This article is adapted from remarks delivered at a press conference organized by House Republicans that preceded the testimony to Congress of college presidents concerning the antisemitism on their campuses.
I should not be here today.
I should be studying for my upcoming finals. I should be taking in every moment, every experience as an undergraduate student in my senior year of college. So while I should not be here today, I am.
Because on December 3, I along with most students on campus sought refuge in our rooms, as classmates and professors chanted proudly for the genocide of Jews while igniting smoke bombs and defacing school property.
The neighboring university’s president immediately released a statement describing this as a “brazen display of antisemitism.” He went on, saying, “Silence in the face of last night’s demonstration of antisemitism and hate near our doorstep is not an option for me.”
And yet Penn’s president did choose silence.
“The glorious October 7th” and “You’re a dirty little Jew, you deserve to die” are words said not by Hamas, but by my classmates. Despite all of this, I am adamant and hopeful that we will not accept, much less embrace, this horrific new normal on college campuses today.
On October 7, Israel was attacked. Since October 7, American Jews have been under attack.
I am a proud American studying at the University of Pennsylvania. I love Penn. I have wanted to attend this university since before I can remember. I am here because the Penn I attend today is unrecognizable compared with the Penn I used to know.
Penn — once renowned for groundbreaking discoveries like the mRNA vaccine — is now a chilling landscape of hatred and hostility. Our university, revered for its pursuit of knowledge, has devolved into an arena where Jewish students tiptoe through their days, uncertain and unsafe.
The situation at Penn has escalated into a full-blown crisis, with students openly asserting their intentions to proceed with plans “with or without university permission.”
During Covid, strict guidelines governed everything from class attendance to graduation walks. Yet now, when students and faculty defy policies to intimidate Jewish students, where is the same resolute enforcement?
For the past three weeks inside Houston Hall, the student center, an antisemitic headquarters has been erected, with signs spreading Hamas propaganda.
The organizers — Penn-affiliated individuals and nonaffiliated individuals — were initially asked to leave, as they are trespassing on campus property.
Well, three weeks later, they are still sleeping there, and countless Jewish students have been harassed when walking through their student center. Yet the antisemitic dormitory remains.
Clearly, these individuals are both disregarding school policies and have permission to disregard them from a university unwilling to do anything. Not only are tensions palpable, but they have also materialized into actions taken to intimidate and harm students.
A bomb threat against Hillel, a swastika spray-painted, the Hillel and Chabad houses vandalized, a professor posting the armed wing of Hamas’s logo on Facebook, a Jewish student accosted, the words “Jews are Nazis” etched adjacent to Penn’s Jewish fraternity house.
Why doesn’t the university hold the perpetrators of such acts accountable? Is the university fearful that it may offend those who wish to intimidate and harass their fellow students? Penn’s ambivalence fuels a crisis that has shattered my academic sanctuary. Policies meant to safeguard us have become hollow promises. And let’s be clear: If the university fails Jewish students today, tomorrow, it will fail others.
Nonetheless, I refuse to go back to 1939 when Jews had to hide their religious symbols and hide who they were because of the intimidation and harassment of others. I used to think the idea that Jews today might ever have to resort to this was nonsense, fear-mongering, until I was made aware that Penn recommended to students that they “not wear clothing/accessories related to Judaism.”
Hundreds of posters mocking the hostages, featuring cows instead of humans, adorned Penn’s campus just two weeks ago. While on my way to class, I was greeted with a chalked message reading “90% of pigs are gas chambered.” As a student, despite what my university says, I do not feel safe.
Luckily, there are policies in place to protect students from the heinous acts I described. Unluckily, the university seems to have no interest in upholding those very policies.
It’s time for the soul of our university to reclaim its integrity. And it’s time for me — and my classmates — to stop worrying for our lives.