I came home from England last month because Jews are supposed to be safe in Northern California. But when I walked in the door, I was startled by a question in that week’s cover story in J. It was the same question I had been asking myself all year at the University of Essex in Colchester: “When does ‘anti-Israel’ become anti-Semitic?”
As I read, I was shocked at just how much my own experiences in England fit squarely into the article. My struggles paralleled those experienced by Jewish students at U.C. Berkeley, UCLA and other schools. Was I just going from one circle of hell to another?
As the May 22 J. article revealed, the line between legitimate criticism of Israel and anti-Semitism is blurring. As a result, U.K. campuses are becoming increasingly volatile. Anti-Zionism is the norm, as is the violence that follows. In the end, I left the U.K. because I didn’t feel safe, and I had no assurance that my university would protect Jewish and pro-Israel students.
In January, I attended a debate hosted by the Politics Society on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I was one of three Israel supporters up against at least 25 others. Any time one of us said something supportive of Israel, we were shouted and screamed at. People talked over us and prevented us from speaking. It was only when a moderator stepped in that the screaming stopped. The ferocity of the anti-Israel faction’s tactics in preventing us from speaking was intimidating. Their body language said “Fight me.” Never before had I faced militant opposition to my beliefs and lifestyle that I feared could become violent.
Following the debate, I approached two individuals from the Palestinian Solidarity Movement. I thanked them for the lively debate and extended my hand. One reluctantly took it; the other did nothing and regarded me with near disgust.
A few days later, I went to the student support office. I said I did not feel safe at the debate and that after being so vocal about my support for Israel, I was worried that I would be a target.
It is no secret that Essex PSM can become violent. There are documented incidents of PSM members throwing trash and kicking dirt at pro-Israel students. A 2013 news story recalled the group’s extremely violent protests when the deputy Israeli ambassador to the U.K. was invited to speak at the university. The episode ended with the cancellation of the deputy ambassador’s talk, and he was escorted off campus by security officials.
Given this history, I had hoped for more support than “go to campus security.” Security told me to come back if it happened again. No notes taken, no records made.
I decided to help myself by hiding who I am. I no longer wore my kippah, and I kept my Star of David necklace hidden for fear of drawing attention to my Jewish identity and my support for Israel.
A few weeks later, at a debate on BDS, I outlined how the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement can be perceived as crossing the line into anti-Semitism. There was an outcry throughout the senate room. Many in attendance began to shout at me and I was asked to leave.
The chair did not uphold my right to speak, nor did she ask that I not be verbally attacked for expressing my opinion. When I refused to leave, it was put to a vote. In the row of seats in front of me, a female student remarked to the person next to her that I was only speaking out against BDS because I am a Jewish student. Afterward, a male student came uncomfortably close, shouted at me and called me a “pathetic coward,” which he then repeated publicly on Facebook.
I immediately went back to student support, and security. Again, they were of no help. I was on my own.
BDS passed, and the Israel rhetoric died down, but I was still hounded by students calling me “dirty Jew” and the like.
In May, the literature, film and theater department brought the touring production of “The Siege” to the university, a Palestinian play based on true events from the second intifada. The nail in the coffin came during the question-and-answer session. The director, Nabil al-Raee, adamantly stated, “Hold a gun. Fight the occupation. I’m not saying that’s bad.” The audience cheered and shouted “Free! Free! Palestine!”
That was it. I knew that whatever hopes I had of continuing my education at University of Essex were gone. I would not be safe being openly Jewish or pro-Israel. In the closing weeks of my time at Essex, each time I left my campus accommodations I kept looking over my shoulder. I had brought this on myself by being so vocal. Student support and security were useless. I had to leave.
On May 23, I landed in San Francisco and came home to the article in J. I knew that I had to do something. I wrote a letter to university leadership in Essex demanding change. I reached out to StandWithUs UK, and the Anti-Defamation League. This coming year, I will be working with New Frontier USY (United Synagogue Youth), and my focus will be helping students learn to combat anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism on their future college campuses.
The J. article ended with hope for American schools, a vision for how things should be. For now, all I can do is share that hope, and pray that something changes at University of Essex, in England, in Europe. Most importantly, we can continue the fight here at home.
David Herrera, 20, who was born and raised in Modesto, is a first-year business student at Chabot College in Hayward. He spent 2013-2014 in Israel with Nativ College Leadership Program and has been active in the Bay Area Jewish community.