A lament

A note: I wrote a much shorter version of this post as a Substack note a few days ago. Almost 13,000 likes later, it’s clear that it struck a nerve. As I have also been sitting with some feelings about this topic, I decided to expand on my brief note to try to make some sense of something that has been hard for me to articulate. Here is my attempt.

As our news feeds are filled with stories of ICE abductions of university students and commentary on free speech and due process, I find myself returning to the one thought that needs to be shouted from the rooftops because it is fundamental but has gotten completely lost in the noise:

Palestinians here in the U.S. are going to call for actions to stop the widespread death in Gaza. Because of course they are. They want their families and communities to be safe. They want to have schools and hospitals for their people. They want to have their basic needs and services met. They want the bombing to stop.

You and I would do the same for our people. Because of course we would.

And if your response is to come for me with an argument about who is to blame for all of this… don’t. Palestinians are not Hamas and Israelis are not Benjamin Netanyahu. Just like you and I are not Trump and Vance. I just want to live my life. If things go to hell because Trump invades Greenland and annexes Canada and buddies up with Putin, my house shouldn't be bombed as a result. Collective punishment is a tactic as old as history itself, but we should never accept its indiscriminate cruelty.

But the Israel/Gaza crisis has gotten so hopelessly politicized, and its intersection with antisemitism so weaponized in service to an extremist agenda, it feels impossible to center the humanity of the victims and the people who care about them. This is my lament.

And now, here is my attempt to disentangle the trauma from the politics:

Labeling all (or even most) advocacy for Palestinians as inherently antisemitic is wrong. Because not everyone who is calling for Israel to stop the violence in Gaza is antisemitic. This position/assertion erases the fact that the people of Gaza have suffered immeasurable trauma. When our conversations solely focus on litigating the political motives of the protestors, they ignore the widespread death and suffering that underlie the protests.

Just like we Jews want folks to see our trauma after 10/7, Palestinians want us to see theirs. And they want us to join them to try to stop it.

I may not feel comfortable with all the language used in the protests. And there HAS been antisemitism at protests. It doesn’t mean that the act of protesting is itself antisemitic. And it sure doesn’t make disappearing students and abandoning due process okay. I could go on and on about how the crackdowns on student protests do not make Jewish students safer but I will just refer you to my earlier posts. I could also speak at length about the recent arrests further pulverizing our already disintegrating democracy, or how I as a Jew do not want to be used as a pawn to further an extremist ideology, but that will be for another time. For now, I sit with the terrible feeling that we have lost sight of the Palestinians' humanity and trauma as we debate the legitimacy of every statement made at the protests. I will say it again. Palestinians here in the United States are absolutely going to call for actions that will stop the death back in their home. They will shout to the heavens about their community’s safety and to save their families. Because of course they will. All of us — including us Jews — would do the same. As we have been. We can’t expect them not to. Nor should we.

I am Jewish and I call for an end to the violence in Gaza. That doesn’t make me antisemitic. My Jewish soul compels me to call for an end to the violence. It compels me to speak out when my country adds even more trauma by arresting and deporting people. It commands me to speak up when legitimate pain is weaponized and human rights are trampled in service to an oppressive worldview.

Not in my name.