Have you ever wondered what it’s like to live in a world where great huge swaths of people hate you just on principle?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to simply be driving down the street and see lawn signs or people waving posters on the corner that actively advocate for the destruction of your people?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to feel unsafe wearing any jewelry or other garb that indicates your identity? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to need to make deliberate choices about what you wear in order to try to mitigate any potential harm that might come your way just based on your faith or cultural identity?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to need armed security at your place of worship? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to enter your place of worship and immediately scan the area upon entering to make sure you know of available exits, escape routes, and hiding places? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to weigh the pros and cons of being able to pray with being able to ensure you’ll stay alive?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever found yourself thinking you’d found a safe space in a world where it seems minorities and historically oppressed groups are finally getting more respect and validation, only to learn that you’re a vehement exception to that new rule?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever had to consider what your escape plan would be, whether you need to make sure your passports are up to date, where you would go or who you could trust to seek help from, who you would be able to trust your child with, in the event that “Never Again” happens again?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fight like hell to keep yourself from falling apart every single day, thinking about how you’re supposed to protect your little girl who’s just starting to understand who she is, in a world where billions of people want her dead just because of who she is?

Ask a Jew.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to stand at the border of a war-torn country, screaming your child’s name out across the desert in the hope that maybe, just maybe, he might hear you from the tunnel where he’s been held hostage by terrorists for nearly a year, taken away for being the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to scream for your child who’s been ripped away from you, not knowing if he’s alive or dead, not knowing that even while you’re calling for him to stay strong and survive and come home, the terrorists are brutally executing him? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to find out your child has been murdered, and then to have most of the world not mourn with you, oh no, not offer condolences, but either celebrate or ignore his murder? Do you have any idea of the depths of that kind of pain that a mother will carry every minute of every day for the rest of her life?

Ask Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s mother.