During a demonstration at George Washington University, someone spat in Skyler Sieradzky’s direction while she held an Israeli flag near a tent encampment of pro-Palestinian protesters.
“Go die, dirty Zionist. We don’t want you here,” she recalled protesters shouting at her on April 25, the start of the encampment that city police didn’t clear until two weeks later.
The demonstrators targeted Sieradzky by taking photos and posting her image on the D.C. campus social media channel.
“I started receiving death threats. I was not welcome in classrooms. I was getting looked at, getting talked about behind my back,” said Sieradzky, a recent political science and philosophy graduate. “They didn’t want me, not only in class, but they didn’t want me on the campus at all.”
It’s been a difficult year for Jewish students at college campuses, where, following Oct. 7, they have faced a deluge of anti-Israel student government resolutions, encampments and antisemitic harassment.
Despite the challenges, Jewish students say there was a silver lining: a sense of increasing unity and resilience.
“In the wake of the Hamas massacre, the Jewish community on campus came together in a way that I’ve never quite seen before,” said Sieradzky, who is from Fort Wayne, New Jersey.
Attendance surged at Hillels and Chabad houses on campus. The student organizations offered a safe space for Jewish students under siege.
“It was the only place I could truly be myself. I needed to be surrounded by my Jewish community,” said Yael Klucznik, a recent graduate of Johns Hopkins University.
Hillel and Chabad gave students space “to support and lift up each other while we were grieving the loss of our Jewish brothers and sisters in Israel,” Sieradzky said.
At Hillel, Klucznik of Miami found like-minded Hopkins students who “I could have open conversations with and not feel judged, not feel targeted.”
The campus conflict began right after the Hamas massacre in Israel on Oct. 7.
“They held a vigil for their martyrs, the Hamas terrorists that infiltrated Israel on Oct. 7, the day after we held a vigil for those lives lost both in Israel and in Gaza,” Sieradzky recalled.
Being a Jewish student leader meant being a target of antisemitism as the year unfolded.
Michelle Waksman, a political science graduate at Bryn Mawr College outside of Philadelphia, felt attacked because she was a leader of Hillel and Chabad.
“Once people know who you are, there’s just a way they talk to you in class or constantly make you feel uncomfortable,” she said.
Jewish students felt support by their college administrations behind the scenes, but less so publicly — where it mattered. Their nonhandling of the anti-Israel demonstrations and antisemitism left many Jewish students fearing for their safety.
Some students took proactive measures against the pro-Palestinian demonstrations. Yitzi Tanner, who recently graduated with a master’s degree in physics from the University of Pennsylvania, created an information campaign to counter the position that Israel is an apartheid genocide state.
“What we did was very individualized. We had a table with a bunch of cookies, and we invited people to come and have conversations about Israel,” said Tanner of Brooklyn, who plans to attend rabbinical school in the fall.
He and others experienced a range of conversations: from answering simple questions about why Jews want a Jewish state, to contending with more politically charged discussions about the number of dead in Gaza or specific Israeli government policies.
The year culminated with tent encampments protesting Israel on these college campuses and elsewhere.
“The administration did all they could, but without the support of the D.C. mayor for the longest time, it was really hard to do anything meaningful.” Sieradzky of GW said.
She experienced threats and intimidation. “It was clear that my presence wasn’t wanted.” Police asked her to leave “for instigating something, which I wasn’t. I was just standing there peacefully with my flag.”
Sieradzky remembers hearing the chant, “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” and seeing swastikas at the encampment. There was also a sign that stated, “Final Solution,” referring to the Nazi plan to eliminate Europe’s Jewish population.
As Tanner of Penn stood with his Israeli flag, he recalled hearing, “Student, student, you can’t hide, we charge you with genocide.”
Michael Schwab, another graduating student at Penn, said he was shoved and harassed verbally.
“It was a very, very hostile environment, not only for Jewish students, but really anyone who just wants to be left alone,” the economics major from Manhattan said. “They were saying ‘death to the Israeli state,’ and if I took another step, they’ll beat me.” They wouldn’t let him move.
The Penn administration failed to take action against antisemitic incidents despite being aware of the threats and having numerous documented cases, Tanner said.
Tanner said he was satisfied when the Philadelphia police dismantled the encampment at Penn.
“At that point, it was the only reasonable thing to do as it turned into an antisemitic cesspool of hatred,” Tanner said. Of the 33 people arrested, nine of them were students. “It was initiated by people who hate Jews and found out there were other Jew haters in the area, and they decided to set up shop on Penn’s campus,” he said.
Schwab of Penn wasn’t so forgiving.
“There was a lot lacking and the most shocking is the reluctance to label and condemn terrorism; the allowance of what is some ways tantamount to KKK rallies,” he said.
Waksman of Bryn Mawr described her senior year as tense, unsafe and dysfunctional. “It was honestly incredibly difficult. On a small campus, it feels like everyone is turning against you.”
Her family lived close enough that she could leave campus during the three-week encampment. She was not the only one. “My friends and I looked at each other and decided this just wasn’t worth it. We all piled into the car and went to my parents’ house for the night,” she said.
“These demonstrators were not really doing activism,” she added. “They’re using slogans and chants. The professors were involved and egging them on. There’s no nuance, no critical thinking, which should be the absolute bottom line for an academic institution. The administration let them start running the school.”
Sieradzky’s graduation ceremony at GW, at which the university president spoke, was disrupted by loud boos and signs calling on the university’s board of governors to divest funds tied to Israel.
At graduation, Klucznik saw many Palestinian flags and protesters wearing keffiyehs, a checkered Palestinian traditional scarf.
“The demonstrators were removed from campus,” Klucznik said. “It was definitely disruptive and very upsetting.”
Klucznik affixed a yellow ribbon to her mortarboard, a reminder to bring the Israeli hostages in Gaza home.
“It was my final statement because my entire senior year was spent being a huge Israel activist on campus,” she said. “I’m very proud of my beliefs. I stand by them and am not afraid of speaking out.”
Klucznik couldn’t hear Utah Sen. Mitt Romney’s commencement speech at Hopkins because of the disruption from protesters. She said graduates turned their backs to the senator and held up anti-Israel signs.
“It was honestly quite shocking,” Klucznik said. “A moment when all of us are supposed to be happy and enjoying the experience, the final time together and listening to speeches where we’re being guided and advised on how to live life post-college, it was very difficult to focus on that given all the chaos and noise.”
The climate on campus during Sieradzky’s senior year at GW was disheartening and ultimately a relief, she said. “I’m glad I was a senior, so I don’t have to come back to it.”
By graduation, Tanner of Penn was desensitized to the antisemitic rhetoric, but his family members weren’t.
“They were astounded that someone would get up there and call Israel white supremacist or end the speech with ‘free Palestine,’” he said.
Waksman of Bryn Mawr had high hopes for her senior year and wanted to feel accomplished.
“It was really disappointing,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense to me.”
Waksman refused to accept a year-end award for community building when she saw that two members of Students for Justice in Palestine were also receiving awards.
“I thought maybe undergoing disciplinary action for being antisemitic would actually have some consequences, but in the end, they got a community building award for, in my opinion, harassing Jews,” she said.
Klucznik graduated from Hopkins with an engineering degree but now feels guided to become an Israel advocate.
“I need to focus on empowering Jewish college students to stand up for what they believe in, and not be afraid on their campus to stand up to antisemitism and being proud to be a Zionist. I think that’s where my work needs to be right now,” she said.
Klucznik said her entire college experience was tumultuous, starting with the pandemic and ending with antisemitism most of her senior year.
“Walking every day and having to hear all the things that they were saying and all the posters and banners they had, it was very difficult and terrifying for everyone else who hasn’t graduated,” she said. “I’m grateful that I’m done with it, but here is where my work will continue, so I’m not really done with it.”
