We Are Not All Highly Educated and Living in Amsterdam

The media often portrays Dutch Jews as highly educated and based in the Randstad, but this image excludes many. From MBO professionals to those struggling with financial barriers, the diversity of the Dutch Jewish community is far greater than what is typically represented. This article explores the experiences of Jews outside the mainstream narrative—those with different educational backgrounds, regional identities, and personal challenges. It’s time to broaden the conversation and recognize the full spectrum of Jewish life in the Netherlands. This is Esther’s plea in this commentary on the Jewish Manifesto.

Two years ago, just after I had a baby, I was watching Coen Verbraak’s program about Jews in the Netherlands and Israel. I quickly noticed something that I always notice. Most of the people featured came from the Randstad, were highly educated, and secular (yes, there were exceptions).

It fits neatly into a pattern—like the new book about the second generation by Saskia Goldschmidt, in which most of the interviewees were born and raised in Amsterdam and/or Amstelveen and are highly educated. Or TV series where Jews are portrayed as rich and privileged (such as Bloedverwanten, Divorce, and the film Alleen maar nette mensen).

But that is not the reality for all Dutch Jews. 

Due to an invisible disability, I was unable to complete my studies and eventually found my way into a job in vocational education (MBO). This often makes me feel lonely as a Dutch Jew, and this experience is not unique.

Why the interrogations?

I still remember my first time entering an Amsterdam synagogue as a newly observant (Ba’alat Teshuva) Jew. I was subjected to nearly half an hour of interrogation by Bij Leven en Welzijn because they didn’t know me and I spoke with an accent. This has never happened to me anywhere else in the world. In Manchester, London, Antwerp, and Vienna, I can simply walk into a synagogue. At most, they might ask me what holiday it is or the difference between Kaddish and Kiddush.

After the interrogation, I noticed business cards everywhere—lawyers, psychotherapists—and during Kiddush, people made a point of mentioning their professional titles. And it’s not specific to this synagogue; Jewish media and the NIW (Nieuw Israëlitisch Weekblad) also mostly feature highly educated Jews from the Randstad.

Why such narrow images of Jews?

I can already hear people thinking: “Yes, but Esther, there’s nothing wrong with being successful. We’re just smarter than the rest—look at all the Jewish Nobel Prize winners.” I’ve always found this argument strange. I understand the desire to present ourselves as accomplished, especially after the war, and success is often (wrongly) equated with academic achievement. But isn’t it far more important for someone to be happy? To grow into a good and decent person?

As an MBO teacher with a disability, it pains me that both the media and Jewish communities themselves primarily highlight and amplify this narrow image of Jewish identity.

This isn’t just about visibility—it’s about belonging

And it’s simply not true. If I look at my in-laws and my Jewish acquaintances in Antwerp, there are certainly Jewish auto mechanics, roofers, plumbers, and chefs—people in MBO professions. And even outside of the Randstad, there are Jews living on welfare, Jews who would love to move to Amsterdam but can’t afford it, Jews who wish they could study more but struggle with learning Hebrew and don’t get the support they need. And yet, they constantly see an image of the Dutch Jew as someone highly educated, someone who can afford to live near the RAS (Jewish Community Center).