Reflections of a Father on the World His Daughter Will Grow Up In—
To regular readers of this blog, this post may feel different from the rest. Some may read it as political, even though that is not my intention. This is not an ideological essay, nor an attempt to persuade anyone of a particular worldview. It is, quite simply, the thoughts of a concerned father.
My daughter, Sara, is four months old. And ever since she was born, my thoughts have been reaching far beyond the present moment. I find myself wondering what kind of world she will grow up in, what her life might look like twenty or thirty years from now. Unfortunately, every time I try to imagine that future, the picture that forms is unsettling.
A Father Looking Ahead
I never imagined that in the 21st century, antisemitism would still be so visible, so open, and in some places, so unapologetic. The world I thought I understood seems to be changing rapidly, and not always for the better. Voices of hatred, denial, and incitement toward Jews — and toward Israel — have grown louder and more normalized.
There are moments when it feels as though there is no place in the world that is truly safe anymore. Even optimism now requires conscious effort. As a father to a young daughter, I find it increasingly difficult to ignore these realities or push them aside.
A World That Feels Less Safe
What troubles me most is the sense that hatred is no longer confined to the fringes. It often appears to be moving closer to the mainstream, becoming part of everyday discourse. Support for Israel feels quieter, more hesitant, while other narratives dominate public conversation.
And so I ask myself: what will this mean for my daughter? How will she navigate a world that may judge her before she even speaks, simply because of who she is? The idea that she may grow up carrying a burden she never chose is deeply unsettling to me as a father.
Closer to Home
As if global uncertainty weren’t enough, there is also what happens closer to home — within our own societies. Divisions seem sharper. Conversations harsher. We appear to be losing the ability to see one another first as human beings.
It is painful to realize that prejudice and exclusion can exist not only externally, but internally as well. When identity, heritage, or background become reasons to treat someone as less deserving of belonging, something fundamental has gone wrong. As a parent, this shakes me deeply.
My daughter will grow up here. And I ask myself how I can promise her a sense of safety and belonging if the society around her struggles to provide those things even to itself. How do we raise children in a world where hostility is not only directed outward, but inward — between people who should be standing together?
For the Sake of Our Children
Yes, we are different. Cultures, traditions, perspectives. But surely there is still enough common ground to build upon. Must our children grow up in an atmosphere of constant tension, suspicion, and division?
I sometimes wonder what the founders and visionaries of past generations would think if they saw where we are today — societies created to be safe havens, yet still wrestling with old forms of hatred in new shapes.
I believe it is not too late. We can choose a different path. Not through political labels or ideological camps, but through a shared responsibility for the future of our children.
There are enough forces in the world that wish us harm. We do not need to become one of them to each other. History has shown, again and again, where baseless hatred can lead. Every parent wants a better future for their children. That future depends, in large part, on us.
This post is shorter than most because it was not easy to write. Thinking about the future of a child in such an uncertain world is heavy. But it felt important to put these thoughts into words.
Let’s stop the slide now. Without excuses.
We are one people — whether we choose that reality or not. And like any family, we may disagree, but we must learn to live together.
For the sake of our children.
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Read Next
If you’d like to read more about Sara and our life together, here are two more posts you might enjoy:
Beyond the Blog
Alongside this blog, I also give talks about late fatherhood, surrogacy, and the emotional journey of becoming a parent later in life.
Sara and Me 
This post really moved me. It’s not just a father’s worry — it’s a deeply human reflection on what kind of world we’re shaping for the next generation. I appreciate that you didn’t approach it as a political argument, but as genuine concern from the heart. The honesty with which you write about your fears and hopes for Sara’s future is both poignant and thought-provoking.
I found the way you acknowledge the complexity of today’s world — rising hatred and social division — very relatable, even beyond specific identities or nationalities. The emphasis on empathy, shared responsibility, and teaching our children to see each other as humans first is powerful and important.
The tone — vulnerable but hopeful — makes this short piece feel meaningful without being overwhelming. It’s the kind of post that stays with you and encourages reflection about not just the world our kids will inherit, but the role each of us plays in shaping it.
Thank you for writing something so thoughtful and sincere.
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What struck me most about this post is how quietly unsettling it is. Lines like “I look at my daughter and wonder what kind of world will be waiting for her” don’t try to shock — they linger. The strength of this piece lies in its restraint. You don’t shout, accuse, or preach; instead, you let the unease speak for itself.
I especially appreciated the way you frame fear not as panic, but as responsibility. When you write about “the normalization of hatred and division”, it feels less like commentary and more like a parent taking stock of reality — reluctantly, but honestly.
There’s also something powerful in the way the post avoids offering easy solutions. The absence of answers mirrors the uncertainty you describe, and that makes the reflection feel authentic rather than performative. As a reader, I didn’t feel pushed toward a conclusion; I felt invited to sit with the discomfort.
This is not a comforting post — and that’s exactly why it works. It captures a very modern parental anxiety with clarity and dignity, and it stayed with me long after I finished reading.
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I didn’t expect this post to hit me the way it did. It’s short, but it feels heavy — not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s honest. The sentence “Becoming a parent forces you to think beyond your own lifetime” really sums it up for me. That shift in perspective is something many people don’t talk about openly.
What I liked most is that you don’t pretend to have clarity or certainty. You’re not saying “this is what the world is” — you’re saying “this is what worries me.” That distinction matters. It makes the post feel grounded, not alarmist.
As someone who isn’t a parent yet, I found it especially interesting. It gave me a glimpse into a kind of fear that isn’t about immediate danger, but about values, direction, and the long term. It made me pause and think — and that’s not something every blog post manages to do.
Quiet, thoughtful, and unsettling in a good way.
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