*Via https://www.euronews.com/2024/01/18/meet-the-european-jews-standing-against-the-state-of-israel*

When displaced from your country through adoption and raised by white folks, there is an intense pressure to conform so you can better “fit” with your family. This felt magnified when it came to religion. Going to synagogue felt like being naked at graduation – all eyes on me, literally. At Jew camp, I was worth more points for the simple reason that I didn’t “look Jewish”. When I wore a chai symbol, people assumed it was a pi symbol since being Asian must mean I was a math nerd.

Along with my childhood desire to be seen as white enough, I also worked really hard on being Jewish enough. When I was in Hebrew school one of the kids etched a swastika on his desk and when he got kicked out I still felt he belonged more than I did. I made my family go Kosher for a while, turned to prayer, which was not part of my family’s traditions – all to be enough.

Although I do have family in Israel, I wasn’t raised as a zionist. Judaism was a religion and a culture –a set of family values. My adoptive family's origins were in Russia and Poland – some of whom were murdered during the Holocaust. My Jewish education was focused on treating others as you wished to be treated, always creating space at your table for others, and valuing all human life.

I believe in the Jewish values I was raised with despite coming from an abusive home. I have been estranged from my family for almost 15 years. In recent years, my adoptive parents reached out to me during the increase in AANHPI hate crimes, of which I was a victim on multiple occasions. After the particularly violent murder of Christina Yuna Lee, with whom it was impossible to not draw parallels, my father sent me an email saying that he “stood in solidarity with AAPI folks like me”. My mother angrily messaged me that she too cared about AAPI folk’s safety, but she was still traumatized by the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting as if that wasn’t also upsetting for me. As if there could only be one important trauma and it had to be hers. As if I lost my Jewishness when I was being targeted for being Asian. This failure to see the impacts of the intersectionality of multiple marginalized identities can be particularly difficult when one of your identities can in fact oppress the other.

Patriarchy leads us to believe that discrimination manifests in singular forms, which prevents us from recognizing the real oppressive forces at play. It creates an illusion of contradictions where none exist; it is not “one oppression at a time.” Such an illusion undermines our collective power. I can’t “count” as Jewish when they need me and also “not count” as Asian to prove a point. But I am always all of my identities all at once. People can’t play whack-a-mole with my various identities to serve them best or discount the validity of my experiences.

Five years ago I went to Israel through birthright and I left there knowing that I didn’t belong. (And yes, I know it’s a problematic program and a whole other conversation). When I arrived in Israel I was separated from my group by soldiers with rifles. I was told before I traveled I’d have to be fluent in multiple Hebrew prayers to prove I belonged on birthright and in Israel. I felt extreme discomfort at the blockades segregating Palestinians and other folks’ silence on the matter. There were a lot of discussions about making aliyah – where Jews from around the world can gain citizenship to Israel simply because they are Jewish. Although I had no desire to do this, I found out I’d likely not be eligible. As an adoptee, I lack the appropriate proof of my Jewish heritage and other records they’d require. So even though I am Jewish, in the eyes of Israel I am not Jewish enough to belong.

Since October I’ve been disappointing much more than just my family. It seems I am no longer really Jewish or a “bad Jew”. And although there is an odd grief stemming from the unrecognized part of my identity by others, I feel at peace. I am living my values – none of us are free until we are all free. And to clarify before I see it in the comments: yes, anti-semitism is a very real thing but wanting genocide to stop doesn’t further oppress Jewish people nor negate their experience.

The Holocaust was undeniably a horrific part of Jewish history, and it recounts the tale of the depths of human horror: Jews tortured, starved, and 6 million murdered in six years; purportedly righteous citizens complicit in silence or obedience to authority, killing machines, and complete dehumanization, where the value of a life was reduced to zero.

Now, in Palestine, the number of children killed is higher than in four years of world conflict. Babies have been beheaded. Hospitals, schools, and humanitarian aid vehicles have been bombed. Most of the population is starving due to aid not reaching them, in part due to Israelis sabotaging aid in transit. Palestinians are living in a continuous state of fear for their lives. It is a literal living hell.

My question is – how can folks whose ancestors experienced targeted annihilation not have empathy or support for another community that is being violently obliterated? How can many Jews feel persecuted by anyone who says #FreePalestine and demands an end to genocide? Shouldn’t we want the same safety and liberty for others as we need for ourselves? Why are we not listening to our elders who have survived the holocaust saying not in our name?

I believe it’s in large part because when folks work to scrabble up the white supremacy ladder – stepping on others and pushing them off in order to get there faster – we lose sight of our shared humanity. Just because you have been or are currently being oppressed doesn’t mean others aren’t as well. If we want to feel free and safe we need to help others also have that same freedom and safety. Wanting that for others doesn’t mean you give up your access. It’s not pie.

Over the past few months, I’ve been sent podcasts, posts, and articles all showing me how wrong I am. How re-education can support me going back to what “I used to believe”. I’ve also gotten numerous messages telling me that Jews are also not white and have been victims of Islamic supremacy. I’ve been shamed and hassled and berated. Called a disappointment and an idiot and been talked to as if I currently have Stockholm syndrome. Oh, and there are death threats, too.

All of this makes me furious. A baby is not a terrorist threat. A child is not harming you or oppressing you. Nor is their mother who is desperately seeking shelter and basic necessities to keep their family alive. I am not being tricked or manipulated by Hamas. I am not forgetting how I was raised or where I come from.

I am so proud of the Jewish folks of all ages who are standing with their Palestinian siblings. Who have not been shamed into staying silent when witnessing a genocide. I am proud of everyone fighting for collective liberation. For amplifying marginalized voices and saying enough. Enough fighting amongst ourselves, oppression olympics, and valuing people differently depending on how much they seem to be like their identity. Enough ignoring multiple genocides around the globe because you might also feel persecuted. I may never be enough for others in the many identities I hold, but oppression is a heavy burden, and we already bear enough of it. I also know none of us will ever be enough until we join this fight for liberation together.

So here we are and this is me: rageful, liberation-fueled, and Jewish enough. From Congo to Haiti to Tigray, Sudan to Palestine we will fight for collective liberation. Because each of us deserves safety and freedom. And all of us, including in America, need to rise above our oppressors and break free from our colonized minds.

Never Enough: Reflections by An anti-zionist Jewish femme of color