11/06/2023
Last night, a group of women refused to let me and my Jewish friends onto an elevator with them. Only a few minutes before that, we were sitting next to them in a restaurant where they overheard us talking about Israel. Throughout the night, I noticed them giving us bad looks, but I ignored, telling myself to be more present with my friends. Then, when we happened to be waiting by the elevator behind them after dinner, they walked into the elevator but boldly told us not to get on. I held the elevator door open in shock and asked them, “Why not?!” One of them said something about not wanting us there and I heard another say something about Palestine. Some of them yelled “Go!” and some of them giggled. Some of them stood silent behind their friends, and I think I heard one say, “who cares, it’s fine.” I saw, heard, and felt each one of them all at once. My eagle eyes were open wide. But I just stood there, one foot inside and one foot outside the elevator in shock as my friends behind me kept insisting we take the next one. So I stepped back and stared intensely at those ugly women as the elevator doors closed, looking for any ounce of decency if there was one. Then I looked back at my friends’ faces. It hit us all deep in our bones. We ended up sitting in the lounge trying to process it and comfort each other for the next 2 hours.
I started to think: Is this really happening? This isn’t the twilight zone, right? Is it just my paranoia? This is America. We are supposed to be safe here, right? Maybe they didn’t actually say anything against Jews and it was the fear in my head that I projected onto them. Maybe it was residual anxiety from the creepy guy encroaching on my space like a starving hyena earlier. Did he make my defenses go up, and was I projecting my disgust onto them?
What if my perception wasn’t blurred or influenced by my emotions, though? What if what I heard was actually uttered? Was everything our parents ever said to us about their experiences with persecution and antisemitism truly this painful? So painful that I’ve tried my hardest to believe it isn’t true? This is what they felt as only just a fraction?!
This morning, I searched for more evidence and came to find that my Muslim friends have sadly unfriended me on social media in the last 48 hours. Most, but thankfully not all, of my non-Jewish friends have remained completely silent, leaving me in this state of wondering about whether I should trust them. I don’t like being in this state.
Wow. Has antisemitism really been dormant up until now? What reality have I been living in? I’ve been questioning my sanity. And when I realize that I’m questioning my own sanity, I start to wonder if this is what the hateful want. What a psychological mindf**k (yes, that’s a clinical term) for good people who don’t want to believe that bad and evil exist. It’s the ultimate form of gaslighting when deprived souls make you start gaslighting yourself. I am intimately familiar with this on the interpersonal relationship level. But not on such a massive scale.
Where does one draw the line with empathy towards people who hate from a place of ignorance, jealousy, or personal trauma? I am sick of being gaslighted. And I am sick of being someone’s scapegoat.
So now, I am stuck. A part of me wants to advise other Jews not to speak loudly about this stuff in public as a measure of safety. But the brave, warrior part of me wants to advise us to speak freely with pride and not allow anyone to make us feel scared.
I told myself a long time ago that I would live my life happily and ignore people who don’t know my goodness, and that I would send them blessings in hopes that one day they will see and heal. No revenge, no need to correct anyone, no need to prove myself. This stance has helped heal my intimate experience with betrayal, abandonment, neglect, and criticism. But this isn’t just someone in my personal life gaslighting me anymore. This is society. And I worry that there is a dangerous consequence to only using a peaceful strategy because it isn’t just about me anymore. This is about saving humanity.
Ultimately, I turned to God on my evening walk to ask him what to do. What’s the alternative to living in hyper-vigilant fear or rebellious pride? Walking out of the elevator—was that fear? If I had walked in—is that rebellious pride? I was physically stuck then and I am spiritually stuck here in this conundrum. What would He want me to do? And how?
What would it look and feel like to live with neither fear nor rebellion, but operate every day with love and trust even amongst a massive group of people who hate you? Even when I can see clearly that there’s a dark path which leads to history repeating itself, but another part of me sees a different path that leads to better outcomes? How does one act when only living in trust? What would that look like for others to see, down to the most basic observation of posture, speech, energy and demeanour? I need to know what it looks like so I can recognize myself when I’m there—embodying it—because when antisemitism was directly in my face instead of behind a screen, my trust wasn’t as strong as I would have liked to see. I froze. I don’t like that. It makes me wonder whether in times like these, trust in a greater force is even enough. And I dislike doubting Trust itself even more.
So how are we supposed to just free ourselves of control in the spirit of trusting God’s plan now that we are awake in His hell? If we respond to darkness by revealing more of our light, won’t we just be exposing more of those that hate us, thereby exposing the expansiveness of this hell? What kind of test is this, anyway? I’ve heard it somewhere before. How long will it take to get through it? Another 40 year-long journey, perhaps? He gave us free will, so what does He want us to do with it here? I don’t want to abandon the trail like many Jews have, sadly.
The only frustrating response He gave me:
“Keep your head up as you walk or you’ll trip over Sebastian’s leash! 🐶 Live your life as a good person, and stop trying to figure everything out. Look up. I’m here and I am with you. You are safe. Now look ahead at where you’re going. Stand tall as you walk, and don’t forget to breathe.” A familiar conversation, I thought. Where have I seen this exchange before? No, it wasn’t just Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof (though, all my walking chats with God since Oct. 7th have given me much appreciation of that phenomenal screenplay). No, I read it long ago:
Lekh Lekha (לך לך)—Genesis 12:1, meaning “Go forth.”
When it comes down to it, now that we’re in this hell, we must walk through the fire. We don’t have a choice. If we want to know more, then we must remain steadfast in our morals and keep going. Walk in the elevator or walk out. Doesn’t matter. Just keep walking. And don’t allow anyone or anything to keep you stuck. Forge ahead to discover the depths of your bravery as the rest unfolds. Only this experience will show us exactly what trust looks like in its deepest form and what we are made of. Don’t get stuck. Don’t get paralysed by fear. Don’t hide who you are. And don’t hide at home. Even in hell, you are still free. You are not insignificant no matter who tries to make you feel unsafe. Because as the great Viktor Frankl said, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
I choose to keep walking. We are no longer slaves. Never Again is Now.
Sending love, light, strength, connection, positivity, faith, and comfort to all who need it 🙌🏼
עם ישראל חי 🇮🇱💙🤍
Caroline Kalai, Psy.D.
Psychologist, Jew, Healer, Deep Thinker.
