…to antisemitism.

My oldest daughter heard her first antisemitic “joke” this week. For the remainder of this essay, I’m going to refer to it as a joke, without quotations, but with the safe assumption that we all realize that there was nothing funny about it.

In some ways, I’m thankful. Thankful it took until 7th grade before she heard her first Jew joke. A lot of that was due to homeschooling and spending the majority of our time in our Jewish community. I’m thankful she had so much time ensconced in our community to build the foundation for her Jewish identity.

A part of me knew that at some point she would be exposed to antisemitism. Knew that it was only a matter of time. But I’d also almost hoped in a way that I would be there to help her learn how to respond, and how to cope. Yet she stunned me and made me proud beyond words for how she did respond.

The person who told the joke was a fellow student. A year older than her. She didn’t remain uncomfortably silent. She spoke up. Told him it was inappropriate. Asked him to stop. Even her boyfriend tried to stop the student. Tried informing him that his girlfriend is Jewish and it was inappropriate.

He continued. My daughter was upset. And, according to reports, a lunch monitor overheard and intervened in the aftermath. The monitor told the student, “That’s inappropriate. We keep those things to ourselves.”

We keep those things to ourselves.

Now, it’s at this point that I want to insert a little aside. I am not faulting the monitor for responding in the best way they knew at that moment. I am not complaining about the school, who have since taken action after being informed of the incident. I don’t know the full results of that action, but I am confident that they are handling the matter. The school has been sensitive and has taken steps to assure my daughter that she’s safe at school.

That said, I need to circle back around to the adult in the situation’s response to outright antisemitism.

We keep those things to ourselves.

That phrase has been bouncing around in my head in the days that have followed the incident, my brain fraught with tension and anxiety. I couldn’t stop worrying about whether or not my daughter was safe in school despite staff reassurances. Wondering if there were solid anti semitic currents running through the student body. One Jew joke does not a Nazi make, but you’d be a fool to ignore symptoms of illness when they arise. I’ve been assured that there’s not. That my daughter is safe. That things are handled.

But… in that moment. In the situation. The first adult to intervene says: we keep those things to ourselves.

Anger rises up whenever I think about it. And the more I think about it, the angrier I become. When the anger has crested and crashed onto the shore, I’m just… disappointed. We keep those things to ourselves.

Not: hey, the Holocaust was a horrific time in history affecting millions of people, Jews included.

Not: that’s antisemitic talk and you need to go to the guidance counselor right away.

Not: do you understand what you just said and how bigoted that is?

Not: let me educate you on the Holocaust and why jokes like that are inappropriate.

Not: hey, that’s dehumanizing and Jews are people, you know.

Just: we keep those things to ourselves.

I know, I said I wasn’t faulting the adult who intervened. And I’m not. I’m faulting the response. But please, for the love of all that’s good and holy, if you hear someone saying something antisemitic, racist, homophobic, transphobic, or bigoted in any way… Say something else. Anything else.

We don’t need to keep those things to ourselves. We need to talk about them. We need to dig up these dark parts of our psyches and expose them to light, to analyze them, to understand why they exist, and then heal them.

When you tell someone “we keep those things to ourselves,” you’re telling them it’s okay to think these things, just not in mixed company. That you can still say those things, feel those feelings, just as long as you do it in private. You tell them that it’s okay to dehumanize others. To trivialize genocide. To make others feel unsafe.

Please. Say something else.

Tell them that’s antisemitic.

Tell them it’s inappropriate.

Call them out and ask them why they would say something like that in first place.

Educate them.

Anything except “we keep those things to ourselves.”

Do something, say something, to stop it.