A swarthy, black-bearded man came walking down the street carrying a fishing pole with a dollar bill dangling like bait from the hook. Another man was recording it all on his iPhone to share later on social media. He called what they were doing “fishing for Jews” and chuckled. It sickened me, especially the prospect of hundreds, maybe thousands of people online laughing at their grotesque antics. Others see us as they need us to be, as kin to the kind of insects that eat dung. But I am more than my assigned role in their twisted imaginings, more than a thieving, slobbery, long-nosed caricature of a human being. They can beat us. They can debase us. They can seize and enslave us. They can lynch us from lampposts. And they have. We are here regardless, the dead who won’t stay dead.