8 | JUNE 27 • 2024 
J
N

I

t’s always behind you, 
stalking you, obsessed. 
Intangible, yet casting a 
somber hue.
Others may not see it; they 
miss the clandestine dance of 
light and shade, 
only visible to 
you. Those who 
don’t see its 
malevolent spec-
ter can’t compre-
hend the sense 
of unease. Every 
time you turn the 
corner, you fear this ceaseless 
shadow will be hidden there, 
ready to attack you for existing.
Jews have always known the 
shadow, especially in the past 
year. I, for one, a senior about 
to embark on life in the real 
world outside the cocoon of 
high school, have sensed its 
presence sharply. 
I have seen it on my tours of 
prospective college campuses. 
On sunlit quads and hallowed 
university halls, I saw hatred 
stapled to student union kiosks 
and torn-up hostage fliers. I 
saw pamphlets for the so-called 
BDS movement, a gateway to 
hate. I discovered the extent 
to which Jewish college stu-
dents experience antisemitism, 
untold by the headlines about 
congressional hearings and 
the 1st Amendment. I engaged 
in conversations with Jewish 
university students and learned 
how they are forced to navigate 
their educational journey, dis-
tracted and stressed. They said, 
“I feel safe,” but I could see it 
in their eyes — the shadow 
follows.
Since Oct. 7, the shadow has 
been cast in the most mundane 
places. I heard intense chants 
while shopping at Easton — 

people telling my dad and me 
that we were murderers — as 
we stood as the only two Israel 
advocates in a crowd of Pro-
Palestinians. When I marched 
in Washington, D.C., with 
300,000 others at a pro-Israel 
rally, many screamed at us, 
calling us colonizers.
Even while staying at the 
Los Angeles Airport Hilton 
attending the International 
StandWithUs Israel advocacy 
conference, protesters attempt-
ed to shout us down. I felt 
knocked off kilter.
“You! You! You can’t hide. 
You’re committing genocide!” I 
understood how those college 
students felt. As I wandered 
into the stairway of the hotel, 
the harassing voices rang in 
my ears. Exiting the staircase, 
I didn’t know whether turning 
right or left would get me back 
to my room, just like I didn’t 
know which way to turn to 
combat the hate. The shadow 
enveloped me. 
I wasn’t worried — the secu-
rity at the event was tight, and 
the hotel’s support was unwav-
ering — rather, I was discour-
aged. They persisted, shouting: 
“From the river to the sea, 
Palestine will be free.” How 
could they be claiming that 
we were committing genocide 
while at the same time calling 
for the genocide of my people? 
I had experienced the oppo-
sition’s ignorance and hostility 
before, yet it was at this point 
that it struck me anew. Why 
does their ignorance find such 
universal acceptance? Why 
does this pervasive veil take 
over so many minds?
I found a refuge in knowl-
edge. After all, I was at a con-
ference filled with scholars, 

providing me with a deeper 
understanding of more than 
just their discourteous chants. 
Amidst the allegations that I 
was a settler, or that Israel was 
committing genocide, I forti-
fied my position. I knew who I 
was and what I stood for.
It was disheartening that 
now I was experiencing 
antisemitism firsthand. The 
accounts of prejudice I once 
read in historical novels were 
here, in my lifetime, in my 
hometown, in my sphere of 
experience. 
The “We Stand With Israel” 
signs I had designed, produced 
and distributed to demonstrate 
that our community was com-
mitted to supporting our peo-
ple in Israel were now being 
stolen off residential lawns. 
Prominent members of the 
Jewish community were being 
verbally harassed on their 
doorbell cameras with antise-
mitic banter.
It was then I realized the 
shadow of antisemitism has 
had a resurgence in my gen-
eration, but it is up to me to 
determine whether it con-
sumes me entirely or whether 
I will find a way to shine a 
light. Armed with knowledge, 
I realized I would dismantle 
their falsehood and fallacies. 
My convictions grew — a 
newfound faith. I wasn’t alone; 
an entire network gave me 
strength. Together, we formed 
an unyielding force — an army 
of truth.
With a community fueled 
with love and armed with edu-
cation, we forged a collective 
strength. I know that in the 
future when I encounter shad-
ows of antisemitism or any 
form of bigotry, I am resolved 
to create a haven — a commu-
nity where people can turn for 
support — a place with pillars 
of love, understanding and 
compassion that can act as a 

powerful counterforce to isola-
tion and despair.
The shadow is defeatable.
I have always been a proud 
Jew, never afraid to hide who 
I was, but it wasn’t until Oct. 
7, that I discovered the path 
through the darkness was 
inextricably connected to my 
identity as a Jew.
In an era where antisemitism 
is on the rise, a strong sense of 
identity can be a shield.
Entering college with a firm 
grasp of my Jewish heritage 
is on account of my resilience 
and commitment to my edu-
cation and community. My 
identity is not solely personal 
but also a means to educate 
and uplift others. By engaging 
in campus life through Hillel 
dinners, Torah teachings and 
organizing events that celebrate 
Jewish culture, I can actively 
combat ignorance and discrim-
ination. These actions do more 
than just counteract the shad-
ow; they foster a sense of pride 
and solidarity among Jewish 
students and create bridges of 
understanding across the cam-
pus community and culture.
The shadow looms. It is con-
stantly haunting. Its gloomy 
existence is still there.
But you can grab that shad-
ow and smother it with light’s 
radiance. It won’t be easy; 
there will be challenges, but 
the shadow cannot prevail. 
You fight back. The shadow’s 
strength relies on its ability 
of darkness and desperation, 
but it cannot fight the light of 
truth, nor can it stand against 
our unbending faith and pride 
in our Jewish identity. 

Bina Newman graduated from 

Columbus Torah Academy on June 4. 

She plans to take a gap year. Her essay 

won first place for the David and Irene 

Cole Essay Contest from the Columbus 

JCC. She is the grandniece of Michigan 

Holocaust survivor Barbara Steinmetz, 

who currently lives in Boulder, Colorado.

Bina 
Newman

PURELY COMMENTARY

Student’s Corner
The Shadow Looms

