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Welcoming Allyship

By Melissa Garlick, Senior Director of Combating Antisemitism and Building Civic Engagement at Combined Jewish Philanthropies

Like many of you, I am gutted, devastated, and heartbroken—for my Israeli friends and family, for our Jewish community, and for the future we work toward every day: our vision for freedom and safety. To me, this is a moment of reckoning—there is heightened urgency for the work we do here to deepen allyship across communities.   

In the days immediately after the terror attack by Hamas, I recalled the emotional response of when I experienced significant and traumatic loss before—that feeling of loneliness, not understanding why everyone around me was continuing with daily life and I was standing still, and feeling confused and pained by friends and acquaintances who didn’t reach out to see how I was doing. When this has happened to me before, for weeks and months after, I closed my circle, in some cases held grudges, and pushed others away. In those moments, it felt like that was what I needed to protect myself and my own grief. But the feeling of loneliness and anxiety compounded and kept growing.  

After the horrific attacks by Hamas, we face lives taken too soon and families ripped apart, the massacre of Jews, the panic over our existence as a people, and the future we are leaving for our children. This time, I have been so heartened by the many statements of solidarity for Israel and the Jewish community by elected leaders and community leaders. What’s been especially meaningful for me has been the small gestures of love and support, like my neighbor checking to see if I could use some help, knowing my personal and professional proximity to the impacts of the terrorist attacks.    

At the same time, it has been incredibly distressing that many of the people I’ve worked with in progressive spaces have either justified terrorism and antisemitism or failed to call it what it is: the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust. 

As Amy Spitalnick, CEO of the Jewish Council for Public Affairs (JCPA), said immediately after the attacks: “The epigenetic trauma of seeing Jews pulled from their homes, kidnapped, and killed—it’s real. This does not take away from the real suffering of the Palestinian people, and the many other layers to the conflict and the region. But when we see people celebrating the massacre of Jews as ‘resistance,’ that is not OK—and it does nothing to advance peace and safety.” 

Allyship can be defined, in this moment, as the action and commitment by individuals and organizations to listen and learn about the impact of the attacks, to commit to take action themselves and in their communities to root out antisemitism and to stand with the Jewish community, even when it’s hard for them. Allyship requires learning from a community how best to show up for them. We are so appreciative of the statements and expressions of solidarity from our state and city lawmakers, interfaith leaders, partners in the Black and Latinx communities, schools, and other civic organizations.  

As this war to eliminate Hamas grinds on, we need to sustain and build meaningful allyship beyond these initial statements. Allyship requires learning from a community how best to show up for them. While many allies are proactive, we can and should reach out to them too, to invite and call them in. Solidarity is necessary and critical in the short-term during this crisis, but building allyship is long-term work that entails learning (and mistakes) and requires grace and compassion. Allyship is born from trust and accountability to one another. 

The trauma of the last two weeks has affected so many of us. Even conversations with like-minded people can be difficult. But if you’re ready to start engaging with potential allies, here are some suggestions: 

  • Remember that it’s OK not to be OK, and please make sure you’re reaching out for the support you need.
  • Distinguish between the detractors and those who are likely willing to engage with you, and don’t take the bait from those just looking to argue.
  • For those who have potential to be allies, call them into conversation, invite them to learn, and raise their awareness about the communal pain and impacts.
  • With those friends or colleagues who have been silent in this moment or have tried to show empathy but perhaps have missed the mark, tell them you are hurting and that you want to talk. Reach out for both the support and the opportunity for them to be in allyship with you. Help them understand what you and the Jewish community are going through.   

These are difficult and exhausting conversations—but this work is needed now more than ever. We cannot fight the antisemitism that has been unleashed and rebuild by ourselves. And we must know that we are not alone in this moment of crisis. 

Stay informed with our antisemitism newsletter

Stay informed with our antisemitism newsletter

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Organizations Fighting Antisemitism Receive Grants From CJP

Next month we mark the five-year anniversary of the Tree of Life massacre, and the fight against Jewish hate continues. Antisemitism is intensifying across the country, with a marked surge in bomb threats and swatting attacks of Jewish institutions, extremists publicly gathering in communities, the highest number of reported antisemitic incidents, and the spread of antisemitic propaganda on social media. But at the same time, mainstream public conversation on antisemitism has shifted significantly over the past five years. With the first-ever national strategy to combat antisemitism being released and strong displays of cross-community solidarity, we collectively must meet this moment to strengthen and empower the Jewish community to advance innovative solutions and collaborations.  

CJP’s groundbreaking new fighting antisemitism initiative has recently launched to increase our local efforts and resources on antisemitism and to facilitate a stronger collective effort centered on collaboration, coordination, and partnership in a way that meets the urgent needs in our Greater Boston community. 

The initiative will be moving forward work across CJP’s 5-Point Plan to combat antisemitism, raise public awareness, increase community engagement, deepen allyship across communities, increase educational resources, and strengthen communal security. Following the successful launch of our public awareness campaign, Face Jewish Hate, CJP is proud to announce our inaugural and initial grants allocated to strategically implement Year 1 priority areas of the 5-Point Plan. 

They include:  

ADL New England to drive forward increased incident reporting and response, expand education programs in schools and campuses, and bridge building work between Jewish and Black communities.  

“Since 1913, ADL has empowered our community to confront antisemitism through our mission to ‘stop the defamation of the Jewish people and security justice and fair treatment to all.’  This Plan allows us to provide our community with tools to confront antisemitism, and expand our incident response, vital in the wake of recent swatting attacks. We will deepen our education and outreach to schools, campuses, and the workplace as we build allies in the fight against antisemitism.” 

JCRC (Jewish Community Relations Council) of Boston to advance community and government relations at the state and municipal levels to address antisemitism. 

“JCRC exists because our network of organizations and leaders believe that the safety and the interests of our Jewish community can only be achieved – at least in part – through our engagement in, presence in, and relationships in Boston’s broader civic space. Our work as JCRC is the weaving of networks of relationship – within and beyond the Jewish community – to facilitate pathways for articulating and advancing our shared interests, including working in allyship to fight antisemitism and hatred in all its forms. This plan supports the JCRC network to invest in the work of building and being allies with others in our region, advocating on matters of security to our state and local officials, and working together to ensure that Jewish identity and experience are represented without bias in our public schools.”  

American Jewish Committee (AJC) of New England to amplify their work with diplomats, elected officials, and interfaith leaders at the local level to address antisemitism. 

“The proliferation of antisemitism in New England and across the country is an historic challenge. Fortunately, unlike in past eras, we have the wherewithal to meet this challenge. What it requires is sustained strategic focus and a mobilized Jewish community. We are glad to work with CJP and other organizations from across our community to coordinate and amplify the work we do.  In this way, we will steadily work to mitigate the dangers posed by anti-Jewish activism and ensure a healthy future for our Jewish community.” 

JOIN for Justice to launch the SEA (Study, Engage, Act) Change program for congregations in the Greater Boston area on racial justice and deepening allyship. 

“To face the scourge of antisemitism, we won’t be satisfied by asking people to stand with the Jewish community after we are attacked.  One critical component needs to be developing the leadership of Jews, at the grass roots level, across all races and identities, to build relationships with people across all religions, races, and identities.  Then, they can stand together, as allies, with the power to fight all hatreds and oppressions and build a more just Greater Boston where communities unite to stop oppression before it happens.  We’re thankful for CJP’s vision and leadership in enacting this comprehensive plan.” 

Facing History and Ourselves to significantly increase the availability of content, resources, and professional development for Greater Boston educators on Holocaust education and antisemitism:  

“We are grateful to CJP for convening organizations from across the Greater Boston community to combat antisemitism. The education pillar of this work is a critical aspect in helping students become compassionate and engaged upstanders who understand the importance of their choices. The only means to a better tomorrow is by working on today.  We, at Facing History and Ourselves, continue to effectuate change by helping educators establish inclusive and reflective classroom community that can thereby provide space to combat prejudice, stereotypes, and bigotry.” 

Tribe Talk to increase and deepen educational resources and programs for pre-college students on antisemitism. 

Lappin Foundation to support teen antisemitism work. 

Boston University Hillel to continue its antisemitism initiative as a potential scalable model for the broader community. 

CJP is thrilled to roll out the grant funding to these partners and to coordinate this work. In the weeks and months ahead, we will continue to work to amplify and measure the impact of this work in our efforts to strengthen the tools for our community to combat antisemitism. 

Stay informed with our antisemitism newsletter

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Dr. Jeremy Schiller’s story

The COVID-19 pandemic was heavy enough.

As a practicing physician and the Chair of the Salem Board of Health, Dr. Jeremy Schiller was doing his utmost to protect community members from a virus scientists were racing to understand and navigate in real time.

“I had a good relationship with [then Mayor of Salem] Kim Driscoll, and we promoted COVID mitigation strategies that were rooted in science and were progressive and dynamic,” Dr. Schiller says. “Despite overwhelming support from the community, we received a lot of the typical negative responses — and I was ok with that. Science is hard and is always evolving and that is not easy for some to digest and understand.”

However, those responses became personal in December 2021. The Omicron variant was sweeping through Massachusetts and hospitals were dangerously nearing full capacity. The Salem Board of Health, at the urgence of local hospital leaders, instituted a vaccine mandate for local restaurants to help keep area hospitals from a possible catastrophic crisis.

“At that point, there was a real increase in number of those comparing what we were doing to the Holocaust,” Dr. Schiller remembers. “Multiple emails on a daily basis from various people in the community.” Dr. Schiller went out of his way to respond thoughtfully to the emails and educate community members on the actions the Board was taking. However, the correspondences were becoming increasingly antisemitic in nature. Salem’s Health Agent, whose surname sounds Jewish, shared that both he and Dr. Schiller had been the subject of voicemails citing them as “Jews controlling public health.” He also forwarded Dr. Schiller postcards the Board of Health had received that were addressed to “Un ‘Doctor’ Schiller” with a Star of David drawn on it and statements like “FREI” (German for “free”), “GENOCIDE,” and “Justice will come for you” scrawled across them. The Health Department even received a yellow Star of David — badges Jews were forced to wear in Nazi-occupied Europe.

Around this time, a rally was held outside Dr. Schiller’s house (he wasn’t there), organized by Diana Ploss, an independent gubernatorial candidate who, later that week, livestreamed a simulcast of the Board of Health meeting, with hateful comments like, “Look at this Jew, always after money” and “Look at the smug Jew talking” posted on her website. Dr. Schiller, who volunteers in his position as Board Chair, was aghast and disgusted that his efforts to help guide the community safely through the pandemic evolved into an opportunity for antisemites to viciously attack him for the simple fact that he is Jewish.

“It was scary,” Dr. Schiller says. “I contacted Mayor Driscoll and there was no political calculus whatsoever on her part. She immediately released a letter along with the ADL condemning what was going on.” Dr. Schiller also applauds the swift response of Chief Lucas Miller of Salem Police Department in coming to his defense, as well as the President and Chief Executive Officer of Beth Israel Lahey Health, Dr. Kevin Tabb, for reaching out and supporting him.

“To me, there’s a role for condemnation and outrage, but it can’t end there. Education and understanding are critical components to combating antisemitism and hate,” Dr. Schiller says. “That’s why the idea of allyship is so important to me. We can only imagine how many other groups of people feel marginalized. I have a very close family and amazing friends. I can’t imagine how deeply undercutting and painful this would be to someone who doesn’t have that kind of support — because even with that support I can still feel the pain of it today.”

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Rabbi Shlomo Noginski’s story

On July 1, 2021, while standing near the entrance to Shaloh House Jewish Day School in Brighton, Rabbi Shlomo Noginski was approached by a man with a gun who demanded that he give him the keys to his vehicle and then instructed him to get inside the car. Rabbi Noginski, fearing for the lives of the school-aged children attending summer camp within the building, ran from the assailant and, in the ensuing struggle that followed on Brighton Commons, was stabbed a total of eight times in broad daylight.

But for every stab wound, for every ache, pain, and hardship that followed in his slow recovery, Rabbi Noginski is only keeping a tally of all the miracles, including — defying comprehension — being in the right place at the right time.

“I have seen G-d’s hand throughout my life,” Rabbi Noginski says.

Growing up in the Soviet Union, Rabbi Noginski’s family was targeted for being Jewish. His mother, a celebrated composer and pianist who had won a national competition and performed in the Kremlin, attracted the attention of antisemites disgusted that a Jew — and a woman — received the award.

The family received multiple death threats and Rabbi Noginski was often physically and verbally attacked. They made aliyah (immigration to Israel) to escape antisemitism in the early 90s and Rabbi Noginski’s mother encouraged him to take up martial arts to defend himself.

Rabbi Noginski believes his black belt in judo played a small role in defending himself from the dozens of relentless stabbing attempts made by his attacker over the course of their struggle that lasted more than 10 minutes. However, he is quick to point to a series of divine interventions for his ability to stave off more serious or even fatal injuries, rather than his “physical prowess.”

“It is G-d’s protection that is the real assistance,” he says. “But the real miracle is that I was outside of the school accidentally. If I came out earlier or later, this young man would have had unhindered access to the school and the camp, and it could’ve been much worse.”

Rabbi Noginski sustained six stab wounds to his left arm and hand and two to his abdomen. The attacker, who was discovered to have a history of using antisemitic slurs, was charged with hate crimes, as well as assault with intent to murder and attempted armed robbery, and the investigation is ongoing.

“In the short term, I simply could not perform any manual physical labor with my left hand or bear any weight, and one of the deeper wounds in my left shoulder affects my ability to do heavy lifting with my left arm,” Rabbi Noginski says. “In terms of emotional rehabilitation, that’s another story.”

Rabbi Noginski sees this attack as “a second birthday,” a blessing, and proof of G-d’s presence in his life. He’s using this incident to infuse the community with “more light and positivity” and has already opened a new Rabbinic Studies program at the school.

“Going forward, I feel I’ve been charged with a mission of doing more than I was before,” he says. “Anything that happens is directed by G-d, and this only strengthens my Jewish pride and identity.”

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Chanie Krinsky’s story

On a May evening four years ago, Chanie Krinsky had just put her three youngest children to bed when she heard rustling outside of her home, the Chabad Jewish Center in Needham.

Thinking it was an expected visitor, she asked her son to greet them at the door, but he reported seeing no one there. Right afterward, her husband, Rabbi Mendy Krinsky, returned home with groceries and Chanie smelled smoke.

“I’m very sensitive to it because I had been in a serious house fire when I was younger,” Chanie explains. Mendy searched inside for the source of the smell and couldn’t find anything when Chanie remembered that the Chabad Center for Jewish Life of Arlington-Belmont, the home of Rabbi Avi Bukiet and his wife, Luna, had been set on fire just days earlier. She urged Mendy to look outside.

When Mendy opened the door, their son peeked his head out and immediately noticed small flames licking at the side of the house, near the entrance to the synagogue. Because of the rain, because of their access to a fire extinguisher, or, as Mendy and Chanie believe, because of divine intervention, they were able to contain the damage to the exterior and put out the fire before the fire department arrived on the scene.

“As soon as I heard that there was a fire, I woke up the kids who were already in bed, carrying them, half-awake, out of the house and into the car,” Chanie says. From there, Chanie sent out a message to other Chabad residents in their network, explaining what had happened. “I said, we’re safe, be careful out there, you know, in case this person was going around doing this to other places,” she recalls.

Through her chat group, she learned that the Bukiets, once again, had their Chabad set on fire that very evening, just 40 minutes earlier.

“It was hard for us to sleep that night, knowing this person was still out there, knowing that someone was trying to burn our house down,” Chanie says.

The next day — Shabbat — brought hope.

“The number of flowers and gifts and messages of support that we received from the community was so touching,” Chanie says. “Two women from the community suggested holding the Havdalah ceremony outside our house after the sabbath ended, and they told the local temples and churches. We came out of the house on Saturday night and there were more than 400 people there — the police blocked the street. We prayed, we sang songs, it was so moving.”

At the time, people were saying, “Maybe take down the menorah in front of your house, maybe you should hide it, or remove your address online,” Chanie says. “We said, ‘Absolutely not. We’re not going to hide.’ On the contrary, we believe this event and similar ones should be an impetus for growth. The best way to combat antisemitism is to be stronger and prouder Jews.”

“Until the indictment, there was no way to know for sure that it was antisemitism, but we knew even then,” Chanie says. “We’ll never know why he chose ours and the Bukiet’s — but they were both the homes of the Chabad rabbis and their families.”

The man accused of the Chabad arson died before justice could be served, but the mark from the fire remains on the house and, since then, one of her sons was targeted for being Jewish and physically assaulted in Manhattan.

“Sometimes the world can feel scary, but you need to move on, you can’t live with that heaviness,” Chanie says. “We have to be aware, but we trust in G-d and move on. We can’t let this stop us.”

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Sam’s* story

Imagine you’re a sophomore in high school, living in a small, picturesque New England town. You come home from school one day before break, ready to relax, and open your Snapchat to see what your friends are up to. And just like that, you’re confronted with a picture of a swastika made of pennies taken in one of the classrooms of your high school. Sam* doesn’t have to imagine. She and her friend lived it.

Back when Sam and her friend experienced this incident in high school, they had already endured years of cutting comments about their Jewish heritage from their classmates and friends, saying things like “Do you live in little Israel?“ or “I didn’t know Jews were allowed to go trick or treating.” And they shrugged them off because they didn’t want to make waves with people who clearly didn’t understand how offensive they were being.

But when that swastika was posted, it was a step too far to ignore anymore. Enough was enough. “This was posted on social media, so a broad amount of people were seeing it compared to when someone just says a comment to you. You don’t have proof per se, but this was posted, and however many friends he had on Snapchat were however many people were seeing the post,” Sam says.

Sam and her friend decided it was time to make a change. At first, they kept it a secret because they didn’t know if people would understand. When their friends approached them, Sam said, “I’m a minority here. None of you are Jewish and I didn’t know how you were going to react because I was doing something against one of our friends.” They needed help. After talking with their parents, they boldly reached out to the Anti-Defamation League (ADL).

The ADL answered the girls’ call and introduced them to a program called A World of Difference Institute that educates and trains faculty and students on how to deal with issues of discrimination of all types. But there was a slight problem. They needed funding to get the program off the ground in their school. To their relief and delight, the community stepped up. Parents, local businesses, and their high school PCO worked together to raise over $7,000 in just a few short weeks.

To this day, Sam and her friend’s courage to ask for help continues to better their hometown. “My youngest brother who’s seven years younger than me is at my high school now, and he’s being taught these things [by A World of Difference Institute] […] It’s really important to me to know that they are still doing it and they are still educating the teachers and the kids.”

Sam knows that the work isn’t done. “It’s so weird to me because I just graduated college and I feel like I’m still actively doing things for this, and I was 16 years old when I first started. I did not think that six or seven years later this would be staying with me.” Even though antisemitic incidents are up all over America and “it’s a really scary time to be a Jewish woman,” Sam keeps moving forward. “I like to help out as much as I can. People still reach out to me asking if I can help and I try and do that in the best way possible.”

By sharing her and her friend’s story again, Sam has given hope to the next generation one more time.

* Name changed upon request due to safety concerns. 

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Andie’s story

It all started with a “harmless” joke.

Andie, just beginning their conversion to Judaism, was simply trying to connect with their family at the movies. On any given day, Andie is generally guarded around their family, and with good cause. “A lot of members of my family of origin are pretty homophobic and say a lot of really insensitive or offensive things — before and after I came out.” Ready to endure and respond to this kind of behavior, they set off to hopefully make the best of an evening together.

But their cousin had other ideas. Andie was extremely close with this cousin and his sister, “they were basically two extra members of my family.” But “as we grew up, he really started saying and doing things that were not ok — being really sexist, being really homophobic.” And Andie tried to avoid him and stay in a space that made them feel safe, but he caught them off guard.

While waiting in line for popcorn, their cousin decided now was his moment. He said, “Why are the rabbis running down the street? They were chasing a penny.” Andie was stunned. They were ready to hear offensive comments, but not about their newly found religion. Andie’s safe space was torn apart.

No one thought there was anything wrong with Andie’s cousin’s casual antisemitism, not even their mother, who as a devout Christian that believes Christians are persecuted in American society, might be the one person to truly get it. But she simply dismissed Andie’s concern with, “Don’t pay attention to it.”

Andie’s family has a history of not understanding where they’re coming from. “I’m neurodivergent, I do and say weird things and I have a very funky sense of humor, and I kind of feel like that puts a target on me a little bit with my family.” And on top of that, they grew up in a far-right-leaning, religious household where they were told their whole lives that being gay was bad — “It’s sinful.”

They were taught that religion was not a welcoming place for all, until they discovered there was more out there than what their family believed. “When I explored more about other religions I was like, ‘Oh, so it’s not all bad, it can even be a really positive thing in somebody’s life.’”

They’ve since become more devoutly Jewish and find it healing, Shabbat in particular. “It’s an anticapitalistic practice that’s very important to me in my life, and also, as somebody with a lot of chronic illnesses, I need time where I am basically just doing nothing to heal my body and rest my neshama (soul) after a long week of working.”

Still, when they go to visit their family, they aren’t being respected or accepted, so they try and find ways to work around their family’s expectations, like dressing in ways that will be approved of — shorts and a t-shirt instead of long sleeves and a long skirt — or trying to keep kosher in their own quiet way even though their grandmother insists on offering them shrimp in a manner that feels to Andie like it’s a “power play.”

Fortunately, Andie has found their chosen family — people who make them feel seen — throughout their conversion to Judaism while at college and beyond into their new life. “I live 3,000 miles away now and I’ve cultivated a really good group of people who understand my quirks, and I feel very loved.”

And so, it didn’t all start with a joke, but maybe that’s where it all ends.

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Addie’s story

“Don’t mind him, he’s just being cheap like a Jew.”

When Addie, working as a cashier in Foxborough in 2021, heard those words from a customer watching her companion fumble through his wallet, she felt an immediate physical reaction.

But this wasn’t Addie’s first time experiencing antisemitism.

Growing up in a small town southwest of Boston, Addie remembers being one of a handful of Jewish kids in her graduating class of 360 students. From the cliques that formed around church groups to being singled out during her history class unit on Judaism, pervasive feelings and messages of otherness were omnipresent throughout her formative years.

During a lecture on dictators in her freshman year, a classmate turned to her and said, “Addie, you need to go hide because the Nazis are going to come for you.”

“I didn’t think too much of it when it happened,” Addie recalls. “I was a shy kid. I went through the day, didn’t say anything to my teachers, didn’t say anything to anyone else, but I came home and was telling my mom about school, and I said, ‘Oh, this kid said this to me,’ and she sort of just stopped in her tracks and was like, ‘What? Can you repeat that?’ She said, ‘You know that’s not ok, right?’ I told her that I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Her father called the school, and Addie remembers feeling embarrassed, fearing reprisal and not wanting to draw additional attention to herself. After she met with the principal and told him what happened, the boy was moved across the room away from her, but he never apologized. “I think I kind of knew that nothing was going to be done,” Addie says.

Her mom and dad, however, insisted that calling it out was necessary. “Even if I didn’t realize it at the time, I’m glad they did it, it was a learning and growing moment for me to realize that things like this happen and they happen often.”

During her senior year, a teacher told Addie that her congestion from a cold made her sound like “an old Jewish woman from New York.”

“I had to hold myself back — she was an adult and an authority figure,” Addie says. “Now, looking back, I know I should’ve done or said something. That was another moment.”

Addie believes that these “moments” helped shape her into the person she is today and gave her the courage and confidence to speak up that day in Foxborough.  

Noticing that the man was looking at her and toward Addie with embarrassment, the woman continued, “Oh don’t worry, she’s not Jewish.”

Heart racing, Addie says that she “put the customer service part of [herself] aside” and said, “Actually, yes I am, and you shouldn’t say things like that.” She says that the woman seemed ashamed of what she said but didn’t offer an apology, and Addie’s manager gave her the time to step away and calm down after she explained what occurred.

While she knows antisemitism is never going to completely go away, Addie isn’t hiding, and these experiences have only strengthened her Jewish identity. “I hate that it happened, but I’m proud of myself for getting through it,” Addie says, noting that she shares these incidents as often as she can to encourage others to fight back. “I define it as a source of pride. It’s a badge of honor.”

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Opening Remarks From Rabbi Marc Baker at ADL New England’s The Good Fight Forum 2023

Rabbi Marc Baker, president & CEO of CJP, shared his opening remarks at ADL New England’s The Good Fight Forum on Oct. 10, 2023, a community event dedicated to combating antisemitism and hate.

Dear Friends,

As we’ve already heard, we are here this morning at an unprecedented time in this history of the State of Israel and the history of the Jewish People.  

Several years ago, this gathering, this Good Fight, was created as a response to the most horrific and deadly antisemitic attack we had ever experienced here in America – the Tree of Life shooting. It devastated the Pittsburgh community, touched many people here in our own community, and in many ways changed Jewish life in America as we now know it. Let us keep the Tree of Life victims in our hearts and minds today and always.  

We are here because the hatred that has plagued the Jewish community and the world for thousands of years is not only alive and well, but still growing here in America and right here in our own community – in schools, on college campuses, from the egregious displays of white supremacists blaming 9/11 on the Jews to casual workplace conversations and the social media of pop stars and professional athletes.  

This morning, we are here one day after thousands of us gathered on Boston Common to stand in solidarity with Israel and to raise our voices – together with friends, allies, elected officials and other local leaders. We gathered to express our love, solidarity, grief, anger, and moral outrage at the horrific and heinous acts of terror that have taken over 900 innocent Israeli lives. The Good Fight taking place right now in Israel is a war to protect the innocent lives of our Jewish family thousands of miles away and to protect the future of the Jewish homeland.  

And this is not just far away – it is already touching nearly every one of us in some way or another, whether one of the tens of thousands of Israelis living here in Greater Boston or American Jews who have friends and family living in Israel and defending the Jewish State. My personal friends and family had to go directly from yesterday’s rally to the home of dear friends to escort them the airport after they learned that their son-in-law – a young man with a tremendous spirit, love of Israel, and bright future ahead of him – was killed in battle.  

My friends, in the past few days we have witnessed the largest, most gruesome massacre of Jews that I have seen in my lifetime and that we have seen since the Holocaust. We are here today to fight for our own safety and well-being and for the future of our community and this country; Israelis are in a fight for their lives; and we are living through the darkest moment of hatred and violence against Jews that many of us have ever known.  

Add to this the vile and incomprehensible response that we have seen in the streets of Cambridge and on college campuses – a defense of terror and violence rooted in ignorance and extremist, antisemitic ideologies that demonize Israel and dehumanize Israelis, and that, in fact, threaten the safety, security and well-being of Jews, especially, but not exclusively, our young people.  

We are here today to better understand these challenges and what we can do about them, again with gratitude to the partners and leaders from across our community who are doing this work everyday in so many different ways.  

Put simply, we have work to do. We have work to do to educate, advocate, and mobilize our communities, along with friends and allies, to fight against all forms of antisemitism, especially right now against Israel-hatred, along with all other forms of bigotry and hate; to fight against forces of extremism, conspiracy theories and other forms of disinformation and demonization; and to ensure that every person can walk down the street and through the world with head held high with a sense of safety, security, confidence in their personal identity and belonging in the larger society of which we are a part.  

We have work to do to create communities and a world where everyone – of every religion, race, gender, sexual orientation – feels free, safe, accepted, and valued.  

We have work to do, which is why I’m so proud that over the past year CJP has partnered with ADL and so many other organizations to launch our 5-Point Plan to combat antisemitism and anti-Zionism. We will not likely eliminate a 3,000-year-old hatred in our lifetimes, but we will certainly be stronger and fight against it more effectively when we fight it together.  

Together, we are educating and mobilizing our community. Together, we are putting faces and stories to the personal experiences of Jew-hatred through our Face Jewish Hate media campaign, and we are partnering with the Foundation to Combat Antisemitism’s national blue square campaign so more people who share our values will #StandUpToJewishHate.

Together, we are expanding community security to ensure that we and our children will be safe and secure as we choose to live engaged, vibrant, joyous Jewish lives in our schools and synagogues and community centers.  

Together, we are deepening relationships with allies and leaders from across civic Boston because this is not a Good Fight that we will win alone, and as my friend, JCRC CEO Jeremy Burton, always reminds us, antisemitism, like other forms of hate, is not a problem for the Jewish community to solve on our own.  

It was heartening, comforting, even inspiring to launch our Face Jewish Hate campaign at TD Garden side by side with important and influential political and faith leaders; just as it was heartening yesterday to hear the unequivocal support for Israel and condemnation of terror from so many of our friends, allies and elected officials. That only happens because of the work ADL, JCRC, so many of the partners here today, do to deepen these relationships, to stand with and show up for other vulnerable communities, to fight for democracy, human dignity, and for the character of our commonwealth and our country. I feel grateful and hopeful that we are in this fight, this Good Fight, with friends and allies who will stand with us, and that we are in this with one another, together.  

Thank you.

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A Deep Dive Into Cyberbullying 

By Rich Tenorio 

Bullying is bad enough, but with kids on social media all the time, cyberbullying can be just as bad, if not worse. And it’s sometimes antisemitic in character, depending on the target. 

“A lot of bullying and cyberbullying go hand-in-hand,” said Jinnie Spiegler, director of curriculum and training for the Anti-Defamation League. “It’s rare when bullying in-person does not make its way to the digital world. Usually, it’s both.” However, she noted, cyberbullying “is unique from other bullying and can be particularly harmful.” 

WHAT IS CYBERBULLYING?

Occurring in digital spaces such as a computer or smartphone, cyberbullying includes hurtful comments, posting private information, posing as someone else to harm their reputation and forcible exclusion from groups online, she said. 

Cyberbullying has increased dramatically in recent years and poses added dangers for tweens and teens. Unlike traditional schoolyard bullying, in which there is some relief when the school day ends, cyberbullying can occur at all hours, limiting the ability of trusted adults, such as parents and teachers, to notice and/or help. Instead of private locations such as the back of a classroom or school bus, cyberbullying can manifest itself through public posts online, potentially harming someone’s reputation for years—including, ironically, the individual committing the bullying. It can persist on digital devices indefinitely, unless a social media platform removes it. 

The Cyberbullying Research Center tracks the phenomenon among 12- to 17-year-olds. The overall cyberbullying victimization rate among that demographic stood at 18.8% in 2007, the year Apple rolled out the iPhone. By 2019, the rate had risen to 36.5%; in 2021, it increased yet again, to 45.5%, nearly half of young people in that age bracket. 

Spiegler said the ADL’s view of bullying draws upon common characteristics—it is repeated, threatening behavior, committed by one or more individuals with a perceived power differential over their target. That power differential can include hostile stances toward marginalized groups, such as Jewish, Black or LGBTQIA+ communities. For example, read what happens when antisemitism and anti-LGBTQIA+ hate converge. It is this identity-based bullying and cyberbullying that the ADL is marshaling its resources against. 

“We tend to use examples like antisemitic cyberbullying, racist cyberbullying or bullying,” Spiegler said. “You’ll see this a lot, especially in the teenage years, bullying targeted toward a particular group or person. A lot of times, what they say is racist or antisemitic or homophobic, things like that.” 

WHAT TO DO ABOUT CYBERBULLYING 

Although cyberbullying can be dismaying, like bullying in general, its targets do have options, from managing their settings online to asking that social media platforms remove hateful content. 

Spiegler’s suggestions: 
  • Be an ally, supporting the target even if you don’t know them. 
  • Don’t participate in cyberbullying if it comes up. Other people will notice your nonparticipation, which may lead them to do the same. 
  • Tell the oppressor or oppressors to stop, either publicly or privately. 

Remember that you don’t have to confront the person doing the cyberbullying and that this is often the safest approach. When it comes to directly communicating with a cyberbully, she recalls a lesson from her anti-bias work: “If there’s antisemitic or racist remarks, why are you going to feed into that?” Instead, she counseled, “Understand where the person is as an individual [and don’t] feed into that kind of groupthink.”

In general, she said, “There are strategies for staying safe online. Don’t respond, save screenshots if you need them later, reporting them to trusted adults.” And, she said, “you can report abuse to the companies,” whether it’s Facebook, X or even a Nintendo or Sony Playstation game. (Read more about why reporting antisemitism matters.)

“As kids get older,” she said, “they’re less and less likely influenced by a parent or trusted adult. Young people have to help each other move from bystanders to allies.” 

Rich Tenorio covers antisemitism news for JewishBoston.com. His work has appeared in international, national, regional and local media outlets. He is a graduate of Harvard College and the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. He is also a cartoonist. Email him at richt@cjp.org.

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How To Teach Kids About the Painful History of Swastikas

By Kara Baskin

Swastikas have become sadly ubiquitous—as graffiti in schools, cemeteries, on bridges and flags. In response, Lappin Foundation just launched a moving short film, “Swastika – Symbol of Hate,” to teach middle- and high-schoolers about the true, brutal meaning behind the symbol.  

Most importantly, they hear from Holocaust survivors Magda Bader and Dr. Hans Fisher, whose lived experiences crystallize the terror and pain that the swastika provokes.  

“We were given orders to get out of the cattle cars fast, and we were told that we would see each other in a voice that you try to believe …. I was holding onto one of my sister’s and my mother’s hand. Even though I just turned 14, I looked 10 or 12. I was attached to my mother. Because of the orders, and you were told you’d see each other, I let my mother’s hand go. … That’s the last time I saw my mother,” Bader recalls. 

It’s important to know the history and what to do when you see a swastika. Lappin Foundation executive director Deborah Coltin shared more about the new film, which comes with a guide for educators.

What inspired the video? 

What inspired the video is, sadly, the number of incidents involving swastika graffiti in our communities. Over the past few years, I’ve been increasingly invited to schools where swastikas appear to do a lesson about its meaning. In the beginning, it was high schools. And then it was middle schools. And then, last year, I was invited to a school with younger children in grades four to six. And that’s really troubling.  

I thought, “How do you begin the conversation?” I was searching for a video, because sometimes that’s a good opener. There was absolutely nothing that I felt was age-appropriate. I felt there was a real need for it, especially geared to middle school ages. Where did the symbol come from? What does it mean today, and why is it so upsetting? I also thought, if I could have Holocaust survivors talk about that piece of it, what a wonderful way to preserve their memory and have them impart a lesson to the students. And I believe that the film accomplishes that in 7-plus short minutes. 

How did you pull these components together? The film is short, but it’s impressive, and it’s powerful.  

I knew I wanted a simple, straightforward history. I’d been working with survivors Magda Bader and Dr. Hans Fisher. Both of them come from a very different experience. Magda survived Auschwitz. Hans was a passenger on the MS St. Louis [a ship that left Germany in 1939 to escape rising antisemitism]. So, he was the students’ age, and he escaped. He calls himself an escapee of the Holocaust.  

Their messages are so important. Sometimes, a swastika appears in a school, and then there’s a reaction from parents and the community, with all good intentions, but I don’t know how much education actually goes into teaching them about the symbol. I think that’s the missing piece. Our kids’ worlds are full of symbols. They communicate with emojis. Symbols evoke emotion. And the swastika represents the most evil time in humanity.  

This suggestion came from a student: Schools could use it as part of their orientation. They hear about bullying. They hear about all other kinds of name-calling. And so, because of the prevalent rise in antisemitism in our country, our students should be taught what this is and why it’s bad. They’re not going to get it by osmosis. And I believe this film is one way to do that. 

Any guidance on contextualizing the video for various age groups? 

It’s for middle school and older, for sure, and, with great care, older elementary students. Our teachers’ guide provides background, a synopsis and how teachers can introduce the film. And for teachers themselves who might not have background on the Holocaust, I provide resources for them as well, in addition to full-length interviews with Hans Fisher and Magda Bader. In addition, if educators want to learn more about the swastika and do a deeper dive, I provide resources for that. 

My older son is in middle school, and we often hear about swastika graffiti there. Why? What inspires this among kids? 

I don’t know what triggers it, but I don’t believe there’s been enough education proactively, preventatively, about what the swastika is. I believe students who do it know that, when it’s discovered, it’s something that gets a reaction out of adults. That’s just conjecture on my part. But I don’t believe there’s been enough education—straightforward, clear, simple, at their level—about what this is.  

If you were to summarize the film and its effect in a sentence, what would you say? 

I hope students will have felt something: the pain of the survivors, how devastating the Holocaust was and to have the awareness and the knowledge of what the symbol means. My hope is that they are able to articulate that this is a symbol of hatred and destruction. If they can walk away with that, I think the goal has been achieved. 

Learn more about what teens really think about antisemitism.

Kara Baskin is the parenting writer for JewishBoston.com. She is also a regular contributor to The Boston Globe and a contributing editor at Boston Magazine. She has worked for New York Magazine and The New Republic, and helped to launch the now-defunct Jewish Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Email her at kara@jewishboston.com. 

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Answering the Call: From Boston to D.C., United Against Xenophobia

By Rebeccah Lipson, Repair the World Fellow, Boston    

This summer marked a significant turning point in my journey as I embarked on a new chapter with Repair the World, an organization that mobilizes Jews and their communities to actively pursue a more just world. Little did I know that this commitment would soon lead me and my dedicated team to a powerful moment of action: the 60th anniversary March on Washington. 

As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once wisely noted, “The opposite of good is not evil; the opposite of good is indifference.” At Repair the World, we understand that our purpose goes beyond passive observation of the world’s injustices. It’s about stepping forward, taking action, and making a tangible impact. This philosophy, encapsulated by Rabbi Heschel’s words, has shaped my summer and propelled me toward the heart of a movement that echoes with historical significance and calls for a united stand against all forms of discrimination and injustice. 

As the summer unfolded, my team and I grappled with the notion of responsibility. We spent hours at cafes, synagogues, and parks discussing the various forms of injustices Boston is facing. We recognized that we, as Jews, have a unique obligation to address and combat xenophobia in all its manifestations. The decision to journey from our base in Boston to Washington, D.C., wasn’t just a logistical one; it was an unequivocal statement of our commitment. We wanted to take what we learned and put it into action. This trip to D.C. was a manifestation of the Jewish value of na’aseh v’nishma, action and learning. We firmly believe that when given an opportunity to fight against forms of xenophobia, it is our duty to seize it. 

The 60th anniversary March on Washington holds a special resonance for me, not only due to its historical significance but also because of the values it represents. Dr. Martin Luther King’s legacy reverberates through the decades, reminding us that the struggle for justice and equality is ongoing. As I stand on the precipice of this march, I can’t help but reflect on the parallels between the civil rights movement and the issues we continue to grapple with today, such as food insecurity and housing injustice that brown and Black Bostonians continue to face today.

The decision to march alongside CJP, in collaboration with ADL, speaks volumes about our collective determination. It’s a testament to the power of solidarity, achdoot, in the face of adversity. Our call to serve goes beyond the march. Our call to serve enables us to take direct action in the name of tzedek, justice. The march itself is a continuation of a journey that began 60 years ago, and we’re here to carry forward the torch of progress and equality. 

Our dedication isn’t merely symbolic; it’s a reflection of our unwavering belief that combating xenophobia, racism, and discrimination is central to our identity as Jews. We’ve faced our own historical struggles, and that shared experience binds us to the broader tapestry of individuals who have fought and continue to fight for their rights. Just as we would expect others to stand with us against antisemitism, we recognize the imperative of standing with those who face other kinds of hate. 

In a world where divisiveness can seem all-encompassing, this march becomes a beacon of hope. It’s a space where individuals from different backgrounds come together with a shared purpose: to reshape the future into one that’s inclusive, just, and equitable. It’s a moment to amplify the voices of those who have been marginalized and silenced, and to challenge the structures that perpetuate inequality.

As we prepare to gather for Shabbat dinner with members of the King family and leaders of the march, the significance of our presence becomes even more palpable. It’s not just about showing up; it’s about actively participating in a service movement that’s greater than ourselves to change the world for the better. 

I’m humbled by the journey that brought me here and excited about the journey that lies ahead. This summer, Repair the World gave me purpose, and, like Jewish service, this march gives me another opportunity to turn that purpose into action. 

As Rabbi Heschel’s words remind us, our refusal to be indifferent is the spark that ignites lasting change.

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Allyship and the Work Ahead: Reflections From Washington, D.C.

By Melissa Garlick, Senior Director of Combating Antisemitism and Building Civic Engagement at Combined Jewish Philanthropies

On Saturday, August 26, 2023, CJP partnered with ADL New England to travel to D.C. to stand in solidarity with communities across the country for the 60th anniversary of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. At the same time as we were marching, singing, and chanting, Black people were being gunned down and killed in Jacksonville, Florida, in a racially motivated attack. 

The juxtaposition of themes of survival, resilience, and determination alongside the very painful reminder of the work ahead resonate deeply with me as a Jew and are exactly why I am so committed to deepening allyship as central to CJP’s work to fight antisemitism. As Reverend Jamal Harrison Bryant put it in his speech: “We are not the generation that is going to sit down and be quiet. If you don’t believe me, take a one-way trip to Montgomery, Alabama, and there you will find out that no weapon born against us will be able to prosper … 60 years later, we’re still not free, but we know how to last.” 

In the Jewish community, we understand all too well that racist, antisemitic, and extremist violence are intended to push us into the realm of despair and silence. We stand on the shoulders of prior generations who bravely gave their hearts, souls, and lives to democracy and freedom for us to continue that fight. And we intimately understand that fighting antisemitism cannot be done in isolation from the struggle for racial justice. That the only way we are going to achieve our shared vision is to do it arm in arm. 

CJP’s work to fight antisemitism is dedicated to the vision that our work now can inspire and empower future generations to ensure freedom and equality for all. And the vision that future generations can live and pray without the threat to physical safety and security. 

In the meantime, we march on and we push forward: loudly, proudly, and together.  

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Listen In: How To Respond to Antisemitism

Melissa Garlick, Senior Director, Combatting Antisemitism and Building Civic Engagement, talks on Movin’ and Groovin’ with Ellen Kagan about antisemitism: what it is and how to respond. Melissa also talks about the National Strategy to Counter Antisemitism that the White House shared, which is its first national plan ever directly addressing Jewish hate.  

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The Power of One to Make a Difference

By Melissa Garlick, Senior Director of Combating Antisemitism and Building Civic Engagement at Combined Jewish Philanthropies

I have dedicated my professional life to combatting antisemitism and hate and have realized that the starting place for this work is a hard acknowledgement that antisemitism can’t be solved with just one magic solution. With increasing incidents of antisemitism, violence, and division in our country, the feelings of despair can overwhelm and sometimes distract from the mission. But every day, individuals in our communities are choosing to use their power by lifting their voices, sharing their stories, building solidarity, and raising awareness.   

I am personally inspired by recent stories that highlight the power of one to make a difference in this work—including the bravery of Chanie Krinsky, who shared her story and her voice in NBC’s coverage on the rise of antisemitism in Massachusetts, and the determination of Arlington High School senior Cooper Katzman, who hiked 275 miles to raise money for the ADL and the fight against antisemitism. 

Each one of us has the power and the responsibility to take action in the collective work to combat antisemitism. We can draw inspiration and motivation from people like Chanie and Cooper as we strive toward a future where all Jewish people are able to live proudly and safely. 

Here are some action steps you can take to make a difference in fighting antisemitism: 

  1. Educate yourself and become a better advocate—knowledge is power. Do you know how to talk about and intervene with antisemitic tropes and myths? Do you know how to explain them and their impact on you? Check out the ADL’s Guide to Antisemitic Tropes and learn more.
  1. Raise awareness—use your own voice to elevate the problem of antisemitism and the impact on you and your community. Write in local outlets, engage in public conversations. 
  1. Know how to report antisemitic incidents
  1. Be a good ally—and remember, antisemitism is not only an attack on the Jews. Understand how antisemitism intersects and often is found with other “isms.” Build meaningful relationships across communities and reach out to others in times of need for solidarity.     
  1. Celebrate and find joy. Proudly displaying Jewish identity and finding times of joy are essential to the fight against antisemitism.
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