City, University Of London. Photo: Wiki Commons.

As a Jewish student who supports Israel, I expected that my time on campus would include civilized debates, but never the level of hostility that I encountered.

Today’s university climate is rife with antisemitism, and UK campuses specifically saw double the number of incidents in 2024. These real-life instances of antisemitism weren’t just abstract or isolated; they were widespread, personal, and damaging, leaving me, and many others like me, feeling alienated.

One of the first instances of antisemitism I encountered on campus came just a couple of days after October 7, 2023, when a group of students saw that I was visibly Jewish and thought it was acceptable to shout slurs at me such as: “free Palestine”, “f****ing Zionist”, and “dirty Jew.”

These comments are damaging, and nobody should be targeted solely for their appearance. Such rhetoric fuels antisemitism and puts Jewish communities at risk. Just days later, right outside the university, I was told I “look German, so [I] must understand that Israel is the same as Hitler.” 

A couple of weeks later, I had a meeting with the university staff to discuss the harassment.

I expected support, but instead, I was told that without CCTV footage, the university couldn’t investigate further. They advised me to report it to the police instead.

The lack of action left me feeling shaken and unsupported. Soon after, a Jewish Society poster advertising the society was vandalized with stickers reading “free Palestine” and “Zionists not here.”

This time, there was CCTV evidence, but the university’s response was limited to a mere warning for the perpetrator, with no apology given. The double standard was clear: harassment towards Jewish students was not taken seriously.

Week after week, the individuals from the Socialist Worker Party would protest outside campus calling for the annihilation of Israel. This was seen as acceptable by the administration and student union, as they hid behind the facade of “free speech” and inaction, despite promises made to stand up for Jewish students (another clear example of Jewish students facing double standards). 

Sadly, it didn’t stop there — but gradually got worse. From shouting false rhetoric such as Israel harms civilians and “Israel bombs ambulances,” to selling materials outright supporting Hamas and its actions, and calling it “a resistance movement against Zionism,” the hate continued to spread.

This support for a proscribed terror organization — and calling for the murder of Jews — was not shut down by the university, leaving me having to come to campus, call the police, and deal with it on my own. 

The inadequate responses from the university made these experiences even more painful.

Reports of antisemitic incidents were met with dismissal or minimal action, prioritizing the institution’s inclusive image over addressing real harm. There were no thorough investigations, no statements condemning the rhetoric, and no support offered to affected students. This silence from the administration conveyed a message that our concerns were not a priority.

This is not just an issue on my campus but others as well. Months of dealing with such negativity and studying in such a hostile, dark environment often left me defeated, with a lot to process and balance. However, I refused to be overcome by the negativity, but instead searched for a way to use my skill set and help the people of Israel. 

I made the decision to fly to Israel, with the purpose of being proactive and productive on the ground. This decision allowed me to reclaim my narrative and demonstrate that despite the hatred and marginalization I faced, I would not be silenced but could contribute positively. By supporting affected communities through agriculture, packing centers, bakeries that aided in rebuilding kibbutzim, and using my speech and language therapy studies to help in a rehabilitation hospital, I rediscovered a sense of agency I had lost on campus.

Working alongside people from diverse backgrounds in Israel, I experienced firsthand the power of solidarity and support, transcending differences in a way that felt deeply healing and transformative.

This journey in Israel reinforced my understanding of the importance of standing up against antisemitism in all its forms, even when it feels like no one is listening — just how I felt on campus. Those of us who are affected by this hatred cannot afford to remain silent, because silence only allows the hate to grow unchecked.

Whether it’s on campus, in the media, or in broader society, we have a responsibility to speak out and to take action. For me, that meant volunteering for a few months in Israel, and taking back the resilience and energy I regained in Israel back to campus. For others, it might look different. However, it’s important that everyone is able to find a way to give back and help in times of trouble. 

The hostile environment that pro-Israel students face today is not going away anytime soon, but we have the power to fight back. We can demand more from our universities, hold them accountable for failing to protect their students, and find ways to make a difference in our own communities. Antisemitism, like all forms of hatred, thrives on fear and division. By uniting and refusing to be silenced, we can push back against the darkness and move towards a more just and compassionate world.