Maia Roston

When I read the headline – 'two people stabbed in Golders Green' – my initial reaction was not one of shock. It was the grim recognition that something which should be unthinkable no longer is. Just hours ago, a man armed with a knife was seen running through the high street, targeting Jewish people in the area. Shomrim, the Jewish community security organisation, responded immediately and detained a suspect before police arrived and made an arrest. The victims are being treated by Hatzola, the same organisation whose ambulances were set on fire across the road from today's incident just last month. In parliament, Keir Starmer described the attack as 'deeply concerning'. This is not deeply concerning. This is an outrage.

Four ambulances were set on fire in Golders Green in the early hours of the morning yesterday. They were not police vehicles or abandoned cars but emergency vehicles belonging to a Jewish volunteer ambulance service, parked near a synagogue and deliberately targeted. What is changing is not just the frequency of these incidents, but the atmosphere around them. There is a growing willingness to excuse, downplay or contextualise hostility towards Jews in a way that would be unthinkable for other groups. The result is a quiet normalisation, where anti-Semitism is not always overtly endorsed but increasingly tolerated, explained away, or allowed to pass without consequence.

My great-grandmother Netty died in June 2005, aged 99. I was four. That evening, my grandmother called us grandchildren into her living room and opened what looked like a small treasure chest. Out spilled her sparkling jewels. 'Take whatever you want,' she said. 'She’d have wanted you to have them.' I grabbed three things: a pair of glittering earrings, a silver bracelet and a gold Star of David encircled by a delicate band touching each of the star’s points. At four, I only cared for the earrings. The rest I tucked away for ‘less special’ occasions.  At 16, I found the star again, hidden in my jewellery box. Remembering my great-grandmother Netty, it felt significant – almost necessary that this should become my new necklace, my staple piece.