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Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
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In seismic party shift, nearly half of House Democrats vote to end aid to Israel
Cutting off U.S. military aid to Israel came closer than ever to becoming the majority position among House Democrats on Wednesday, a striking sign of how swiftly the party has shifted just months before the midterm elections that could determine control of Congress.
As many as 103 of 212 Democrats supported a measure to eliminate the $3.3 billion in annual military assistance to Israel, while 98 joined all Republicans in opposing the amendment proposed by Rep. Thomas Massie of Kentucky, a fierce Israel critic who lost the Republican primary in May. Another 10 Democrats abstained. It received more support than the Block the Bombs Act, which would only prohibit the sale of certain offensive weapons to Israel and has 77 co-sponsors.
The vote underscored that support for ending U.S. military aid to Israel is no longer confined to the Democratic Party’s progressive left.
Less than three years ago, only 37 members opposed an emergency defense package for Israel following Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack and the start of the war in Gaza. Opposition to U.S. aid to Israel has now moved toward the Democratic mainstream, fueled by voter anger over Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s handling of the wars in Gaza and Iran, a string of progressive primary victories and growing frustration with the influence of election spending by the group AIPAC in Democratic politics.
The vote marks a break from one of the last bipartisan consensuses on foreign policy: stalwart support for Israel as a U.S. ally.
Leadership and Jewish Democrats split
The Democratic leadership, Jewish members and Jewish organizations were split over Wednesday’s measure, which supporters described as an urgent message to the Israeli government to change course.
House Democratic Leader Hakeem Jeffries, hoping to become the chamber’s next speaker, opposed the amendment, arguing that cutting off all U.S. assistance to Israel would go too far and could also affect humanitarian aid for Palestinians. Still, he declined to pressure members to vote against the measure, and acknowledged the deep divisions within his caucus. Rep. Katherine Clark of Massachusetts, the Democratic whip, and outgoing Rep. Nancy Pelosi, the former House speaker, supported the measure.
That balancing act and the overall vote may foreshadow an even bigger challenge should Democrats reclaim the House in November. A Quinnipiac University poll released on Wednesday found that 49% of Pennsylvania voters in the key presidential election battleground state believe the Democratic Party has moved too far to the left.
Ahead of the vote, Jeffries called to renegotiate the next memorandum of understanding between the United States and Israel to reflect what he described as a changed reality — a move welcomed by many Democrats. And he wasn’t humiliated by the outcome. But allowing nearly half the caucus to support even a symbolic vote to end aid could further empower the expanding democratic socialist bloc that may seek greater leverage in his upcoming speakership bid.
The vote also highlighted the growing diversity of views among Jewish members.
Jake Auchincloss of Massachusetts, Becca Balint of Vermont, Sara Jacobs of California, Seth Moulton of Massachusetts, Jamie Raskin of Maryland and Jan Schakowsky of Illinois all voted in favor. Rep. Jerry Nadler of New York, co-chair of the Jewish Caucus, did not vote due to a family medical emergency. Nonetheless, he said in a lengthy statement, had he been present he’d have voted against the measure because it would have also cut funding for U.S.-backed peacebuilding programs.
Rep, Brad Schneider of Illinois, the other co-chair of the caucus, echoed Nadler’s concerns and added, “We must work to rebuild a bipartisan consensus that supports Israel’s security and sovereignty as a Jewish and democratic state, while also recognizing the legitimate aspirations of the Palestinian people to self-determination, and ultimately statehood.”
Jewish organizations were similarly divided.
Democratic-allied groups, the Jewish Democratic Council of America and Democratic Majority for Israel, called Massie’s bill a “cynical political ploy” by Republican leaders to allow a vote to “drive a wedge within the Democratic Party.”
J Street, the pro-peace advocacy group, likewise opposed the amendment, while saying the level of support among Democrats reflected a dramatic shift in the old consensus in Washington.
The Union for Reform Judaism lobbied lawmakers to oppose the amendment, arguing that eliminating aid outright would undermine Israel’s security.
The New Jewish Narrative welcomed the vote. “The level of support for this amendment reflects a sea change in how Americans view the actions of the Israeli government,” the organization said in a statement. “We hope that our Israeli brothers and sisters take notice of this loud and clear statement and will take the necessary steps to change what their government is doing.”
What happens to AIPAC?
The vote presented one of the biggest strategic tests yet for AIPAC.
In recent years, the pro-Israel campaign fundraising organization and its affiliated super PAC invested heavily in Democratic primaries, aiming to elect and protect candidates supportive of military aid while drawing clear lines around who it considered friends of Israel.
Wednesday’s vote raises new questions about whether that approach can still hold.
One early sign came from Rep. Pat Ryan of New York. Ryan, who has represented a competitive swing district and was once among the most outspoken pro-Israel Democrats — including voting to censure Rep. Rashida Tlaib in 2023 — announced after the vote that he would reject future support and return contributions he had received from AIPAC.
In a statement following the vote, AIPAC proclaimed that “AIPAC members will be actively engaged throughout this election cycle, and future election cycles, to support members of Congress of both parties who support a strong U.S.-Israel alliance and oppose those who don’t. “
Whether Wednesday’s vote proves to be the high-water mark of Democratic frustration with Netanyahu or another step in a continuing realignment may depend less on Congress than on events in Israel itself.
Netanyahu, who is running for reelection in October, has himself suggested that Israel should eventually phase out its reliance on American military aid when the current 10-year memorandum of understanding expires in 2028. That possibility could make positions once viewed as politically risky increasingly acceptable even among traditionally pro-Israel Democrats.
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Delightful recording of children’s songs by Melbourne’s Yiddish day school
די באַקאַנטע ייִדישע טאָגשול אין מעלבורן, די „שלום עליכם שול“, האָט לעצטנס לאַנצירט אַ רעקאָרדירונג קינדערלידער דורך דער דיגיטאַלישער מוזיק־פּלאַטפֿאָרם „ספּאָטיפֿײַ.“ דער אַלבום איז מלא־חן.
די רעקאָרדירונג, „אונדזער קינדערגאָרטן שײן“, איז אַ זאַמלונג קינדערלידער, װאָס מע זינגט טאַקע אינעם קינדערגאָרטן פֿון דער „שלום עליכם שול“ — די איינציקע טאָגשול אין דער וועלט, וווּ מע לערנט די תּלמידים יעדן טאָג ייִדיש.
די רעקאָרדירונג באַשטייט פֿון 31 לידער. זיי נעמען אַרײַן באַקאַנטע ייִדישע קינדערלידער; נײַע שאַפֿונגען פֿון לערערינס אין דער שול, און איבערזעצונגען פֿון ענגלישע קינדערלידער. ס׳רובֿ פֿון די לידער ווערן געזונגען פֿון דער קולטור־טוערין און פֿײַנער זינגערין פֿריידי מראָצקי אָבער עס זענען אויך דאָ קינדער סאָליסטן אויפֿן אַלבום, ווי יוני רינגלבלום, וואָס זינגט דאָס באַקאַנטע אַרבעטליד, „מיטן זעגעלע“.
בײַ געוויסע קינדערלידער האָט די שול אַ ביסל דערהײַנטיקט די ווערטער. אין „מיטן זעגעלע“ טאַקע האָט מען געביטן די לעצטע שורה — „אַרבעט מאַכט דאָס לעבן זיס“ (אַ פֿראַזע וואָס האָט מיר תּמיד אויסגעזען איבערגעטריבן און אַפֿילו פּראָפּאַגאַנדיסטיש) — מיט אַ מער שׂכלדיקער שורה: „קינדערלעך אַרבעטן אַזוי זיס.“
דאָס ליד „זונטיק בולבעס“, וואָס באַשרײַבט ווי אַן אָרעמאַן עסט בלויז קאַרטאָפֿל אַ גאַנצע וואָך, האָט מען אויך געביטן. אין די אַמאָליקע שטאַרק אָרעמע געגנטן אין ווילנע איז טאַקע געווען אַזאַ געוואַלדיקע אָרעמקייט אַז געוויסע ייִדן האָבן אפֿשר געגעסן דאָס זעלבע עסן יעדן טאָג. אין דער מאָדערנער וועלט אָבער קענען אַפֿילו די אָרעמסטע ייִדן באַקומען שפּײַזקופּאָנען פֿון דער רעגירונג, אַזוי אַז קיינער דאַרף זיך נישט האַלטן מיט אַזאַ נעבעכדיקער דיעטע. דערפֿאַר האָט מען אינעם ליד פֿאַרביטן דאָס וואָרט „בולבעס“ אויף „אַרבעט“: „זונטיק — אַרבעט, מאָנטיק — אַרבעט, דינסטיק און מיטוואָך — אַרבעט… שבת איז די צײַט צו זײַן מיט משפּחה; זונטיק — ווײַטער אַרבעט.“
די רעקאָררידונג, פּראָדוצירט דורכן מוזיקער גדעון פּרײַס, און פֿרײדי מראָצקי, איז געשטיצע געוואָרן פֿונעם קרישטאַל פֿאָנד.
כּדי צו באַשטעלן דעם אַלבום, גיט אַ קוועטש דאָ.
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ADL and JCPA clash over teachers union, exposing a divide over how to fight antisemitism
(JTA) — Two leading Jewish civil rights groups stepped up after Jewish teachers reported antisemitic harassment last year at the National Education Association’s annual convention, only to devolve into disagreement ahead of this year’s convention.
The unusual public dispute between the Jewish Council of Public Affairs and the Anti-Defamation League brought to the fore a simmering tension over how to fight antisemitism within schools and unions. Should Jewish groups promote collaboration with the institutions on solutions — or prioritize confronting them over their failings?
Two days before the assembly, the JCPA and the NEA’s Jewish Affairs Caucus heralded new rules and policies it had developed in collaboration union leaders to “ensure the safety of Jewish members and educators at the [Representative Assembly] without undermining the union’s vital commitment to free speech and democracy.”
A day before the assembly, the ADL, which had worked with caucus members over the past year, told Jewish Insider in an unusual line of attack that it was “extremely frustrated about a so-called ‘agreement’ with JCPA that was reached without all NEA JAC leadership and delegates at the table.”
It also took aim at union leaders: “NEA’s inconsistent enforcement of its own protections has sent an unmistakable message: Jewish educators are not a priority. That must change now.”
Amy Spitalnick, the CEO of the Jewish Council for Public Affairs, responded to the ADL’s criticism in an interview with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
“When you can’t criticize substance, you find reasons to criticize process,” Spitalnick said in an interview. “In this case, we’re both very proud of the substance and the process, and the results underscore that.”
JCPA has emphasized working directly with school leaders and public officials to combat antisemitism, and opposed the Trump administration’s crackdown on campus pro-Palestinian protests.
“It is both possible and necessary to fight antisemitism — on campus, in our communities, and across the country — without abandoning the democratic values that have allowed Jews, and so many other vulnerable minorities, to thrive,” the group wrote in an April 2025 joint statement condemning the crackdown.
That letter spurred behind the scenes pushback from another legacy group, the Jewish Federations of North America.
The ADL, meanwhile, has taken on a more confrontational approach to universities, assigning them “report cards” for campus antisemitism and also empowering Jewish educators to advocate for themselves.
Notably, progressive-leaning groups like the JCPA and centrist groups like the ADL and the JFNA flip strategies when it comes to addressing Trump administration policies that undercut Jewish civil rights advocacy. The centrist groups have at times retreated from confrontation with the government, while the JCPA has been more directly critical. In one instance, the JCPA was more outspoken about a Trump administration attack on the ADL than the ADL was.
“There are absolutely those on the right who think that we should just be burning it all down, and that is not an approach that’s going to make you safer or democracy safer,” Spitalnick said. “We believe deeply that the only path forward is one that confronts antisemitism wherever it exists, and does so in a way that recognizes our safety as Jews is tied to our democratic institutions, which includes unions and public education.”
The ADL and the JCPA found common cause last year after the NEA delegates narrowly passed a measure barring the union from using, endorsing or publicizing any materials from the ADL, which boasts a comprehensive library of anti-bias education materials. (The measure was ultimately rejected by the NEA’s board of directors.)
The JCPA at that time signed onto a letter led by the ADL describing “deep concerns about the growing level of antisemitic activity within teachers’ unions,” including reports that Jewish teachers were verbally accosted during the proceedings.
The harassment, including a reported case of NEA members appearing to cheer at a mention of the 2025 attack on a march for Israeli hostages in Boulder, Colorado, during the convention last year, last month sparked a new antisemitism investigation into NEA by the Trump administration.
Shira Goodman, the ADL’s vice president of advocacy, said in an interview the group “immediately had to take an adversarial advocacy position to address” last year’s conference.
The ADL centered its approach on engaging with Jewish teachers who had sought their help, including the incoming president of the Jewish Affairs Caucus. Goodman said that while the ADL had “some ongoing conversations with leaders at the NEA,” the bulk of its advocacy had been to “support teachers who are doing their own advocacy.”
“Working just with leadership wasn’t going to do it, but we also wanted to be there to support grassroots folks who felt like they wanted to be and remain within their union,” Goodman said.
Goodman added that she did not feel that JCPA and the ADL were working “in tandem.”
“JCPA has said publicly that they have relationships with AFT, with NEA. Different organizations in the Jewish community have different lanes and do different things,” Goodman said. “I just want to make sure that the teachers are represented, and that if somebody is speaking for the teachers, that the teachers have been part of that.”
Spitalnick said JCPA had engaged with JAC leadership and other Jewish organizations, including the ADL, throughout the negotiations with NEA. Last year, JCPA also led a workshop at NEA’s annual convention about antisemitism.
“All I could speak to is our approach, which has been to — instead of hammering the union with constant critique and framing a sort of zero sum dynamic in which it’s the union versus the Jewish community — making clear that the union’s success and Jewish safety, inclusion, are one in the same right, and that has led to the partnership we have with NEA,” Spitalnick said.
The ADL and other legacy groups have in the past expressed qualified support for Trump administration disciplinary actions targeting educational institutions. Spitalnick was adamant that was the wrong course, including in the most recent government investigation into the NEA.
“The question that everyone should be asking is what is motivating this, and at a time when we’re seeing – whether it be Republicans in Congress or others — use our real fears of antisemitism to fundamentally try to kill the unions by going after their charter and their fundamental existence, I would ask real questions about the motivation for this investigation,” Spitalnick said.
The ADL, meanwhile, wrote in a post on X that the federal government’s investigation “underscores what many Jewish educators have been saying for the last two years: no union member should be made to feel excluded, targeted, or unwelcome because of a core part of their identity.”
Alyson Brauning, the outgoing chair of the Jewish Affairs Caucus, who had collaborated with JCPA ahead of the convention, said the difference between this year’s conference earlier this month and last was “night and day.”
“I actually got to enjoy parts of the [Representative Assembly],” Brauning said. “Our table did not experience any harassment or intimidation in the hall at all. It was actually enjoyable and fun, and we got to do the business of the RA on the floor.”
Naomi Rodriguez, the incoming chair of the Jewish Affairs Caucus who had participated in the ADL’s “Hazak” program, said she “wasn’t aware” of all the work that JCPA had done behind the scenes ahead of the assembly.
“Maybe Alyson was, and she is the chair of the caucus,” she added. “As the incoming chair, I’ll be more on top of those things.”
Rodriquez, who is currently participating in a JCPA cohort to support teachers, said that as the incoming chair she would “accept support from anybody who wants to support us.”
‘This issue with antisemitism is a huge problem, and it’s only getting worse, and I really think we all need to work together, and collaborate and coordinate to ensure that we are as effective as possible in fighting it,” Rodriguez said.
In a statement to JTA, an NEA spokesperson said that the union had “enhanced our work to counter antisemitism and ensure all of our members are respected and supported.”
“That effort included extensive consultation with the Jewish Affairs Caucus, Jewish NEA members, and partners in the Jewish community, including the JCPA,” the spokesperson said.
Following the assembly, which took place in Denver from July 3 through 6, the ADL as well as several other prominent Jewish groups that had also lent support to the Jewish Affairs Caucus published a statement saying that the results of the assembly “provides reason for optimism.”
“We commend the important steps the NEA took to foster a more inclusive Representative Assembly this year,” the groups wrote.
They added a caveat: “Yet that experience does not yet reflect the reality facing many Jewish educators in their own communities. We continue to hear from educators across the country who report marginalization within their unions, hostile rhetoric, intimidation, and exclusion…That reality requires continued attention and action at every level.”
The Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations also joined the ADL’s statement, which did not include JCPA.
The JCPA “chose to have their own press release in the beginning and kind of break with what we had already decided as a group, and so that was why they weren’t part of this press release,” said Stephanie Hausner, the Conference of Presidents’ chief operating officer. The JCPA, like the ADL, is a constituent member of the conference.
Hausner said she felt the dispute between the organizations ahead of the conference “took away from the real issue at hand, which is how do we support Jewish teachers.”
“For the last year I’ve been working with all the organizations on this work, and I really thought we were in that place, and I hope that tomorrow we can get back to that place where everyone’s working together because I do think that it is better for the Jewish community,” Hausner said.
The ADL and JCPA “sometimes reach out to different audiences,” she said, but “in an ideal world, we all speak from the same notes and be able to to move together and work together on a regular basis, and we wouldn’t have some of this going on, some of this back and forth.”
“There are no two organizations that operate in this space and do things exactly the same,” Hausner added. “Hopefully, some of their efforts can complement each other moving forward.”
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