As my children played in the kitchen, my partner and I exchanged hushed words about the disturbing events occurring in Charlottesville, Virginia. There, white nationalists and supremacists gathered for a “Unite the Right” rally that swiftly descended into chaos.
Fistfights erupted, racial epithets were shouted, and Nazi salutes were boldly displayed. The haunting images from Charlottesville mirrored the somber days of 1930s Germany, compounded by the alarming resurgence of the KKK in the 1960s. It was painful to witness. Swastikas adorned flags, and masked KKK members paraded with torches while a car, driven by a white nationalist, plowed into a crowd of counter-protesters, tragically claiming the life of a 32-year-old woman.
Despite the heart-wrenching visuals, we cannot turn away. We owe it to those who bravely stood up to support us. It’s a frightening time to be Jewish in America — and a terrifying time for people of color, especially those who are Black. The LGBTQ+ community also faces significant threats as hatred appears to flourish.
The chants echoing from Charlottesville on that fateful day—“Blood and soil!” “Jews will not replace us!” “Heil Hitler!”—sent chills down my spine. The phrase “Blood and Soil,” originally a Nazi slogan, signified a belief that ethnicity was determined solely by bloodlines and the land one occupied. This ideology was codified into Nazi policy in 1933, forcing farmers to obtain an Aryan race certificate for legal benefits.
“Why do some people hate Jews, Mommy?” my youngest asked as we walked to school last spring.
“People often seek a scapegoat when their lives don’t go as planned,” I replied. “They dehumanize Jews, convincing themselves that we deserve mistreatment. By viewing us as lesser beings, they justify their actions without guilt.”
“But I’m Jewish, Mommy. Do they hate me? They don’t even know me,” she said, her innocent confusion evident.
“They prefer not to know you, sweetheart, because that would challenge their hate.”
Holding her small, warm hand, I felt a wave of fear for her safety and the safety of my other daughters. Since that spring day, the world has grown darker. The emboldened alt-right poses a greater threat to my Jewish children. It’s critical for our government, allies, and fellow citizens to unequivocally denounce the actions of white nationalists. The “Unite the Right” rally was a manifestation of hatred and violence.
However, amidst my terror, I find solace in the numerous individuals standing up for us. A heartfelt thank you goes to the courageous students who refused to be silenced, advocating for Jews and Black individuals in the face of screaming, torch-bearing mobs. Gratitude also extends to those across the nation who organized anti-hate rallies in response to the abhorrent display of white nationalism in Charlottesville. We must not remain silent. We must witness, ally, and be the light in these dark times.
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In summary, the ongoing challenges faced by marginalized communities, particularly Jews, highlight the need for solidarity and advocacy. We must confront hatred and support one another in this critical time.