Schuyler Burke

Editor’s note: This column was submitted to the Texan by a member of the UT community.

If I told my eleven year old self, who dreaded attending Hebrew school, that I was living in Texas and avidly practicing my religion, she wouldn’t have believed it. Despite both of my parents being Jewish, I was raised with the freedom to choose how I’d go about expressing my Jewish identity. I did not feel any connection to Judaism as a young girl. However, as I grew up and life became more complex, I began to turn to Judaism for a sense of comfort. 

The transition from a small, predominantly Jewish high school in suburban New York to a massive university in Texas wasn’t easy. However, I felt strongly about continuing my devotion to Judaism because, for once, I was no longer in the majority. I was met with naive comments from students such as “I’ve never met a real life Jew” or “You’re Jewish? You dont look like the other Jews I know.” The distance I soon felt from my peers pushed me even deeper into the Jewish community. Since coming to school, I’ve become much more connected to my religion. This is not because I have to, but rather because each time I leave a group of Jewish people, I feel more fulfilled than before. 

Before college, I was naive about the troubles that my Jewish identity would pose. The Panhellenic community, in particular, seems to treat Jewish women as one, rather than seeing us as individuals. I remember going into the first day of rush freshman year with an open mind– I knew AEPHI, the historically Jewish sorority, was going to feel familiar, but I was open to trying something different. However, when I sported a star of David around my neck on the second day of rush, my options soon became scarce. AEPHI became the only place I felt I could call home. Maybe it was a coincidence I was dropped by five more houses I told myself. But I could not ignore the overt stares at my neck or the conversation being steered to bagels when exchanging majors. If AEPHI was not as special as it is, I am confident I would’ve dropped out of the rush process altogether. 

Before coming to UT, I was oblivious to the realities of the antisemitism that targets my community. Just a few weeks ago, one of my sorority sisters returned to her dorm to find a swastika drawn on her door. I was appalled, but more notably, I was surprised. However, I have never been a part of a Jewish community that responds in such a proactive way to such denigrating attacks. In particular, Rabbi Zev of the Chabad house instills pride in us. Even in times where I may be reluctant to share my identity, he has shown me the many reasons why I should wear my Star of David with dignity. 

The silence after the terrorist attacks in Israel left many of us feeling unseen. Being a part of such an expansive and inter-connected community, the events that took place, though overseas, hit very close to home. Many of my Jewish sisters and brothers have family in Israel– either fighting in the war or having lived there their whole lives. The lack of outreach and acknowledgement from UT compared to other universities hurt. But, after being urged to speak out, many deans did a wonderful job of making us feel safe and comfortable during such unprecedented times. Although being religious at UT seems to come with risks, I will continue to hold pride in my Jewish identity.

Londa is a psychology sophomore from Scarsdale, New York.