Dear Non-Jewish Friends

Since October 7th, I've been having trouble putting my feelings into words. To be clear, this has never been my problem. In fact, my struggle is usually quite the opposite; I can't shut up about how I'm feeling. Now, in the wake of true horror, the "right" words just won't come. 

There is a great deal I'd like to express in regards to this issue, but acknowledging the power of social media is most prevalent for me at the moment. As an emotionally intelligent adult, I know it shouldn't matter. As a millenial, I know how much it does.

I've sat down to write this post several times, and each time I back out of the draft and start again. How can I encapsulate what I'm feeling without putting a target on my back? Even if only one person reads this post, one vengeful person is all it takes to put my community at risk.

When I recognize that the full scope of my words may be too much for whatever reason, I typically pull back and turn inward. I turn to a more poetic form; the music of language that allows us to say so much with fewer words. Here's the poetry that's been on my heart lately...

Dear non-Jewish friends,

I see your selective advocacy and I wonder:

If you are determined to use social media to call for peace in Gaza and the end of this brutal war, I am with you, but why don’t I see you denouncing Antisemitism when I reach the next notch in your Instagram story? 

Is it not worth the five seconds it takes? I wonder why.

I wonder: if you are choosing this moment to use your privilege to speak up, why isn’t my community worthy of a single notch of our own? 

When you take mere seconds to repost about peace in the middle east, I am with you, but do you take the time to raise awareness about all that this means for me? 

I wonder: when the five seconds are up, do you return to scrolling as usual? Can you cleanse your palette with a recipe? Fashion choices? Interior design? 

Or are you sick all day like I am?

I wonder: does my face ever pop into your mind? 

Do you see us playing as children, keeping each other sane through puberty, partying at college, standing in a wedding together? 

Have we fantasized about our lives as adults? Who we’d marry? What our children would be like? 

Now that I’ve married a rabbi and our children will be Jewish, do you think of them? 

They’re all I can think about. 

If you want all of this to end, I am with you, but if it ends in the gradual extermination of my people, will you be with me then, too?

It makes me sick to type that out, but is it something you’ve even thought about?

I can’t stop thinking about it.

If you’ve read this far and a thought like this has crossed your mind: “I care about you, but posting about the rise in antisemitism is antithetical to the rest of the notches on my story,” then please ask yourself why. 

Because we’re talking about Israel, right? 

And Israel does not mean all Jewish people, right? 

Opposing a government doesn’t mean opposing a religion, right?

It shouldn’t, but it so often does. Right now, it clearly does. Regardless of what you personally believe, we’re seeing this truth play out in real time.

At least, I am. 

Are you looking?

Jewish college students locked in libraries.

Brutal attacks on temple employees.

A flight bombarded by violent antisemites. Checking passports. Checking names. 

(Mine would not pass their test, by the way)

Banners that desecrate symbols of my religion and proudly display Nazi symbolism. 

Blatant calls for my annihilation and pleas for our extermination.

It’s all I see when I close my eyes, yet I wonder: when you close the app, can you make the choice to leave it all behind? 

Do you let each square run out its time while you go back to doing the dishes and feeling relatively fine?

I wonder: have you done enough research to know what is true, or is this just another advocacy wave you’ll ride until it’s through?

And if you’ve barely said anything to me either way, please ask yourself why that is okay. 

Dig deep. Look into my eyes, and tell me what boils up. 

I’ve been boiling since October 7th. 

Bearing the weight of unbearable grief and fear with the shoulders of a community I’ve known for less than a year. 

As we stand side by side, I can’t help but notice the gaping holes next to me where some of my dearest friends are supposed to be.

Why do you hide?

If you want this to end, I am with you. 

Still, I wonder if you are hearing me say:

Whether or not we agree with choices made by governments half a world away, my community is being forced to pay. 

Have you even asked me where I stand or how I’m feeling, by the way? 

I wonder why not.

If you knew anything about my Judaism, you’d know that the loss of innocent lives has no place in it. You'd know how much we honor activism. You’d know that we practice holding multiple truths at once.

We have to. We have no choice. 

In this moment, you do. 

Please try. Please use your voice.

For me, my family, my community, for humanity.

If you want peace, I am with you.

I am with you.

I am with you.

I wish I didn’t have to say that to you so often.

I wish you would say it to me a lot more.