When I was in elementary school, every time we went on a field trip of some sort, we were reminded that when we are out in public, we have to be on our best behavior. We are not only representing ourselves and our school, but by wearing our yarmulkes on our heads, we are representing the Jewish people, and the rest of the world will see that and determine opinions of the entire am Yisrael on how we behave. I never really bought into that as a child. I saw other school trips out at the same time as our school. We all behaved pretty much the same. Part of me even assumed that other schools made the same speech to their students. “You will be representing all black children,” or “as Christians, it is your duty to uphold the blah blah blah.” I always thought it was just a way for teachers to scare us into being good so their job would be easier.
But these last few weeks have made me reconsider that. I walk outside proudly wearing my yarmulke. I even attached an Israeli flag to my backpack, and I do not know if it is actually more eyes on me than usual, or I imagine that, but I have never been more self-conscious than I have been since Sh’mini Atzeres. I feel like the world is just looking for a reason to do something.
It has made me more cautious. I don’t jaywalk anymore. When I ride a skateboard, I wait at every traffic light, despite all of the bicyclists and skateboarders around me proceeding when the coast is clear. I don’t want anyone thinking that I consider myself above the law in any way, despite it being normal or even expected.
I’ve also changed what I am concentrating on. Gone are the headphones in each ear. Gone are the days when I can be lost in my thoughts. I move around with my head on a swivel, paying close attention to everyone whose path I cross. The guy seemingly staring at me on the train, the lady approaching me on the sidewalk, the high school kid at recess as I pass the school yard. Everyone is judging me. Everyone is judging us. At least I think they are. I know they are.
Everyone I see is looking for any reason, any excuse, to blame me for something going on. I am the representative of the Jewish people. I am the target. I am at fault. I am the next victim.
The sad truth is that I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. And this is New York City. Jews are an institution here. We’ve had Jewish Senators, Congressmen, mayors, athletes, news anchors, comedians, actors, and all forms of celebrities right here in this city, and yet I still feel this way. Imagine how a Jew feels on a college campus in a college town, or in a major city with far fewer Jews, or in a country right now like England, France, or Russia. We have it good here.
And yet.
Here we stand, alone and afraid. But I refuse to let that be my life. I wear my yarmulke proudly. My tzitzis will be out and billowing in the breeze. The blue and white Magen David will be proudly displayed on as many items of clothing as I can. Because we cannot give in to the fear. We cannot go down this easily, not with our brethren lining up to face potential mortality 6,000 miles away. If they can do that, I can proudly shout to the world that I AM A JEW! ANI YEHUDI! AND I WILL NOT BE HIDING THAT TODAY!
Izzo Zwiren works in healthcare administration, constantly concerning himself with the state of healthcare politics. The topic of healthcare has led Izzo to become passionate about a variety of political issues affecting our country today. Aside from politics, Izzo is a fan of trivia, stand-up comedy, and the New York Giants. Izzo lives on Long Island with his wife and two adorable, hilarious daughters.
