are people too, not just a set of caricatures with big noses. I would dearly love to explain what their rhetoric and their actions do to ordinary Jewish people. I would dearly love for them to realise that they're judging people by their ethnoreligious group and not their actions.
Obviously I can't have tea with everyone, but I'd be more than happy to have a polite conversation. Unfortunately the internet's not very conducive to that; I once had someone threaten to release her own personal details over twitter because apparently, having a real-life Jew telling her that maybe, just maybe, saying that Zionists rule the world is an antisemitic trope was enough to scare this poor woman out of her wits. Still, worth a shot.
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