In the weeks since 7 October, the text messages have come in thick and fast, from friends and family alike: “Oh my goodness! Are you okay? There is so much antisemitism on college campuses!” I respond that I am fine.
If I’m being honest, I think they are spending way too much time fretting about what is going on on college campuses.
As a senior at Rutgers University, I’m not sure I anticipated spending my final year of college being immersed in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict from my campus in New Jersey. I enrolled in 2020 to get a bachelor’s degree in English with a minor in International and Global Studies because I knew that Rutgers was a diverse place with a vibrant Jewish community.
By choosing to attend a university with a diverse student body where I would engage with students outside of my own community, I, of course, knew that I would encounter beliefs different from my own.
I am sure that parents on every campus tour have run into the Hillel desperate to know what Students for Justice in Palestine is like on campus. I can answer that: SJP is vocal and outspoken. SJP has chalked words calling for Palestinian liberation in highly trafficked campus areas, and at times I pass words calling for a global Intifada, students wearing keffiyehs and holding Palestinian flags on my way to class.
Many of my Jewish friends find this distressing, and I do not blame them. However, I want to urge people who see this occurring at universities to accept this discomfort. Groups should not be removed from campus for having opposing views, and a safe place to express their views is vital. Hearing a different perspective on campus does not constitute a bias incident, and does not warrant doxing. I chose to go to a public university because I wanted to be exposed to perspectives different from my own, and this is no different. I am grateful to be a student in a university that protects freedom of speech.
This is not to say that this past month and a half has not been distressing for everyone involved. The conflict may be thousands of miles away, but there is reason to be afraid.
On Oct. 25 Jewish students were barricaded at the Cooper Union Library as protestors chanting “free Palestine” pounded on the doors. On November 3, an Arab Muslim student was struck in a hit-and-run in what authorities are calling a hate crime. Just over Thanksgiving break, 3 college students of Palestinian descent were shot in Vermont. There is no shortage of people scared and distressed due to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Students at Rutgers have family members that are currently held hostage by Hamas, who were killed on Oct. 7, and who are serving in the Israeli Defense Forces.
Students at Rutgers also have family members who were killed in Gaza by bombs dropped by Israel, and family members who are being attacked in the West Bank. There is a shroud of fear and mourning surrounding both Jewish and Palestinian students at Rutgers who feel powerless to help their family and friends, and isolated because so many on our campus lack this personal connection that we have. Our situations are not so different, yet we continue to antagonize each other and we are left with more fear. In response, I have strived to find space for conversation, understanding, and dialogue.
There is not currently a space for nuance on campus. As I walked past the SJP rally on the way to the library (quite inconvenient that Hamas attacked Israel during midterm season), I encountered Chabad, one of many Jewish organizations at Rutgers, tabling on the other side of the street. They recognized me, and someone at the table quipped: “Stay safe.” I kept walking, but I wanted to reply that quite frankly, I do not feel unsafe. I know that students protesting for SJP and for Palestinian liberation are not my enemy. These students did not attack Israel, and I did not contribute to Israel’s violent response on Gaza after the attacks on Oct. 7. I, just like them, am grappling with the repercussions. I do not have to agree with their understanding of a twisted narrative to sympathize with their pain and to believe that there is a space for them to exist and to have a voice.
I know that this can be a difficult perspective to engage with. It is especially difficult to hear when it is so different from our own and we are still mourning our losses. I still shudder when I hear the word Intifada and the phrase “from the river to the sea.” In response, I have reconsidered the language used to refer to Palestinian liberation to understand what it could mean to Palestinians as opposed to what my initial reaction is when I hear it. It is here that the distinction between free speech and antisemitic language needs to be made clear. SJP should not be permitted to call Jewish people Nazis, or call for the death of Jewish people, but they are allowed to rally for their liberation.
I am choosing to allow for my discomfort because dialogue is important to me, and I believe that peace will always begin with a commitment towards understanding. I hope that my fellow students are attempting the same, because when we demonize and assume each others’ perspectives, we are hurting ourselves more. It is when I enter spaces looking for a resolution that I feel the safest on campus. That’s where I feel I can contribute the most to helping my friends and family in Israel. I want my fellow students to experience this as well.
On Nov. 10, Columbia suspended SJP from its campus, and many of my friends rejoiced and hoped that the same would happen at Rutgers. I do not hope for this. SJP at Rutgers has been protesting within university guidelines and, as I explain time and time again to my friends, their inflammatory language is not inherently hate speech. On a United States campus, we are in a unique position to have conversations that our family and friends in the Middle East are unable to have. We are not fearing for our lives and it is my hope that we stop seeing each other as a threat. The students protesting across the street are our classmates and peers. It is when we think otherwise that leads to the terrifying events that occurred at Cooper Union Library and in Vermont. I hope that as college students, and as people who are parents, family, and friends to college students, we look for spaces to mourn together and to have dialogues.
If we cannot yet achieve peace in the Middle East, at the very least we can strive towards peace and understanding on campus.
