They hurled abuse at me for being Jewish… but what really hurt was not feeling free to be myself

I IGNORED the name calling. I’m not confrontational in any way. And, the insults were never that well thought out or imaginative. Kids would shout things like ‘dirty Jew’ and ‘disgusting Jew’. It was always a horrible word with ‘Jew’ shoved at the end.

It’s deeply upsetting that anti-Semitism is back in the news. This week nearly 1,500 people held a rally in Parliament Square to protest against Jeremy Corbyn’s alleged ‘systematic failure’ to deal with anti-Semitism in the Labour party. And, in Paris, the killing of a Holocaust survivor in her home – in an apparent anti-Semitic crime – has sparked mass outrage.

My family practised our faith in a relaxed manner. My mum Fiona was brought up a Christian; her dad was a vicar. But she fell in love with my dad David and converted to Judaism to be with him.

It took her a few years to convert – she had to go to the synagogue (our place of worship) and learn a lot about the Torah (our holy book). She probably knows more about Judaism than my dad!

Growing up, the influence Judaism had on me was an overwhelming understanding to love those around you, care for others as if they are part of your family and strive to be the best individual you can be.

For the majority of my life, my experiences have been positive. I went to a Christian primary school where I felt included and no different to my peers.

Often, they would ask me to bring in my menorah (the candelabrum lit during Hanukkah) or to speak about how we celebrate the different festivals. I felt proud to have this Jewish knowledge, and it was always met with interest and enthusiasm.

The first time I remember experiencing anti-Semitism was when I attended a Jewish school for my last four years of secondary education. Our uniform had a menorah on the blazer pocket and boys had to wear kippah (a brimless hat made of cloth to cover their head). None of which bothered me or scared me at first because I’d always met people who had positive interest in them.

But being different made us an easy target for kids from other schools. A lot of the time we were worried to leave school with our blazers on for fear of abuse.

My male friends got it worse than the girls, especially if they were wearing their kippahs outside of school. Boys from neighbouring schools would be quite aggressive and try to pick fights. They began removing their kippahs before they left the school gates.

I would rush to get the first bus home from school in the hope that no kids from other schools would be there then. Or, I’d hang around with my friends in class until the school run had quietened down. I used to be upset that I didn’t feel free.

I was frustrated. I wish I could have walked down the high street with my friends or hung around after school and been silly, but I just didn’t want to. I had less choice. I didn’t want to be targeted.

I spoke to my parents about it. I was in culture shock, really. I had never experienced people having a problem with me because I was Jewish before. It was strange. My parents were mortified and spoke to the school to see what they could do to stop it. The reality is, kids tend to pick on others who are different and it’s hard to stop it.

I wanted to go to school so I thought the best way to deal with it was to say, ‘I will not be scared’ and this is my reality. I just tried to avoid confrontation as much as possible. To engage in a physical fist fight would be my worst nightmare!

I didn’t think the kids making these awful comments really understood the severity of their actions. I’m not in any way minimising the situation, I believe it’s wrong and there are no excuses for any kind of racist behaviour. But I do know that it wasn’t just us at the Jewish school receiving this awful treatment.

I had friends who attended a nearby school which was predominantly Asian and they suffered the same scrutiny as we did and felt just as isolated at times. It just felt as though if you were deemed different you were a target.

The role Judaism plays in my life today is to be a good person and appreciate your family. I don’t take it much further than that. I’m not kosher.

When my mum told her Christian dad she was converting to Judaism he didn’t mind. For us, it was always about family values and doing the right thing as much as you can – no one is perfect.

Me and the boys celebrate Hanukkah, and for most of the festivals we do something. We sometimes have Friday night dinners (a Jewish tradition), but more so we can come together as a family.

I do bring my boys up as Jewish. Their primary school was Jewish, which they went to before September.

It makes me sad that, in 2018, we even have to ask the question, “Is there anti-Semitism in…?” In my opinion it doesn’t matter how that question ends.

There is no place for anti-Semitism, or any discrimination for that matter, anywhere – let alone in our political parties.

We look to our leaders to run the country and strive to deliver what is in the best interests of all people in our society, no matter what their religion, sex, colour and interests may be.

But the question I’m struggling with is how can anybody have faith and belief in our political system with all the horrendous allegations flying around – and they’re not exclusive to one party.

Last week, Stacey reflected on the birth of her ten-year-old son Zachary.

And previously she has discussed her decision to homeschool her two sons.