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YOUTHWATCH - I am a young Jewish student, and I live with a tension that no child or teenager should have to carry. On one hand, I am proud of my identity, my history, and the values of resilience and justice that my community has passed down for generations. On the other, I feel a growing sense of fear and isolation because of the rise of antisemitism in schools, on campuses, online, and even in the halls of government.
This reality is not abstract—it is lived. Last year, I walked into school and saw a swastika etched into a desk in my classroom. Another time, a classmate laughed at me when I wore a Star of David necklace, asking why I “still believed in old myths.” These moments may seem small to outsiders, but for me, they linger. They remind me that I am seen as different, that my very identity can make me a target.
When I look to our leaders for reassurance, too often what I hear is silence—or vague statements that lead to no real action. That silence is not neutral. It tells Jewish students like me that our safety, our dignity, and our futures are negotiable. Let me be clear: they are not.
Antisemitism should never be treated as a political wedge issue, acknowledged only when convenient or weaponized against opponents. Hate is hate, whether it comes from the far-right, the far-left, or anywhere in between. And it deserves to be confronted with equal strength every time it surfaces.
Our leaders must understand that words matter. When politicians minimize antisemitism, they embolden those who spread it. When they speak out consistently and back their words with policies, they give students like me hope that justice and equality are more than slogans.
What Jewish students are asking for is not special treatment. We are asking for fairness. We are asking for the same commitment that leaders rightly extend to every other community facing discrimination. We are asking for safe schools, enforcement of existing protections, and the courage to stand up publicly against antisemitic rhetoric no matter where it comes from.
But more than policies, this is about leadership. Leadership means acting before public pressure forces you to. It means speaking the truth when it is uncomfortable. It means showing Jewish students that our country will defend us as strongly as it defends anyone else.
Because we are paying attention. We notice who stands with us and who looks the other way. We see which leaders treat antisemitism as a serious threat and which ones brush it aside until it is politically useful. And I promise you—we will remember.
Yet even as I write this, I believe there is still reason for hope. My generation is not retreating into silence. We are speaking up, educating, and demanding better. And we are not alone—many of our classmates and allies from other backgrounds are standing with us. Together, we are building a future where Jewish students can live openly, proudly, and safely.
Jewish tradition teaches: “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” I am doing my part by sharing my story and raising my voice. Now it is time for our leaders to do theirs.
So I say this directly: senators and representatives, governors and mayors, school board members and university trustees—this is your responsibility. You cannot wait until the next news cycle, the next election, or the next crisis. The safety and dignity of Jewish students cannot wait. The integrity of our democracy cannot wait. The time to act is now.
(Shoshannah Kalaydjian is a Jewish student and writer focused on education, identity, and the experiences shaping today’s youth. Growing up in an era of rising antisemitism, she has seen firsthand how it impacts classrooms and campuses, influencing both students’ safety and sense of belonging. Passionate about advocacy, Shoshannah works to elevate Jewish student voices and spark dialogue that leads to safer, more inclusive learning environments for everyone.)
