When a Necklace Feels Too Heavy

Leaving My Star of David at Home

As a pro Israel advocate in the Netherlands, life is unfortunately not simple. Do not get me wrong. I am not someone who is easily intimidated or frightened. I have never been the type to bow my head when confronted with hostility. Yet after thirteen years on the frontline of pro Israel advocacy, I have learned that courage does not make you immune to hatred.

Over the years I have encountered an astonishing amount of Israel hatred. Some call it anti Zionism, as if rebranding it makes it more respectable. Often it crosses the line into outright antisemitism. The irony is painful. I am not considered Jewish enough by rabbinical standards to make Aliyah, despite Jewish roots on both sides of my family. Yet to Israel haters I am a dirty Jew, a criminal, a subhuman, a narcissist. Online I receive death threats. Eggs have been smashed at my doorstep. The tires of my car were cut at least three times. One day a dead pigeon was hung on my door in a plastic bag, a silent message meant to intimidate.

When I went to the police, I was told it was my own fault. I should keep a low profile. I should not speak out in favor of Israel. After that visit I never returned to the police office. Not because I was scared, but because I understood that protection would not come from there.

I have lost jobs. I have lost relationships. Protection did not come from the authorities, and I often felt it did not come from the Jewish community or from Israel either. I exist in a strange in between space. Not Jewish enough for some, too Jewish for others. Meanwhile Israel haters accuse me of working for Mossad, for CIDI, of being a paid hasbara activist. I almost wish that were true. It would mean recognition, backing, perhaps even security. But no. I am simply a stubborn Dutch woman who refuses to lie about Israel.

Still, something happened recently that shook me.

One morning I had to visit a cardiologist. My health required it. He happened to be a doctor originally from Afghanistan. Out of caution, I looked him up on LinkedIn. What I saw disturbed me. He had liked and shared extreme anti Israel content, pallywood propaganda, posts portraying Israel as evil incarnate. Suddenly a routine medical visit felt different.

So I did something that hurt more than I expected. I took off my necklace with the Star of David and left it on my dresser.

I hated myself for it.

The same procedure followed with my dentist, originally from Iran. Check LinkedIn. Block and hide my visible support for Israel. Stay neutral. Stay invisible.

I am not proud of this. I feel like a coward. After years of telling others to stand tall, I removed a small symbol of identity out of fear of possible bias. But when you are alone and surrounded by growing Israel and Jew hatred, sometimes you swallow your pride for the sake of your safety and your health.

And the numbers show that this fear is not irrational.

According to CIDI, the Centre for Information and Documentation on Israel, 379 antisemitic incidents were recorded in the Netherlands in 2023, a historic high at the time. In 2024 that number rose to 421 incidents, an increase of about 11 percent and the highest annual figure since monitoring began. Dutch police recorded 880 reports of antisemitic cases in 2023, using a broader category that includes various hate related incidents. Preliminary data from 2025 suggested that the trend remains high, although final totals have not yet been published.

These are not abstract statistics. They translate into Jewish children being bullied in schools, into mezuzot torn from doorposts, into people like me hesitating before wearing a simple necklace. They create a climate in which during Shoah commemoration ceremonies we solemnly repeat the words never again, while incidents rise year after year.

I love Israel. Do not misunderstand me. My advocacy comes from conviction, from studying history, from understanding the miracle of Jewish self determination after two thousand years of exile and persecution. Israel is not perfect. No democracy is. But it is the only Jewish state in the world, a vibrant, diverse society where Jews of every background, including Ethiopian Jews whose history I have written about extensively, found refuge and dignity.

When people shout that Zionism is racism, when they deny Israel’s right to exist, they are not promoting peace. They are targeting the one place on earth where Jews are sovereign and able to defend themselves. That is why anti Zionism so often bleeds into antisemitism. It is why those of us who speak up are targeted, even here in Europe.

Last January, during the Shoah commemoration day, I once again heard the phrase never again. It echoed through the hall with solemn sincerity. But never again is not a slogan. It is a responsibility. And today antisemitism is not only resurfacing in the Netherlands. It is visible across Europe, in the United States, on university campuses, in international institutions.

So yes, sometimes I leave my Star of David at home. Sometimes I choose caution over pride. But I refuse to leave my voice at home.

Now more than ever we need unity. Israelis and Jews, but also non Jews who understand that defending Israel’s right to exist is part of defending Western democratic values. We must stand together, not in hatred of others, but in firm commitment to truth and mutual respect. Only with unity and moral clarity can we ensure that future generations will live in a world where wearing a necklace inherited from a great great great grandmother is an act of pride, not an act of courage.

I still believe that day will come. And until it does, I will continue to speak.