Inherent to understanding fashion is understanding people: politics, economics, power and the historical cycles we unknowingly repeat. Style has always responded to crisis, conflict and cultural anxiety. When Jewish students began wearing visible symbols of identity after Oct. 7, I didn’t see a trend, I saw communication.
Rutgers has one of the largest Jewish student populations in the country and these symbols act as more than just jewelry. They are a response to an increasingly hostile world.
To be Zionist and proud isn’t just something you casually mention on a college application. Wearing a Magen David to class isn’t neutral; it changes how you’re seen, which professors feel safe to approach and which classmates see you as a potential ally or adversary.
An Israel charm on a backpack becomes a marker of belonging, a way Jewish students recognize one another without speaking. Chains, earrings, pins, charms, pendants; it’s a kippah without being a kippah. It’s solidarity without words. On a macro scale, in a place full of competing identities, it’s a way of proudly representing heritage, culture, identity and connection.
Hamsa pendants, Israel-shaped charms of Israel’s post-1967 borders and Magen David necklaces were everywhere. On buses, in classrooms, hanging off backpacks. These weren’t trend-driven accessories. They were statements of solidarity and belonging.
For so long, Jews have woven in and out of visually expressing their Judaism. It’s like flipping through a history book and watching a stop motion cycle of a Jew taking his kippah on and off, over and over.
Early 1900s Western Europe, the height of Jewish acceptance through Enlightenment ideals show you’re Jewish, assimilated, urban, embedded in cultural and economic life. Jews are writing, painting, actively combating systemic antisemitism rather than solely concerned with surviving each day and developing Zionism as a tangible future based on an ancient dream.
Early 2000s: show it again. Hanukkah specials on television, bagels and lox go mainstream,
“Happy Holidays” replaces “Merry Christmas” and Jewish life in the West feels safe, even optimistic.
Late 2010s France: hide it again. Jews are attacked on the streets and in public transit. French Jews again leave in droves for Israel as antisemitic violence becomes impossible to ignore.
As the horseshoe of antisemitism evolves in the modern day, the newest labels slapped onto Jews are “white supremacist,” “racist” or “Nazi.” These accusations collapse Jewish identity and our universal desire for self-determination into a caricature, falsely asserting that the desire for a Jewish homeland is inherently rooted in domination or oppression. In doing so, they flatten a community defined by nuance into something rigid and morally simplistic.
That is precisely why visible forms of Jewish and Zionist expression matter. Necklaces, stickers and T-shirts are not owned by any individual or movement. They can be worn by left-wing activists and right-wing traditionalists, by socialists and capitalists, by people who support the current Israeli government and those who protest it. These symbols hold space for contradiction. They insist that Jewish identity and Zionism are not monoliths and they reject the idea that only the “good Jews,” who reject their history for the sake of social acceptance, are allowed to belong.
What this shift has shown me is that what we wear and how we present ourselves isn’t shallow. It’s communication, it’s culture and most importantly, it’s power. Your necklace, your keychain, the stickers on your laptop, even the accounts you follow on Instagram, are all pieces of how you express and declare who you are.
So wear the necklace, follow the account, attend the Jewish events and show the Israel sweater you bought on Birthright. Demand that student cultural centers give space for you to celebrate Jewish culture.
Your visibility can create connections and challenge assumptions. Being seen as Jewish and Zionist is not just about pride; it is about showing that your identity matters and that erasure is not an option.
This article was originally published in the Jewish Link.
