An Israeli woman who has lived in Britain for eight years and who had her first child here talks candidly about her terror of rising antisemitism in the NHS since October 7
November 5, 2025 15:56
Since October 7 it feels that antisemitism has become acceptable in the UK. Certainly when you go on social media you see people being outright antisemitic and others sharing stories about medical professionals very publicly saying horrible things about Jewish people. It’s horrifying, and because I’m heavily pregnant it makes me really worried.
When I go for check-ups, I feel scared. Will the person in front of me realise not only that I am Jewish, but Israeli too. And if they do, what might that mean? Will they use it against me in some way?
And when it comes to giving birth, will I be able to rely on the people in the delivery room? Will they be working doing everything they can to ensure I bring a healthy baby into the world? Will they truly act in my and my unborn child’s best interests?
I don’t think I’m being paranoid. I’ve seen posts from medics saying they would not help Jewish patients or would even harm them
I don’t think I’m being paranoid. We know that doctors take the Hippocratic Oath, the moral code for physicians, but I have also seen those social media posts from medical professionals saying they would not help Jewish patients or would harm them. Last month, Dr Rahmeh Aladwan, a junior medic training to be a trauma and orthopaedic surgeon, was arrested on suspicion of stirring up racial hatred, and told the police: “You are doing this for the Israeli Jewish lobby.” In September, consultant paediatrician Dr Ellen Kriesels was suspended over a string of allegedly “antisemitic” comments online in which she described Hamas as “oppressed resistance fighters, not terrorists”.
It has all contributed to the labour ward fears that have been with me since the beginning of my pregnancy, and which now, as the birth approaches, have led to my decision to hire a Jewish doula. I want to have someone by and on my side, someone who knows the birth process and who can be my advocate should the need arise. The idea came from friends who knew I needed to feel safe in the labour ward, and although a doula is an expense I can ill afford, I will find the money. I am too scared not to.
If I could afford it, I would probably consider going private, although even then, would I really know I’d be safe? The best option would be to choose my obstetrician but I’m planning a natural delivery so when it comes to who will be in the delivery room, it feels like rolling dice. When I talked to my GP, who is Jewish, she did not think my fears were misplaced. She said: “I’m not going to lie to you – it’s [the situation] not great.” But she added that Jewish doctors are not just letting things happen; they’re fighting it.
This is my second pregnancy, and it has been harder than the first. I have been feeling so weak that sometimes I cannot get out of bed. My GP’s advised that when I feel like this I should call the maternity day assessment unit. But in the first week of September, when I felt particularly bad, I decided against it. I didn’t even call to see if I should go into hospital. I stayed at home and just hoped I’d feel better. It felt safer.
We have lived in London for nearly eight years. We came because we wanted a better future for ourselves and our children, a life that is calmer, and full of opportunities professionally and educationally. And then October 7 happened, and now I say with great sadness that I don’t know if there is a future here. What kind of future do we have if I can’t trust the country’s national health service? My son was born here seven years ago, and when I compare my feelings between now and then, gosh. Back then, it never crossed my mind that I’d be treated unfairly because of my faith or where I come from. Such thoughts were not on my list of worries. But now, in this pregnancy, they are at the top of my list. Now, I worry if I should disclose my ethnicity when I arrive at hospital, and will I be free to speak in Hebrew? I feel comfortable talking English, but in situations where I’m not in control and am in pain, my default is my mother tongue.
You should not be thinking: is this someone I can trust, and is it Ok to curse in Hebrew, or just say ‘help me’ in my mother tongue
You should not be thinking: is this someone I can trust? And is it OK to curse in Hebrew? Or just say “help me” in my mother tongue. No woman should have to go through the labour with these thoughts in her head. I have paperwork from various pregnancy tests I had done in Israel when we were there, and I feel unsure whether to bring it with me because they will reveal my heritage. But even if I don’t, my name sounds Jewish.
I find it so upsetting that these worries are crowding my mind. The NHS medical should provide every patient with the support they need. It doesn’t, or it shouldn’t, matter who you are or where you’re from. You should know that in your vulnerable situation no matter who treats you, they’ll treat you fairly and as they would anyone else.
As told to Elisa Bray
To get more from Life, click here to sign up for our free Life newsletter.