Layne: My First Political Rally - Eyewitness to Hate

OPINION

Last week, I attended my very first presidential rally.

I walked in expecting excitement about a great candidate, but was instead met with protesters who turned the night into a terrifying example of the antisemitism that’s currently pervading our country.

Once the event began, my focus was quickly redirected toward the pro-Palestinian protesters who had made their way into the rally, voicing their dissent with screams ranging from accusations of genocide to insinuations about the perceived "Zionist" funding of the campaign.

Roughly every thirty seconds, a protester was pulled from the crowd, a few of them kicking and screaming against the police officers who pulled them out.

One woman caught my eye, and I watched her eyes flicker toward the Magen David on my necklace, a generally recognized symbol of Israel.

I thought I saw a flicker of recognition, and then anger, flash across her face, but hoped I was mistaken.

As the rally went on, the constant interruptions hindered any chance of hearing the candidate. Like a dystopian form of tinnitus, I couldn’t get the ringing of antisemitism out of my ears, as it still rings on today.

Actually, I'm a Christian.

I’ve visited wartorn Israel twice since the horrific events of Oct. 7, 2023.

I’ve made sandwiches for soldiers, volunteered on farms there, and witnessed firsthand the destruction Hamas inflicted on Israel. There is not a day that goes by where I don’t think of the hostages in Gaza or my friends in the Israel Defense Forces.

So when I hear those screaming protestors, I picture the faces of my Jewish friends and feel an instinctive, visceral protectiveness for their safety.

When I expressed my frustration to a friend who had accompanied me to the rally, I unwittingly drew the attention of the protestors.

Five or six of them, upon discovering my support for Israel, encircled me almost immediately.

Labels like "Jew" and "Zionist" were screamed as though they were insults, alongside genuine expletives that I won’t dare repeat aloud or in writing.

Among the angry protesters was the woman with whom I’d locked eyes with before. My heart sank. I wanted to believe in the best of people, even the ones who disagree with us.

But lately, this has felt like an exercise in futility.

The semantics of my background or the fact that I’m not Jewish mattered little to the protesters; their hatred did not discriminate.

This is the reality that faces my generation.

Antisemitism is at an all-time high among Gen Z. A recent poll found that 51% of Americans between the ages of 18-24 believe that the long-term answer to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is for "Israel to be ended and given to Hamas and the Palestinians."

I don’t need to read the news to know this about my generation --- it’s as easy as opening my Instagram or TikTok, where Hamas is often portrayed as a resistance group and the brutalization of women on Oct. 7, 2023 is declared a "conspiracy."

Antisemitic tropes that have been around for millennia are being boldly recycled.

Many among my generation, gluttonous from their consumption of Western freedoms, naively support a terrorist organization. They do this blindly, fumbling around in the darkness of selective morality, as if their support buys them a piece of higher ground.

As I walked to my car after the rally, I was able to pinpoint the reason behind the uneasiness that I’ve been feeling for roughly the last 150 days --- before now, I’ve always been part of the majority in the United States.

I'm a Christian living in the American South.

I hold mostly conservative opinions. I went to a Christian university. And I support Israel.

That last feature has now put me on the fringes of my generation, subject to hatred, threats and discrimination because of my beliefs, which I’ve experienced from strangers and friends alike.

My experience left me reflecting on the deep isolation felt by my Jewish friends, realizing that my momentary discomfort cannot compare to the pervasive fear and anxiety they’re enduring.

I thought of the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer as he reflected on the catastrophe of Christian silence during the Holocaust. “When will the time come,” he asked, “that Christianity will say the right word at the right hour?”

I have never been more convinced that this is the right hour, and I intend to say the right words to the best of my ability. Christians must recognize the significance of this moment: we need to stand up against the antisemitism that is targeting our Jewish friends—not only because it is the right thing to do, but because this type of hatred never remains in its confines. It’s our fight too.

Olivia Layne is a team member at Passages Israel, an organization that brings Christian students on life-changing trips to Israel. She's currently working toward her Master's degree in Holocaust and Genocide Studies from Gratz College.