Belonging in an impossibly complex world

My grandmother, Bobbie Ester, was a resident at the former Montefiore Homes for the Aged in Ashwood in the 1980s. I remember visiting her there with my mother, where they’d converse in a mix of Yiddish and English. It was always the same conversation because of my grandmother’s dementia.

Ashwood never held fond memories for me because of that place. Yet precisely 20 years later I bought a house a stone’s throw from where my grandmother saw out her last years. At the time I recall there was an ageing swastika daubed on a nearby railway bridge, which I promptly got erased.

In 2021, a minute along the path from the residence where my grandmother lived, I stumbled across a freshly laid concrete path defaced with a series of swastikas, and alongside each of them the words “Kill Gays”. It was unnerving to see such a vengeful message. The City of Monash promptly filed down the concrete path to erase the visible signs of hate.

As a gay Jewish man I have become accustomed to antisemitism and homophobia. My earliest memories of this were at one primary school in the 1970s. I encountered a “Jew jump”, where a coin is thrown in the air and the person who catches it is called the Jew. I was also mercilessly bullied for perceived homosexuality.

Now in society it’s a weekly if not daily occurrence for me to hear of a hate crime against Jews and/or LGBTIQA+ people.