We Must Speak With Moral Clarity—Against Antisemitism and Against Oppression
Another synagogue attacked. Lives shaken. Fear spread like wildfire. It’s heartbreaking, it’s wrong, and let’s be absolutely clear: it was antisemitic, plain and simple.
I woke up to the news of yet another violent act—this time a synagogue in the U.K. desecrated, targeted, blamed not for individual wrongdoing, but because it symbolized a people. Jewish brothers and sisters living thousands of miles from the Middle East, just trying to worship and live freely, became the target of hate. No spins or excuses—this was a hate crime, and if we, as truth-speaking people, don’t call that out for what it is, then we’ve lost a vital piece of our humanity.
But at the same time—and I’m saying this as a Black veteran, as an advocate, and as someone who has seen both government overreach and human suffering up close—moral clarity means we don’t stop there.
True Justice Means Naming All Oppression
Progressive Jewish voices, and anyone claiming to stand for justice, cannot ignore the pain and devastation being inflicted upon Palestinian lives. That’s not antisemitic to say—it’s honest. Morality doesn’t change because borders do. The same principle that leads us to mourn synagogue attacks must also lead us to question bombings of refugee camps, medical infrastructure being demolished, or families in Gaza who’ve known nothing but blockade and war for decades.
That doesn’t mean the solution is simple. It’s not. But silence—or worse, justifying or minimizing these acts because it’s politically uncomfortable—is part of the problem. Israel’s government is not above accountability. Criticizing its policies or its military actions is not an attack on Jewish identity. That distinction is crucial.
Being Pro-Justice Means Being Consistent
When I served my country, I learned this fast: you can’t pick and choose which wrongs you oppose if you claim to serve all people. Either you stand against racism, religious persecution, and human rights violations—no matter who the victim is—or your integrity crumbles.
My ancestors didn’t survive Jim Crow to see another people justified in their suffering. My fellow soldiers didn’t die in uniform for me to start excusing state violence just because it comes from an “ally.” And my faith in humanity doesn’t allow me to feel rage over one attack while ignoring months of bloodshed in another corner of the world.
So let’s say this plainly:
– The synagogue attack in the U.K. was vile, rooted in antisemitism, and deserves full condemnation.
– The Israeli state’s actions, especially in Gaza, are too often heinous, marked by undeniable suffering, and must be called out without deflection.
We are capable of holding both truths.
The Courage of Progressive Jews
I’ve marched alongside progressive Jewish activists who have been some of the bravest moral voices I’ve ever met. They’ve stood side by side with Palestinians demanding justice and dignity, just as they’ve rushed to defend synagogues from hate and desecration. They know that oppression anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Speaking up doesn’t mean betraying your people. It means refusing to let trauma be weaponized against others. It means believing in a future where neither Jews nor Palestinians are unsafe, targeted, or silenced.
They Need Us to Tell the Truth—Even When It’s Hard
Telling the truth about antisemitism shouldn’t require silence on apartheid or occupation. And raising our voices for Palestinian dignity shouldn’t require diminishing the very real dangers Jewish communities face today.
We all see the rise in hate crimes. We all see online mobs dehumanizing both sides. And yet, through all this noise and rage, what remains absolutely vital is clarity—a backbone of truth backed by compassion.
My Message: Stay Firm in Principle
Some folks reading this may accuse me of bothsidesism. But this isn’t about “both sides”—this is about what’s right. If you’re progressive, you don’t get to cherry-pick who deserves justice. You don’t get to trade off one trauma for another.
What’s happening in Gaza is tragic. What happened at that U.K. synagogue is evil. These are not contradictions. They are connected by humanity—ours, and the one we strive to preserve for all people.
So to my Jewish friends grieving today: I see you. I stand with you. And I also know many of you see the pain of Palestinians and wish your overwhelming moral burden wasn’t made heavier by governments acting in your name.
And to my fellow Americans, especially those who come from marginalized communities: let’s remember that justice isn’t limited. Compassion doesn’t come in short supply. And we have a duty—yes, a *duty*—to speak truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.