I made a decision, when I started to blog, that some parts of my life are separate. I don't think I've ever been a "hello I'm Jewish" kinda gal, but my Jewish identity is a big part of who I am. And despite the fact that I'm third generation, I often feel that I'm passing through, that I'm not quite connected with being English/British/whatever. Like the time during the World Cup in 98 when one of the guys in my team hung what looked to me like a very large white tablecloth with a red stripe through it over his cubicle divider, and I didn't recognise it. And he couldn't believe that I didn't know what the flag of St George looked like.
In recent months, I've felt increasigly less able to be upfront about my identity; I feel as though I'm living in an increasingly anti-semitic Europe. Attacks on synagogues. Le Pen in France. The whole Spectator debacle. It's always been my contention that my parent's generation's "don't rock the boat", "be careful" "we're visitors" approach to dealing with the wider community was an anachronistic, post-War, out of date perspective in these multi-cultural times. I laughed at people who were obsessed with security.
I spent yesterday with 55,000 Jews and other supporters of Israel in Trafalgar Square. For some reason, all the press reported it as 30,000, when the organisers announced a number of times that the Police had confirmed 55,000.
Was it perfect? Of course not. Did I agree with everything that was said? No. But I passionately believe in the right of Israel to exist, and am excrutiatingly aware of media bias. Which I can't even get into here, because it upsets me too much. But in a country where being Jewish is largely characterised by walking in the middle of the road, for the first time in my life, I felt proud to be an Anglo-Jew.
Oh, and my Dad pointed out in article in the Times which says (nearly) everything I want to say, but typically, much better.
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