Have you ever walked into a bar and thought, “Man, all I want to do right now is show how much I hate the Jews?”
No? Because in any reasonable society, that should be unthinkable. And yet, on May 3, reportedly, a group of Drexel and Temple students gathered at Barstool in Center City ordered a sign that read: “F*** the Jews.” The waitress, instead of being horrified, proudly danced as she presented the sign, while the students laughed and posted it to Instagram.
In what world is this normal?
I remain in shock. Would it be tolerated if the sign had read “F*** the Blacks?” “F*** the Gays?” “F*** the Latinos?” Of course not. But when it is aimed at Jews, suddenly, it is acceptable.
The owner of Barstool, David Portnoy, is Jewish, and he immediately condemned the incident. He spoke with the Temple student behind it, who reportedly apologized and agreed to visit Auschwitz to better understand the dangers of antisemitism. I hoped the trip would shake him to his core, as it did me.
As I wrote in an op ed entitled “Never Again is Now,” I traveled to Poland with over a hundred college students last year. The trip impacted me so greatly and connected me to my people. I kept a journal throughout with reflections and sketches from the trip, which I recently published titled “My People.” (Drexel students can reach out for a free copy)
On the trip, we stood where millions of Jews were dehumanized, starved and murdered. We touched the cattle cars that transported them. We stepped inside gas chambers and stood by mass graves of Jewish children. It was a wake-up call— “Never Again” is not just a phrase, but a necessity. It taught me that I, as a Jew, need to stand up for myself. I cannot rely on others to save me.
In the holocaust, so many people became complicit bystanders. Only some brave individuals—“Righteous Among the Nations”—risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. Most people in the Nazi regime simply “followed orders,” watching as their Jewish neighbors were stripped of dignity and life. Today, we face a different kind of bystander: those who shrug off antisemitism, justify it or even laugh at it.
I wanted to believe the Temple student would recognize the gravity of what he did. That he would reflect, understand the harm and change. Instead, he doubled down on hate.
Days later, he appeared on the Stew Peters Network, a neo-Nazi podcast, doubling down on his views. When Peters asked him if humanity should “become tribal against the Jewish community,” he responded, “Absolutely, especially in the case of Americans.”
The Temple student was given a choice: reflect and apologize, or embrace hate. He chose hate. He pledged to stand against the “dirty Jews,” and the host pledged $100,000 worth in his meme coin against Jews in support of his mission. One of the host’s followers—a fellow white supremacist—questioned why so much money was being given to an Arab. The host read the comment aloud, agreed, and admitted that he normally would not support “a brown guy.” Somehow, the Temple student’s hatred of Jews outweighed even the common sense of self-preservation.
Antisemitism unites those who would otherwise be at odds. The phrase ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ plays out in real time through moments like this and ‘Gays for Palestine.’ LGBTQ+ individuals support a region that openly persecutes them, while disregarding Israel’s vibrant LGBTQ+ culture. This contradiction underscores a disturbing truth: hatred towards my people can become so blinding that it supersedes rationality, morality and even survival. (National Post)
Many protesters claim they are simply “anti-Zionist,” as this Temple student tried to do. But their words reveal something far deeper. Calling for the erasure of Jewish sovereignty over our ancestral homeland is not about political disagreement. It is about denying Jewish existence and Jewish safety.
Those who justify this as mere “criticism” of Israel need to confront reality. Jewish history, Jewish connection to Israel and the necessity of a Jewish safe-haven are not matters of debate. We have endured centuries of persecution and have finally returned home.
I have always worn my kippah (head covering) with pride, but in recent years, I have found myself hiding my identity out of concern for my safety. At a recent networking event, I noticed Temple students whispering and glancing in my direction. For a moment, I considered taking it off or even leaving. But in the end, I chose to stay. I refused to let fear dictate my identity. Instead, I stood my ground as a proud Jew, determined to show that antisemitism is not just wrong—it is entirely baseless.
Never again is now. When students go out of their way to promote neo-Nazi views, it is no longer just words. It is a warning.
History has taught us how dangerous warnings can be when ignored.
According to Peters, “What happened in the bar is a microcosm of humanity… everyone is pretty much like, ‘F*** the Jews.’” When I heard that, my jaw dropped. Is it possible that he is right? Do people feel that way about me and my people? I sincerely hope that he is incorrect. Please prove him wrong. Reach out to your Jewish friends to check on them. Always stand up against hate. Am Yisrael Chai (The Jewish Nation Lives On).