Since moving to Amsterdam for my year abroad, there’s one reaction I’ve heard more than any other.
“Oh, I’ve heard the antisemitism there is awful.”
Usually, it comes almost immediately after someone hears where I’m studying. Before they ask whether I’m enjoying it. Before they ask about my course, my friends or even whether I like the city itself. The assumption has already been made.
I do understand where that reaction comes from. Since October 7, Jewish students across the world have had to think more carefully about safety, visibility and identity in ways many of our peers simply have not. Amsterdam is no exception, particularly after Maccabi Tel Aviv fans were chased through the city centre in what some rioters called a “Jew hunt” in November 2024. People are not imagining these things. I started university in September 2023 and had barely three weeks before October 7 happened. In many ways, my entire university experience has existed alongside conversations about antisemitism and Israel. I am very aware of that reality already which is why this can feel so frustrating.
But sometimes it feels like Jewish students only get spoken about through the lens of antisemitism. Fear has become the defining feature of our university experience before we even get the chance to explain what our lives are actually like.
My year abroad has been one of the best experiences of my life. Amsterdam feels alive in a way that is difficult to explain properly until you live here. Students cycle everywhere, people sit by the canals working on laptops, cafés are full regardless of the weather and there is an obvious rhythm to the city. As a geography student, I love that you can instantly tell when you are in Amsterdam because the city has such a clear identity. The houses, the canals, the bikes, the culture around being outside all the time. Even the people feel distinct. Dutch people have a reputation for being blunt, but I have actually found that refreshing. People talk to each other here. Someone will sit next to you in a lecture and just start a conversation. There is a warmth to that openness which gave me a lot more confidence over the course of the year.
A huge part of my life in Amsterdam has also revolved around Judaism, but in a way that feels joyful rather than fearful. Most weeks I go to Friday night dinners at Chabad or events run by the Jewish student community. Those spaces feel like a home away from home, even if that phrase sounds slightly cliché. There is a mix of Dutch and international students and a familiarity that comes from being around people who already understand a part of you without needing it explained. Some of the best nights of this year have simply been big Jewish events where everyone is talking, chatting and dancing together. Judaism has become an even more defining part of my life while living here, but through community, routine and belonging rather than through antisemitism.
Ironically, during my first week in Amsterdam, I became aware of how other people’s assumptions had made me more conscious of my own Jewish identity. After hearing so many comments before arriving, I stopped wearing my Magen David necklace for a few days. The irony was that I completely forgot I was still wearing a Magen David earring. During one of the university open events, someone pointed at it and said, “That’s such a nice earring, are you Jewish?” They were not Jewish themselves. It was not hostile or intimidating. Just a genuinely kind interaction. I still laugh at the fact that I hid one Jewish symbol while forgetting entirely about the other.
Of course antisemitism matters. Of course it affects Jewish students. I am not pretending otherwise. It is something that might happen during a university experience but it is not the entirety of that experience. When I think about my year abroad, I think about cycling through Amsterdam in the rain, seeing the tulips come out, sitting by canals with friends, Friday night dinners, Dutch directness and the confidence I gained from building a life for myself here. The hardest part of Amsterdam was not antisemitism – it was the accommodation crisis.
I think sometimes adults accidentally trap young Jews inside narratives of fear without meaning to. Jewish students already know antisemitism exists. We already think about it when choosing universities, deciding where to live and working out where we feel comfortable. But I do not want the defining story of my year abroad to become “the antisemitism must have been awful.” There is so much more to say than that.
So when Jewish students come home from university or from a year abroad, ask us whether we enjoyed it. Ask us about the city, the people we met, the museums, the cafés, the things we learnt and the lives we built for ourselves there. Ask me about the tulips or whether I finally learnt how to cycle properly in the rain (I didn’t). Sometimes, we would quite like to talk about everything else too.
Lottie Cannon is 22 years old and a student at the University of Amsterdam
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