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Because I travel for JGO so much, there are certain things I try to avoid when flying. The two major ones are middle seats and overnight flights.

Middle seats because I’m a big guy and need some space, and overnight flights because at this stage of life, I need at least a few hours of sleep to function.

But lately, unfortunately for me, I’ve been doing a lot of overnights and getting relegated to middle seats. Last week I was flying back from Los Angeles overnight. I came onto the flight with my Knicks hat over my yarmulke because the Knicks are somehow in the semifinals and I’m very emotionally invested :)

I got to my row and realized I was squeezed between two pretty big guys. To make matters worse, I immediately lost armrest control which, if you’re an experienced traveler, you know is a battle that has to be established early. I forgot, rookie mistake. So there I was, sitting awkwardly with my arms folded between two men for five hours.

I try to make the best of these situations, so I started joking around with the guy to my left and said something like, “At least everyone in this row seems normal.” He laughed, I laughed, he proceeded to fall asleep and I started counting the minutes to landing.

As we started descending into New York early in the morning, he woke up and we both joked about how we had somehow survived this overnight flight. Then he leaned toward me, nodded his head toward a Chasidic Jew sitting a few rows ahead of us, and whispered, “At least we weren’t stuck next to that guy.”

Almost instinctively I responded, “Nah, he’s probably a good guy.”

But after that comment, I suddenly found myself wrestling with a major decision: Do I take off my hat and show him I’m Jewish? Or do I just move on, avoid the awkwardness and forget about it?  After all, he was just making a joke! Or maybe he wasn't?

I decided to take off my hat, because this is who I am and I’m not running away from it.

As soon as the hat came off, his face dropped. He looked at me quietly and immediately said, “Sorry about that joke.”

I smiled and told him, “No problem.”

But I walked off that plane thinking about our students around the country, because they are forced into these kinds of moments every single day.

We’re no longer seeing the massive protests en masse the way we did right after October 7th. Instead, much of it has become quieter, subtler, and in many ways more painful. It’s the small comments people make, the articles casually shared on social media, the lies people have begun believing about our community, and the constant internal calculation so many Jews now face every day: do I say something, or is it easier to stay quiet and avoid the discomfort?

And it’s not just students. Executives, doctors, lawyers, and everyday Jews across the country are finding themselves in these moments constantly. Do they reveal they are Jewish? Do they wear the necklace or the yarmulke? Do they stand up for themselves and their community even if it creates awkwardness or tension? These are quiet but exhausting calculations that so many in our community are now forced to make every single day.

But I believe with all my heart that this is exactly the moment when we must stand taller as Jews, not smaller. Not angrier, but prouder, kinder, stronger, and more unapologetic about who we are.

At the Jewish Grad Organization, that’s what we are trying to build every single day on grad school campuses across North America: Jewish students who are proud of who they are, who feel less alone, and who know there is a Jewish community standing beside them.

And while I may continue losing armrest battles on overnight flights, one thing I'm not losing is my Jewish confidence.

Shabbat Shalom,

Dave