Milan's Jewish woman describes what it's like to be Jewish amid rising antisemitism - interview

At first glance, Dalia Gubbay - Vice President of the Jewish Community of Milan - exudes strength and uncompromising leadership. She stands at the forefront of public advocacy, defending educational institutions, maintaining ongoing ties with government offices and the local media, and proudly upholding the right of Italian Jews to live in safety and support Israel.

Yet beneath the official role and public determination, another voice speaks - personal, trembling, and pained: the voice of a mother anxious about her children's future in a reality that has changed beyond recognition.

In a meeting held with this writer - alongside Italian-Israeli architect Yechiel Tsubari - she explains: "I am a mother, I am Italian, and I am Jewish."

"Why do our children have to go to school every day under heavy police escort?" she asked. "I have many non-Jewish friends, and when I tell them that we have round-the-clock security, they find it inconceivable."

"Even at the synagogue, after prayers, we can’t just stand outside and calmly wish each other 'Shabbat Shalom' or 'Happy Holiday' - the police immediately urge us on: 'Come on, disperse, move along.' We don’t want to live like this forever, but we can’t do without security," she added.

A Mother’s personal anxiety

This fear is not merely theoretical. Gubai experienced it firsthand recently when her son was involved in an antisemitic incident during a Bnei Akiva summer camp in Bulgaria. "At first, I didn't fully grasp what was happening. My son tried to calm me down, but when I understood the full picture, my heart simply broke. Have we reached a point where we are afraid to send our children to Jewish youth activities abroad? That is something we cannot accept."

The dilemma also deeply affects daily life and the home environment. Gubai has an 18-year-old daughter - an ardent Zionist - who is currently in her final year of studies before university. "She came to me in tears and said, 'Mom, I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to stay here, but I can't imagine going to university and hiding the fact that I'm Jewish. And on the other hand, if I say I'm Jewish - what will happen to me?' Seeing a young girl grappling with such a dilemma - having to choose between her identity and her personal safety - is heartbreaking."

Despite the anxiety, Gubbay herself refuses to bow her head. "I wear a Star of David on my finger and around my neck. My mother begs me: 'Please, don't walk down the street like that; it's dangerous.' But I’m not willing to take it off. I do tell my children to be careful - not to walk around with a visible kippah or tzitzit, but to wear a hat instead. As parents, we live under a constant cloud of worry."

The Jewish Community on the front lines: Schools, streets, and protests

The Milanese Jewish community numbers around 7,000 people - a rich mosaic of backgrounds and origins, including Jews from Tripoli, Iran, Lebanon, and Egypt, as well as long-established Italian Jews, spread across some 20 synagogues and three community schools. Since the events of October 7, that peaceful routine has been shattered.

Gubbay describes a reality of pervasive incitement, particularly within the education system and academia. She points to groups of teachers who have organized online - under names like "Docenti per Gaza" (Teachers for Gaza) - and attempted to turn the first day of the school year in public schools into a platform for one-sided protest. "We have an excellent relationship with Education Minister Giuseppe Valditara, who makes genuine efforts to investigate complaints and dispatch inspectors; however, it is extremely difficult to monitor every school and classroom across Italy. These one-sided messages are seeping in everywhere."

One of the most harrowing moments for her occurred on April 25th - Liberation Day, marking Italy’s freedom from Nazism and Fascism. "We were there marching with banners of the 'Jewish Brigade' (Brigata Ebraica) - the very people who fought and shed their blood for Italy's liberation. Yet, protesters simply shouted at us: 'Get out of here; we don't want Jews here.' I stood there in total shock. I was born in Milan; this is my city. The police came and told us to leave, fearing for our safety. It felt as though we had been thrust back into the 1930s."

A war on two fronts

As the upcoming High Holy Days approach, the alert level is being raised. The community is coordinating both visible and covert security measures with the local police. Yet, despite the deep concern, Gubbay makes it clear that Milan’s Jews will not lock themselves away in their homes.

"We will not be afraid, nor will we stay at home. We will go to synagogues, celebrate with pride, and gather together. It is very important to me that the public in Israel knows: we, too, are waging a kind of war here," she said.

"True, it is not the same war, and people are not being killed here as they are in Israel, but we are fighting every day for our identity, for our right to support Israel, and for our children's future," she added.

"Since October 7th, I have already visited Israel eleven times. Our bond with the country runs deep in our souls, and despite the social costs and the fears that accompany us as mothers and leaders, we will not give up."