Antisemitism is rising, violently, visibly, and it’s frightening.

But what makes it even more difficult is knowing that, for many, the moment I speak out against Netanyahu and the current Israeli government, I’m seen as feeding that antisemitism. That somehow, calling out policies I believe are immoral, destructive, and deeply harmful makes me disloyal to my people, or worse, complicit in the hate aimed at them.

Let me be very clear… that is not my goal, that is not my heart, and that is not who I am.

I speak out because I am a Jew. Because I care deeply about the Jewish people. Because I believe in our right to exist, to be safe, and to thrive. But I also believe that belief must never come at the cost of our humanity… becoming what we are fighting is not the answer.

I don’t say these things lightly. For years, I accepted certain truths, about Israel, about power, and about what it meant to be “pro-Jewish.” But over time, through watching, reflecting, and evolving, I began to see through a different lens. A lens sharpened by conscience, and shaped by manipulation. We were handed a narrative, perhaps necessary at one point to protect us, that was well-meaning in its origin, but has since been stretched, leveraged, and weaponized in ways that now harm not only others, but ourselves.

The antisemitism we’re seeing now didn’t begin on October 7, 2023. It was growing long before that, fueled by geopolitical tensions, ignorance, hate, and yes, the actions of Israel’s government for way too many years. To deny that truth is to deny context. And when we deny context, we lose credibility, we lose empathy, AND we lose the moral clarity that once gave our voice power, conviction, and the trust that once allowed others to truly hear us.

What’s most frightening now is how quickly antisemitism has accelerated, from dark corners of the internet into mainstream discourse, from whispered conspiracy to physical violence, from coded language to bold, unapologetic hate. Jews are being targeted not just for their faith or heritage, but as proxies for a government many of us do not support and have long spoken out against. That conflation is dangerous. It erases nuance. It forces people like me into impossible positions, where silence feels like complicity, but speaking out risks feeding the very hate we abhor. And yet, we must speak. Because if we don’t draw distinctions, between Judaism and Israeli policy, between identity and ideology, who will?

It is possible to condemn antisemitism without endorsing everything done in the name of Jews. It is possible to be proudly Jewish while fiercely opposing a government that betrays the values I (we) hold sacred. In fact, it is not just possible, I feel it is essential. It breaks my heart to see Jews in the diaspora afraid to speak out, afraid to question, afraid to say… This isn’t right. Because we’ve been told that to do so is betrayal. That to do so is to invite harm upon ourselves. But here’s the thing… silence does not protect us. Blind support doesn’t make us stronger. And moral compromise doesn’t make us righteous.

We are not safer when we silence dissent.
We are not stronger when we destroy indiscriminately.
And we are certainly not righteous when we become the oppressor.

The wanton killing and destruction must stop. Not just for the sake of others, but for our own souls. Our moral compass is spinning, and too many are pretending not to notice. I know this may make some uncomfortable, it makes me uncomfortable, but I didn’t write this to be comfortable. I wrote this because I believe another path is possible. I believe Jewish identity can be rooted in compassion, in justice, in reflection… not just in blind allegiance.

My goal is not to divide, but to awaken.

We must ask hard questions. We must listen to voices outside our own echo chambers. We must remember that our legacy and  our survival, was never just about power… it was, AND IS, about principle. And if we’re going to honor that legacy, it’s time we start acting like it.