But is it Antisemitism?

The unfortunate hot topic that I feel is incessantly talked about—at least in the circles I’m a part of—is antisemitism.

I hope and wish and pray for the day when it isn’t talked about at all because it is simply inexistent. However, that isn’t the case; not until Moshiach returns.

More unfortunate, it is very real and too prevalent and rising, so much so that this past week I endured an experience I have blessedly never encountered, but dreaded would one day come along.

How ironic it would transpire on Erev Purim, a holiday commemorating the Jewish people’s survival from genocide amidst encroaching assimilation.

While I cannot go into explicit details, especially since I’m still awaiting resolution, let’s just say I’m in a bit of a sticky situation at work because according to certain powers that be, my needs for religious accommodation are deemed “unfair” for the rest of my coworkers.

As I replied in some of those meetings, “If they feel it to be unfair, then they can go talk to any rabbi in town and discuss converting with them. What’s unfair is that I am being forced to comply with a structure, a schedule, that conflicts with my lifestyle and does not allow me to withhold my religious observances and responsibilities, and no matter my efforts to make it work, to find alternatives that benefit everyone, there is resistance.”

Oh, how I wish it had come out that eloquent and articulate in that meeting. Instead, I fear I blubbered as I combated my swelling distress, my fight or flight responses kicking in, and trembled with legitimate indignation and hurt and fear. I wanted to fight, but I fear my body wanted to fly. Based on the expression on the other party’s face—one of ire as if I were a nuisance, a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum they needed to silence so they could return to their real work—I’m not sure my point got across.

Of course, I could comply with their instructions, jump through the many hoops as I have been these past nine months in the hopes I gain what accommodations I need, but what is the point when I know any further attempts to persuade them will not change their minds? Whether they grant me what I need or not, there is always the lingering fear and threat that they do so unwillingly, all the while holding to their position my requests are “unfair.”

You know what is unfair?

Living in a society dictated by centuries of Christendom; enduring inquisition, pogroms, and Holocausts; of being afraid to enter your own place of worship, which should be a haven, because you’ve seen too many get gunned down by radicals and extremists on domestic soil in the last decade; of being forced into a box you don’t belong in, that adhering to will strip you of your identity and faith.

When I shared what occurred with my husband as I screamed and cried over phone on my way home—on my way to make Hamantaschen that never got baked because I was too disturbed—he commented, “This sounds a lot like antisemitism.”

And like a fool, I wondered, “But is it?”

What I hate most is how I second guessed myself, my reactions, my instincts, because I’ve been conditioned to doubt myself by a world who thinks my feelings are mere overreactions, my opinion on what is or isn’t safe inaccurate paranoia.

I hope in this situation, like Esther, my pleas don’t go unheard.