Just two nights ago, I was three minutes away from where two young Israeli diplomats were murdered in Washington, D.C.
Their names were Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim. They worked at the Israeli Embassy. They were young. In love. Planning to get engaged next week. And now they’re dead — murdered in cold blood just for being Jewish, just for being Israeli.
I’m 15 years old. I’m a proud Jewish teen and an outspoken Israel activist. And I am completely shaken.
I can’t stop thinking about the timing. I walked near that same place — only 48 hours earlier. I could have passed them. I could have been there. Any of us could have. This wasn’t just “somewhere else.” This was right here. This was real.
And it was a hate crime. Let’s not sugarcoat it. This was a terrorist act, right in the capital of the United States. Someone hunted down Jews — young diplomats who represented peace, dialogue, and diplomacy — and murdered them. There’s no “gray area” here. There’s no context that makes it okay to target innocent people simply for who they are.
This is what antisemitism looks like in 2025. This is what it feels like to be Jewish today — and especially to be a Jewish teen speaking up for Israel. It’s not just about hate online. It’s not just words. It’s bullets. Blood. Fear.
Yaron and Sarah were just like so many people I look up to. They believed in their country, worked hard to represent it overseas, and loved each other deeply. I saw photos of them smiling in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Just days ago. Now I’m seeing photos of the crime scene. It doesn’t feel real — but it is. And the pain cuts deep.
When I tell people I’m an Israel activist, I usually get two reactions. Some people say “good for you.” Others ask, “Isn’t that dangerous right now?” I never thought I’d have to seriously consider that question. I never thought being pro-Israel could be a safety risk in America.
But here we are.
Last night, I found myself reading about Jews being murdered in D.C. — not in 1940s Europe, not in the Middle East, but here.
Jewish teens like me are being forced to grow up way too fast. We’re having to explain to our friends what antisemitism is. We’re watching our communities beef up synagogue security. We’re wondering if that Instagram post we make about Israel will get us targeted.
But even with all this fear, I won’t stay silent.
Sarah and Yaron lived proudly as Israelis and Jews. I will too. They believed in a future worth building. I do too. And I believe that our generation — my generation — can still change things, if we refuse to let hate win.
To the leaders of this country: Where is the outrage? Where is the empathy? Would this be headline news if the victims weren’t Jewish? We need you to speak clearly — this was a hate crime. This was terrorism. And it cannot be tolerated.
To the Jewish community: We are not alone. We are not powerless. We are not victims — even if we are being targeted. Our resilience has lasted thousands of years. And it will carry us forward now, too.
To Yaron and Sarah: I didn’t know you personally, but I feel like I did. You were young and full of life. You represented the future. I will remember your names. I will honor your lives — by continuing to speak out, by living proudly as a Jew, and by never giving in to fear.
This tragedy could have broken me. But instead, it’s lit a fire in me. I’m A Jewish Teen. And I’m not backing down.
