What people don’t understand about October 7 is that for most Jews, what happened “over there” in Israel deeply affected us here. Even in school.

Not just because of close family and religious ties to Israel, but because of the wave of antisemitism we’ve had to face.

Ever since Oct. 7, 2023, my mornings seem to start the same way: My mom and I discuss the news about another tragedy happening to Jewish people around the world.

A shooting at Bondi Beach in Australia; a violent takeover of the Columbia University library where my older sister was studying; or a terrorist attack at a temple in Michigan.

Then I go to school like any other student. But being a Jewish student for the past three years has not been like being any other student.

Everyone scrolls past the same headlines on Instagram: “Rockets launched into Israel.” “Shooting at local synagogue.” “3 Dead in the West Bank.” 

My cousins live in Israel. One of my cousins, drafted into the military like everyone else, was posted in the West Bank, where the Israeli military has been trying to keep another front from opening.

For me, these aren’t just headlines. They’re reality.

My friends see them, maybe feel bad, and keep scrolling. I can’t. I see them and feel queasy the rest of the day.

When I read that there was a shooting at a synagogue, I wonder, “What if I know someone there?” or “What if my synagogue is next?”

Being a Jewish student after October 7th means living with a constant fear of showing who you are.

I live in LA, home to one of the largest Jewish populations outside of Israel, and even here, many of my friends are afraid to wear religious jewelry or mention their Jewish identity to teachers and peers.

I’m outspoken about being Jewish and a proud Zionist, and even I get scared sometimes. It’s unsettling to share your identity and risk your grade in a class or risk being shut out of your friend group.

I’m a junior now, but freshman year, I was ostracized by my friend group because of my Zionism. (Zionism is simply the belief that Jews have a right to a state in Israel.)

I responded by becoming more involved in Students Supporting Israel (SSI) at my school, and organizing a field trip to the Nova Exhibit, a memorial to the hundreds of young people murdered by Hamas at the music festival in the desert.

I took 150 students, most of whom weren’t Jewish or knew little about Israel. Inside, I overheard a group of students ask, “Is this really what Israel did to Palestine?”

My friend and I stepped in right away to explain that this was what Hamas did to Israel, not the other way around.

That moment was a turning point for me, because it showed me that so much of the hate and confusion around Israel isn’t malice. It’s that no one has ever told these students what truly happened.

The misinformation doesn’t stop at the exhibit.

In recent months, groups including CODEPINK and the misnamed Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) went before the LAUSD Board of Education to promote anti-Israel protests on October 7. Those protests would have encouraged students to walk out of class. Whether the participants knew it or not, they would have been walking out in support of terrorism.

When I saw that, I knew I had to act — because if I didn’t, who would?

And so, a week later, another Jewish student and I stood in front of the same board. We explained that the fringe groups do not speak for the Jewish community.

It was disturbing to have to explain that to the adults who run our schools, and to counter protests organized by other adults, and aimed at kids my age.

I’m constantly surrounded by rumors, propaganda, and hostility toward Jews and Israelis, and it’s a lot to carry. When I try to explain that to friends who aren’t Jewish, I’m told not to get political or that they “don’t understand the situation.”

But you don’t need to understand the entire Middle East to understand a friend who is scared. You don’t have to agree with me about Israel to ask how my family is doing, to sit with me at lunch after a hard news day, or to speak up when someone makes a joke at a Jewish classmate’s expense.

Jewish high schoolers aren’t asking their friends to choose a side or get political. We’re asking for empathy and support.

I’d rather be worrying about my next test. For now, I’ll keep walking into school as a proud Jew, ready to defend my rights. All I’m asking is that my friends walk beside me.

Lily Yadegar is a junior in high school and a supporter of a strong US-Israel relationship.