More than one kind of Jew: identity, advocacy and AUJS 

My involvement this year as President of AUJS University of Technology Sydney (UTS), alongside my identity as a proud Iraqi and Yemenite Jew, has shaped the way I see the world. It has also shaped how others see me – and more often, how they don't. 

Being in this role has meant a lot of different things. It’s meant managing a team, running events, and often scrambling at the last minute to make something work. It’s meant sitting in meetings with university officials trying to find ways to keep Jewish students safe and heard. It’s also meant volunteer work, and maybe because of that, it's meant the wins have felt more meaningful. When something goes well, it feels real. 

What I’m most proud of is the team we’ve built. When I started, the AUJS presence at UTS was still being built. Now, we have a team of twelve executives, each one genuinely committed and doing amazing work. They do all the work behind the scenes, and while I may get the credit at times, they’re the ones making things happen. I’m proud I was able to bring in people who care and want to build something together. 

My role however is not always so rewarding. One of the hardest parts is how isolating it can feel when you raise concerns about racism or discrimination and the response you get is silence, or even worse, resistance.

It can feel like people are more interested in debating the wording of a complaint than using logic and acknowledging what happened. That experience teaches you something about how lonely it can be when you are Jewish, and even more so when you’re Israeli. There aren’t many of us Jewish students on campus, and we need to continue to speak up and fight. I know I will. 

We facilitated a panel earlier this semester that brought together Israelis from different religious and ethnic backgrounds to talk about their experiences since October 7. It was a peaceful, multi-faith event. Nothing provocative. But still, we were made aware of threats to disrupt it and protest in the lead-up. The university had to hire security so we could go ahead safely.

That’s the part that really stuck with me. Not just that we needed protection, but that this is what it takes for Jewish students to run a calm, multi-faith discussion. Meanwhile anti-Israel protests are allowed to take place on a consistent basis. That reality says a lot about the current climate on campus, and it’s deeply upsetting. 

Outside the Jewish community, one of the most persistent issues I face is how people perceive Jewish identity. I’m half Iraqi Jewish, a quarter Yemenite Jewish, and a quarter Israeli, and have lived in Jerusalem for many of my school years. But when most people think about Jews, they imagine someone European. Someone with lighter skin. The kind of person they’ve seen in Hollywood or on Netflix.

So, when I explain my background to people who aren’t Jewish, I often get surprised reactions or confused questions. People ask how I can be Middle Eastern and Jewish, like those are somehow two different identities. 

This misunderstanding has bigger consequences. In political spaces, Jews are often framed as white colonisers. That framing completely erases Jews from the Middle East and North Africa. People like my family, who lived in Baghdad, Tiberias or Yemen long before modern borders were drawn. When people push this narrative, they don’t just erase history. They erase people. They erase me. 

It’s frustrating to see how little awareness there is of Mizrahi or Sephardi Jews. Our stories are rarely taught, rarely represented, and rarely included in the broader conversation. I think there is definitely a need for our communal spaces to include more about Mizrahi traditions and histories, especially in education. We deserve to be part of the story. 

Being in this role with AUJS has given me the opportunity to represent more than just a club. It’s allowed me to help students who are struggling, advocate when things feel unfair, and build something that I hope will last beyond my time at university. Whether it’s as small as helping someone apply for special consideration during a Jewish holiday, or as big as pushing back when campus spaces feel hostile, this role has reminded me why showing up matters. 

We’ve worked hard to grow AUJS at UTS into something strong. That effort doesn’t always get seen, but it’s there. At the heart of it is something simple: the belief that Jewish students deserve to feel safe, understood, and visible in all our diversity. 

If others aren’t going to tell our stories, then we must.