'This is how it feels to be Jewish in Australia right now.'

In 2023, when I was eight months pregnant, I was kicked out of an Uber in Sydney for being Jewish.

October 7th had just happened. Hamas had just killed 1200 people and taken over 250 hostages in Israel, and the Israeli Defence Force was descending on Gaza.

"Are you Jewish?" asked my driver, as I hopped into the backseat; my hips aching and my belly straining.

"Yes," I replied.

"Get the f*** out of my car," he told me.

I was so shocked, it didn't even feel real.

But if you'd asked me back then how I felt about being a Jew in Australia, I would have said I feel great. I feel safe. I feel loved — even with the horrible Uber experience ringing in my ears.

Fast-forward to 2025 and this should still be a straightforward question.

Watch: New reports from January show how dire antisemitic hate has become. Post continues.

But if you ask me now how I feel, really, about being Jewish in Australia right now… honestly? I feel stumped. How do I feel?

I feel a flurry of a whole host of emotions — anger, frustration, sadness, at times, scared. But most of all, the crux of how I feel is disappointed.

In 2025, hate and antisemitism are running rife in Australia, and it feels like nobody cares. Like it's just another day.

Even though a report from the Executive Council of Australian Jewry recorded a record number of more than 2,000 antisemitic incidents in our country over the last year.

Even though there was a suspected antisemitic terror plot foiled in Sydney on January 19th. A caravan was discovered stuffed with explosives and a list of Jewish synagogues.

Even though days later there was an attack on a daycare centre in the same city, my city, where hateful slander was written on the walls and the building was burnt to the ground. A daycare centre of all places!

The wall read, "F*** the Jews." Not, "F*** the Israelis" or "Fuck the IDF." It was directed at all Jews. Why?

Does someone out there think because I'm Jewish I'm automatically invited into weekly strategy meetings with the Israeli Defence Force?

That because I'm Jewish, I'm not human and can't feel the pain that both sides of the war have brought on civilians?

That because I'm Jewish my innocent daughter, (who just happened to be born Jewish), should worry about going to daycare with armoured guards that carry AK-47s?

What in the world is going on? I just want to scream "wake up, Australia!"

If that wall had said "F*** the gays" or "F*** the Indigenous" or "F*** the trans community," there would be uproar, outrage, devastation. But because it said "F*** the Jews," no one cares.

What's worse is someone even said to me "well it was probably an insurance job". That sent shivers down my spine.

In January 2025, a childcare centre in Sydney was destroyed by fire in an antisemitic attack. Image: AAP/Steve Markham.

The support I received from friends was privately texted to me. It wasn't displayed on their social media, or shared on a public forum like they did when it was other movements, like Indigenous Australians having a say in parliament, Trans Lives Matters movements and gay marriage, needing their voice. Supporting me was only to be done in secret. In private. Like they felt shame supporting me in places other people might be watching.

"Never again" is often used in reference to the Holocaust, where it represents a pledge to fight against antisemitism and genocide.

But the thing is, never again is now. Antisemitism is alive and thriving. It's quite literally happening in our own backyard and instances of it are only continuing to rise.

Every day the news shows us another car that's been burnt out. Another horrible piece of graffiti that's been scrawled on a house or a business.

Right now, Kanye West is making worldwide headlines for removing all clothes from his fashion brand's website except for one item — a white t-shirt with a large black swastika on it.

I am the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor. He entered the concentration camps in Auschwitz when he was just a boy, and came out a teen.

I've been thinking a lot about that. About why he fled to Australia after the war looking for prosperity, freedom and for his family to be safe for generations. And yet here we are less than 60 years later, right back to where he started.

I am extremely proud to be Jewish. But even now, I can't put my name to this article because of the sheer hate that would come my way.

I'm not willing to put my family, business or friends in danger — and that's the honest reality for me right now, as a Jewish person living in Sydney. A place I used to feel safe.

That has to tell you something? Surely that should make you care? Or is it easier to keep pretending that we're not hurting? That your Jewish friends aren't scared?

If you ask me how it feels to be a Jewish person in Australia right now, overall I will tell you I feel disappointed.

Disappointed in my friends. Disappointed in my government. Disappointed in the Australian community.

I thought I meant more to them.

The author of this article is known to Mamamia, but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy and security reasons.

Feature image: Getty.

*Comments disabled to deter hate speech.