Growing Up Jewish in Berlin: Saraโs Fear of Speaking Hebrew in Public
In a quiet residential neighborhood in East Berlin, 11-year-old Sara lives with a fear that no child should have to carry. Artificial cobwebs from Halloween still hang on hedges, plastic pumpkins grin from doorsteps, but for Sara, the real fright is not from ghosts and ghoulsโitโs from speaking Hebrew outside her home.
In the German city of Wuppertal, where history carries deep scars of Jewish suffering, Leonid Goldberg, head of the local Jewish communityโฆ
Sara, whose name has been changed for her safety, is a sixth-grader with dark curls that bounce as she moves. Like many children her age, she enjoys dressing upโthis year, she went door to door on Halloween as "Wednesday" from The Addams Family. But unlike most of her classmates, Sara carries a deep anxiety with her every day.
"I'm afraid to speak Hebrew when I leave home because I fear someone will hearโand then yell at or attack me," she says, fidgeting with the sleeves of her striped shirt.
Her mother sits beside her at their large dining table, placing a gentle hand on Saraโs bouncing leg as she speaks. The fear is real, and it lingers in their home like an uninvited guest.
A Childhood Marked by Fear
Sara was born in Israel, where she spent her early childhood in a country accustomed to war. Air-raid sirens were a part of life. โWhen there were sirens and Sara started screaming, we would pull her out of bed,โ her mother recalls.
It was precisely this kind of fear that her parents wanted to leave behind when they moved to Germany. โAs a teenager in Israel, you live in fear that someone will blow up the bus on the way to school,โ her mother explains. Wanting their children to grow up in a safer environment, they chose Berlin as their new home.
For years, the family felt secure. But after the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7, tensions in Germany have risen dramatically. Anti-Semitic incidents have surged, pro-Palestinian protests have become heated, and Jewish families like Saraโs are feeling increasingly vulnerable.
The Fear of Being Recognized
Sara used to speak Hebrew with her parents during her subway ride to school. Now, they only speak German in public. She still calls them every morning as she commutes, but the familiar comfort of their native tongue has been silenced by fear.
Even in her dreams, this fear follows her.
"Yes, I sometimes have nightmares," she says hesitantly.
What kind of nightmares?
"That I speak to my mother in Hebrew and then someone starts insulting me or something."
For Sara, Germany was supposed to be a place of refuge, a place where she could feel safer than in Israel. Instead, she now finds herself in a different kind of fearโone that exists in whispers, sideways glances, and the quiet self-censorship of her own identity.
A Divided Life
One of the hardest things for Sara is being away from her extended family. โIt just sucks that my family is in Israel,โ she says bluntly.
Her uncle, her motherโs brother, volunteered for the Israeli army and is now stationed near the Gaza Strip. The family had planned their annual visit to Israel over the holidays, but with the war, theyโve canceled their trip.
At school, things feel normalโfor now.
"Thereโs no one there who I'm afraid of," she says. Her teacher briefly mentioned the war once, but it hasnโt been a major topic in class.
Her closest friends are Muslim girls, and so far, their friendship remains unaffected. โFortunately, the war against Hamas and the protests in Berlin havenโt been an issue between our families,โ her mother says.
But when classmates ask Sara about the situation in Israel, she chooses the safest answer:
"I donโt know."
A Childhood That Should Be Free
Sara is only 11 years old. She should be worrying about homework, friends, and what to wear for the next Halloweenโnot about whether itโs safe to speak her native language in public.
For Jewish families in Germany, the fear of anti-Semitism has become an ever-present reality. And for Sara, that reality is shaping the way she moves through the world, even in the city she calls home.
