A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage

Unshaken Roots: A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage

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Prologue

We, at Bar-Ilan’s fellowship of the “Stand with Us” organization, in collaboration with the official “Stand with Us” organization, are proud to present our book titled “Unshaken Roots: A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage.” This book, along with our fellowship, was driven by a deep sense of mission and mutual responsibility toward every Jewish individual in the diaspora. In these challenging times, this is precisely the moment for us to unite and take pride in who we are. Through this book, we hope you will gain tools, knowledge, and a great deal of courage as part of the journey, you will take alongside the heroes in this story. These heroes can, at any given moment, be one of you or someone from your closest circle of friends. This narrative is not just a work of fiction; it is a mirror reflecting the challenges, triumphs, and shared identity that binds us all. We invite you to walk this path with our characters, to witness the struggles they face, and the courage they find in themselves and each other. May this story inspire you to find your own strength, to be proud of your heritage, and to stand together in solidarity with all Jews, no matter where they are in the world.

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Table of Contents

Invisible Strings (Pulled between family, tradition, and friendship) Echoes from the Locker Room (When cruelty hides behind laughter—and silence hurts more than speaking up) A Twist Hiding in Plain Sight (He thought he was just going along for the ride) Two Strangers, One Secret (Neither of them knew how much they had in common) A Spark from the Past (Hannah’s courage awakens something they didn’t know they had) Between Reels and Reality (When what people believe has nothing to do with what’s true) The Burden He Didn’t Choose (They don’t care who he is—only what he represents) Breaking the Silence (With Emma’s help, David finally speaks out) Finding His Voice (David learns that speaking out is the first step to change) A Shoulder to Lean On (As they open up, David and Emma build a bond stronger than they expected) From Tension to Triumph (David navigates the shift in his team dynamics, finding redemption and camaraderie) The Journey Begins (Emma takes the first step toward understanding her Jewish and Israeli identity)

04 08 11 13 16 22 26 32 37 42 45 49

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Chapter 1 Emma

“Emma, are you coming with us or not?” Bethany asked as the school day wrapped up. “I can’t, I have something to do,” I replied, quickening my pace. I hoped she wouldn’t pry further. Whenever I have my Bat Mitzvah lessons, I make up excuses to skip their outings. They just don’t understand why I need to learn to read the Torah. Today, they’re heading to the mall to shop. To be honest, I could use some new sweaters; the evenings are getting chilly, and my clothes from last year don’t fit anymore. “Whatever,” Bethany said, rushing to her mom’s car waiting at the school entrance. At the end of the line of cars, I spotted my mom’s blue vehicle. “How was your day?” Mom asked before I even had a chance to sit down and close the door. “Fine,” I said, shrugging. “Then what’s with the face?” she observed as she drove us home. She always sees right through me. I can’t hide anything from her. “Nothing. The girls are all getting together, but I can’t join them because of this stupid class.” I sighed, knowing how important it was for my mom that I learn to read the Torah for my Bat Mitzvah. They’ve invested so much effort into it. My parents emigrated from Israel to the United States as students at Columbia University. They met there and got married. Although they’re not religious—far from it, really—Mom insisted we make a big deal out of my Bat Mitzvah, including reading from the Torah at synagogue. My older sister, Karen, also read the Torah for her Bat Mitzvah and described it as “a shaping experience.” I don’t think I need

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shaping. What I want is to hang out with my friends. Only my best friend, Olivia, knows about my Torah reading. I haven’t told anyone else that I’m learning to read Hebrew from the Bible. I can just imagine their reactions; they’d laugh at me like they always do whenever they get a chance to poke fun at my religion. What’s so funny about being Jewish? Once, when they were at my house, they spotted the menorah for Hanukkah and bombarded me with ridiculous questions. Kiley asked if it was true that Jews run all the banks, which she claimed to have heard somewhere. Bethany joked that Jews only dominate Hollywood, and they both laughed. I managed to change the subject by suggesting we make milkshakes, which thankfully diverted their attention. So now, I have to conceal the real reason I can’t hang out with them, and it’s only pushing me further away. I know my mom will eventually post embarrassing photos of me on Facebook, and the girls in my class will see them. But at least that will happen after this awkward event, not before. I want to delay that as long as possible. “I forgot to ask how your Torah reading prep is going,” Mom said. Beep. A new message popped up on my phone. I pulled it out of my bag. “Fine. I almost have it memorized,” I replied, checking my messages. “Olivia says it sucks I can’t join them because she wanted us to buy matching outfits. I feel like I’m missing out on everything because of these lessons.” “I see,” Mom said, falling silent. She always goes quiet when she’s thinking—especially when I’ve questioned why I’m having a Bat Mitzvah if we’re not religious. After a long pause, she said it’s important to maintain our Jewish traditions, especially since

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we live outside Israel. When she mentioned Israel, something shifted in her voice. Dad once told me it’s because you can leave Israel, but Israel never leaves you. I never really understood what he meant; I was born here, and this is my home. I doubt my friends would grasp why I’m doing this. They think being Jewish is a burden. When we met in first grade, Olivia once asked if I could stop being Jewish. I told her it was impossible but that it didn’t bother me. I’m American, and my mom being Jewish doesn’t change that. Bethany insisted it mattered, claiming I should keep it a secret. Since then, I’ve never mentioned being Jewish at school, not even when the teacher asked if anyone knew of holidays celebrated around the same time as Christmas. I knew she meant Hanukkah, but I stayed silent to avoid any silly questions. As the houses of our neighborhood rushed past, I knew we’d be home soon. I had a little time to grab a snack before the rabbi arrived to review my Torah reading again for the millionth time. He’d complain about my accuracy and make me repeat the part of the reading “Va’Yomer” over and over. “If you know your Torah reading, I don’t see why we can’t skip one lesson,” Mom said, breaking my train of thought. “Really?” I was taken aback. Mom never lets me miss a class. “Really,” she replied, smiling. “I’ll text the rabbi. Don’t worry. When do you need me to take you to the mall?” “At five,” I answered, still surprised by her willingness. “Thanks!” Do you feel the need to hide certain parts of your life? If so, what are the reasons behind it?

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Chapter 2 David

“Great game, guys!” Joey, our coach, said, and we all cheered. As he stepped out of the locker room, his phone rang, and he answered the call. I barely got to play today. Coach put me in for just a minute and a half at the end of the third quarter, so I cheered enthusiastically for my team from the bench, as teammates are expected to do. I stripped off my shirt and tossed it into my bag, then lay back on the bench by my locker. I hadn’t even broken a sweat, but I knew my mom would want to wash it anyway. “Maybe next time,” Chen said, giving my bare shoulder a friendly pat. His arm was red and slick with sweat; he had played well, scoring two three-pointers in the first quarter. Thanks to him, we maintained our lead throughout the game against St. Patrick’s School. “Did you see the reel with the Zionists in my story?” I heard Marcus’ voice on the other side of the wall. I froze. My heart was pounding. “Yes!” Jimmy answered with enthusiasm. “This is awesome! All Jews should experience this.” “I didn’t see it, what was in it?” I identified Thomas’ voice. Thomas is always pushing himself because he is trying to make Marcus and Jimmy make him a part of their posse. Everyone wants to be in their posse because they are the most popular kids in Washington Middle School. “They are chasing this Zionist around London, and he is running like a mouse,” Marcus shouted, and I knew he wanted to make sure I hear him. “They should do this here as well,” Jimmy added. “Hush… David Levitt is here,” Thomas whispered, and my heart

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skipped a beat, just by the mention of my name. “Like I even care,” Marcus said even loader.

I wanted to scream at them to shut up. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard antisemitic remarks from my teammates. I’d seen the things they kept posting on Instagram—Marcus was always sharing these disgusting reels, expecting everyone to like them. And they did, just to stay in his good graces. Recently, he had been posting reels that mocked Jews and even tagged me to ensure I noticed. What a messed-up kid. He once shared a reel claiming that Jews are rich because we control the banks around the world. I DM’d him to say it was a lie, and he reposted my comment to his story, mocking me by saying I had to defend myself because my dad is also a thief. The next day at practice, Marcus and Jimmy shouted at everyone to lock their lockers so I wouldn’t steal their stuff. Since then, I’ve kept silent. I stay quiet when they post their reels and when they make their disgusting comments. I just hope this will eventually stop. “You not showering today, Levitt?” Jimmy asked, standing next to me in his white boxers, drying himself with a frayed towel. I took a deep breath. “I’ll shower at home,” I replied, trying to remain as calm as possible. “Don’t be shy,” Jimmy said, continuing his chatter. “We’re all men here.” I smiled. “Men don’t post dumbass reels,” I replied, then grabbed my bag and left the locker room in search of my parents, who were waiting to take me home. Fortunately, I have other friends— real friends. Simon, for example. He’s been with me since first grade and has never treated me poorly, not because I’m Jewish or for any other reason. It’s a shame he’s not on the team with me; it would make things much easier.

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I’ve considered quitting the team many times, but I refuse to let them win. They won’t push me out, no matter what they say. I’m just as good at basketball as any of them, and I deserve to be here. Still, it’s frustrating to endure this over and over again. “Don’t worry, Levitt,” Joey said as I stepped out of the locker room. “I can see you’re feeling down, but I know you’re a good player. The most important thing is to believe in yourself; it will pay off in the end.” “Yes. No… It’s not about the game,” I replied, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. “They’re making nasty comments again.” Coach Joey placed his large hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him. “Do you want me to talk to them?” “No… no…” That’s the last thing I need—Marcus calling me a snitch. “They’ll have to stop eventually.” “If you want my help, just say the word,” Joey said, meeting my gaze. I nodded, and just then, his phone rang. “Go home, Levitt.” He answered the call, and I quickly slipped away before Marcus and his crew left the locker room. Have you experienced a situation like this? What was your response?

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Chapter 3 David

When I got out of the shower, dinner was already on the table. “We wanted to talk to you about something,” Dad said as I took my seat next to my younger sister, Natalie. “Mom and I were thinking—” “Gravy?” Mom interrupted, filling my plate with pasta. “Yes, thanks. So, what were you thinking, Dad?” I asked, rolling the pasta onto my fork. “This week, they started advertising a new workshop at the JCC (Jewish Community Center)—a Bar Mitzvah workshop,” Dad explained. “It sounds interesting, and we thought you might want to join.” I looked at my parents while chewing my pasta, trying to figure out what they expected me to gain from a Bar Mitzvah workshop. We had discussed my Bar Mitzvah a few months ago and decided on a family gathering, but what did I need a workshop for? What could they possibly teach me? Judaism has always been a part of our family life. I grew up listening to my grandfather’s stories from the Holocaust, told in English with a heavy Hungarian accent, about his experiences in Europe before World War II—the antisemitism he faced as a Jewish child in Hungary and their last-minute escape to the United States. My mom, born in the States, was never particularly religious but always reminded us that we were American Jews. Still, I couldn’t understand why they wanted me to attend this workshop. “How about it, sweetie?” Mom asked, taking her seat beside Dad. She looked at me with her blue eyes—just like mine—and smiled. “I don’t see the point,” I admitted. “Plus, I have a lot of team practices.”

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“I checked, and it won’t conflict with your practice schedule,” Mom said. “It’s only five sessions, and it’s not just about Judaism. It’s also about developing your identity as a mature individual.” I rolled my eyes and caught a glimpse of my dad scowling at me. “It’s time you start taking an interest in things beyond basketball,” he insisted. “Okay, fine,” I relented. Clearly, this mattered to them. I could survive five hours of a boring workshop. I just hoped the guys wouldn’t find out. They already teased me constantly, reminding me of my Jewish identity at every opportunity. If they learned I was attending a workshop at the JCC, they’d drive me crazy. “You must be disappointed you hardly got to play today,” Dad said, and I welcomed the change of subject. “Do you want me to talk to your coach?” “No, no need,” I replied quickly. The last thing I wanted was for my dad to talk to Coach Joey. I didn’t want him to share the details of what was happening on the team—the badgering, the harsh words. That would only worry my parents, prompting them to intervene and make everything messier. “Oh, Natty,” I heard Mom exclaim. I glanced to my left and saw Natalie’s shirt completely stained with tomato sauce, but that didn’t stop her from flashing a wide smile at me. Before bed, I reflected on everything that had happened after the game. Even though it wasn’t the first time, it was always frustrating. Why do I keep putting up with this? Is basketball really worth it? Each time I think about it, I convince myself it is. I don’t want to give up the things I enjoy. If only I could put an end to the teasing… but how? How can I make them stop? What if this isn’t just about me? What if they’d treat anyone else the same way? You can never know. I fell asleep, but I couldn’t figure it out.

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Chapter 4 Emma

“So, what do you think, Emma?” Mom asked, sitting on my bed and tucking the covers around me like she used to when I was little. “It sounds nice,” I replied, and I could see her smile. “Great! I’ll go ahead and sign you up. Good night, sweetie.” She kissed my forehead and left the room. Honestly, the Bar Mitzvah workshop seems like a fantastic opportunity. I’ll finally get to meet other girls who read Torah, just like me. So far, aside from my sister Karen, I haven’t really talked to anyone who shares this experience. Maybe other girls feel like they need to hide it too? Maybe I’m not the only one who feels ashamed. Do you find it beneficial to be around people who share similar experiences or backgrounds as you? I had eagerly awaited Sunday, the day of the first Bar Mitzvah workshop session. I was excited to meet the other participants— maybe someone from my school or neighborhood would be there. On Sunday morning, my mom dropped me off at the JCC and walked me inside. At the entrance, we spotted a sign directing us to the workshop hall and followed it. Surrounding us were other parents with children my age—boys and girls—but I felt a pang of disappointment as I didn’t recognize any of them. I had hoped to see at least one familiar face. “Can you handle it from here?” my mom asked as we reached the entrance. I peered inside. Some kids were already seated in a large circle; a

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few were absorbed in their phones, while others were curiously surveying the room. It seemed they, too, didn’t know anyone, as they remained silent. Just then, a girl with long, curly black hair approached us. She wore a necklace with a golden Star of David, and a small ring sparkled on her nose. “Welcome! My name is Shelly, and I’ll be your guide,” she said with a warm smile, her Israeli accent unmistakable. “Nice to meet you, I’m Dana,” my mom replied, glancing at me. “And you are?” Shelly asked. “I’m Emma,” I replied, my voice trembling with excitement. “Welcome, Emma. Please take your seat; we’re about to begin.” Shelly placed her arm gently on my shoulder and led me inside. “Have fun, sweetheart,” my mom said as she disappeared down the hallway. I followed Shelly to an available seat, slightly off to the side, between two unfamiliar boys. My heart raced, and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. Everyone here is just like you, I reminded myself. I scanned the room; while there weren’t many kids, several seats remained empty. “Were you also forced to come here?” I jumped at the sudden voice. “What? No,” I mumbled, turning toward the speaker. A boy with bright hair and big blue eyes grinned at me. “You mean to tell me you came here willingly?” “Yes. I mean, it sounds interesting, doesn’t it?” I replied, uncertain. He shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d rather be somewhere else.” “Hi everyone!” Shelly called out, and the room quieted. “I’m Shelly, and I’m here to guide you through this special workshop. We’ll talk a bit about Judaism, a bit about Israel, but mostly about you. I’d love for each of you to share a few words about yourselves. Let’s start with you, David.”

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David straightened up, and all eyes turned to him, mine included. “My name is David Levitt. I’m twelve and a half,” he stated confidently. “What else can you tell us? Any interesting hobbies?” Shelly asked, smiling. “I play basketball for the Washington School team,” David added with pride. I finally noticed how tall he was; it was hard to tell when he was seated. “Very impressive, David! Now, how about you, Emma?” Shelly said, shifting the attention to me. “My name is Emma, and I’m almost twelve. I have an older sister, and I love listening to music—mostly Taylor Swift.” The girl sitting across from me beamed, and I could tell she was also a Swiftie. We already had something in common. “Thanks, Emma. Let’s keep going.” The introductions continued. Danielle mentioned she was born in Israel and had moved here two years ago. Tamir said he’d come here as a baby, but his Hebrew was quite good. “Does anyone else speak Hebrew?” Shelly asked in Hebrew. Aside from Tamir, several kids raised their hands, including the Swiftie girl, who hadn’t introduced herself yet. I didn’t raise my hand, even though I understood the question. I comprehend some Hebrew, but I don’t speak it at all. Just last night, I overheard my parents whispering in Hebrew about this workshop. I didn’t catch everything, but I understood my dad was worried about the JCC’s safety during these times of rising antisemitism in the States. My mom reassured him, convincing him that security was in place and everything would be alright. Once the introduction round concluded, Shelly declared ceremoniously, “Now it’s time for your first assignment!”

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Chapter 5 David

“I’m going to read something to you, and then we’ll discuss it. Ready?” Shelly asked, as if we really had a choice. She pulled out a photo of a young woman and passed it around while she spoke. “Hannah Szenes was just twenty-two when she made the brave decision to take on a daring mission. Concerned for her mother and sister who remained in Hungary, haunted by news of the persecution of Jews in Europe, and driven by a desire to help, she and her friends parachuted into various locations across Europe in 1943 to assist the British army in their fight against the Germans. In their spare time, they aimed to rescue Jews. Unfortunately, Hannah was captured while crossing the border into Hungary.” I remembered seeing a TV show about Hannah Szenes, and her story had left a lasting impression. I hadn’t realized she was so young. “Hannah was put on trial, and throughout it, she displayed remarkable courage,” Shelly continued. “Before her execution, she said, ‘I take responsibility for my actions. I have been a Zionist since my youth, even though my parents did not raise me that way. In Israel, I was a person in the fullest sense of the word.’ She was executed at just twenty-three.” Even after Shelly finished speaking, the room was silent. Emma tried to wipe away a tear that had fallen on her cheek, and I averted my gaze, not wanting to embarrass her. “What do you think of Hannah Szenes’s words?” Shelly asked, looking around at us. “Yes, Danielle?” “I wouldn’t have fought for the British army. They were terrible to Jews during the British Mandate,” Danielle replied.

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“But she fought for her Jewish brothers and sisters who were still in danger in Europe. While she lived relatively safely in Israel, her mother and brother were left behind. Isn’t it only

rational to try to save them?” Shelly countered. “Yes, but she didn’t succeed,” Tamir pointed out.

“At least she tried. The people in Europe witnessed the atrocities against the Jews and did nothing. Jews have always tried to help one another. The Israeli Jews did what they could, joining the British army during World War II. After the war, they sent messengers to Europe to help Holocaust survivors immigrate to Israel by any means possible.” Several children, including Emma, nodded. Emma couldn’t take her eyes off Shelly. It was clear she genuinely wanted to be part of this workshop. “Let’s not forget that in 1897, Herzl convened the Zionist Congress in Basel, where the goal of establishing a national home for the Jewish people was set. David Ben Gurion made that vision a reality when he announced the founding of the State of Israel in 1948. The Declaration of Independence details the journey of the Jewish people from biblical times through the Zionist Congress to the establishment of the Jewish state. Even today, American Jews support Israel to ensure its survival and success,” Shelly continued in a more formal tone. “We all understand the importance of an independent Jewish state to prevent another Holocaust. Now it’s your turn. I’d like you to pair up and share what Judaism means to you. What does

being Jewish mean to you?” What is Judaism for you?

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“Do you want to be my partner?” Emma asked. “In the assignment, that is.” Could she be blushing? “Fine,” I answered and turned my chair to face her. “What does being Jewish mean for you?” “Mostly a headache,” Emma answered and laughed. “They make me read Torah. I mean, not really make me, but it is really important to my folks, so I go along.” “I’m okay with reading the Torah. My grandfather came from a religious family but left the faith after World War II. Honestly, I’m struggling with this workshop. I don’t see the point; I haven’t learned anything new,” I admitted quietly, ensuring Shelly wouldn’t overhear. “I find it really interesting so far. Do you have any Jewish friends?” Emma leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “Not really,” I replied. “It’s never mattered to me whether someone is Jewish or not. It seems to matter to others more than it does to us.” Emma nodded in agreement. “What about you? Do you have other Jewish friends?” “Until recently, it didn’t matter much to me. But now my friends have been bugging me about it. Olivia, my best friend, doesn’t mind, but the others do. They don’t get what the Bat Mitzvah is about or why reading Torah is important. They call it primitive.” Emma looked down, her hair falling across her eyes. We both fell into silence, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of others. I recalled Marcus’s cruel remarks—the reels he shared portraying Jews as filthy rats. I hesitated to mention it to Emma, fearing she’d see me as a coward for not speaking up, for letting them treat me this way. I felt like I was failing to stand up for Jewish dignity, just keeping quiet and moving on.

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“And what do you do if they say something nasty to you?” I broke the silence, noticing Emma still wouldn’t lift her gaze. She rocked her legs under the chair. “Like… if they laugh about Jews?” “I just change the subject. Ignore it. What else can I do?” she replied after a few moments. “I do the same,” I admitted. Emma finally looked up at me. “One of the guys from the team is always making remarks. He posts awful reels and tags me in them.” “I don’t get what they have against Jews. What’s the deal? We’re Americans just like they are—like their grandparents didn’t come from somewhere, too.” Emma sounded frustrated, and I understood why. Marcus’s family was from Greece, and Chen was the first in his family born in the U.S., coming from South Korea. “Exactly,” I agreed. “Remember how during COVID, everyone was so awful to anyone who looked Chinese? Or who was assumed to be?” “It was really weird,” Emma said, looking at me with wide eyes. “It was just stupid.” “But it’s the same thing. They were miserable. My friend Chen was afraid to go outside. And it wasn’t that long ago.” “True, I remember that. But it’s over now. Do you think it’ll stop for Jews, too?” “I don’t know,” I replied, seeing the sadness spread across Emma’s face. “Well, there’s not much we can do about it. Let’s get back to our assignment,” Emma said, her voice returning to normal. “I’ll start. Judaism for me isn’t just a religion like Christianity; it’s a tradition, a glorious history of a determined people who’ve preserved their uniqueness for thousands of years. I think I’m

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even proud to be Jewish. Where else can you find women like Hannah Szenes?” Emma sat up straighter in her chair. “What about you?” “I’m just Jewish. I can’t change that. My grandfather fled Hungary and always told me terrible stories about what he went through as a child—the way Christian kids treated him. He got beaten up a lot. And despite all the years that have passed, last year a boy at our school was attacked just for being Jewish. So what has really changed?” Emma fell silent, and I did too. Fortunately, Shelly called us back together to wrap up the session. She asked us to think about what the State of Israel means to us and how we see our connection to it as American Jews. She explained that next time, we’d discuss the teens who left their families and comfortable lives to help establish a Jewish state in the Land of Israel. I wondered if I would have had the courage to do that in their place. But I had no answer.

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Chapter 6 Emma

Olivia sat down beside me in the cafeteria and placed her tray on the table. “Want to come over Saturday? We’re making breakfast on Sunday—well, brunch, depending on when we get up.” She giggled, recalling the last time I slept over when we didn’t wake up until noon, and my mom was worried because I hadn’t answered her calls all morning. “I can’t,” I said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. “Remember the workshop I signed up for at the JCC? It’s on Sunday mornings.” “Oh, I forgot! How is it? Is it as boring as it sounds?” Olivia sipped her drink, the straw making a noise at the bottom of the can. “It’s actually pretty interesting. It’s made me think about a lot of things,” I admitted. At least I could speak freely with Olivia; she always accepted me just as I was. I didn’t know what I’d do without her. “Like what?” Olivia asked, genuinely curious. “About my relationship with Judaism. About Israel. Did you know that many young Jewish people go to serve in the IDF after graduating high school?” “Really?!” Olivia’s eyes widened. “What about college?” “They postpone college for a few years, and some even stay in Israel,” I explained, feeling a swell of pride. “Almost everyone in Israel goes to university after their military service.” Olivia stared at me. “They’d rather stay in the desert than come back to the U.S.?” I sighed. “Israel isn’t just a desert; it’s a modern country.” I pulled out my phone and showed her Instagram reels of Tel Aviv, from its beaches to its sleek office buildings. “Sure, there are ancient sites like Jerusalem and Jaffa, but other areas are completely contemporary. Think about how all of this was built

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in less than eighty years!” “Cool,” Olivia said, handing my phone back. “I still hope you’ll come to college with me and not go serve in the IDF,” she added with a smile. “That’s the plan,” I said, grinning. “Although I think I’d look good in uniform.” We both laughed as we returned our trays. On the way to class, I reflected on how many people, even my closest friends, don’t really know Israel or what life is like there. Everyone has some idea of what “Israel” is, but most kids around me have never been there and don’t know anyone who lives there. When people think of France, they picture the Eiffel Tower. Italy conjures images of the Colosseum. London brings to mind Big Ben. But when people think of Israel… it’s usually camels, deserts, and wars. Yet Israel is so much more than that, and I don’t think it’s just because I have family there. It really is a special place. For the next session, Shelly asked us to reflect on our personal connection to Israel. After finishing my math homework, I wrote in my journal: Israel for me is family. My parents’ families live there, and I have cousins scattered all over the country. When I visit Israel, I feel at home in a way I don’t in any other country. Even though my Hebrew isn’t great, I manage to communicate with my cousins, and I love spending time with them. It felt a bit too brief, so I tried to think of what else to add. I surprised myself when I wrote: When I’m older, I’d like to live in Israel for a few months to learn Hebrew and get to know the country better.

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What is Israel for you? “I was thinking,” I said to my parents at the end of dinner, after we’d gone over the guest list for my Bat Mitzvah once more. My sister Karen was at a friend’s house, so it was just the three of us. It felt like the perfect opportunity to talk since their full attention was on me. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Dad asked. “I’ve noticed that people don’t really understand Israel. They think they know a lot, but most of what they believe is wrong,” I explained, and both of them looked at me, waiting for me to continue. “So, I was thinking—maybe I could talk to my teacher about having a class on Israel.” Mom and Dad exchanged glances, communicating silently. “What do you think?” I prompted when their silence stretched on. “It’s a lovely idea, and you’re right—people often rely on prejudice when they discuss Israel. But are you sure you want to dive into this? It can be a controversial topic,” Mom said, and Dad nodded in agreement. “And don’t forget that kids can be especially cruel,” Dad added. “Trust me, I know,” I replied, recalling the hurtful comments I’d heard over the years. “But that’s exactly why this is important to me.” Mom and Dad began clearing the leftover food and dirty dishes. I overheard them speaking in Hebrew, and even without catching every word, I understood enough to know they were worried my idea might hurt me socially—that other kids might distance themselves from me. “If they’re truly my friends, they’ll stick around after the lesson,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen. They both turned to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry. I have Olivia, and if

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the others don’t want to be friends with me, that’s their loss.” “How did we get such a brave child?” Mom said, placing the dishes in the sink and wrapping me in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you, Emma,” Dad said, his voice a bit shaky. “I know the whole family will be proud of you, too.”

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Chapter 7 David

“It was awesome! If you play like this in the game, we’ll definitely make it to the finals, no problem,” Coach Joey said at the end of another exhausting practice for our upcoming semifinal in the district school championship. I was still catching my breath as I headed to the locker room, feeling exhilarated after scoring several three-pointers. I was confident the coach would let me play in the game—this was my chance to prove myself to the whole team. We walked out together, and it seemed like Marcus and his group had finally stopped their nonsense. They were laughing and patting each other on the back, and we knew we had a real shot at making it to the finals, maybe even winning! I unzipped my bag and pulled out my phone to text my mom and let her know when to pick me up. Coach had said practice would run late, so I wanted to keep her updated. I glanced around, but everyone was busy changing and getting organized. The noise from the showers was overwhelming, and I could only imagine the smell. Mom had mentioned she was out and told me to wait for her up front. Just as I was about to close my phone and tuck it away, an Instagram notification caught my eye. I was tagged in Marcus’s story. Great. I clicked the link and, as expected, saw a caricature of a Jew with a big nose and piles of money. How is he not tired of this? The next story featured a photo of a poor child, captioned with claims that Israel starves Palestinian children and that one hundred thousand kids die of hunger each year because of Israel. I wondered if anyone noticed that the image was fake—it looked like it had been generated with AI, since the child had

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six fingers on one hand. Suddenly, I had a perfect answer to Shelly’s question about what Israel meant to me: one big headache. Every time something happens in Israel, my entire Instagram feed fills with lies and fabrications. Then, during breaks, kids come up to me with all these ridiculous questions about reels they’ve seen, as if I’m somehow responsible for everything happening there just because I’m Jewish. I don’t get it. Am I the Prime Minister of Israel? Do I set its policies? What does any of this have to do with me? I never go up to other kids blaming them for something someone completely unrelated did. It’s just infuriating. I quickly gathered my things, yelled goodbye, and hurried out of the locker room. I didn’t want to be there when everyone opened their phones and saw Marcus’s story. Dad dropped me off outside the JCC for the second meeting of the Bar Mitzvah workshop. I’d stayed up late the night before playing PlayStation with Chen until Mom yelled at me to go to bed. This morning, I could barely get up, and I couldn’t stop yawning. The session started late this time because everyone was chatting, and Shelly took her time getting us settled in the awkward circle she loved so much. Emma sat beside me, her face bright with energy. “What’s up?” she asked, grinning. “The usual,” I replied, trying to return her smile, but mine felt as tired as I was. “Someone partied last night,” Emma joked. “I hope you did your assignment.” ★ ★ ★

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“Everything’s ready in here,” I said, tapping my temple. “Good morning, everyone,” Shelly began, finally getting the session underway. “I truly hope you took some time to think about everything we discussed last time. Before we dive in, I’d like to show you a short video prepared by the JCC.”

Israel is home. It’s birthplace of my mother and my people.

Israel is the Jewish biblical homeland, It’s not just a land, it’s not just a nation. It’s the only place in the world where you can go And feel like you’re amongst your people. We are the people of Israel, no matter where we are, we are all Israel. We have a place to go, and we can defend ourselves. Israel means safety, knowing that we need to protect it too. “What do you think about what was said in the video? Does it align with what you wrote down when answering the question, ‘What is Israel to you?’” Emma immediately raised her hand. “I wrote that Israel for me is family because my parents’ families live there. But I agree with what they said in the video. Israel isn’t just another country on the map; it’s so much more.” The girl in the Taylor Swift shirt, whose name I couldn’t remember, chimed in. “My parents always say that if we don’t like it here, we have the option to immigrate to Israel.” “That’s true, Tammy,” Shelly replied. “Every Jew has the right to immigrate to Israel whenever they choose. This gives Jews around the world a sense of security. Israel not only protects Jews globally, as we discussed last time, but it also welcomes

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them and helps bring them home. This is a great opportunity to share the story of Operation Moses, when we successfully brought Ethiopian Jews to Israel in 1984.” Shelly explained that Ethiopian Jews were beginning to leave Ethiopia, seeking refuge in Israel and gathering in refugee camps in Sudan. After much effort and international pressure, Sudan agreed to let the Jews go to Israel. With the help of the Israeli Intelligence Organization, the Mossad, the American Association for Ethiopian Jewry, and the U.S. embassy in Sudan, they were secretly flown to Israel. “Even during Operation Moses, the Jewish community in the United States volunteered to assist their Jewish brothers. Everyone understood the importance of saving Ethiopian Jewry and helping them immigrate to Israel, as it was the safest place for them as Jews,” Shelly summarized, and many kids nodded in agreement. “But I don’t want to immigrate to Israel. My home is here,” I said, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at me. “I’m a Jew, but I’m an American citizen.” “That’s completely understandable. Jews have lived in many places around the world for centuries. They’ve been citizens of various countries, and some have even held senior leadership roles. Still, despite everything, the existence of the State of Israel holds great significance for Jews worldwide. Israel is an anchor, a safe haven. Do you agree with that, David?” Shelly directed the question to me. “Yes,” I replied. “It’s important to have the State of Israel, but in my everyday life, I don’t really see the connection I have with it,” I confessed. “If, for instance, the news says something wrong about Israel, does that annoy you?” Danielle asked, and again, all eyes were

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on me. A hush fell over the room as everyone awaited my answer. I thought about Marcus’ story, the lies and the fake photo. “A little bit, yes. Mostly because people treat me as if I’m responsible for what Israel does just because I’m Jewish. Sometimes I’m even frustrated with Israel because things happening there affect how people treat me here.” It was the first time I had voiced that thought, and as the words left my mouth, everyone started talking at once. From what I gathered, I wasn’t alone in feeling this way. A sense of relief washed over me, knowing I wasn’t the only one struggling with these feelings. “Shh… Let’s talk one at a time,” Shelly urged, trying to regain control of the discussion. It took a moment for everyone to settle down. “I can see this is a sensitive subject for some of you. Let’s discuss it. What happens in Israel isn’t controlled by any of us, right?” Everyone nodded, even Emma. “And even though it’s not our responsibility, we still have to take the heat for it,” Tamir said, his voice tinged with anger. “Even twelve years after I left Israel.” “Can you give us an example?” Shelly asked. “Someone wrote ‘child murderer’ on my locker,” Tamir said, his voice breaking as he lowered his head. “Even in history class, when the teacher showed a map of the Middle East and talked about the areas Israel conquered, everyone looked at me like I had anything to do with it.” “That must have been a tough moment,” Shelly said gently, placing a hand on Tamir’s shoulder. Danielle reached into her bag and handed him a tissue. The atmosphere in the room felt heavy with sadness. “Does anyone else want to share?”

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Chapter 8 Emma

I felt a little uncomfortable, realizing I had nothing to contribute to this conversation. I had never faced a situation where I was personally attacked about something related to Israel, probably because most kids at school didn’t know I was Jewish. David raised his hand, and Shelly nodded for him to speak. “My basketball friends post all sorts of lies about Israel on Instagram and tag me. It’s really annoying.” I was surprised to hear this; from what he’d told me, I assumed he was part of the basketball team’s popular crowd. “Being a Jew and living in the United States isn’t easy,” Shelly said softly. “For Americans, we’re ‘Zionists,’ and for Israelis, we’re just Americans,” Tamir added. “It gets even more complicated when there are conflicts or military operations in Israel.” “Exactly!” David agreed. “Israelis expect us to always support Israel, no matter what happens. Americans constantly blame me for what Israel does, as if it’s my fault.” “Do you feel like people are angry with you personally?” Shelly asked, looking around at all of us. David nodded, and I glanced at Shelly. “And how do you react when that happens?” Shelly probed, and even Tamir lifted his head, eager for David’s response. “I don’t. I ignore it. Once I tried to say something, and it only made things worse. So now I just ignore it, hoping it will eventually stop.” David spoke with a tone of indifference, but I could sense there was more beneath the surface. He was the first to bring up this issue in the workshop. “And does it ever stop?” Shelly continued. “Not yet, no.” David shrugged, his shoulders slumping slightly.

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“But I don’t have any other ideas.” What strategies do you think could help put an end to the behavior David experienced? “Maybe we can think about something together,” Shelly offered. “We can do a quick role play.” Shelly volunteered Danielle and Tamar. Danielle was the girl making nasty comments against Israel, and Tamar was simply herself. “You are a murderer, just like all Zionists,” Danielle said while trying to hide her laugh to get in to character. “I wish you all would disappear from the world!” Tamar looked at Shelly and waited for further instructions. “How would you respond to that?” Shelly pressed, offering little guidance. “What would you say if someone said something like that to you?” Tamar glanced between Danielle and Shelly, clearly uncertain. “I don’t know. I would just walk away,” she finally said after a few moments of silence. “Okay, but let’s assume you can’t walk away. What if this person is sitting next to you in class or on the bus? What would you do then?” Tamar shrugged, still unsure. “Does anyone have any suggestions?” Shelly asked, looking around the group for ideas. Do you have any suggestions on how to handle a situation like this? We fell silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I tried to remember how I responded when Bethany made fun of me. Most

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of the time, I stayed quiet. Sometimes I’d change the subject, but mostly I just ignored her, acting as if I hadn’t heard her at all. Shelly scanned our faces, clearly hoping for some input, but we all remained silent. With a sigh, she said, “I can see this is a tough situation to navigate. Kids can be really cruel, and no one wants to feel isolated. I’ll let you in on a secret: adults struggle with this kind of thing too.” I smiled at that. I’d never really thought about how my parents dealt with these issues. Did they face similar situations? They never mentioned it, and I’d never asked. “I can offer you a few strategies for coping,” Shelly continued. “Sometimes it helps to distance yourself from the situation or seek assistance from an adult. But when that’s not an option, remember that most hurtful comments stem from ignorance and a lack of understanding. Everyone is bombarded with misinformation through social media and other channels.” I recalled a time when Dad nearly yelled at the TV, insisting the news anchor was lying. Mom had to calm him down, reminding him she couldn’t hear him. It had been funny at the time, but now I understood his frustration. “It’s important to stay calm and respond respectfully without getting into unnecessary arguments. Start by validating any points the other person makes, if they’re valid, to help calm them down and get them to listen. Then, counter with your strongest response. Pay attention to their allegations; you might find something you can turn to your advantage. Finally, end with a message of hope or peace. If all else fails, you can calmly express that their comments make you uncomfortable.” Tamir chuckled bitterly. “As if that would help,” he said. “Sometimes, it’s about the people close to you—friends who care can make a difference,” Shelly replied.

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“Maybe we could provide them with real information?” Tamar suggested. “Help them understand the truth.” “That’s an excellent idea!” Shelly beamed. “Any other thoughts?” I raised my hand, and everyone turned to look at me. “A few days ago, I talked to a friend who thought Israel was just a desert.” A few chuckles echoed, and I noticed Tamir nodding in recognition. “I thought about giving a presentation in class about Israel—explaining why it was founded as a national home for the Jews and showing them pictures.” “Great idea, Emma! You could even include Israeli inventions that are used worldwide, like Waze or the USB flash drive,” Shelly encouraged. “Or cherry tomatoes, even though I hate tomatoes,” Danielle added, laughing. “Thanks!” I replied, feeling a surge of pride. I was thrilled that Shelly liked my idea. Do you know of any other Israeli inventions? After the session ended, I stood outside the JCC, waiting for my dad. David was next to me, alternating between staring at his phone screen and glancing down the road. I always felt shorter standing next to him, even though I was just an average height for my age. “Is someone picking you up?” I asked, glancing over at him. “Yes. My mom should be here any minute,” David replied, still focused on his phone. “Do your parents know about what’s going on? About the reels?” I noticed he seemed to be avoiding my gaze. “Not really,” he said. “I don’t want them to meddle in this.” I didn’t understand why David was so hesitant to let his parents

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help. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong. “But maybe they can help. It seems like it’s bothering you, and it won’t just stop on its own,” I said, trying to convince him. “If you don’t try, you’ll never know.” “I don’t think so… Maybe… I don’t know…” David mumbled as a car approached and stopped in front of us. He waved, and I saw his mom smile at me. “Do you need a ride home? I can take you,” His mom offered warmly. “Thanks, but my dad will be here soon,” I replied, smiling back at her. She was a striking woman, and it was clear David inherited her blue eyes and light hair. “OK. See you next week,” David said, getting into the car. His mom leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned away, clearly embarrassed. I quickly looked down at my phone, pretending to be engrossed in something, until they drove off. Would you encourage David to talk to his parents about what he’s experiencing? If you were in his position, what would you have done?

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Chapter 9 David

“Is she from the workshop?” Mom asked as we came to a stop at a red light. The radio was playing an upbeat tune while she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “She seems nice.” “Yeah, it’s Emma,” I replied, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions. But, of course, Mom had to dig deeper. “Maybe you could hang out with her after the workshop?” Mom suggested. I was relieved she wasn’t looking at me, as I could feel my cheeks getting warm. “Maybe…” I said with a sigh, needing to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Aren’t you curious about what we did today?” “How was it? Did you talk about anything interesting?” I smiled. “We talked about Israel, and about how being Jewish sucks.” “Come on, I doubt that was the main topic of the conversation,” Mom shot me a disapproving look. “Some boy said he’s being picked on because he’s a Jew from Israel. We talked about how frustrating it is that whenever something happens there, we get blamed here—as if it’s our fault.” My frustration spilled over. “How is it my fault that Israel is messing up?” Mom took a deep breath, then another, and fell silent for a few moments. Finally, she asked the question I dreaded the most. “Has this happened to you too? Have you been picked on for being Jewish?” She turned down the radio, signaling that she genuinely wanted to hear what I had to say. I wanted to say no—that I’d never been targeted, that Marcus’s nasty reels hadn’t affected me. I wished that were true. But I didn’t want to lie to her. Maybe it was time for them to know

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what I was facing. Maybe Emma was right; perhaps there was something I could do to make it stop. “If you don’t try, you never know,” I recalled Emma’s words. “Sometimes,” I replied quietly after a long pause. “What… what have they said to you?” I could see Mom was trying to stay calm, but the worry was clear on her face. “Nothing too serious. You remember Marcus from basketball practice? He shares these reels on his story, some of which are really antisemitic. Some are just plain disgusting.” “Okay,” Mom said as she turned right onto our street. “I understand that it’s upsetting for you, but what does that have to do with you personally?” “Sometimes he tags me on purpose, so I have to see it. He also makes nasty comments now and then. And when everyone gets all excited about his reels, it’s really frustrating. It feels like he’s turning everyone against me.” With each word, I felt a weight lift from my heart, but my throat burned as I fought back tears. Mom parked the car in the driveway and turned to face me. She took my hands in hers, looking me straight in the eye. Her gaze was both warm and resolute. “I’m really sorry to hear what you’re going through, and I appreciate you sharing this with me. No one should ever hurt you, do you understand? I promise we won’t take any action without your permission, but we need to do something about this. It has to stop, okay?” I nodded, and Mom pulled me into a tight embrace. In that moment, I couldn’t hold back any longer, and tears began to flow, soaking her shirt.

★ ★ ★

I sent Mom screenshots of some of the reels and photos Marcus shared. She promised to handle it. Two days later, we had a meeting

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