Forming a New Alliance Between the Black and Jewish Communities

The conversation between Mijal Bitton, Janille Hill, Shamar Hill, Van Jones, Abigail Pogrebin, and Ari’el Stachel

I’m excited to report on a recent event I attended through the 92NY. Friend and writer Shamar Hill facilitated a panel called Bridging the Divide: Forming a New Alliance Between the Black and Jewish Communities.

In a time of hate and fracture, Shamar Hill succeeded in creating space for important and challenging dialogue between members of Black and Jewish communities. A quick note in case the reader is unaware that Jews come in every color: Jews come in every color. Shamar himself is both Black and Jewish, and there were Brown Jews on the panel as well.

A lot was covered over the two hours, so if anyone is curious to see the full conversation, I believe a recording of the event may be available, but don’t quote me on this. Check in with 92NY for more info.

I want to summarize some of my personal takeaways. I’m still processing, but here’s what stood out most for me:

Real alliances are not sustained by photographs alone.

Forgive me because I don’t remember which panelist said this! I think it was part of Shamar Hill’s introductory remarks made in reference to the iconic photo of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marching together arm-in-arm during the Civil Rights Movement:

Selma to Montgomery March on March 21, 1965

The alliance between Blacks and Jews in the 1960s is one we celebrate, but the celebration of history is not enough to maintain a relationship. This was the point being made. No one was suggesting that we erase history—we can and should draw strength and wisdom from King and Heschel’s relationship—but we can’t simply leave it at that.

Any alliance, like all relationships, requires ongoing care and attention. And now, after relations between Blacks and Jews have become fractured and in some cases hostile, we need to work harder than ever to forge a new alliance going forward.

Van Jones repeatedly said: “We need each other.”

Half of the Jewish diaspora would be considered people of color.

Americans, even some American Jews, forget that the Jewish people are multi-colored. In Israel, only about 30% of Jews are Ashkenazi and considered white-skinned. The overwhelming majority of Israeli Jews are Brown and Black.

The pro-Hamas rhetoric has framed the Israeli Jew according to an American lens. American racism has been appropriated and projected upon the war in Israel-Gaza, and it’s yielded a false equivalency harmful to all citizens living in the Middle East.

It doesn’t cost anything for a Jew to stand up for the Black community. It costs a lot for a Black person to stand up for the Jewish community.

It was Van Jones who spoke about this. He was addressing the charge launched against the Black community after October 7th: Where was the Black community after October 7th? Especially after the Jewish community showed up for Black Lives Matter.

Van Jones gave a complicated answer. He expressed anger toward anyone using police brutality against Blacks as a platform-plea for camaraderie. On the other hand, he admitted that our feelings of abandonment and betrayal are real.

He explained that asking a Black person to stand up for the Jews exacts a price, and that the reverse isn’t true. When Jews marched to protest the murder of George Floyd, they didn’t suffer any consequences. In contrast, when Van Jones attended the March for Israel, his social media accounts were immediately inundated by thousands of foreign bots (Russian? Iranian?), and the attacks lasted for months. He said that if his career depended solely on social media, he would not have been able to work whatsoever.

The experience revealed to him that “someone really doesn’t want the Blacks and Jews working together.”

I appreciate that Van Jones showed up for us at the March for Israel; apparently, every other Black speaker canceled. But what I found most striking is the utter loneliness of our predicament.

Every other minority and oppressed group still has support in leftist spaces. We do not. We are targeted by the left and the right. The cost Van Jones spoke about revealed more than just a price he himself paid—it demonstrates the stark isolation we are facing.

The Jewish community didn’t allow acknowledgment of Palestinian suffering.

This point was articulated by Abigail Pogrebin. I’m not sure if she meant to say that she herself didn’t encounter much sympathy for Gazans, or if those in Jewish spaces were gatekeeping against any expressions of empathy for the Gazans, or both.

Being married to an Israeli, I saw massive empathy toward the Gazans in general, so if a particular Jewish space was gatekeeping, I probably didn’t notice. From my perspective, the world at large lacked empathy for the hostages and it was hostile, ripping down the posters of kidnapped babies and children.

Pogrebin’s statement didn’t resonate with me; if anything, it made me feel defensive. This doesn’t mean she’s wrong. But I think my own reaction is evidence of the extremely high standard put on Jews. By both Jews and non-Jews.

The times I felt rage toward “the other side” were moments (usually) triggered by American leftists. Like when I saw “progressives” (including some Jews) refusing to acknowledge Israeli suffering. And when people rationalized the massacre as resistance. Whenever Israelis were demonized, my ability to love everyone narrowed. Hate begets hate, and sometimes, the hate from others inspired me to feel hateful too. I couldn’t offer my full heart to everyone all the time, but what I can offer everyone now is my honesty.

Empathy isn’t finite, and yet, I often felt like I was trying to convince even American Jews of why they should, and could, care about the Israeli hostages. Moreover, it has not been my experience that Jews didn’t acknowledge Palestinian suffering. Starting with my very own husband on October 7th itself—he expressed great care and concern for the Palestinians caught in the terror between Israel and Hamas.

Israelis themselves, including hostage families, were out protesting Netanyahu and the war. In most of my Jewish spaces, and I am in many different ones—I’ve always seen empathy expressed for Palestinian suffering. This is not to say that there isn’t real anger expressed toward Gazans too—there is. But it has not been my experience whatsoever that Jews erased Palestinian suffering. In my communities, Jews have been begging people to hold space for all. It’s also possible that I failed to notice when and if this was not the case.

American Jews have lost hold of their ancestors’ stories.

Before October 7th, Jews were living in relative safety here in America. Compared to thousands of years gone by, it seemed Jewish existence was finally secure.

Now we know that this safety was ephemeral. A short golden age of relaxation during which many Jews stopped worrying about thousands of years of bigotry.

In my personal experience, my Jewish friends who came here in recent waves of immigration did NOT forget their familial stories. Only some of those whose families have been here for a few generations got cozy.

My own husband admits that he failed to recognize the particularity of his Jewish identity. He says he didn’t realize he was a minority in the world until after October 7th. Having grown up in Israel and having lived only in areas of the States where there is a significant population of Jews, he never thought much about his Jewishness before.

During this time of reckoning, it is important to build alliances, but also, we need Jewish confidence.

This crucial point was articulated by Mijal Bitton, and I loved it. She was emphasizing that Jews have carried something valuable through history. Jewish wisdom, including the Torah, has been a gift for so much of humanity. We cannot forge relationships with others if we forget ourselves. We must remember who we are.

As Bitton said, “We carry something for thousands of years.”

Personal identity is complicated and often full of contradiction.

Ari’el Stachel spoke about his experience of feeling like the “other” in all kinds of spaces, including Jewish ones. He says that people with complicated identities shouldn’t be forced to “solve” them. He himself doesn’t seek to solve the conflicts inherent in his identity—he chooses to reveal them.

There is no true activism if it’s based on falsehood and if it’s based on a misinformed knowledge of history.

I’ve got nothing to add here except to say: Yes, I agree. And this is part of why our struggle feels like a trek up Everest. There are so many libels to overcome. So much false information. And the algorithms don’t help.

Personal narrative is more effective than argumentative stance.

Janille Hill noted that in her experience, personal stories tend to foster connection between “others” with far greater effectiveness than a political stance.

I agree. It’s personal vulnerability that builds any relationship. The challenge ahead of us is how to build the spaces that foster true sharing. Our online universe is governed by polarizing algorithms. We need to engage in person.

This event was a start.

Blacks don’t think about Jews very much.

This was Van Jones’s opinion. Here’s one way that he put it:

“Jews know their Black friends are Black. 80% of Blacks don’t know their Jewish friends are Jewish.”

Obviously, he wasn’t talking about super close friends. One example he gave was that of public defenders. So many public defenders are Jews committed to social justice, but when one Rachel Goldstein shows up to defend a young Black male, said male doesn’t know that she’s Jewish. We think “Goldstein” is a giveaway, but young Black guys simply do not know.

I think this was Jones’s way of saying that a lot of social justice work done by the Jewish community goes unknown by the Black community. Not that anyone is looking for recognition or a medal, but this sort of invisibility doesn’t help in terms of alliance-building.

3 Essential Lessons

Shamar Hill asked Mijal Bitton what she has learned about alliance building from the Torah. Her response included a nod to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. I’ll paraphrase what she said from my notes:

1. Confidence and self-respect is imperative. Non-Jews respect Jews who are proud of their Judaism. Alliance work that asks you to deny parts of your own story is not alliance work.

2. Jews will never solve antisemitism alone. We must be in community with others, and those relationships must go beyond the transactional.

3. Torah itself was/is a protest against injustice, and Torah made/makes a commitment to hope.

I especially appreciated Bitton’s contributions to the conversation. We should not apologize for Judaism; on the contrary—we should lead with it.

Moral Miracles

Van Jones was crying as he spoke about tikkun olam. How did the Jews manage to teach their children to repair the world while simultaneously running for their lives? The Jewish people are a moral miracle. Martin Luther King was a moral miracle.

I was moved by his words but also admit what it made me think: That we need another miracle!

But then I realized that this meeting, in and of itself, was already a miracle. Hope is a prerequisite for change. And the room was full of it.

Many thanks to Shamar Hill for his thoughtful questions. He was both generous and challenging, and he held the space with warmth and humor too. Well done!

Anyone else attend the other night? If you have something more to add, or if you think I misrepresented/misinterpreted someone’s words, please let me know in the comments—thank you.

Love to all,

xoxo Jen xoxo