By Howard Feldman
Although I did not lose anyone directly, I lost faith in people and institutions I had worked hard to trust. My grandparents survived Nazi Germany. They knew what it meant to be hated for being Jewish.
I believed things had changed. I chose not to make their reality mine. Until it chose me.
I had been part of the anti-apartheid movement, but my support for Israel suddenly had me labelled a “racist”. I had been a popular, balanced voice on News24, until that same support apparently made me a “propagandist”. People I had assumed would defend my right to speak motivated my silencing.
Free speech, it turns out has small print.
People I thought were friends retreated. Corporate gigs ended. Since October 7th, I have not had one. I still had the same experience, wisdom and ability, but evidently something about me had become unsuitable.
I am not less smart than I was on October 6th. I am just more Jewish.
I have been lectured by Jew-haters about what is and is not antisemitism. I have received legal letters from people wanting to shut me up, along with multiple death threats, abuse and mockery from others who took a less administrative approach.
None of this compares to what my grandparents endured, or what people in Israel have lived through. But I understand my Opa and grandmother better now. I used to think their wariness belonged to the past. They had survived Nazi Germany; of course they were suspicious. I was impatient with it. I wish I could speak to them about that now.
Jews have been fighting Jew-hatred for thousands of years. I had hoped to belong to a generation that could take a break. But here we are.
I consider it a privilege to be on the front lines of this fight. I have a microphone, a platform and the freedom to say what I believe. I think about how many Jews never had the chance to answer those who spoke about them. I have that chance every morning which comes with a responsibility I am proud to carry.
There have also been people who surprised me by standing beside me. People who disagree with me, but have never made their friendship conditional on my silence. I value them more than they probably know. They have given me reason to trust again, although I am more careful now.
And I love being Jewish. Perhaps more than ever. I love our arguments and our humour, and everything that our tradition values. We plan weddings and welcome babies while carrying losses we will never get over. Somehow, there is still room for happiness.
My grandparents survived Nazi Germany and built a family. I am part of what they went on to build, with children and grandchildren of my own. I wonder whether they could have imagined all of us. The noise, the opinions, the celebrations. How much Jewish life lay ahead.
I intend to enjoy every bit of it. There are weddings to plan, grandchildren to spoil and things I still want to say. I hope my grandparents would be pleased with what we have done with the life they made possible. I suspect they would also tell me to stop worrying about who likes me and get on with it.