In 2nd grade, I learned I wasn’t supposed to be proud to be Jewish.

I was sitting at my lunch table when a kid I had never met asked if anyone was Jewish. I said that I was, and he immediately responded, “Well, I hate Jews.”

I remember being so confused. He didn’t even know me, and he had already decided he hated me because I celebrated different holidays than he did.

In 9th grade, I learned it wasn’t safe to be proud to be Jewish.

Walking through the hallways, I was harassed daily. People called me “Adolf” and made Nazi salutes toward me. Others would go on rants about how the Holocaust wasn’t real or tell me conspiracy theories about Jews and Israel. I found crossed-out Stars of David and swastikas all over whiteboards and bathrooms at my school.

I was surrounded by a constant reminder that being Jewish was not something I was supposed to love.

I had two choices: stay with all my friends at a school I knew, or take the risk of completely starting over.

I took the risk.

I switched to a school where the only people I knew were a few girls from my BBYO chapter.

Starting over was terrifying. I went from knowing almost everyone at my old school to walking into a building where I barely knew anyone. I had no idea if I had made the right choice.

And I didn’t know for almost a year.

I hid my Jewish identity from everyone at my new school. The only people who knew were my BBYO friends.

But slowly, I started telling people. And the more people I told, the more I realized that they didn’t care that I was Jewish.

I started wearing my Star of David again. I felt comfortable talking about being Jewish. I could mention BBYO, talk about Jewish holidays, and be open about my Judaism without immediately wondering what someone was going to say.

I realized that I had spent so long expecting people to hate me for being Jewish that I had started hiding it before anyone even gave me a reason to.

The risk I had been so afraid of wasn’t always being Jewish. Sometimes, it was letting myself believe that people could accept me for who I am.