I walked away from a high-paying client due to antisemitism right at the beginning of the pandemic, as the world was shutting down.
As a proud Jewish woman, I always believed I’d be shielded from the harsh reality of blatant antisemitism. Yet, there I was, facing it head-on and feeling isolated when I reached out for support.
From my earliest days at Hebrew school, I was immersed in the stories of our past, from the Holocaust to World War II, absorbing the resilience of my people. Anne Frank’s story, in particular, left a lasting impression on me, instilling a deep sense of vigilance. It may sound extreme, but I grew up with a keen awareness of where to hide should the unthinkable ever happen. This level of caution, I’ve found, isn’t uncommon among us.
Living in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood and attending Hebrew school insulated me from overt antisemitism. At most, I encountered stereotypes, which I didn’t hesitate to correct and educate on. But growing up, I did face subtle microaggressions and comments about “looking Jewish” that hinted at deeper prejudices. Note: I am of Eastern European descent, and you can’t “look” like a religion.
My career eventually took me to a beautiful mountain town in British Columbia, where I worked with a diverse, highly educated team helping clients launch their brands. It was a far cry from my sheltered upbringing, exposing me to a broader world yet also to its underlying biases.
A more recent incident shook me deeply. A colleague, under the guise of humor, made offensive jokes and comments about Jews. I tried to address it through education, hoping for understanding. However, the situation escalated when, during a discussion about a work trip to Germany, this person directed a “Hail Hitler” salute at me, laughing it off as a joke. The silence from everyone else was deafening.
With Holocaust Memorial Day looming, the gesture cut deeper, a stark reminder of the pain and suffering endured by my ancestors. I reported the incident, only to be met with gaslighting from my supervisor, who trivialized the antisemitism and made me feel like the problem. Deep down in my core, I knew that the colleague was in the wrong.
The lack of support and accountability left me feeling unsafe. I had to make a tough decision for my mental health and safety, choosing to leave behind a toxic environment where my concerns were dismissed and I wasn’t protected. This was a scary time because the world was on the brink of pandemic lockdowns, and my financial situation was precarious, but I had to do the right thing. Though I sought legal advice, prioritizing my well-being meant walking away from a situation where I was blatantly disrespected and invalidated.
When faced with the need for resilience, I listened to my gut and knew what happened wasn’t right. I stood up for what I believed in and had faith that the universe would help take care of me.
If I could leave you with one piece of advice if faced with a similar challenge, it would be to know your values. If you do and something happens that doesn’t align with them, walk away.
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