We, as Jews, often talk about how Jewish we are—how we relate to one another, where we’re from, who we know. But for me, my true Jewish identity was formed at a very young age. Why? Because the people around me became my chosen family and community.
Unlike most of the other kids my age from my town, I stayed involved in my synagogue even after my bat mitzvah. I joined the teaching program, got confirmed, served on the youth board, and eventually became the president of teenage relations at my temple. I even spent five summers at a URJ (Union for Reform Judaism) camp and traveled to Israel and Cuba on community service missions with my youth director.
This was my chosen family.
However, when I left high school and entered college, something shifted. I no longer felt the same desire to be involved. Being Jewish started to feel like a chore—something I had to do rather than something I wanted to do. Going to campus Chabad events became an obligation, and I often felt guilty, but I lacked the motivation to re-engage with the Jewish world.
Then, as we all witnessed, October 7th stripped us of many parts of our community. Of course, we prayed daily and nightly for peace and safety for our homeland, Israel. But it also became a terrifying time to be Jewish on college campuses. We avoided classes, hid our Jewish stars as we passed protestors, and led with fear.
Slowly, though, our community began to rise above that fear. We proved that there is strength in unity. We started supporting one another—attending rallies together with our flags held high, raising money for the IDF through school initiatives, and simply showing up for each other and for our broader Jewish family in any way we could. Along the way, I met an incredible mentor who introduced me to Olam Place.
These trying times reminded me of what it truly means to be Jewish. It means that no matter where you are, when it is, or who you are, Judaism endures. You will always have Jewish strength in your corner. Being Jewish means pushing past fear and wearing our stars with pride—not with doubt. It means standing up for what we believe in, rather than turning a blind eye just because we can. It means opening our doors to those who may no longer have one.
There are so few of us in the world, and yet we love harder, fight stronger, and stand prouder than any group that tries to tear us down. Keep your community close and cherish it always—because even if it feels like nothing, it’s everything.
