The other week I broke my usual “no theatre” rule and went — can you guess? — to the theatre. I hate going to the theatre because of the dinner factor: you either have to eat dinner at 5pm or 11pm, and both options are terrible, and if it’s a choice between culture or food, I choose food every time.

But like I say, I went to the theatre, to see a play written by my Guardian colleague and friend Jonathan Freedland, called Jews. In Their Own Words, at the Royal Court.

I’m assuming that most JC readers are fairly au fait with this play by now and how it’s a series of monologues from Jews about what it’s like being Jewish in modern Britain.

So I’ll just say that I enjoyed it immensely, and also it’s quite short, meaning I was still able to eat my dinner at nine, which is a just-about-acceptable time for dinner.

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The Royal Court theatre

It’s like the opposite of that classic Jewish complaint about a restaurant where the food is terrible and the portions too small: the play was great and, even better, it finished early.

A few days later, a non-Jewish acquaintance mentioned to me that she’d seen Jews. In Their Own Words, and I asked if she’d enjoyed it.

“I thought it was a little tone-deaf, actually,” she said. “I just don’t think you can have a play like that and not acknowledge the experiences of other minorities.”

Now, as it happened, only an hour earlier, a male acquaintance had asked me — entirely out of nowhere — “Why do those women who call themselves terfs care so much about what trans people do?”

I said it’s probably because trans rights affect women’s rights, and he replied: “I just don’t see that as relevant.” So clearly, this was one of those days in which I went out with a sign on my back saying, “Please! Tell me your opinion, I’m super interested.”

Anyway, back to the theatrical criticism. We were at a kids’ birthday party so I didn’t think it would be acceptable if I, an adult, started to scream as loudly as the children. So instead, I said, “I think you can talk about the experience of one minority and not talk about all minorities.”

“But there was no acknowledgement of Jewish privilege,” she continued. “I’ve known Jews who say they’re not Jewish for whatever reason, but other minorities don’t have that privilege,” she said.

I wondered if I should tell her that we can even retract our horns back into our skulls at will. But instead, I thought about the new Amy Schumer viral sketch, called Keep Your Antisemitic Views to Yourself, in which her colleagues are openly antisemitic to her, and no one cares.

“Why is everyone fine with making fun of Jews?” she asks. Finally, a black woman defends her, and Schumer cringes in embarrassment: “I know it’s nothing compared to what black people go through. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Israel, I’ve never even been there, but I know I’m supposed to be sorry about it,” she cries.

Antisemitism is bad, but also not that bad, and not as bad as other prejudices, so stop banging on about it. That always seems to be the logic.

“But you know what I did see recently in the West End and loved? To Kill a Mockingbird,” the acquaintance at the party said. “You should go and see it.”

I thought about saying I found that story really limiting for not acknowledging the experiences of other minorities.

But instead, because I’m a grown-up, I took a bite of birthday cake and said I’d rather watch the movie.