The Jewish community is under attack, and I am sick of living in fear. I just returned from my local kosher bakery, a traditional shop on a busy high street that has been baking handmade breads and bagels since 1989. It is my favorite place to buy challah. This should have been a routine moment, but I was so hyper-vigilant that I rushed in and out in seconds. I found myself weighing the odds, trying to decide if I was putting myself in danger. That bakery is located just down the road from where yesterday's Golders Green stabbings took place.
The police had reassured us they would step up patrols in visibly Jewish areas, so I knew the likelihood was I would be fine. I was comforted by the sight of the Community Security Trust team, which goes above and beyond to protect the Jewish community. But there was no police presence outside the shops or down the road as I drove home. That matters because I am scared. Three words I do not even care to say out loud anymore. I am not the only one. Across Britain, many in the Jewish community are quietly asking themselves whether they still have a future here. But there is one question I presume they and I are asking even more: when the next attack will happen. That is what makes me scared: it is a matter of when, not if.
A National Emergency
The government's Independent Reviewer of Terrorism Legislation, Jonathan Hall, has called the rise in antisemitism the biggest national security emergency since the 2017 Isis attacks, suggesting it could be the biggest national emergency since Covid. He does so for good reason. When Jew-hate has risen to the level of a national emergency, everyone must see it for what it is. The recent London attacks have hit me like a crushing blow. The four Hatzola ambulances firebombed in March were a cowardly blow to an incredible community service that saved my husband's life when he had chest pain. Finchley Reform synagogue, attacked just a couple of weeks ago, was where I took my kids for services and hired space for birthday parties. The recently targeted Kenton synagogue was where my father-in-law worked. Now there is the stabbing in Golders Green, a place I visit at least twice a week.
Considering an Exit Plan
To put into perspective how scared I am, I, like many others I know, am considering an exit plan. It pains me to write this through tears, but we have to have a Plan B. The seed was planted after the horrific Manchester synagogue attack on Yom Kippur. While I cannot up sticks and leave immediately because I have elderly parents and children to think of, and my lawyer husband has a job he cannot leave, that seed has continued to grow. I have looked at property prices abroad, thought about how I would fly my dogs there, and considered the practicalities of packing up a life for good. It makes me deeply distressed because I do not want to leave Britain and the beautiful life I have created here. This is our home, but I do not know how much more we can take. If Britain continues on this footing, I sadly have no future here. At some point, you have to say enough is enough.
Fury and Fear
I am not an angry person by nature, but I am furious that so many innocent people are being harmed just because they are Jewish. I am on numerous group chats with friends who have kids at Jewish schools. Some say they cannot breathe until their child is home. I have been there; I know that feeling. Our community is sick of politicians' platitudes. They speak words but never take action. It is about points scored, votes secured, nothing more. There are only so many times you can hear phrases like 'An attack on the Jewish community is an attack on the values of Britain' before it loses all meaning. Those in power need to recognize that violent and hateful speech leads to attacks on our community. While I welcome Shabana Mahmood's announcement that £25 million will go towards boosting police patrols and protections around synagogues, schools, and community centres, the real problem lies at the root cause. I find it abhorrent to conflate what is happening in the Middle East with Jewish people in Britain. We have nothing to do with it.
Standing Together
Anyone who knows me knows I am a bright, bubbly person, but I feel constantly enveloped in a shadow of fear. I do not want to live like this, to feel unsafe in the city that is my home. Nobody does. I have had friends who tell me they feel alone, that not one person has reached out. I am lucky to have received many messages of support from non-Jewish people, particularly after yesterday's attack. On the flip side, many in the community are no longer 'Jews with trembling knees.' They have had enough and are standing tall, proud, and fighting off the hate. I will try to take a leaf out of their book, as the last thing I want is to leave the place I call home. I saw a post from Chloe Madeley that said: 'Golders Green is my home, its residents are my neighbours and friends, and this is a very real, very scary sequence of events. Humanity must prevail. Division is dangerous. Communities must stand together.' It is such a small thing, one post from one person, but when I saw it, I felt so grateful. These gestures of support give me hope that the silent majority understands and has our backs. Every message I have received has warmed my heart. So make that call, write that text, reach out to your Jewish friends, colleagues, and contacts. It means more than you know. In the face of fear, solidarity matters.
