Praying for peace at 16: It will be 2 years till I'm heard at the ballot box

I'm so sick of wondering. I'm so sick of pouring my heart and soul into an idea that at times seems fictional, when I'm focused on my friends, my family, and trying to keep myself on track to reach my goals.

God isn't paying attention to my GPA. God isn't paying attention to my petty drama. But I want to believe that God is paying attention when I'm praying.

I pray for relatives who are suffering from disease. I pray for hope to return to the hearts of those who mourn.

And I pray when I'm hiding in a closet during a school lockdown. The lights are shut off, and the room is silenced, and 4,000 thoughts are spinning through my head -- and I'm sitting there, praying that my parents will not have to bury me.

I pray for peace.

But I've been here before and I've prayed. When praying didn't work, I walked out of school. When walking out didn't work, I spoke up. When speaking up didn't work, I sang. When singing didn't work, I marched the streets of Atlanta with thousands of others.

But violence and hate persist, no matter how hard I try to advocate and post and speak up against violence and anti-Semitism.

I am still 16, so my prayers can't be channeled into votes. My advocacy goes unseen because I'm too young to be taken seriously.

And I'm upset.

I go to school and temple and the movies and concerts, but I have absolutely no say in whether I will be kept safe. I don't have a vote.

And praying, walking out, speaking up, singing and marching make no impact.

I'm 16 and I feel powerless.

Why schools? Why a synagogue? They're the two places I'm most connected to, where we're supposed to find comfort and safety. But not all the security in the world can keep me safe from hate.

Having completed projects on the Holocaust, learned about the bombing of my temple during the Civil Rights Movement, and visited Israel, I was convinced that we were moving away from anti-Semitism.

We are convinced that when our friends or peers make offensive comments that we can't always say something. They tell us we're "too sensitive." They say, "You're overreacting" ... "It was just a joke" ... "I didn't mean it that way."

And we tell ourselves, "It's fine. They're just ignorant."

But ignorance plus fear equals hate.

We can't brush it off.

We can't rely on people to come their senses.

We can't let ignorance destroy us.

Not one of us alone can end anti-Semitism. But we educate with every action we take, every time we make it clear that ignorance is not acceptable. With every small step, we move closer to ending anti-Semitism.

So I will continue to pray for peace, and for the strength to fight for it. I will continue to march, and sing, and stand up to injustice.

And in a couple of years, I will vote.

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