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Through missile strikes and sleepless nights, the persistent hope of being an Iranian Jew in Israel
For weeks, I lived in Tel Aviv as missiles streaked across the sky overhead. I heard sirens day and night, disrupting sleep and leaving me constantly bracing for the next alert. I ran to dozens of shelters across the city, waiting tensely as interceptions echoed overhead.
And yet, when I decided to leave Israel amid the ongoing war with Iran, I expected to feel relief. Instead, I felt a quiet, disorienting grief — as if I were stepping away from a moment I had spent my entire life waiting for.
For most of my life, Iran existed only in my mother’s memories. She was born and raised in Shiraz, Iran, one of hundreds of thousands of Jews that lived and thrived in Iran before the revolution. But as the war unfolded, I found myself thinking about it constantly — the life she had there, the one she was forced to leave behind, and the possibility it might not be lost forever.
My three identities — American, Iranian, and soon-to-be-Israeli — seemed to be converging in ways I never expected. For the first time in my life, I imagined what it might be like for all three to exist in the same physical reality — what if being American and Israeli did not mean being forever removed from my mother’s homeland? I imagined myself walking beside my mother through the tree-lined streets of Shiraz and bustling bazaars.
For most of my life that future belonged only to dreams. For the first time, it feels tangible.
A joyous Jewish life in Iran
Long before the Islamic Republic, Jews lived in Iran for thousands of years, creating a distinct culture of Judeo-Persian language, literature, and food. In photographs from Shiraz in the 1970s, my mother looks like many young women of the era. Long, wavy hair falls freely around her shoulders; she wears bell-bottoms and silky blouses in the European styles she admired, and a bright smile on her face.
She worked as an assistant for an Italian company; people of many diverse nationalities lived and worked in Iran at the time. She loved Shiraz with every ounce of her being. She loved her life and she loved her freedom.
In 1979, everything changed.
When the Iranian Revolution toppled the country’s monarchy, many people sensed that it was time to flee. Some left on the first flights out, but my mother stayed. For years, she navigated a shrinking life while holding onto hope that the turmoil would pass.
But the freedoms she once knew only vanished over time.
One day, seven years after the revolution, she was walking through a public square when a member of the morality police noticed that a small part of her hairline was visible beneath her hijab. He spat in her face, scolded her, and nearly arrested her for indecency. That was the moment that ended the waiting.
At 28, unmarried and knowing very little English, my mother decided to flee Iran alone. Leaving was not as simple as buying a plane ticket. After the revolution, the Islamic Republic restricted travel, particularly for religious minorities like Jews, and implemented strict exit visa requirements. She paid someone to smuggle her out of the country in disguise as a pilgrim traveling to Pakistan en route to Mecca.
Upon arriving in Pakistan, she spent three months in refugee housing for Iranian Jews. She lived in a crowded and unsanitary safe home, filled with rats and cockroaches. Given the proximity to Iran and that Jews were not particularly welcome in Pakistan, movement outside the facility was severely restricted.
Eventually she made it to Vienna, where HIAS resettled Jewish refugees. She waited there for months, pleading with the American embassy for entry to the United States, one of thousands of refugees awaiting resettlement. Almost a year after leaving Iran, my mother was granted asylum in the United States.
A sense of something missing
For the Iranian Jewish diaspora, the story of the rise of the Islamic Republic is not only one of political change. It is the story of families scattered across continents and futures permanently redirected by exile.
My mother built a life in America with urgency and survival in mind. Many of her choices were shaped by fear rather than possibility. She often says she is grateful for the life and family she built. But there is also a quiet absence in her story — the life she once expected in Iran, which never had the chance to unfold.
Children inherit many things from their parents: traditions, languages, recipes, and sometimes unfinished dreams. I grew up aware that my life contained possibilities my mother never had. I pursued an education she never had the opportunity to complete. I built a career that gave me financial independence. I traveled freely as an American, enjoying a life full of choices and novel adventures. And yet, something always felt unresolved.
Some of my earliest memories are of my mother listening to Iranian radio broadcasts from Los Angeles, which many in the diaspora call “Tehrangeles.” The morning broadcast always began with the national anthem of Iran from the time of the Shah. Commentators discussed Iranian politics, and the faint possibility that things in the country they loved might one day change.
At some point, my mother stopped listening. After decades in exile, she accepted that she would likely never return to her homeland.
The possibility of change
This war is certainly unsettling. But it has also brought a fragile, uneasy hope. For the first time in decades, the future of Iran’s regime seems uncertain enough that people like my mother dare to imagine change again.
I do not celebrate war. But change rarely comes without disruption.
My mother’s story is one of millions about the loss and misery inflicted by the Islamic Republic. So many people of so many different backgrounds fled Iran, carrying generations of memories and aspirations across unfamiliar continents. And so many more remained, living under oppression, under laws that restrict freedom, expression and basic human rights.
Most recently, tens of thousands died resisting that repression, fighting for the freedoms my mother once knew and cherished.
I know that many would say this war was undertaken unjustly, and that Iran’s future is not the responsibility of outside nations. But for me, and many like me, it is not so simple. After all, our futures were taken from us unjustly, too.
I left Israel for the time being, but I am grateful to have been there for the start of this strange and hopeful moment in history. Sitting in a shelter, listening to the sirens, I felt so close to what has always seemed impossible: a life in which Iranians across the diaspora are able to go home again. That hope is worth the sirens, sleepless nights, and waiting. It is a small price to pay for the promise we carry for healing from the past and securing a new future for generations to come.
The post Through missile strikes and sleepless nights, the persistent hope of being an Iranian Jew in Israel appeared first on The Forward.
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With anti-Arab campaign ad, Netanyahu stoops to new moral and political lows
Israeli election campaigns have often been ugly. They have featured exaggeration, fearmongering and outright deception. But even by those standards, the first major campaign advertisement by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s Likud party, posted on Netanyahu’s X account on Tuesday, managed to shock much of the country.
The AI-generated video depicts former military chief Gadi Eisenkot, who has become the standard-bearer for the opposition, walking through a sunlit field toward a young Jewish man before passing him by to embrace Mansour Abbas of Ra’am, the United Arab List, instead.
The young man looks strikingly like Eisenkot’s son, Gal, who was killed fighting in Gaza in late 2023 — although Likud insists he isn’t meant to. Strictly speaking, there is enough difference to sustain the protestations. The young man has longer, wavier hair than Gal Eisenkot did — just enough, perhaps, to preserve plausible deniability. Yet almost everyone I know believed they were watching a father joyfully approaching his slain son, seemingly restored to life, only to ignore him in favor of an Arab political leader at a time when Arab political participation in Israel is particularly contentious.
The only possible explanation: Likud wants their campaign to be as mean as possible. Or perhaps that they believe that anything that creates a buzz — and therefore distracts from the governing coalition’s disastrous and controversial policies, including a wildly unpopular recent legislative blitz — is a good thing.
And buzz there is. The perception that a father’s personal loss had been weaponized for electoral gain struck many as a line that simply should not be crossed. “This is Netanyahu, and this is his machine of incitement”, wrote Einav Zangauker, whose son was held hostage in Gaza by Hamas, on social media. “This isn’t politics,” Zangauker added, but rather “an attack on a bereaved father and an assault on his dignity. It is the lowest of the low.”
“I turn to elected representatives, activists, and all candidates from all parties, and demand that you do not cross red lines. Do not turn rivals into enemies,” Israeli President Isaac Herzog said. “I call on the people of Israel, in a clear voice: Remember that elections are not a civil war.”
But even if one puts aside the controversy surrounding the young man altogether, the advertisement remains deeply troubling. It is, at its core, an exercise in incitement against Ra’am — and, by extension, against the very idea that Arab citizens may legitimately participate in governing Israel.
Abbas himself accused Netanyahu of “trying to incite between different parts of society”; about a fifth of Israelis are Arab, and the ad was obviously trying to delegitimize collaboration with the parties who generally represent them.
From Likud’s perspective, that too is logical — so long as they ignore the goal of Israel remaining a democratic country in which component ethnic groups live in harmony. It’s logical because Arab parties have always been part of the opposition to Likud and the chances are high that Eisenkot might need them, even passively, to successfully craft a coalition after the Oct. 27 election.
This isn’t just dangerous. It ignores the essential role that Arab parties have played in building toward a strong Israeli future.
Ra’am, under Abbas, has been the most integrationist Arab party Israel has ever seen. Abbas broke with decades of Arab political orthodoxy by arguing that Arab citizens should seek influence through practical cooperation with whichever Zionist government Israelis elected. He has repeatedly recognized Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people while demanding full equality for its Arab citizens.
Whatever one thinks of his politics, these choices have represented one of the boldest experiments in Jewish-Arab partnership since the state’s founding.
That experiment briefly succeeded. Ra’am joined Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid’s coalition in 2021 and demonstrated that Arab participation in government could become something ordinary rather than revolutionary.
More awkward still for Likud, Netanyahu himself spent some weeks after the 2021 election attempting to persuade Abbas to support — or even participate in — his own coalition. Those negotiations failed for one principal reason: Far-right firebrand Bezalel Smotrich — now Netanyahu’s finance minister — refused to countenance a government dependent on an Arab party. Without Ra’am, Netanyahu lacked a majority.
It is therefore surreal to portray Eisenkot’s willingness to work with Ra’am as somehow beyond the democratic pale, when not so long ago, Netanyahu himself tried to do precisely the same thing.
Nor should anyone pretend that Arab parties suddenly became relevant because of Eisenkot. Since the emergence of today’s political blocs, Arab parties have almost invariably belonged to the anti-Likud camp. Any center-left coalition aspiring to govern has depended, directly or indirectly, on their parliamentary support. That is not a distortion of Israeli democracy. It is one of its enduring structural realities.
Which brings us to the larger significance of this episode.
Many Israelis have long predicted that this Likud campaign would barely concern policy at all. They expected, instead, an effort to delegitimize any prospective change government by portraying it as illegitimate because it relied on Arab parties. They expected renewed attempts to cast Arab political participation as inherently suspect. They expected emotional manipulation to substitute for argument and personal attacks to eclipse serious debate. Some feared renewed efforts to discourage Arab turnout and disqualify Arab parties from the ballot.
That appears to be exactly what they’re getting.
The remarkable thing is not merely that Likud produced this advertisement, but that doing so was effectively its first act of the campaign, which kicked off after the Knesset recently went into recess.
Before voters had heard competing visions for Israel’s economy, security or diplomacy, the country’s governing party chose to launch its campaign by inflaming fears about Arab political participation while employing imagery that countless Israelis immediately interpreted as mocking one father’s unbearable personal loss.
By the next day, competing ads using a similar aesthetic were put out by opponents of Netanyahu. One depicted Netanyahu on a similar field running past a soldier to hug a Haredi politician holding a sign that says — as many Haredi anti-draft protesters chant — “we’d rather die than serve.”
One reason AI is so attractive to political strategists is because it blurs responsibility. Images can be carefully engineered to evoke a conclusion while remaining just different enough to deny that such a conclusion was ever the intention. The technology offers something every spin doctor craves: emotional impact coupled with plausible deniability.
“I do not think we can allow this to continue,” lamented David Lau, a former chief rabbi of Israel, who has served in the military. “We must stop all these disputes, all this talk, and all these behaviors. This path does not lead to building anything. It does not lead to peace. It is a bad path, and I am even more concerned about the next generation.”
It is entirely possible that this advertisement will prove to have established the moral tone of the campaign. Israel deserves better.
The post With anti-Arab campaign ad, Netanyahu stoops to new moral and political lows appeared first on The Forward.
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Reed College agrees to sweeping reforms as part of Title VI antisemitism settlement
(JTA) — Reed College has agreed to a host of far-reaching institutional changes, including asserting that targeting Jewish Zionists will be considered discriminatory, in order to settle multiple federal antisemitism investigations, parties to the complaint announced Wednesday.
The settlement was announced by the Anti-Defamation League and the Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law, which jointly filed the complaint, under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, which prohibits discrimination at any institution receiving federal funds. It comes as campuses across the country, facing threats of losing federal funding under the Trump administration, have demonstrated willingness to negotiate new antisemitism protections.
As part of the agreement, the private Portland, Oregon, liberal arts school says it will insert language into its discrimination policy asserting that “for many Jewish people, Zionism is integral to their religious, ancestral and/or ethnic Jewish identity,” and that “targeting Jews on the basis of their Zionist identity” will be considered discriminatory.
The school will also contract a third-party consultant to monitor and report on its effectiveness in adhering to antisemitism protections, role that is unusual in similar Title VI agreements. The agreement says Reed will “consider” the International Holocaust Remembrance Association’s working definition of antisemitism, which includes some criticisms of Israel, and implement antisemitism training for faculty and staff.
“We take concerns about antisemitism, and all forms of unlawful discrimination, seriously, and we will continue to support the well-being, safety, and success of every member of our community,” a Reed College spokesperson told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in a statement acknowledging the agreement. Reed declined to comment further.
ADL CEO Jonathan Greenblatt and Brandeis Center officials praised the agreement in a release as a potential model for other colleges.
“We believe it should serve as a model for other schools,” Denise Katz-Prober, director of legal initiatives at the Brandeis Center, told JTA about the agreement. The required language in Reed’s discrimination guidelines, she said, is “very clear about what constitutes anti-Zionist conduct in violation of civil rights and in violation of the policy.”
“This outcome demonstrates how the Title VI process can work to effectively protect Jewish students,” Greenblatt said in his own statement.
Around 100 students at Reed College are Jewish, or about 7% of the total student body, according to estimates from Hillel International. A request for comment to the director of PDX Hillel, which serves Jewish students at Reed and others in the region, was not immediately returned.
The resolution stems from two anonymous Title VI antisemitism complaints from Jewish former Reed students, both filed in 2024 under the Biden administration. One of those cases related to a student whose dorm-room mezuzah was vandalized, and who herself was later pelted with rocks, during a pro-Palestinian demonstration in spring 2024. The student later left the school out of concern for her safety.
Both of the described acts would have already been considered violations of school policy for reasons unrelated to the student’s Jewish or Zionist identity. Brandeis’s Katz-Prober argued both should have also been considered in the context of her targeting by anti-Zionist activists.
“It might be difficult for someone to, at first glance, understand whether it was simply an assault or an assault motivated by bias,” she said. The case, she said, demonstrated how in some cases, “‘Zionist’ is merely a codeword for Jew.”
Katz-Prober also touted the agreement’s mandate that the school bring on a third-party compliance consultant, separate from its Title VI coordinator. While she insisted that such a role would be “independent” and free of bias, she noted that both the ADL and the Brandeis Center would have a role in their selection.
“Both sides get a say,” she said.
The post Reed College agrees to sweeping reforms as part of Title VI antisemitism settlement appeared first on The Forward.
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Arizona Rep. Andy Biggs cruises to GOP nomination for governor amid allegations of antisemitism
(JTA) — Arizona Rep. Andy Biggs, who has drawn criticism for ties to white nationalist figures, will officially be the Republican nominee for Arizona governor, after winning the primary on Tuesday night.
Biggs, who is backed by President Donald Trump, has drawn criticism for encouraging Stew Peters, an internet personality, and appearing on his show. Peters has labeled Judaism a “death cult” and has called for a “final solution” that involves the deportation of American Jews, and multiple watchdogs identify him as promoting antisemitism.
“Keep preaching,” Biggs told Peters at the end of his June 2023 appearance on the show, during which they discussed government corruption and Biggs agreed with Peters that the FBI should be abolished.
Biggs, 67, who won handily with 73.4% of votes according to multiple media outlets, will challenge Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs in what is expected to be a competitive race in November. Biggs has represented Arizona’s 5th Congressional District, which is outside of Phoenix, since 2017.
His opponent in the GOP primary, Rep. David Schweikert, had put out a campaign mailer in March tying Biggs to white supremacy and antisemitism. The mailer featured mentions of Biggs’ interview with Peters as well as Biggs’ endorsement of Texas GOP candidate Brandon Herrera, who owned a copy of “Mein Kampf.”
Biggs’ campaign did not respond to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency’s request for comment, but in a local TV interview last month he called the accusations politically motivated and said, “This notion that I am antisemitic is absolutely one of the most ludicrous, insane arguments ever.”
In 2024, Biggs opposed the bipartisan Antisemitism Awareness Act, which passed in the House of Representatives. Biggs wrote that he opposes antisemitism and that the “pro-Hamas, pro-genocide, anti-Israel events happening across the nation are sickening.” He rejected the legislation, he said, because it was “so poorly drafted that it violates the Constitution and could have serious ramifications for the Christian community.” Right wing Republicans objected especially to the bill citing a definition of antisemitism that included as an example the claim that the Jews killed Jesus.
That same year, Biggs attended a rally co-sponsored by the Proud Boys, an extremist militia style group. In 2019, he spoke at a “Patriotism over Socialism” rally in Arizona, which watchdogs warned would draw extremist groups.
Media Matters, a group that mostly monitors right-wing groups, in 2023 wrote that “the links between Biggs and far-right extremists have been well-documented,” citing among other things his ties to another far-right group, the Oath Keepers.
The Republican Jewish Coalition did not respond to a question over whether it would support Biggs’ run for governor.
At a campaign event on Tuesday, Hobbs skewered Biggs for his denial of Trump’s 2020 election loss, and for not acknowledging Hobbs’ narrow 2022 gubernatorial victory over Republican Kari Lake.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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