When I was 13, I was in the hallway of my middle school talking with two friends. One of the girls told me that she overheard a classmate tell a really bad joke. I will not repeat it for sake of not letting anti-semiticism win, but it involved jews in ovens. I remember being dumbfounded when I heard the girl re-tell the joke. I stopped in my tracks and remember the feeling of rage overcome me. I asked the girl why didn't she say anything to the guy or to the people who laughed at the joke. She was scared to confront him. I wish I had the hutzpah to confront the joke teller, but I vowed that I would never speak to that person ever again, and I never did. I wish I went and said something, but the lesson I got out that experience was a strong one: that anti-semiticism was real. Ever since then, if I hear anything remotely anti-semitic, I call people out on their hatred speech.