I never imagined I would live in a time when, as a Jew, I would feel more comfortable openly expressing my Jewish identity in Abu Dhabi than I do in the United States.
Yet that is exactly what I experienced this past week while attending the Dialogue of Civilizations and Tolerance Conference in Abu Dhabi.
Over the course of several days, I met men and women from across the Middle East and beyond. Many were Arab Muslims, Christians, and members of other minority communities. We came from different countries, cultures, faiths, and backgrounds. Yet despite our differences, we shared a common goal, to better understand one another and to build a more peaceful future.
We had open and honest conversations about some of the most difficult issues facing our world today -- the war between Israel and Iran, rising antisemitism, religious intolerance, extremism, and the growing challenge of misinformation. These were not easy conversations, nor were they conversations in which everyone agreed. But they were conversations rooted in something that has become increasingly rare, a genuine desire to listen.
As an Iranian woman, a Jew, and a survivor of the October 7th massacre at the Nova Music Festival, the conference felt like a breath of fresh air. It reminded me that despite the hatred that dominates headlines and social media feeds, there are countless people working every day to build bridges rather than burn them.
One of the major themes discussed throughout the conference was the battle between truth and misinformation. In today's digital age, narratives often spread faster than facts. Complex conflicts are reduced to slogans. Human beings are reduced to stereotypes. And too often, people form opinions about one another without ever having a real conversation.
While I was in Abu Dhabi, I found myself reflecting on the contrast between the atmosphere at the conference and what I have increasingly witnessed back home in the United States.
At first, I found the contrast ironic. Here were people who have been directly affected by war, terrorism, displacement, and political instability coming together to promote dialogue, understanding, and coexistence. Meanwhile, many people thousands of miles away -- particularly on college campuses and city streets in America, seem determined to deepen divisions and amplify hostility.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was not ironic at all.
It simply reinforced something I have believed for a long time: hatred often thrives where knowledge is absent.
When people know one another personally, when they hear each other's stories, when they understand each other's pain, it becomes much harder to demonize one another. Ignorance creates space for hatred. Human connection leaves less room for it.
One moment from the conference will stay with me forever.
On the first evening, I spoke at a dinner about my experience as an Iranian Jew and as a survivor of October 7th. I shared what I witnessed that day and how my life has changed since.
After I finished speaking, people began approaching me throughout the evening. Every few minutes, someone new would come over. Many simply wanted to hug me. Others thanked me for sharing my story. Some told me how sorry they were for what I had endured. Others said they were grateful that I was there and honored to meet me.
These individuals came from all over the region, Lebanon, Kurdistan, the United Arab Emirates, and beyond.
The compassion they showed me brought tears to my eyes.
For years, many in the West have been taught to view the Middle East through a simplistic lens of endless division and conflict. Yet here I was, surrounded by Muslims, Christians, Jews, and people of many different backgrounds who were choosing empathy over hostility and dialogue over division.
The experience reminded me of something important: the loudest voices are not always the most representative.
The hatred that dominates social media can make it feel as though the world is becoming more polarized by the day. But beneath the noise, there are still people committed to coexistence. There are still people willing to listen. There are still people who believe that our differences should be a source of learning rather than fear.
I left Abu Dhabi feeling something I have not felt in a long time, hope.
Hope that the future does not belong to extremists.
Hope that dialogue can still triumph over division.
And hope that if more people chose conversation over slogans and curiosity over condemnation, we might discover that we have far more in common than we have been led to believe.
The writer is a Public Affairs Officer for the Combat Antisemitism Movement (CAM) and a survivor of the Nova music festival massacre on October 7th.