The one question people asked me when I got home from Turkey

If I had been handed a hundred dollars for every Australian Jew who asked me if I was worried about travelling to Turkey in July due to antisemitism, I would have been able to fly business class. Qantas business class. Add another hundred for every Jew who asked me how I could justify supporting the Turkish economy in the current climate and I could have made it a return flight. 

Instead, I found myself wedged between my screaming children in economy with separate Bluey theme songs blasting through unsynced iPads, reassessing every life choice that had brought me to this point. Reproducing with their half-Turkish Sephardi father Yosi “because he is very good looking” suddenly seemed like a questionable decision made by a naive 30-year-old who didn’t consider the inevitable trip we’d have to make in order for the children to meet their great grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins who don’t travel further than Madrid. 

The honest truth is yes, I was worried about antisemitism. I had read the reports of the bookshop with the “Jews not allowed” sign back in October 2023, an incident which Yosi’s Turkish cousin Semi asserted was a one-off act by “a really stupid person”.

I had steered the conversation towards anti-Jewish racism on our second night in Istanbul after a day trip to the Bosphorus adjacent mahalle of Ortaköy. Yosi had been looking forward to buying his favourite street food, Kumpir (a baked potato with toppings) and in order to reach the strip of market stalls, we had to manoeuvre our flimsy travel pram through narrow, uneven streets, past the touristy Nazar Boncuğu eye pendant, head scarf and chachitas (Ladino for chachkas) stands to the food vendors. Yosi and I were shocked to see that they were all plastered with “Free Palestine” signage.