So where would you go? You know exactly what I mean when I ask that. Because there is no way you’ve made it through Seders, bank holidays and matzah rambles without discussing it. If you think “Where would you?” refers to the location of your next holiday: congratulations, you are the most optimistic Jew in Britain. For the rest of you, I know your most likely answers: America or Israel. Or, as one friend suggested recently: Japan. Rumour has it they love us over there. But as heartwarming as it is to see Japanese crowds singing the Hatikvah – and I have “liked” many such a post on Instagram – it does seem fairly thin grounds for emigration.
In truth, I’m personally not going anywhere. I understand that fears are high, particularly post the Heaton Park attack and the Hatzola ambulance arson. But I have faith that this country can turn itself around, get tougher on extremism and become a more comfortable place to be. Of course we don’t all agree with every government policy, but we are still protected by them – they fund the essential security we need at schools and community buildings. We also have the King on our side. His recent patronage of CST being just one demonstration of his relationship with our community.
Relocating my family, given my children are 17, 16 and 13, feels unthinkable right now. Once kids hit high school, make their friendship groups and start with exams, it becomes much more difficult to uproot them. As my daughter finishes school this year and heads to university, it’s also given us reason to pause and consider the path ahead for her. For now, we are backing our family’s future here.
That’s not to say I don’t get drawn into a little "where would you go?” talk. I also feel that it’s no bad thing to allow these ideas to percolate – in case the tide does change. A far-left government, or a far-right one, for example, could make Jewish life here untenable. So there’s nothing wrong with some contingency planning, which I have to admit often morphs into lifestyle fantasising. Because who’d want to leave Britain for somewhere greyer or colder. If we’re ever forced out of our own country, it might as well be for somewhere sunnier – with a beach in walking distance.
Of course, Israel has plenty of sunshine and beauty, but as we see family and friends struggle with fear and fatigue from this war, it’s hard to think of it as a safe haven right now. Top on many people’s wish-lists seems to be Florida. I can see the appeal of Miami, Boca Raton and Palm Springs and not only to escape from antisemites. But despite it being much talked about, no one I’ve spoken to seems to have much insight into what real life is like out there, other than that you can get a great kosher steak. Personally, my only experience is that in December you have to wake up at 4am to secure your sunbed. But as a resident, I assume that ritual would no longer be necessary.
According to my one-woman research analysis, Los Angeles is next on the escape charts. It’s another great hub of Jewish life and has that essential antidote to antisemitism – sunshine. There are other places where Jewish life thrives in America – such as Chicago and San Francisco. But one is literally called the “windy city” and the other is known for having chilly summers and a problem with drug addiction and homelessness. You can see why these places seem to get less air time. For me, being close to our parents and siblings and our kids’ cousins is another reason to stay put. I know what it’s like when they’re not there.
When we first got married we lived in Cape Town and we lived the dream, meeting friends at the beach after work and having braais every weekend. But the dream never felt like a long-term plan because we were thousands of miles away from our parents and siblings, which is why we moved back home when I was pregnant with our oldest. More than any other factors, family is what grounds you to where you are.
I’m also unsure there’s anywhere in the world that will truly feel much safer right now – at least nowhere English-speaking. In South Africa, the ANC are outwardly hostile, Australia is still reeling from the tragedy at Bondi Beach, in America there have also been terrorist shootings and the gun culture makes it feel a little less safe everywhere. Thank goodness for Artemis II – the Moon may soon be our best option. Having said that, for now there is certainly less antisemitism on the Moon but it doesn’t score highly for the other criterion – sunshine. Reading about this latest space mission reminds of an experience I had almost 25 years ago when I visited the Yuri Gagarin Space station in Moscow to go on a zero-gravity training flight. It’s designed for astronauts to experience weightlessness before going into space. The jet (which had no seats but padded walls, floor and ceiling) accelerated into the sky like a rocket then slowly started to point back down to Earth.
At that turning point in the sky, everyone on board experienced weightlessness. I remember floating through the cabin like I was swimming through dry water. When the plane started moving back down to Earth, we all fell onto the padded walls with a thud. It’s an incredible memory but also a depressing reminder of how the world has gone backwards. It was the day before my 24th birthday in 2002, almost 30 years after the last American landed on the Moon, but that feat hasn’t been repeated since. But more upsetting is that it would also no longer seem safe for a 23-year old British girl to be hanging around the Space Station in Moscow – even more so, a Jewish one. Now all I can hope is for that girl to remain feeling safe in the UK.
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