“After Oct. 7, did you regret converting to Judaism?”
That’s a question many people have asked me since that horrible day, when Hamas and their nefarious backers in Iran carried out the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust.
Before I answer, let me rewind a few years to my conversion in 2015. Right before I dipped in the mikvah, a ritual bath, and officially became a Jew, the rabbi asked me: If the Nazis were to come back, would you say you weren’t Jewish? Or would you stay with your people?”
Without hesitation, I replied: “I’d stay. And I’d fight.”
When Oct. 7 happened, that was really put to the test. Like every Jewish person who isn’t completely disconnected—I’m not talking about the ones who have joined the pro-Hamas crowd like “Jewish” Voice for Peace or those self-hating Jews with their awful, off-tune songs over at Code Pink—I was exhausted. I would stay up until 4 a.m. watching videos of the assault and atrocities that day. I would cry so much. I was unable to concentrate on anything other than Israel or the anti-Jewish hatred flourishing around the world.
I had the thought, “If I weren’t Jewish, I would be OK right now. I wouldn’t be so tired. I wouldn’t feel so traumatized. I could just live a normal life.”
I thought of my family, who are not Jewish. My sister works in the Jewish community in my hometown, Baltimore, and she said that during Rosh Hashanah, she was in Pikesville. There were so many police officers and security guards that she was taken aback.
“Why is that?” She asked me. I thought, “Wow. She has no clue—just like so many others who are not Jewish.”
I remembered how I used to be like that. How I also had no clue. How when I first started dating Daniel, a Jewish man who eventually became my husband, I went to his parents’ house in 2010.
His mom was watching a video of a Hungarian man shouting something. I asked Daniel, “What is she looking at?”
“Oh, that guy is antisemitic. He’s shouting really hateful things.”
“What? I thought antisemitism went away after the Holocaust.”
“Kylie, my grandmother escaped from Vienna on a train full of Nazis. She blended in because she had blonde hair and blue eyes. Trust me, antisemitism has never gone away,” he said.
During my conversion process, I did experience antisemitism. People made jokes to me about Jews; a lady said, “My dad was so cheap, he used to Jew people down!” And one time, when my husband and I were in an Uber in Los Angeles, our driver saw some Jews and said, “Did you know that Jewish people take Christian kids and make them into matzah-ball soup?” He also told us, “Hitler was a great man!” Good thing my husband wasn’t wearing his yarmulke that night.
Still, I thought these people were ignorant at the very least or just completely off their rocker.
When Oct. 7 happened, I saw that the virus of bigotry had infected way more people than our community thought—from leftists at college universities to those on the new commentators on the new “woke right” that we once trusted. Instead of condemning the hate, so many joined in, not allowing even a day for us to grieve before they started protesting our very existence.
So, in light of all this, did I regret converting to Judaism after Oct. 7? The answer is: Hell, no.
What I regret is how the world has gone mad and directs hatred toward the Jewish people because they are spiritually sick.
What I regret is how Israel is upholding incredible values, and the Israel Defense Forces is the most moral army to ever exist—and how people defame it for no reason.
What I regret is that the Jews are constantly mistreated when all we do is go about our lives and try to live in peace, and how we never asked for Hamas to attack us or to be in a war.
At times, it has been really heavy. Like when the Bibas boys—Ariel, 4, and Kfir, 9 months—and their 32-year-old mother, Shiri, were confirmed dead. I found out right before Zumba class, and my nice instructor, who is Jewish, played the Israeli song “Haim Tovim” (“The Good Days”). I just broke down and cried my eyes out.
I cry whenever another hostage’s body is recovered, and I cry when another young person with their entire life ahead of them is killed fighting terrorists in Gaza. Everything weighs on the Jewish people collectively because we are one.
If I were not Jewish in this post-Oct. 7 world, I would have probably looked at the newspaper and said that day, “That’s awful!” and moved on, like most non-Jewish people.
But I would not trade my life for anything. I wouldn’t want to go back to who I was before I was a Jew. It was quite meaningless to be a young person floating through life, with a lack of morals, no God and no people to help or turn to, like so many young people today.
I am beyond proud to be a Jew.
To the haters, I say, check into a mental institution already.
To the countries that abandoned us, you will most certainly regret it when the Jewish people leave because you are next. We see it. Why don’t you?
And to the Jewish people and our allies, who have a moral compass and know the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil, I say: You should be proud of who you are. You showed me that you have a beautiful community and way of life, one I was eager to join.
I don’t regret my decision for a second.
