How do we even stand up against antisemitism anymore?
Why we need non-Jewish allies to speak out against Jew hatred + resources
In the summer of 2002, I volunteered at the Prospect Park Zoo. I expected to learn about animals and maybe hospitality. I didn’t realize I’d also be learning about antisemitism.
My time in the zoo was my first experience making friends with people who weren’t Jewish — and up to that time, the majority of my friends were Orthodox Jews, and those that weren’t personally Orthodox were involved in Orthodox spaces, like my yeshivah and summer camps. Without any training or preparation, I found myself representing Jewish people to many of the teenagers in my volunteer cohort. I fielded questions about the religion and engaged in deep conversations about how our beliefs were similar to and different from Christian beliefs. It was an incredible experience, to know that I could articulate and stand up for what I believed in while also appreciating the people around me who had totally different life experiences and world views. I bonded closely with that initial cohort.
One day, one of my new friends — 19 to my 15, Afro-Latino to my Ashkenazi Jewish — approached me in the Animals in Art exhibit with concern. He had shared some of our conversations with one of his best friends, who identified as a Black Hebrew Israelite. That friend told him that I wasn’t really Jewish but that Black people were the real Jews,1 descendants of the lost tribes, and that people like me stole that identity from them, and everything I’d told him about my Jewish beliefs was wrong. My friend was confused. How could he reconcile what his lifelong friend was saying with what I, his new zoo friend, was saying?
They hadn’t taught me how to respond to this in yeshivah.
Growing up, I was aware of Black Israelites. I’d seen some members of the movement in Times Square, dressed in garb reminiscent of the garb worn by Kohen Gadol (High Priest) as outlined in the Torah. They’d shout lots of things, including “Death to Jews!” and I’d walk past as quickly as I could. I didn’t really know the specifics of what they believed, beyond some kind of replacement theory. I certainly never thought we’d have mutual friends.
And yet there I was, standing next to the gecko exhibit, confronted with a dilemma that still seems impossible. How do I tell my friend that his friend believes in a conspiracy theory that gets Jews killed without proving his friend’s conspiracy theory to be true? My friend was a wonderful person, and I could only assume that one of his best friends was, too. How could I make space for his friend’s beliefs, presume innocence, and still stand solidly on my ground?
I think I said something about there really being lost tribes, and who was I to say whether he was a descendant of those lost tribes or not, and some scholars say one of the tribes, Dan, did migrate to Africa, so maybe he’s part of that tribe, and part of my belief system is that in the days of the Messiah all the tribes will be reunited, and that would be absolutely wonderful, and Jews don’t “steal” Judaism from anyone, but sometimes that rhetoric can feel scary.
It doesn’t really matter what I said, though. What matters is what I couldn’t say. And what I still can’t say.
Last night, Kyrie Irving finally apologized for sharing an antisemitic documentary and not denouncing antisemitism. That his apology took too long and only came with the consequence of suspension is not the subject of this essay. I’m concerned by the response I saw on his Instagram post. Comment after comment berating him for apologizing because doing so gave in to the Jewish power. People using his apology as proof that Jews do control the world. People using Israel as an example of how Jews/Zionists “continue to enslave” people (this is a good example of criticism of Israel crossing the line into antisemitism! Bookmark it the next time someone tells you that calling Zionism racism isn’t antisemitic!).
There were some people applauding his apology, but there were far more who thought he had fallen prey to the cabal of Jews who just want to bring a Black man down. In this narrative, Jews are the ultimate white supremacists, using their whiteness to usurp true Black identity and then claim oppression, when they are in fact the oppressors.
THIS IS A CONSPIRACY THEORY. It is not unlike believing the earth is flat, the moon landing was fake, Sandy Hook was a hoax, or 5G is in vaccines. The only difference is that this is older and more global. Which makes it more dangerous, because it has had generations to spread, more time to take root, and you can point to historical figures who believed it to be true.
What’s even more twisted is that white supremacists believe a different version of the same conspiracy. Instead of thinking Jews are white people who secretly control the world to put Black people down, they believe Jews are a subhuman race who control the world by polluting the white race.
To the world, we are both white supremacists and victims of white supremacy.
When we say that out loud and demand that the world hear us and protect us, we are accused of having the very power they think we have. When we stand up for ourselves, we prove their conspiracy theory. But when we don’t stand up for ourselves, when Jew hatred goes unchecked by society, the conspiracy theory spreads.
This is the danger of antisemitism. It’s something we know without having to be taught it. It’s something I knew inherently at 15. It’s something I learned again the following summer at the zoo when another one of my peers, not knowing I was Jewish, confided in me that she left the room whenever “those Jews with the weird coats and funny hair” came in because they “creeped her out” and she “didn’t know what they were up to.” I was dumbfounded, and my boss, who overheard this exchange, called me into her office to get me away from the conversation and told me it was safer (due to some mental health issues this peer was having) to not engage and to not tell this person I was Jewish. It’s not possible for Jews to safely call out antisemitism all the time.
That’s why it’s so important for our non-Jewish allies to speak out on our behalf and correct the narrative. It’s also why it’s important for our non-Jewish allies to educate themselves on how antisemitism works, where it lurks, and how it’s both similar to and different from other forms of hatred.
It’s also important to realize that this is not just hate speech but can lead to real violence. Yesterday, the FBI warned synagogues in New Jersey that there was a credible threat against them — in 2019, two Black Hebrew Israelites committed a mass shooting at a kosher supermarket in New Jersey with the goal of committing more attacks on local Jewish spaces, including a school. The media didn’t denounce this attack outright, but instead shed light on “both sides,” implying that the reason for the attack was gentrification, as if Orthodox Jews — many of whom live below the poverty line — deserve to die for moving to an affordable location.2 This past year, a Muslim man took Jews hostage during Shabbat services in Colleyville, Texas, because he wanted to lobby to the people in power for the release of a prisoner in the nearby federal prison, and this synagogue -- where the controlling Jews would be, certainly -- was the closest to the prison. Initially, law enforcement and the media didn't call this out for being antisemitic, despite the very clear target on the synagogue.
Is it any wonder, then, that celebrities like Ye and Kyrie, and their fans and followers, feel emboldened to spread antisemitic conspiracies? We live in a country where murdering Jews for being Jewish isn’t always considered a clear hate crime, because hatred of Jews isn’t unique to white supremacists and the usual hate groups. Jew hatred is color blind.
It’s time for society to open its eyes.
My life depends on it.
For further reading on Judaism, Jewish history, and antisemitism, check out the following (and feel free to add others in the comments!)
People Love Dead Jews by Dara Horn
Reclaiming Our Story: The Pursuit of Jewish Pride by Ben Freeman
Jews Don’t Count by David Baddiel
Antisemitism in America by Leonard Dinnerstein
In Every Tongue: The Racial and Ethnic Diversity of the Jewish People by Diane Tobin
Deep Shtetl newsletter by Yair Rosenberg
Blacklisted newsletter by Eve Barlow
There are plenty of Jewish organizations actively engaging in work to combat antisemitism. They have resources, programs, and actions you can take to stand up against hate. They also accept donations to help them continue fighting and supporting Jewish communities (for example, the federations often provide security to synagogues and other Jewish spaces).
If you haven’t been to a Holocaust museum lately, GO! The Holocaust isn’t the only way antisemitism plays out, but the museums are powerful immersions into the reality of what hate looks like, and an important way to learn from the past.
The Museum of Tolerance is a great place to learn about how the types of antisemitic rhetoric we hear today led to the devastation of the Holocaust, and it also highlights how to support other minority populations.
Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Israel, has an online tour you can take. You can visit their central database of shoah victims, an online version of the powerful hall of names, where you’ll find my relatives.
Just want to point out here that there are plenty of Black Jews. In fact, the Jewish people are comprised of all races, not just white-skinned people. And it’s not divided by Ashkenazi/Sephardi/Mizrahi either — there are plenty of Black Ashkenazi Jews.
May I take a moment to HIGHLY recommend the YA book “The Life and Crimes of Hoodie Rosen” which explores a fictionalized version of this event in the most beautiful way?