“College is going to be the best four years of your life.” When I was in high school, I had heard this statement countless times and spent my senior year envisioning what the next chapter of my life would look like. I lived vicariously through my older sister’s college experience at UCLA and I knew that this world-renowned university was where I wanted to be. I pictured UCLA as my dream school, a place of belonging, and my home away from home. After not having a high school graduation or prom and spending my first two years of college online because of COVID, I was beyond excited to finally have a normal college experience and to step foot on a physical campus for the first time in over two years. Needless to say, my experience has been anything but normal.
My first year as a transfer student at UCLA was spent adjusting to a new environment and an enormously vast campus. Memories of my first quarter are overshadowed by my teacher assistants canceling discussion sections to attend the UAW strikes, leaving me and my classmates with questions and lost opportunities for guidance.
I remember joking with my friends about how having one normal and uneventful day on campus would be the dream, but I did not realize how unrealistic this dream would actually be. I quickly learned that it is never a quiet day on UCLA’s campus. Between labor disputes and strikes and being bombarded with flyers and pickets from students and non-students alike on Bruinwalk, their slogans linger and echo through my mind long after I’ve left campus.
The horrific massacre that occurred in Israel on October 7th completely changed the political climate on campus. It was hard enough trying to process the brutal terrorist attack on Israel and mourn the 1,200 deaths and over 250 hostages who were taken into Gaza. The aftermath and the surge in antisemitism that swept the world and our university proved to be a war in and of itself. It was as if the pages of my history textbooks had come to life, and I was experiencing first-hand the unimaginable hate of past decades I had for so long only read about.
Trying to make new friends and maintain current friendships now came with a new condition. Shared hobbies and interests no longer seemed to matter. It was as if there was a questionnaire with only one question that would determine camaraderie – were you Pro-Israel or Pro-Palestine?
Turning to social media used to be an escape from reality, a place where I would find myself going down a rabbit hole of entertaining videos and relatable memes. What was once an escape from reality is now a battlefield as every time I open Instagram I’m faced with chants of “Free Palestine”, “From the river to the sea” and “Death to Israel/America”. Even posts that have nothing to do with Israel somehow find a way to return back to the conflict by flooding the comments section.
Aside from social media becoming its own battlefield, the classrooms were becoming what felt like interrogation rooms as professors, teacher assistants, and fellow students began to question Israel’s actions and policies and criticize our decision to not attend the Pro-Palestinian protests. The classroom, a place of discussion and education, had transformed into a political forum where Israel’s history was altered to fit their narrative and better align with their biased beliefs. Walking around campus was no better. Navigating my way between classes felt like walking through a minefield, treading cautiously and trying to avoid certain areas of campus where loud chants could be heard from congregating protestors and disturbing displays could be seen. The image of a piñata with President Biden and Prime Minister Netanyahu’s faces plastered on it and a paper mache statue of a pig holding a bag of money and a Star of David canister with the words “UC Regents” is etched in my memory. These antisemitic displays taunted me and other Jewish students for days as we walked to class and wondered when our campus would return to some semblance of normalcy.
Although I have always taken pride in Judaism and my identity, being Jewish and a Zionist on campus became something one was supposed to be ashamed of. I felt as if they were trying to take this core part of my identity and use it against me to make me feel like an outcast. People looked at you differently when they heard you were Jewish and a supporter of Israel which caused me to avoid spending time on campus altogether. Instead of engaging in conversations and trying to foster dialogue with my classmates, it was easier to just keep my head down, go to class, tune out the protests, and go home.
When I thought the worst was over, protestors began to set up an encampment on campus and blocked students from accessing Powell Library and classes in Royce Hall. They drew Magen David symbols on the floor and told Jewish students to “step here”. They vandalized, desecrated, and destroyed Royce Hall, a historical landmark and one of the most iconic buildings on the UCLA campus. Multiple campus buildings were covered with swastikas, a symbol of racist hatred and pure evil. The vandalism they expressed so unapologetically through graffiti showed more than just their sentiments – it illustrated their disrespect for UCLA and the privilege of obtaining an education. Calling for “burn[ing] Tel Aviv” to the ground, as was done in handwritten Arabic with chalk on a walkway on campus, begs the question of how and why UCLA has allowed our school to be taken over by such despicable hatred and ideologies. These incidents have left a deep and profound scar on UCLA, an irreversible imprint and distaste which will not allow me to see this beautiful school as the haven that it once was.
The powerful phrase Hineni, which translates to “Here I am,” is a steadfast declaration that one can make to G-d and one that G-d can make to us. Hineni allows us to offer our complete devotion and reaffirm our presence. We demonstrate our readiness to anything that will unfold despite being scared of the unknown. Our response is indicative of our complete and unwavering faith. When Hashem calls the prophets, Abraham, Isaiah, and Moses all respond with the phrase Hineni. Since October 7th and in the recent months my response to the protests and hate has been Hineni. Although I am deeply scared for the unknown, I have complete faith. I’ve found not only power but a sense of comfort in this phrase. If the purpose of antisemitism and hate-filled protests is to scare us and make us cower, then they have utterly failed because we are more than the hatred we face, and it only makes us love our Jewish identities more fiercely and proudly than ever before. After October 7th, I have felt a unity with Jews all around the world and my love for and connection to Israel has become even more unbreakable. The Jewish people are survivors, they have always been and always will be. The survival of Israel and the Jewish people for over 3,000 years despite numerous enemies and constant waves of antisemitism gives me hope because we are still here. The legacy of the Jewish people is evidence of 3,000 years of defying the odds. The survival of Israel is the epitome of a miracle and faith in Hashem to protect the Jewish people. We collectively as the Jewish nation respond to fear and hate with Hineni, the same faith and devotion our forefathers and generations before us had.
Although the last four years of college were nothing like what I expected, I am leaving UCLA with a newfound sense of purpose and perspective. While my college experience was in some ways unconventional and drastically different from what I had always envisioned, I learned that having faith and never backing down from what you believe in is the best guiding principle and value to have in life. So here I am, graduating and embarking on the next chapter in my life.
Despite not knowing what the future will hold and learning that life often never goes according to plan, I leave UCLA having learned the value of perseverance and always staying strong, present, and not being afraid to say that I am here and I am not going anywhere.
The views expressed in this post reflect the views of the author(s) and not UCLA or ASUCLA Communications Board.
Left image taken by Bella Brannon. Right image taken by Drew Hirsch.
