‘I’m an autistic, non-Jewish antisemitism warrior’

It was at school that my eyes were first opened to the injustice of antisemitism. I went to a secondary school in east London, where 40 per cent of the pupils were from the Bengali Muslim diaspora. When my classmates found out my middle name was Zenon – after my Polish grandfather – they started a hate campaign against me. Even though I have no Jewish blood, they accused me of being a “closet Jew”. The bullying escalated, spreading to the whole school. The teachers and headteacher didn’t protect me; in fact, they favoured the bullies.

One of the worst incidents occurred when I borrowed my nan’s copy of The Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank and brought it to school. I was reading it quietly in an empty classroom when a teacher came in and angrily told me to put it away. I was so confused and asked, “Why are you angry with me for reading Anne Frank?” Instead of answering, he shouted in my face and threatened to throw the book in the bin. Another time, I was drawing the Israeli flag for a geography project, when a teacher snatched it from me, and told me not to do that again. No one ever explained why these things were happening to me. It wasn’t until years later that I understood that despite not being Jewish, I’d been the victim of antisemitism.

With the Iranian activist who goes by pseudonym Lily Moo[Missing Credit]

But I was very used to being bullied. I had been diagnosed with autism when I was nine and a half years old. I have a classic Asperger’s syndrome diagnosis, which means I have an obsessive attachment to certain things and struggle to communicate and interact with people, or read social cues. Growing up, my autism made me a target, and I didn’t properly learn to socialise until I was in my late teens.

Long an avid politics geek, my political activism began in the lead up to the general election in 2015. I became involved in campaigning with my local Conservative Party and I started to comment on news stories on social media. Meanwhile, I was reading a lot about autism, and I was surprised how under-represented neurodiversity was in politics.

I know what it is like to be targeted for who you are and I refuse to stand by while others face the same

I also began to read about how much Jewish people have done for autism and disability civil rights. Within the book, NeuroTribes, by Steve Silberman, I found many fascinating connections between Jewish people and neurodiversity. I learnt about figures such as Dr Ludwig Guttmann, a German Jewish refugee who founded the Paralympic Games, and Leo Kanner, a Jewish psychologist who was among the first to diagnose autism. These stories inspired me. Later, I also discovered that in some sections of Israeli society, autistic people are seen as the closest beings to God, and some Jewish traditions view neurodiverse individuals as possessing high souls. That inclusion and respect made me feel connected to Jewish culture.

Viewing the 1947 film Gentleman’s Agreement for the first time helped me make sense of everything I’d been through. In it, Gregory Peck plays a journalist who assumes a Jewish identity to write about antisemitism. Through his experiences, he learns about the prejudice Jewish people face, and it opens his eyes.

Watching that film, I saw my own school years reflected back at me. As a child, I’d struggled to stand up to the bullies and sometimes I hated myself for not doing anything. Now I see I was just a kid then and didn’t have the tools to fight back. But, as an adult, I realised I had a duty to stand up against antisemitism because I’ve lived it, even if I’m not Jewish myself. And that sense of duty drove me to become an activist against antisemitism. I went on social media and started going on marches against antisemitism. There, I made Jewish friends and I felt a deep sense of solidarity with them.

When October 7 happened, I went into what we autistic people call shutdown. I felt traumatised, even though I had no familial connections to Israel, just a spiritual bond. The massacre was shocking but the public response to it in the West was even more disturbing. It pulled me out of shutdown and redirected my entire autism advocacy into a force to defend Israel and Jewish people. I founded a neurodivergent Zionist movement, started writing articles for The Times of Israel, and joined support groups Stop the Hate and Campaign for Christian Action, where I’ve made lasting connections with people who share my passion for justice.

It hasn’t always been easy. I’ve faced a lot of hostility on social media, and I’ve even been ostracised by some in the autism advocacy community. I’ve seen people spread lies about Jews harvesting organs from disabled Palestinian children, and worse. It’s shocking, but I won’t stay silent.

My family doesn’t take much of an interest in my political activities, and we don’t always see eye to eye. Some people have distanced themselves from me because of my outspoken support for Israel, and I’ve lost some friends along the way. But I’ve also gained so much. I’ve built a network of friends and allies within the Jewish community who have embraced me as an advocate. Their support means everything to me, and I am blessed with their grace for autistic people. I’ve found creative ways to express my activism, too. I’ve designed banners, T-shirts and badges that celebrate Jewish pride and neurodiversity.

With Arab and Israeli activist Yoseph Haddad[Missing Credit]

One of my T-shirts says: “I’m autistic, but I’m not a Jew; I’m a neurodivergent Zionist and a proud friend of Jews.” Another says, “Jewish Neurotribes,” featuring the Star of David intertwined with an infinity symbol. These designs have been well-received, and I’m working on turning them into a small business called NeuroZion. It’s a way to combine my advocacy with my creativity, and make it sustainable.

Currently, I’m working on ideas for a podcast to educate people about autism, Judaism, and the connections between them. I’ve also joined OCT7, a group dedicated to combating anti-Israel propaganda and supporting Jewish advocacy. We gather and share content online to counter misinformation and stand up for Israel’s survival.

You could say that for me, fighting antisemitism has become a type of autistic obsession. I know what it’s like to be targeted for who you are, and I refuse to stand by while others face the same.”

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Keeble’s instagram is: @ac_keeble

As told to Hilary Freeman