Many of my more liberal Jewish friends have struggled in the past with my association with an immigrant identity. “Your family have lived in the UK for almost one hundred years,” someone said to me a few months ago. “Why do you define yourself as separate from the rest of the population; why do you still see yourself as a foreigner?” Non-Jewish friends have struggled too – when I explain that I can’t see myself as more British than Jewish, I’ve been met by raised eyebrows and incredulity.

I’m not saying I don’t think Britain is my home. It one hundred per cent is, and I love it here. I very rarely feel religiously oppressed and I’ve been surrounded for my whole life by people who respect my background, are interested in my perspective, and value the differences between us. The only thing is, I’ve grown up hyper-aware of the fact that Jews haven’t always been treated this way, and we have to watch out because it doesn’t take much to become the scapegoat again. Time and time again, we’ve thought we were safe, and were then chased out of places we’ve called home. In my opinion, we should appreciate what we’ve got here – like, really appreciate it – but not let our guard down.

And if my friends knew what was going on in my head most of the time, it would probably be clearer to them. A lot of what makes a person culturally British is a part of me, but a lot isn’t. I’ve never had the rush of excitement as Christmas approaches because I have my own festivals to get excited about. I experience a conflict of interest when England plays Israel at football. And when antisemitism levels rise, I feel that threat. We’re still Jews, and history has proved that we’ll always be somewhat separate. We’ll always be immigrants.

That’s why I’ll be voting Remain on Thursday. I’ve read enough articles and watched enough lectures on the debate to feel confident in saying that as far as I see it, the only real agenda that the Leave campaign has is stronger immigration control (there isn’t space here for me to go about debunking the economic and legislative statistics that they’ve got flying around, but it’s all out there on the internet in case anyone still hasn’t made up their mind). The Leave campaign is also being proposed by and has backed a number of British individuals and organisations who have been known to express racist views, not to mention idiots like Donald Trump, who wants to build a wall along the American border to keep out Mexicans, and ISIS. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of people want the UK to leave the EU.

I don’t want to give these people or their agendas the time of day. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a few border officials (and the rest of the country) taking a chance on a bunch of impoverished Jews. And, grateful as I am for that decision, I must hold on to the idea that everyone deserves the opportunity to work, to earn, to educate their children, and to live without fear of persecution. I come from refugee stock, so I can’t help but see every refugee who knocks on Britain’s door as a kindred spirit, and I care about the benefits of them bringing their experiences and skills and values here, and, more crucially, about their security and wellbeing, far more than any UKIP vitriol that tells me the country is overcrowded.

Noa Gendler is a final-year student at the University of Cambridge, studying English Literature. Before that she attended North London Collegiate School. She is a seasoned Limmudnik and is involved in Marom, the Masorti young adult community.