Published: 16 December 2025
Last updated: 16 December 2025
Anonymous
New South Wales
I am Jewish.
Not religious. Not observant. Simply Jewish.
A word so small, yet heavy with consequence. Six letters – something inherited at birth – that somehow marks me as different in spaces where I am otherwise the same.
Until recently, my ‘Jewishness’ expressed itself quietly: lighting the menorah during Chanukah, the occasional Shabbat, a deep sense of community and belonging, and wearing a Star of David necklace as an ordinary symbol of identity. ‘Until recently’ are the key words.
Last year, walking through the city with my family, my Star of David necklace bouncing against my chest, my mother glanced at the protests and unrest around us before looking at me and quietly saying, “Tuck that away.” And I did. Not out of shame, but out of fear. That moment was not unique – it reflects a reality many Jewish Australians now recognise: visibility can feel unsafe.
This year, for obvious reasons, Chanukah feels different. The candles are lit, but the joy feels extinguished. The events in Bondi were horrifying, targeted, and unmistakably antisemitic. They were not isolated incidents, but part of a burgeoning pattern affecting Jewish communities across Australia. Fear has become familiar. Caution has replaced comfort. What occurred was a massacre – in a place we proudly call home. And so the question must be asked: what has this world become?
Yet this antisemitism is not new. I encountered it early – in subtle and overt ways – through swastikas scribbled on school desks, disgusting graffiti, and through literature we were taught to analyse. Antisemitism has endured for centuries, resurfacing across time and place with chilling consistency. Over 400 years ago, Shakespeare captured this truth through the character of Shylock: “I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons?”
The tragedy is not that these words were written in the 1600s, rather, it is that they still resonate. The same humanity continues to be questioned.
This is not about one individual or one family. It is about entire communities being asked to make themselves smaller for the sake of safety. It is about people questioning whether protection depends on invisibility.
Antisemitism is not abstract – it is lived, felt, and carried.
At 18 years old, no one should be afraid to identify as Jewish. No one should feel that a necklace, a name, a heritage, or gathering as a community could put their life at risk.
This is not about conflicts overseas or political divisions elsewhere. This is about antisemitism here, in Australia. It is about the urgent need for recognition, protection, and action – now! History has shown us what happens when hatred is normalised and left unchecked.
I want a world where a Star of David is just a necklace again. Where being Jewish is not something to hide. Where identity does not require fear.
If antisemitism is allowed to endure, as it has for centuries, then the world is not just broken…it is failing.
Until we begin to mend this fractured world, I hope the light within us continues to burn bright, bringing peace and solace in times of deep uncertainty.
Sending my love to all affected by the events at Bondi.