Imagine having recurring nightmares in which a former classmate returns to campus to kill you because of your identity.
As director of advocacy and partnerships for the Jewish Grad Organization (JGO), I manage our organization’s response to antisemitic incidents on graduate-school campuses across North America. I heard this nightmare described by a Jewish student last month in the course of my work.
It was not hyperbole. The fear emerged after a Jewish student had been doxxed, following unhinged and vicious online attacks in which their name and identity were circulated widely on social media.
Jewish grad students are navigating real and compounding safety concerns. Last summer, a survey conducted by JGO with the AJC showed that 19% of Jewish graduate students actually feared for their physical safety. But that data predates a cascade of deeply destabilizing events: the Bondi Beach attacks in Australia, the shooting at Brown University and renewed scrutiny of a federal demand for a list of Jews at a major university, now the subject of a lawsuit brought by the university and Jewish student groups.
For Jewish communities, that last development does not land in a vacuum. History has taught us that when Jews are formally identified and catalogued, it is not always for benign purposes. This historical memory, coupled with rising antisemitism, shapes Jewish feelings of vulnerability today.
Antisemitism is now at its highest level since World War II, and students are feeling its impact in very tangible ways. Sometimes, the threats are clear and overt: On one campus, student groups openly called for “resistance by any means necessary” and for “true, militant organizing” against domestic targets purportedly “associated with Israel,” including ports and pipelines. At another campus, a student shared that their direct supervisor openly expressed support for Hamas and Hezbollah on social media, leaving them feeling intimidated and unsafe in an academic environment that offered little recourse.
Other times, the threats are more subtle and present as a series of microaggressions. Recently, several students at a law school in the Northeast reported that they no longer feel safe on their campus after repeated antisemitic remarks by peers during class discussions and on campus. These comments ranged from accusations of Jewish and/or Israeli complicity in genocide to responsibility for U.S. election results to Holocaust distortion. Faculty members failed to intervene or respond, and in some cases expressed agreement.
As a result of this climate, many students describe altering their daily behavior in response. For instance, some are choosing not to wear visible symbols of their Jewish identity, like a kippah or a Star of David necklace, out of fear of drawing attention to themselves. Sadly, our survey showed that 55% of Jewish graduate students are hiding an aspect of their identity out of fear of antisemitism.
Against this backdrop, Congress’s recent approval of $300 million for the Nonprofit Security Grant Program reflects a growing recognition that Jewish institutions face elevated security threats. While many feel that this is still not enough, it sends a clear signal: Concerns about Jewish safety are not imagined, fringe or irrational.
We do not yet know what the next data set will show. What we do know is what students are telling us now. Recently, a student leader reached out to me to ask how he could proactively take steps to make Jewish events on campus safer. We spent the better part of 30 minutes going over JGO’s Security Checklist and discussing additional security trainings with partner organizations like Secure Community Network or Community Security Service.
Our goal is to reduce fear, not amplify it. We coach students to assess risk thoughtfully rather than reactively. We provide practical tools so student leaders can take preventative steps. We work with university administrations to ensure concerns are addressed seriously. And when a student experiences a direct safety concern, we connect quickly with professional security partners to assess risk and provide guidance.
Through my work across dozens of campuses nationwide, one thing has become unmistakably clear: when students raise safety concerns, they are not reacting to headlines or hypotheticals. They are responding to real patterns—doxxing, threats, intimidation, isolation and institutional inaction that repeat themselves with alarming consistency.
Grad students are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for the same thing every student deserves: to be believed when they say they are afraid. As recent events have shown, their concerns are not hypothetical. Taking them seriously is the first step to keeping them safe.
