Hidden Stars: The Quiet Strength of Today's Jewish Youth

My son, reluctantly, walked into a convenience store with me to grab a Diet Peach Snapple. It drives him crazy that I insist on stopping every time we pass by. But there’s only one of these “bodega”-like places in Westport, and when we’re near it, we have to stop.

Heck- You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl. To me, there’s nothing more refreshing than a Diet Peach Snapple from a bodega.

There was nothing unusual about this day.

Until we walked in. Jacob immediately ran to the back of the store, only to return a few seconds later, empty-handed. I was confused—why run back there in such a hurry to return empty handed?

Once we got in the car, I asked him, “What was that about? Why’d you run to the back?”

“Oh, I ran back to tuck in my Star of David. The owner looked Arab.”

He said it so nonchalantly, like it was just another minor inconvenience.

I went silent. Sensing my reaction, he quickly added, “It’s not that I’m not proud to be Jewish. I just don’t want the fuss, you know? Like being refused service or something. Not worth the hassle. Just easier.”

And that’s when I told him:  “ No. I don’t know. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

And it's true. I don’t know what that feels like. I never had to think like that growing up. Not once. Even when I was one of three Jewish kids in an Episcopalian school, sitting through chapel once a week, I never felt the need to hide who I was. If anything, being Jewish at school felt special. I loved it when my mom came in every year to teach Hanukkah and bring treats. It never crossed my mind that someone might refuse me service. Ever.

So no, Jacob, I don’t know, but I’m learning fast. 

I asked him what it’s like to be a kid right now. I admitted that, even as an adult, I’m struggling to process it all. That it seems unimaginable—someone hating us without knowing us? How the world can turn so fast? How 250 Million Arabs, the estimated number following radicalized ideologies want to annihilate Jews?

His response?

“I know there are people out there who hate me just because I’m Jewish, but I also know that they keep trying to kill us, and here we are. We will win. We will always win.”

He is eleven years old.

And while I don’t wish this reality on my child—who would?—I can’t help but admire his strength. We usually raise our kids on a healthy diet of rainbows and kindness, but we don’t always prepare them for a world that may refuse to serve them.

We have a new generation of Jews.

They are growing up with an awareness we never had for worse and better. My son is leading me now. He understands something I’m just beginning to grasp: the golden rule does not always apply. Hate is real as he has now seen it first hand on the streets of his home. And yet, instead of fear like his mother, I see another reaction.

Determination. Clarity. Power.

This new generation of Jews is being shaped by an environment we could never have imagined and are doing it without the wisdom of the adults who too are being shaped before their eyes. And while it’s heartbreaking, it’s also forging something remarkable—a generation that knows its worth and refuses to be afraid. They understand the power of Never Again and I fully trust in their ability to make sure that happens.