I was brought up to revere Israel. My Jewish identity was formed not just at home by first-generation American Jews and Holocaust survivor grandparents and relatives, but also in the sanctuary of an Orthodox synagogue, deeply influenced by my grandfather’s devotion. Israel was more than a country—it was a miracle, a lifeline, and a symbol of resilience woven into the fabric of my upbringing.
In my twenties, however, I began to glimpse a darker side—details and stories that didn’t align with the heroic narrative I had been taught. I stepped back, unsure of what to make of the contradictions. Then, in my early thirties, I traveled to Israel on a mission with the Greater Miami Jewish Federation. Surrounded by passion and purpose, I let myself buy back into the story I’d once cherished—that of an Israel striving for peace, democracy, and equality in the midst of a hostile region. I wanted to believe it. I needed to believe it.
When Hamas launched its horrific attacks on October 7th, I responded with a full-hearted defense of Israel and our people. Like so many others, I felt the anguish and rage, and I stood in solidarity.
But in the months that followed, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the reality unfolding before our eyes. The Israeli government—under Netanyahu’s far-right leadership—was no longer simply defending its people. It was waging a campaign of destruction in Gaza that has devastated civilians, displaced over a million people, and killed thousands of women, children, and the elderly. What began as a just cause has turned into a humanitarian catastrophe. This is not security. This is vengeance.
Two things can be true at once: I despise Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Iranian regime. I am relieved that Israel has decimated Hamas’s infrastructure, weakened Hezbollah, and humiliated Iran on the world stage. But none of that justifies the indiscriminate destruction of Gaza. None of that excuses treating innocent lives as collateral damage. What we are witnessing is not a defense of democracy—it is the unraveling of it.
Netanyahu and his government have shown they will stop at nothing to cling to power, even if it means putting Israeli citizens—and Jews worldwide—at greater risk. Their ruthless agenda has not only deepened Palestinian suffering but has made Jews everywhere less safe, less respected, and more isolated. The moral clarity we once had is being drowned in rubble and blood.
I have spent the last several months educating myself, opening my mind to different perspectives, and letting go of the convenient narratives I once embraced. I still don’t have all the answers. But I know we must start asking harder questions—and we must do it now.
I care deeply about the Jewish people. I believe in our right to exist, to be safe, and to thrive. But that belief must not come at the expense of our humanity. We are not safer when we silence dissent. We are not stronger when we destroy indiscriminately. And we are not righteous when we become the oppressor.
The wanton killing and destruction must stop. Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Iranian mullahs can go to hell—and so can Netanyahu and his far-right coalition for making barbarism our banner. If we are to survive—not just as Jews, but as moral beings—we must reclaim our conscience before it’s too late.