The kids were busy playing with their toys in the living room while my partner and I quietly exchanged worried glances. We were grappling with the shocking events unfolding in Charlottesville, Virginia, where a so-called “Unite the Right” rally erupted into chaos.
Violence broke out, fists were thrown, and hateful slurs filled the air. The scenes from Charlottesville felt hauntingly reminiscent of the dark days of 1930s Germany, mixed with the aggressive resurgence of the KKK in the 1960s. It was painful to witness—flags adorned with swastikas, masked figures carrying torches, and the horrifying moment when a speeding car plowed into a crowd of counterprotesters, tragically claiming the life of a young woman.
As much as we wanted to turn away from the distressing images, we knew we couldn’t. We owed it to those who stood up for justice and equality. It’s a frightening moment to be Jewish in America, just as it is for people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community.
The chants echoing from that rally still haunt me: “Blood and soil!” “Jews will not replace us!” “Heil Hitler!” The phrase “Blood and Soil” is a chilling reminder of a Nazi ideology that equated ethnicity with bloodlines and territorial claims, a policy that dates back to 1933.
“Why do people hate Jews, Mama?” my youngest asked during a walk to school last spring.
“Because they need someone to blame when their lives aren’t going the way they want,” I replied. “It’s called scapegoating. They convince themselves that Jews are less than human, making it easier to justify their cruelty. They think we deserve their mistreatment.”
“But I’m Jewish, Mama. Do they hate me? They don’t even know me.”
“They don’t want to know you, sweetheart, because that would ruin their hate-filled narrative.”
I held her small hand tightly, feeling a wave of fear for her future and that of my other children. The world has grown darker since that day. The emboldened alt-right has made my Jewish children feel less safe. It’s crucial that our government, allies, and fellow citizens speak out against the hateful ideologies that fueled the rally in Charlottesville. There is only one side that instigated that event—those who thrive on hate and violence.
What alleviates my fears is witnessing the courage of those who support us. A heartfelt thank you to the brave students who stood tall against the tide of hatred, advocating for Jews and people of color even amidst a crowd of angry torchbearers.
Thank you to everyone who organized anti-hate rallies in response to the vile display in Charlottesville. Remember, don’t stay silent. Be a witness. Be an ally. Shine brightly against the darkness.
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In summary, it’s crucial to educate our children about the origins and impacts of hatred, while also fostering a community of support and resilience.