Let’s wear our Judaism with pride in the diaspora

Owing to the fact I don’t live in London, I have not experienced the enormous gatherings of Palestinian “activists” on a Saturday, and the anxiety they cause many Jews to feel. But standing next to Checkpoint Charlie, which was draped in the Palestinian flag and being used as a prop to re-enact the checkpoint between Gaza and Israel, while thousands of protestors surrounded it, calling for the end to a Jewish-led “genocide”, reality settled in. I felt safer during my time in bomb shelters in Israel to escape Iranian missile attacks than I did in a country led by one of the most pro-Jewish governments in Europe.

Karoline Preisler at Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin (Photo: Libbi Myers)[Missing Credit]

Despite the extensive self-reflection Germany has undergone since the Holocaust, it felt like history was repeating itself right in front of me – in the same country that Jews had been forced from or exterminated eight decades earlier.

The core issue of the protest was a call for the end of the war, but this cause was quashed by an environment that was rife with hatred for the world’s only Jewish state and a passion to tear it down.

To be Jewish at this scene was intense, so I cannot begin to describe the sensations of relief and gratitude I felt when I spotted Karoline Preisler in the crowd, stood staunchly with an Israeli flag and holding a sign advocating for the hostages’ return. Preisler is a German politician and lawyer, who is heavily involved in pro-Israel activities and very often spotted countering pro-Palestinian protesters. Considering her Catholic identity, her relationship with Judaism and Israel feels even more special.

When I ran up to her to profusely thank her for her work, I was instantaneously blocked by German police from going near her, as they understandably assumed I was one of the pro-Palestinian protesters.

This response brought to mind two things. Firstly, bless the German police force. Secondly, in what direction is our world going when a woman must be encircled by four officers to ensure her protection, simply because she raises the Israel flag in a silent counter-protest?

When my friend and I finally reached Preisler to speak to her, while surrounded by a background noise of death chants to Israel, the message she gave us was clear: that we, young Jewish people, are the future and bear the imperative to thrive, alongside our Judaism, despite the circumstances. But our future does not lie in Europe.

Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin (Photo: Libbi Myers)[Missing Credit]

As someone with a rich European heritage, this was hard for me to hear. Nonetheless, my time in Berlin was most notably marked by the positive interactions in relation to my Judaism.

I wear my Star of David necklace every day, no matter where I am in the world – and Berlin was no different. When my friend and I attended a rooftop party, it stayed around my neck and attracted the attention of a host of young people, who came to talk to me. I had Israelis proclaim their love for me, met South American Jews with family in Israel and a German Jewish woman who expressed how comforting it felt to see someone wearing their Jewish identity with such pride, especially in a time when she felt like she must hide her own.

But my most interesting encounter at this event was with a non-Jewish Dutch man. Upon seeing my necklace, he approached me to explain how important he felt it was for me to be wearing my Star of David and the heightened need for Jewish people to be unafraid of showcasing their identity in public. For such a small piece of jewellery to have such a ripple effect led me to one conclusion: Jews do belong.

Being Jewish in Berlin – what I can only assume is similar to being Jewish in other parts of western Europe – is, above all, incredibly complex. Attempting to maintain an equilibrium between the impenetrable pride I have in my Judaism and the quiet knowledge that I will always have to double-check my surroundings before announcing it is the story of young Jews everywhere. No matter how comfortable I feel about wearing my Magen David or having an open conversation about being Jewish, I know that while outside of Israel, I will always have to firstly consider the consequences of doing so.

None of us can predict the future of European Jewry, and where my generation may geographically end up, but for as long as our Jewish communities continue to inhabit Europe, it is vital that they do not bow to the international pressure to quieten down. Living in fear of expressing our identity – in whichever shape such declarations may take – is the best way to guarantee our removal from wider society.

From the conversations I found myself in with Israeli tourists, or the silent smiles when a group of Israelis spotted my Magen David at the airport, I left Berlin feeling grounded, knowing that we continue to take up our rightful space in the diaspora. Unlike other generations, we have Israel – a place to call home, and the freedom to return to it. But this modern reality should not overshadow our heritage and the contribution that our communities make to other parts of the world.

Our duty as Jews is not to respond and fight antisemitism. It is only to live as Jews, and to do so with an abundance of pride and love, no matter where we live.

Following this path does not guarantee security for Jews in the diaspora, or that a future generation of Jews will lead the same European lives as their parents.

But, for the time we do spend living outside of Israel, it is essential that we do so with the confidence of knowing that we belong just as much as everyone else.

​Libbi Myers is a university student