In the shadowed days following the Hamas terror attacks of October 7th, a simple trip to the supermarket became a moment of profound fear for one British Jewish mother. Still numb from the horrors overseas, she held her young son's hand, unaware he still wore his kippah from school. A stranger's venomous shout – "Why don't you f*** off and go back to your own country?" – shattered the illusion of mundane safety. Her silent reply, "But I am in my country," was a whisper against a rising tide of hate. Her son, without a word, tore the kippah from his head and hid it away.
A Sanctuary No More? The Erosion of Security
For years, the author, like many British Jews, believed such virulent racism was a grim anomaly in a tolerant nation. Her family narrative was one of sanctuary: her great-grandparents fled pogroms for Britain's safety; her husband's grandfather, the sole survivor of Auschwitz, rebuilt his life here. Britain was the haven. Yet, the last two years have systematically chipped away at that foundational belief, exposing a disquieting new reality for the UK's 270,000-strong Jewish community.
The recent antisemitic mass shooting in Bondi Beach, Australia, which killed 15 and injured over 40 during a Chanukah gathering, resonated with a chilling familiarity. Though 10,000 miles away, the target was recognisable. As the author notes, the thought "this could have been the UK" was widespread. This fear is not abstract. Currently, two men are on trial in Britain, accused of plotting a large-scale terrorist attack in Manchester. Prosecutors allege the Islamist extremists, found with assault rifles and ammunition, planned to "kill as many Jewish people as they could."
This follows October's Yom Kippur terror attack on Heaton Park synagogue in Manchester, which left two worshippers dead and a third seriously injured. In response, security measures have been intensified beyond already high levels. Synagogues and schools, long protected by guards, fencing, and CCTV, now drill children in specialist terror protocols. A single codeword sends them scrambling under tables, silent and still. This is the normalised reality for Jewish families.
The Human Toll: Nightmares and a Question of Future
The psychological cost of this environment is immense. The author describes her son crying himself to sleep, haunted by nightmares of "a bad man" coming through the window. Her reassurances feel hollow even to herself. The necessity of passing through security barriers, flanked by police and volunteers from the Community Security Trust (CST), to attend a Chanukah celebration underscores a profound loss of innocence.
These cumulative incidents have forced a painful reckoning. The author now questions whether there is a future for her children in Britain, drawing a stark parallel with her ancestors who packed their bags to escape persecution over a century ago. The UK's historic role as a sanctuary is now in the balance. The sad truth, she concludes, is that a country tolerant of many things has also been "too tolerant to hatred." A Pandora's box of antisemitism has been opened, with no clear way to seal it shut.
With Jews constituting just 0.4% of the UK population, her greatest fear is that this wave of hatred will drive thousands away, irrevocably changing the nation. The bitter irony is inescapable: her family fled to Britain to escape antisemitism. The prospect of leaving for the same reason, generations later, stands as a potential national shame.
