For the past two weeks, I have had the privilege of being a Jew in Hong Kong.
Hong Kong is where I lived for six years. It’s where I began my work on building a modern Jewish Pride movement. It is where I began wearing a kippah, becoming a visible Jew. Watching Jew hate rise all over the world, and taking part in the fight against it, I always knew that I was lucky to be Jewish in such a place.
There is little cultural context for Jew hatred here. Despite being a former British colony, the vast majority of its citizens are local Hong Kongers. To them, I am just another foreigner. Sometimes, when living here, a local person would stop me in the street to ask why I was wearing a small hat. They were, of course, referring to my kippah.
Such encounters were always an amusing reminder of the oversized role that Jews play in the Western and Muslim worlds. It made total sense to me, why a person who grew up in Hong Kong would have no idea about the cultural customs of a tiny group of people indigenous to the Levant.
Not everyone was ignorant, of course, but it was refreshing to be able to be an anonymous Jew. It was not all rainbows and butterflies; however, the Jewish schools and the JCC have extraordinary security, which has been increased in recent months. It is also true that Jews here take precautions with regard to their physical safety – and there have been instances of antisemitism – but by and large, Hong Kong is far safer for Jews than other parts of the Diaspora.
Jewish life in diaspora
My trip back to Hong Kong was planned well before October 7. It was intended to celebrate my partner’s 37th birthday and to reacquaint us with the city that we called home for almost a decade, but in the end, it gave me more than just a walk down memory lane. It provided me with a fresh perspective on Jewish life in the Diaspora as a whole.
The week after October 7, I flew to North America to embark on a four-week speaking tour to raise consciousness around Jewish Pride and support for Israel during our time of crisis. I visited cities including New York, Toronto, Tucson, and LA and saw firsthand an anti-Jewishness churning beneath the surface erupt into the open.
I felt vulnerable as a visible Jew wearing two Magen David necklaces and a kippah as I traversed the continent and countless airports. My partner asked me to wear a baseball cap and to conceal my necklaces. It took me about a nanosecond to recognize that, and while I always advocate for people to make decisions about their visible Jewishness based on their physical safety, this was precisely a time when I needed to demonstrably inhabit my personal space as a Jew. I did not want to hide, although I understood that I was putting myself at risk by being an out Jew.
AFTER FOUR weeks in North America, I returned home to London incredibly apprehensive. Since October 7, I – and all other Jews – watched in horror as Jew-hate seemed to engulf London. Though I felt vulnerable being in North America, it was nothing compared to how I felt at the prospect of being a Jew in the UK capital.
During the week before leaving for Hong Kong, I seriously considered my physical safety whenever traveling to a city center that, according to some, had become a no-go area for Jews every weekend. And while I was relieved not to have encountered any danger, I also felt angry that I had to consider my safety in this way.
More than just a reflection on my physical safety, I was hyper-aware of the emotional toll I was putting myself through. I wasn’t just concerned for my physical safety, I was apprehensive about being verbally accosted – an experience that leaves a deeper scar.
Ultimately, I was physically fine in London, but I still had to consider my safety. I was not able to relax in the city in which I live. All this unfairness came crashing home to me as soon as I found myself back in Hong Kong. Spending two weeks there during this awful time was a gift. Admittedly, I didn’t exactly switch off. I wrote this column and spent plenty of time on social media advocating for Jewish pride.
The difference was, I was able to relax in my surroundings. Not once did I consider my safety as a visible Jew. Not once did I look over my shoulder. I felt comfortable and at ease, sensations I had not felt in eight weeks.
This is how life should be for Jews. That is what I was reminded of in Hong Kong. It is simply unacceptable that we have to always think of our safety in other parts of the Diaspora. That we can never truly relax. That we have to guard our children as they learn in school or when they pray in synagogue. It is laudable that the British government has granted three million pounds for Jewish security in Britain. But the fact remains: they shouldn’t have to.
Being in Hong Kong was a gift. It allowed me to release tension I had been holding for weeks. But it also gave me a fresh perspective on what our lives can be like as Jews. While it is an absolute necessity for us to protect ourselves, we should never stop being outraged that we have to.
Yes, the context of Hong Kong is vastly different, but it is how we, as Jews, should be able to live. We should be free to walk down the street as visible Jews without looking over our shoulders, and we should never stop expecting the societies in which we live to guarantee this right. Jew-hate is a non-Jewish problem. Ultimately, it’s their responsibility to fix it.
The writer is the founder of the modern Jewish Pride movement, an educator, and the author of Jewish Pride: Rebuilding a People. His new book, Reclaiming Our Story: The Pursuit of Jewish Pride, is now available.