To the Silent Ones,
In the early hours of October 7, 2023, the deadliest terrorist attack was launched against Israel. While I was fortunate enough to be in the United States, the impacts were profound on a global scale. The footage emerging from Israel of young adults being slaughtered, dragged out, and violently kidnapped, unraveled a haunting reality and reminded us of our own vulnerability: it could have been any of us.
I am an Israeli-American, Jewish graduate student at Columbia University. I hold multiple on-campus jobs and represent the institution in various capacities, mostly with my writing. However, the institution I once dreamed of attending has evolved into a place I no longer recognize- one where flagrance, lawlessness, anarchy, and terror is not only enabled, but openly tolerated and glorified.
On Monday, I made the difficult decision to transition to remote courses for the remainder of the semester, one not made lightly. Despite repeated attempts to engage with the administration through countless emails, I have been met with silence. As Jewish students, it is evident that our safety and well-being on our own campus is not prioritized, while blatant hatred is justified on a daily basis.
To leadership, I am done pleading for you to prioritize Jewish safety and minimizing our trauma, but this letter is not for you. It's one thing to lack administrative support, but to realize it's absent even among friends is a disheartening reality- one that in all of my twenty-three years, never saw that coming.
To my silent friends, I have seen you watch my social media stories, championing other causes in the name of social justice and so passionately engaging in discourse. Yet, as antisemitic violence and pro-terror rhetoric emboldens our very college campuses, you are suddenly nowhere to be found. Your ignorance, avoidance, and cowardice is omnipresent. Students are being physically assaulted by angry mobs, ones which continuously celebrate Hamas’ atrocities and undermine the collective mourning and trauma of our people.
Empathy over fear
We should not have to beg for your empathy because you are too afraid. We do not ask for pity, rather, seek recognition of our community’s ongoing pain and recurring battles we must fight every day as not only Columbia students, but Jews navigating a post-10/7 world. While unintentional, it is the silence of those too timid to call out Anti-Semitism who have allowed these demonstrations to escalate in both scope and intensity. To those I beg the question, “What are you so afraid of?” I implore you to rise above your apathy and fear before it is too late.
We have all both experienced harm and inflicted harm, for we are only human. I recognize our collective blind spots and ongoing efforts to grow, however, I am tired of rationalizing and justifying the silence for the sake of your comfort. There has been far too much of it and I have reached my limit. Many of us have.
To those who suggest Jewish students merely leave the institution, I almost find it amusing. I have worked tirelessly throughout my academic and professional career preparing for this moment. As Jews, we will not cower and submit to the hateful narratives being perpetuated around us on a daily basis. We will stand firm in our place, embracing Jewish joy as resilience. No force, group, or administration can strip us of our unwavering determination and everlasting spirit. This is a narrative deeply embedded in our history, yet we, as Jews in the diaspora, are rewriting it. But we can’t do it without the help of our loved ones and friends.
If the past seven months have taught me anything, it is the preciousness of life- its beauty, fragility, and the often fleeting nature which defines it. In the face of terror and tragedy, we must surround ourselves with love and be immersed in joy- we owe it to ourselves, as well as the 1,300 innocent and beautiful lives lost who can never do the same.
It is in their memory that we must continue living vibrantly, loudly, and cherishing every moment. To the ones who still remain silent, there are still so many words I wish to express. Your resounding silence speaks volumes, but if you ever feel ready to share those words, know that your Jewish friends are ready to listen. It is better late than never. Let us all pray for brighter days and futures for both Israelis and Palestinians alike, and the dignity, safety, and humanity for all people.
Signed,
Your Jewish Friend Who Really Isn’t Okay
Becca Baitel ‘25 is an Israeli-American graduate student at Teachers College, Columbia University.