Is authenticity at risk in Canada? The struggle of Jewish identity in Montreal - opinion

Imagine pausing every time someone asks, “Where are you from?” Imagine wondering whether honesty could cost you friendships or your sense of belonging.

I’m a 23-year-old woman who grew up in Montreal. This city has always felt like home – open, creative, and accepting. Recently, something changed.

In my everyday life, interactions quickly turn awkward when people discover I was born in Israel, a birthplace I didn’t choose but suddenly felt pressured to hide. Once people know I’m Israeli, conversations end abruptly, friendships become strained, and communities I used to feel at home in start to exclude me.

Since last summer, spaces I once loved frequenting, like queer venues, punk bars, and community gatherings, have increasingly harbored anti-Israel sentiments. There’s now an unspoken assumption that standing with Palestinians means rejecting Israelis like me.

Jewish identity after October 7

Everything escalated after October 7, 2023. A tragic event thousands of miles away somehow reshaped my life here. Visiting family in Israel in June 2024 made me the target of suspicion. Friends started talking about Israelis and Jews in ways beyond cruelty, as if merely connecting with my family and heritage made me the scapegoat for their grievances.

Before, my identity comfortably combined being Jewish, queer, alternative, and a Montrealer. Now, those identities feel like they’re at odds. Queer spaces seem uncomfortable with my Israeli background, and Jewish spaces don’t always welcome my queer identity. Wherever I go, I’m left suppressing parts of who I am.

In these moments, I’ve wondered if either of the communities I hold close to my heart have imagined how it feels to be on the receiving end of this sort of denial and rejection.

Growing up, and until recently, I always felt my skin buzzing at this time of year. The school year was coming to a close, spring was followed by scorching hot, sticky Montreal summer. 

As I got older, Montreal summers became the pinnacle of Montreal living. I waited all year for evening rides on the metro, lazy afternoons lounging in Parc La Fontaine, and spontaneous nights exploring music festivals downtown.

But in June 2024, I had a pit in my stomach. I knew things would be different – I didn’t know it would be the polar opposite of what I once knew. In Montreal summers, in queer spaces, in alternative bars, I once had a safe space. But nothing remains.

Antisemitism is at a boiling point here, yet few outside the Jewish community speak up. Non-Jews who champion the rights of other marginalized groups often hesitate when the subject is antisemitism, fearful of being judged by their social justice comrades. My community faces growing isolation exactly when we need solidarity the most.

It’s like 1938 all over again, when the world looked away, ignoring the red flags until their indifference became a death sentence for us.

Every day, I confront an impossible choice: hide my Israeli roots and deny that part of myself, or risk alienation and exclusion simply by being honest. Sometimes, I consider moving to Israel – an active war zone at the moment – just to escape the suffocating isolation I feel in my hometown.

So, I ask my fellow Montrealers: What would you do in my shoes? Would you choose silence and bow your head, or would you speak up and risk rejection and possible violence?

Montreal is vibrant because of its diversity, a diversity that has always prominently included Jewish communities. Generations of Jewish Montrealers helped build its neighborhoods, fuel its economy, and make its culture as rich as it is today.

My identities – Jewish, Israeli, queer, alternative – are not separate from this city’s identity; they help define it, piece by piece. I refuse to diminish myself for others’ comfort because to do that would diminish Montreal itself.

We all love this city deeply. But is this truly the Montreal we want, a city where authenticity is a risk? Or can we commit to being a place where every person’s story, no matter how complex, is heard and valued?

The writer is a student in Montreal.