Life has transpired since my last piece of a three-part series on antisemitism, which brings me to conclude in this series on Yad Vashem, a day of remembrance for the women, men, children, families, and future generations lost because of a wicked propaganda stunt gone virally wrong, before viral was a mainstream weapon of a 21-century revolt.
I circle back to the writing group that opened my eyes as a way to move forward,
‘One week, I decided to share a story I hadn’t thought of in many years. I didn’t fully understand why it had resurfaced, only that it held a quiet sadness, an underlying truth about who I am and what shaped me.
As I read my piece aloud—one that touched upon my Jewish heritage and an experience with antisemitism—something stirred within me.
How and why does hate pass from one generation to another? That moment opened the door to deeper reflection, a journey I continue today.
I’ll save that particular story for another time (it’s in my book). But what happened next in the writing circle changed how I view how easily history can be rewritten or forgotten, even when we carry our family’s traditions and keepsakes.”
A woman of Baptist faith from Georgia exclaimed that she had no idea what the term *swastika meant. She understood its connotation the moment I said it was equivalent to the KKK.
Her voice represents a generation of students from the past five decades in America who have not learned about antisemitism in their academic schooling.
Through the centuries, Jews have been sent into exile for their practices and beliefs. They have come back with dreams of a better world, new inventions, contributing to society, and a zeal for life. At the same time, many educators and historians have intentionally excluded and misrepresented their plight as if their population doesn’t matter. And while the defamation that pertains to the Holocaust does not define the Jewish people, the deliberate effort to keep it out of scholastic teachings is unjust.
Years back, I recall learning about a nearby school district’s 7th-grade curriculum assignment where students were prompted to write about genocide. When a curious student asked if they could cover the atrocities of the Holocaust, the teacher responded, “No. Research and report on other genocides because you already learned all that is relevant to know about the Holocaust when you were younger.”
And, as students searched for information on “genocides,” not only had anti-Israel propaganda surfaced, there was a minimal reference to the Holocaust, which is where the word originated from. A mass extermination of 6 million Jews, pure evil for intentional ethnic cleansing. The search engine optimization itself seemed to reinforce a scholastic cover-up.
The issue was briefly addressed when news of this curriculum gap reached a local rabbi, clergy members, and a group of concerned parents. However, the district’s educational protocol for this particular assignment remained unchanged. Like many school systems across America, they chose to look the other way.
Anne Frank’s Diary used to be required reading for middle to high school students. And now, due to curriculum restructuring, controversial topics, and book bans, it’s no longer in many districts. Anne went into hiding at age 13 with her family to escape the persecution of Jews during the Holocaust. She considered her journal her only friend and wrote, “Paper has more patience than people.” Many teens and young adults no longer have the opportunity to glimpse the harrowing details of what it was like to be surrounded by a confused world in those disturbing times from a young, innocent perspective.
What a loss to overlook specific sensitive subjects and advance others. Private schools are even less likely to teach or share varied views on complex topics that don’t promote their religious or learned beliefs, leaving a further gap. Will there ever be the right time to discuss past histories so we learn what never again means?
My colleague from another writing group shared that a friend of hers, a teacher, worked at a high school in New Mexico. The swastika motif was displayed on the front doors as part of an Ancestral Puebloan, American Indian symbol. Whether or not it predated Nazi Germany, the administration insisted it was simply a representation of good fortune, which was how it was originally intended before the manipulations of reversing its meaning.
As a Jewish woman, she cringed every time she entered the building.
Jewish or not, I would have felt uncomfortable, too. Would you?
I even found the swastika symbol in one of my kundalini yoga of awareness teaching manuals, in which a kriya meditation invites practitioners to cross their arms as a posture for good fortune following the form inscribed motif.
So here I am, living from a place in my heart that doesn’t want battle, yet on some days, I feel caught in the middle of an offensive.
I know who I am and who I am not.
I value others’ cultural practices and heritage, as well as mine.
Birth order, whether for an only child or one of 10, is one position we can never control for any child born. Families of different birth ages, the youngest and older siblings, and every child in between are raised differently, with societal views, opinions, religious affiliations, and political institutions. There is room for misinformation when they speak for their agenda and convenience.
From a young age, I have been sensitive to what others around me are going through. When I was younger, my brother was always getting in trouble, and I just wanted to do the right thing. I, too, had my share of testing the waters and making a stir by joining the teenage free spirit scene and dancing certain nights away.
I have learned from my religious school and formal and informal education; I have traveled, observed, and joined women and men worldwide.
We can transform our negative thoughts into positives. Many people have never met someone Jewish. I have heard of people meeting Jewish people and wanting to dislike them because of their upbringing but realizing they had met a good person. Yes, there are harmful sour disruptors everywhere, so to stay in my lane, again, I am only writing from my heart to share some more and open the conscious conversation for what is transformable. I can no longer stay silent when I see visible imbalances.
As a young girl, I observed many Jewish holidays and traditions. Some I was never introduced to until I learned of more observant ways. My temple was always open to embracing all beings and serving communities who had less, which reminded us to keep going and live by the Ten Commandments, read and learn from the ancient biblical scrolls, and live with respect. And so I invite you to pray for peace in a way that feels okay or just for you.
Even if my story does not fill the circle of curiosities in you, look within and look deeper into why we might be ignorant if we are from a different background. You can pray for humanity, too,
As mentioned in Part One of Antisemitism from a Jewish woman’s perspective, as a youngster, I felt insecure for many reasons, like youths often do. Being Jewish gave me one more reason why I, like most children and youth, want to be seen and fit in. It meant I was like my peers in some ways, wanting to be liked and accepted and perhaps shunned, or so I thought, for being different, not the majority. How do we call a spade a spade, a heart, and dismantle some of the erroneous stacks of cards?
Sitting with all of this emotion for this is what feels not only like a lifetime of ignorance but a sped-up 500 days of silence, propaganda, false news coverage, and a flipping of what happened on October 7 by one group of terror against innocent civilians, I have noticed how my body tenses each time I learn of another case of rising Jewish hate (antisemitism).
With all this open belligerence, I’m compelled to explore further—to examine how this deafening noise models an age-old narrative that appeals to many who allegiance to another’s agenda…
Taking hostages is evil. It violates all of the laws of the Geneva Convention a tactic used only by terror armies. And still, the most despicable, unimaginable acts were inflicted on innocent children stolen from their beds— on young people whose only offence was dancing in joy and freedom. The barbarity that followed defies humanity
Where is the outrage?
Not only do those who support this cause seek to deny Israel’s right to exist, they aim to destroy the Jewish people and their state.
And it’s not just us—
it’s anyone who dares to differ from a belief system
built on martyrdom and rigid exclusion.
Can we just see this for what it is?
People are defending terror — not out of justice, but out of allegiance.
Allegiance to pain, to grievance, to a history that’s been twisted into justification.
Some say it’s about barriers or borders.
But Israel is so small.
A sacred land,
holding the weight of generations—
a place holy to many,
woven with the footsteps of prophets, prayers, and pilgrimages.
It’s a land where temples have been destroyed,
only to rise again.
Why can’t they just let us live?
Why can’t they let us thrive?
What’s the point of all this hatred?
What does destroying a people really solve?
Another woman recently shared a concept that resonated with me. Perhaps you, too, can relate?
Once a baby or a country is born, even if its bud may seem inconceivable or unfair, if labored, we accept and protect what has bloomed. We must never treat children or a country that was born like one that should no longer exist.
Israel was given a chance to rebuild a safe haven for the Jewish people. A return to a very controversial homeland, a place for them to return to again and again amid a sea of hate.
Many people of a variety of faiths and religions live there in harmony. Unfortunately, the rise in hate is so eschewed that my heart continues to break for every loss of human life that has occurred since Israel has (as it is their right) to defend itself.
For the Bibas family, if you don’t know, they were the youngest hostages ever taken, and they were murdered by the hands of terror. I don’t understand why people look the other way and think it is okay.
Most Jews, if you are or know one, are suffering an immense amount of pain over the outward expression of Jew hate because of religious persecution. This is truly a scary time, yet also a time to return to our roots and to continue building upon love in our families, knowing our history that began in the land of Israel will continue.
And I recommended a book, On Being Jewish NOW, to learn more about the Jewish people and thier stories on what it feels like to be Jewish since October 7th.
Two Documentaries: October 8th and Children of October 7th.
Did you know that right now, books written by Jewish authors are being banned from bookstores regardless of the subject matter, undermining their place and value just because the author is Jewish?
So much has erupted in me since I completed and submitted my manuscript a few months before October 7. The finishing touch of tweaking details complements the original concept of how to shine in life and pick ourselves up when we have fallen because no one will do that for us except for us.
While tweaking my book last year, I began this series as an addendum— an offering flavored by love, seen through my eyes as a spiritual and, yes, Jewish woman.
For all the people who have come into our lives through different passages of time, may a sustainable revolution for a lasting resolution compel diverse beings to:
• Rise above propaganda and find a resource of compassion.
• Build bridges of human connection, even when perspectives seem worlds apart.
• Learn from each other by asking questions and finding even the smallest common ground.
So, this concludes for now as the end of a three-part series and the beginning of a new world for me in authorship.
So many things have transpired since my first piece on antisemitism, which is now clearly defined, in case you don’t know by now, as Jew-hatred.
This brings me to conclude this series on Yad Vashem, a day of remembrance for the 6.000,000 Jews and many others who lost their lives for one reason only because they were Jewish or they were either helping to support a Jew or didn’t abide by the reign. Imagine that is happening to someone of African, Asian, Hispanic, or Indian descent.
The Faithful Hue of Becoming: Where Hope Turns to Color
A Jewish Woman’s Hope
Featured Photo in Color:
No longer black and white—
a palette of my truth.
For our stories can lead to endearing endings,
or perhaps,
a beginning still.
May we carry remembrance,
memories of what remains:
quiet, hopeful, whole.
I pray, as always, for all the lives lost
to the wars of belief systems.
My own lens may be jaded—
yet it is through these very eyes
that I see more clearly:
we need to listen more,
fight less,
and be patient with one another.
Final Thoughts
The featured photo for this three-part series was once in black and white—now, it appears in full color. I posed without my normal smile, not showing any teeth. I wanted to embody presence and strength even as I cried for all the innocent ones.
The families.
The children.
The suffering.
I open my heart to the endless provisions of love—
a love that brings order,
surrounded by the soft-spoken ones,
those who walk with honor
and hold deep respect for all.
Thank you for being here.
If you haven’t yet, you can read
And my book, The Radiant Woman Shines, is now available for on pre-sale— coming to all retail platforms on May 14th.
Let’s stay connected,
With Love, and Light,
xo Marla
