The masks we choose, and those we don’t

For Jews, concealment isn’t just theatrical, but strategic as well

Even more telling is what happens when we move on from religious practice, which usually takes place within the community or one’s private household, and ask instead about everyday visibility. When respondents were asked how confident they feel in openly displaying Jewish symbols, we found that nearly three in ten (29%) rate themselves at the lower end of a 0-10 scale – scoring between 0 and 3 – indicating very low confidence in displaying their Jewishness. At the other end, just a quarter (25%) expressed high confidence, rating themselves 8 to 10.

For much of modern Jewish history, concealment has not been theatrical but strategic. Names were changed. Clothing was adapted. Accents were softened. The instinct to blend in has often been a survival mechanism. In other words, visible Jewishness hasn’t always been a neutral act. For significant parts of our community, it carried risk, hesitation or calculation.

The JPR findings suggest that, for some British Jews, this instinct has not disappeared. It may manifest in small decisions: whether to wear a Magen David necklace outside a shirt, whether to post a Jewish-themed message online, or whether to mention Israel in a workplace conversation. None of these is a dramatic act. But collectively, they amount to a negotiation of identity.

Jewish visibility is shaped not only by external pressures but also by internal anchoring.

That negotiation is not uniform. The data show variation by age, denomination and level of communal connection. Those more embedded in Jewish life – through synagogue affiliation or stronger religious identification – often report higher confidence. This suggests that visibility is shaped not only by external pressures but also by internal anchoring. The stronger one’s Jewish networks and levels of religiosity and observance, the less alone one may feel in displaying Jewishness.

Purim, however, is not only about concealment. It is also about reversal: overcoming a threat. Masks are worn not because Jewish identity needs to be erased, but because it is secure enough, even for a moment, to be played with. There is a profound difference between choosing to hide and feeling compelled to do so.

On Purim, we choose the mask. We exaggerate identity rather than suppress it. We parade through the streets in costume. Children march in community celebrations dressed as Queen Esther or Mordechai. The very visibility of Jewishness becomes part of the celebration.

Perhaps that is why Purim might feel particularly powerful this year. It allows us to experience public Jewishness not as risk but as joy. It can remind us that concealment is not the whole story. Esther changes the fate of her Jewish community not because she had hidden her identity, but because she ultimately stepped forward.

The data tell us that most British Jews still feel able to practise freely. That is something to cherish and protect. But the figures also tell us that a significant minority feels uncertain about being visibly Jewish. That reality demands attention – from policymakers, from communal leaders, from within the Jewish community, and from wider society. A society in which Jews feel able to celebrate Purim loudly, colourfully and without hesitation is a society that is working.

The masks we wear on Purim are a choice. The challenge for the rest of the year is to ensure that they stay that way.