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Embracing their place on ‘the fringes,’ queer artists reimagine Jewish ritual garments for all bodies

(JTA) — Binya Kóatz remembers the first time she saw a woman wearing tzitzit. While attending Friday night services at a Jewish Renewal synagogue in Berkeley, she noticed the long ritual fringes worn by some observant Jews — historically men — dangling below a friend’s short shorts.

“That was the first time I really realized how feminine just having tassels dangling off you can look and be,” recalled Kóatz, an artist and activist based in the Bay Area. “That is both deeply reverent and irreverent all at once, and there’s a deep holiness of what’s happening here.”

Since that moment about seven years ago, Kóatz has been inspired to wear tzitzit every day. But she has been less inspired by the offerings available in online and brick-and-mortar Judaica shops, where the fringes are typically attached to shapeless white tunics meant to be worn under men’s clothing.

So in 2022, when she was asked to test new prototypes for the Tzitzit Project, an art initiative to create tzitzit and their associated garment for a variety of bodies, genders and religious denominations, Kóatz jumped at the chance. The project’s first products went on sale last month.

“This is a beautiful example of queers making stuff for ourselves,” Kóatz said. “I think it’s amazing that queers are making halachically sound garments that are also ones that we want to wear and that align with our culture and style and vibrancy.”

Jewish law, or halacha, requires that people who wear four-cornered garments — say, a tunic worn by an ancient shepherd — must attach fringes to each corner. The commandment is biblical: “Speak to the Israelite people and instruct them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages” (Numbers 15:37-41) When garments that lack corners came into fashion, many Jews responded by using tzitzit only when wearing a tallit, or prayer shawl, which has four corners.

But more observant Jews adopted the practice of wearing an additional four-cornered garment for the sole purpose of fulfilling the commandment to tie fringes to one’s clothes. Called a tallit katan, or small prayer shawl, the garment is designed to be worn under one’s clothes and can be purchased at Judaica stores or online for less than $15. The fringes represent the 613 commandments of the Torah, and it is customary to hold them and kiss them at certain points while reciting the Shema prayer.

“They just remind me of my obligations, my mitzvot, and my inherent holiness,” Kóatz said. “That’s the point, you see your tzitzit and you remember everything that it means — all the obligations and beauty of being a Jew in this world.”

The California-based artists behind the Tzitzit Project had a hunch that the ritual garment could appeal to a more diverse set of observant Jews than the Orthodox men to whom the mass-produced options are marketed. Julie Weitz and Jill Spector had previously collaborated on the costumes for Weitz’s 2019 “My Golem” performance art project that uses the mythical Jewish creature to explore contemporary issues. In one installment of the project focused on nature, “Prayer for Burnt Forests,” Weitz’s character ties a tallit katan around a fallen tree and wraps the tzitzit around its branches.

“I was so moved by how that garment transformed my performance,” Weitz said, adding that she wanted to find more ways to incorporate the garment into her life.

The Tzitzit Project joins other initiatives meant to explore and expand the use of tzitzit. A 2020 podcast called Fringes featured interviews with a dozen trans and gender non-conforming Jews about their experiences with Jewish ritual garments. (Kóatz was a guest.) Meanwhile, an online store, Netzitzot, has since 2014 sold tzitzit designed for women’s bodies, made from modified H&M undershirts.

The Tzitzit Project goes further and sells complete garments that take into account the feedback of testers including Kóatz — in three colors and two lengths, full and cropped, as well as other customization options related to a wearer’s style and religious practices. (The garments cost $100, but a sliding scale for people with financial constraints can bring the price as far down as $36.)

Spector and Weitz found that the trial users were especially excited by the idea that the tzitzit could be available in bright colors, and loved how soft the fabric felt on their bodies, compared to how itchy and ill-fitting they found traditional ones to be. They also liked that each garment could be worn under other clothing or as a more daring top on its own.

To Weitz, those attributes are essential to her goal of “queering” tzitzit.

“Queering something also has to do with an embrace of how you wear things and how you move your body in space and being proud of that and not carrying any shame around that,” she said. “And I think that that stylization is really distinct. All those gender-conventional tzitzit for men — they’re not about style, they’re not about reimagining how you can move your body.”

Artist Julie Weitz ties the knots of the tzitzit, fringes attached to the corners of a prayer shawl or the everyday garment known as a “tallit katan.” (Courtesy of Tzitzit Project)

For Chelsea Mandell, a rabbinical student at the Academy of Jewish Religion in Los Angeles who is nonbinary, the Tzitzit Project is creating Jewish ritual objects of great power.

“It deepens the meaning and it just feels more radically spiritual to me, when it’s handmade by somebody I’ve met, aimed for somebody like me,” said Mandell, who was a product tester.

Whether the garments meet the requirements of Jewish law is a separate issue. Traditional interpretations of the law hold that the string must have been made specifically for tzitzit, for example — but it’s not clear on the project’s website whether the string it uses was sourced that way. (The project’s Instagram page indicates that the wool is spun by a Jewish fiber artist who is also the brother of the alt-rocker Beck.)

“It is not obvious from their website which options are halachically valid and which options are not,” said Avigayil Halpern, a rabbinical student who began wearing tzitzit and tefillin at her Modern Orthodox high school in 2013 when she was 16 and now is seen as a leader in the movement to widen their use.

“And I think it’s important that queer people in particular have as much access to knowledge about Torah and mitzvot as they’re embracing mitzvot.”

Weitz explained that there are multiple options for the strings — Tencel, cotton or hand-spun wool — depending on what customers prefer, for their comfort and for their observance preferences.

“It comes down to interpretation,” she said. “For some, tzitzit tied with string not made for the purpose of tying, but with the prayer said, is kosher enough. For others, the wool spun for the purpose of tying is important.”

Despite her concerns about its handling of Jewish law, Halpern said she saw the appeal of the Tzitzit Project, with which she has not been involved.

“For me and for a lot of other queer people, wearing something that is typically associated with Jewish masculinity — it has a gender element,” explained Halpern, a fourth-year student at Hadar, the egalitarian yeshiva in New York.

“If you take it out of the Jewish framework, there is something very femme and glamorous and kind of fun in the ways that dressing up and wearing things that are twirly is just really joyful for a lot of people,” she said.

Rachel Schwartz first became drawn to tzitzit while studying at the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem in 2018. There, young men who were engaging more intensively with Jewish law and tradition than they had in the past began to adopt the garments, and Schwartz found herself wondering why she had embraced egalitarian religious practices in all ways but this one.

“One night, I took one of my tank tops and I cut it up halfway to make the square that it needed. I found some cool bandanas at a store and I sewed on corners,” Schwartz recalled. “And I bought the tzitzit at one of those shops on Ben Yehuda and I just did it and it was awesome.”

Rachel Schwartz stands in front of a piece of graffiti that plays on the commandment to wear tzitzit, written in the Hebrew feminine. (Courtesy of Rachel Schwartz)

Schwartz’s experience encapsulates both the promise and the potential peril of donning tzitzit for people from groups that historically have not worn the fringes. Other women at the Conservative Yeshiva were so interested in her tzitzit that she ran a workshop where she taught them how to make the undergarment. But she drew so many critical comments from men on the streets of Jerusalem that she ultimately gave up wearing tzitzit publicly.

“I couldn’t just keep on walking around like that anymore. I was tired of the comments,” Schwartz said. “I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Rachel Davidson, a Reconstructionist rabbi working as a chaplain in health care in Ohio, started consistently wearing a tallit katan in her mid-20s. Like Kóatz, she ordered her first one from Netzitzot.

“I would love to see a world where tallitot katanot that are shaped for non cis-male bodies are freely available and are affordable,” Davidson said. “I just think it’s such a beautiful mitzvah. I would love it if more people engaged with it.”

Kóatz believes that’s not only possible but natural. As a trans woman, she said she is drawn to tzitzit in part because of the way they bring Jewish tradition into contact with contemporary ideas about gender.

“Queers are always called ‘fringe,’” she said. “And here you have a garment which is literally like ‘kiss the fringes.’ The fringes are holy.”

—
The post Embracing their place on ‘the fringes,’ queer artists reimagine Jewish ritual garments for all bodies appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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In Israel’s mixed cities, the future of coexistence is already being tested

Human ingenuity has equipped us with technology to connect individuals in a way once unimaginable. But, in the past two decades, we have used that power to find ever more things that we hate about each other.

Since modern society has become remarkably proficient at manufacturing polarization, we need to learn from places where people already live alongside those they have been taught to regard as fundamentally different. Not because those places have solved the problem, but because they have no choice but to confront it.

Israel’s so-called mixed cities are among those places.

In Split: Life in the Israeli Mixed Cities, filmmakers Shady Srour and Dina Zvi Riklis examine the fragile arrangements through which Jewish and Arab Israelis inhabit the same urban spaces. The documentary focuses on five cities — Acre (Akko), Ramla, Haifa, Lod (Lydda) and Jaffa — that are defined as “mixed” by Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics because “a significant majority of Jewish residents lives alongside a significant minority of Arab residents.” Each of these cities, though, has a distinct history, demographics and political reality which resists the reassuring simplicity of the official designation.

Mixed implies that ingredients combine to produce something new. These cities are, however, more accurately described as shared, contested or, as the film’s title suggests, “split.” (The full title is in Arabic and Hebrew — Fasl Mukhtalat: Chatzuyot.) Their residents live along the same streets but do not necessarily inhabit the same understanding of what those streets mean. According to Adam Raz, one of many experts and residents interviewed in the film, families living a mere 100 meters apart often have an entirely different worldview because they consume completely opposing narratives — with a Jewish home watching Israel’s Channel 12 while an Arab neighbor watches Qatar’s Al Jazeera.

Artistic collaborators, Samira Saraya and Neta Weiner make music together in Jaffa to try to bridge the gap. Saraya sings a fragment of Hayim Nahman Bialik poem “To the Bird” about the beauty of Israel while on a car trip with Weiner. It lands poignantly and defamiliarized, given her Arab identity. She says “the word ‘mixed’ is taking two things and putting them together, but ‘blended’ means people live together and speak the language of both groups.” She describes Jaffa as “truly a mixed city.”

“It’s the only place,” she says, “where I can breathe and just be.”

In a country whose population is roughly four-fifths Jewish and one-fifth Arab, the question of how these communities live together is not incidental to Israeli democracy; it is fundamental to its survival. Srour and Riklis ask experts, including politicians, professors and theater directors, about the history of the conflict and the challenges facing the cities. Mostly they cut between historical footage of events and interviews they have shot with Arab and Jewish experts as well as locals of all genders and ages on their streets and homes. This constant weave of testimony across lived, cultural and political experience leads to a rich density of overlapping concern and anxieties, though it does mean that the cities blur into each other.

One interview takes place in a Ramla kitchen where Jalal Habit is preparing the food for his restaurant. Photo by Alma FIlms

One interview takes place in a Ramla kitchen where Jalal Habit discusses the situation and his life with energy and passion all while sporting an “Ich bin hummussexuelle” t-shirt and preparing the food for his restaurant. He seems angry at the Jews, but in a chef’s businesslike way. He recounts how he was complaining to his friend that the Jews have taken everything from the Arabs, land, hummus, falafel, and how his friend demurred, no they haven’t taken anything, they are  “building everything for us and soon they’ll leave and they’ll leave everything to us.”

The Hebrew word du-kiyum, coexistence, is invoked throughout the film. Beyond the Kulna Yachad school in Jaffa where children learn together, however, it mostly describes a hope or a transient memory rather than a concrete way of being. What makes Split compelling is its attention also to the conversations that coexistence often requires people not to have. Jewish and Arab neighbors may work together, maintain friendships and cooperate on municipal initiatives. They can agree about schools, garbage collection, traffic and the everyday business of keeping a city functioning. Yet the larger questions — of history, dispossession, national belonging and competing loyalties — remain unspoken. Split gives those questions a tentative voice.

The alternative to such imperfect arrangements has sometimes been catastrophic. Split does not draw the comparison, but when British India was partitioned in 1947, over 15 million people were displaced, and massacres killed hundreds of thousands. Neither in India nor the Middle East did partition eliminate competing identities. It converted them into borders, refugees and inherited grievances. Despite accepting the partition plan and taking billions of dollars in aid from America and the West, the Islamic Republic of Pakistan has lurched from military coup to corrupt civilian governance without ever safeguarding the rights of women, LGBTQ individuals, or religious minorities.

The relative economic success, and demographic tolerance of Israel’s mixed cities has led to their own challenges. They contain communities with their own histories of war, displacement, and social transformation, particularly from the aftermath of World War II. The filmmakers catch a Jewish resident of Acre as she’s inspecting an abandoned bomb shelter. In a perfect distillation of traumatized Israeli Jewish identity she explains how she sees herself descended from the Shoah and from Ottoman Jews:

My personal story contains the story of my grandmother from Germany and that of my grandfather from the Jewish Quarter in ’48 and it’s a story that passes down, and it’s in my DNA. The experience of the surviving Jew, it’s an existential experience of a people and the desire to annihilate us. And we’re facing it again all over the world. 

Meanwhile, different Arab families explain in affecting terms how their families were dispossessed by the State of Israel during the Nakba, from Haifa which became a battlefield, from Acre, and from Jaffa. Ghassan Mounir from Lod gives an extended account of the ongoing challenges placed in his way by the Jewish state: from the attacks on his family in 1948, to the refusal to give him the same building rights as the army veterans and Haredim who surround him. This is the historical context of a state that was nominally set up establishing rights “without distinction of religion or race” and “without domination or subjugation”

We have been in Lod since the 12th century. I grew up on this street, this is my home. [In 1948] the Jews … gathered [the whole village] in the square of the church and the mosque and expelled them to Abdullah. That march — thousands, thousands of people [were forced to make it] in the middle of July while fasting for Ramadan. They walked to Ramallah, some survived and some died.

Nothing of the present situation can be understood without those histories, however differently their residents describe them.

Edited down from a three-episode docuseries that premiered in Haifa, to a 90-minute documentary, Split is unhurried but urgent. It traces family histories as exemplars of different communities’ experiences and also the history of eruptions of urban violence throughout the history of the state. It calmly shows what it’s like to be in a minority where the majority is blasé about its ignorance of your culture.

At times, the movie veers close to despair — the heartfelt testimony of Ilham and Omar Siksik in Jaffa leaves it teetering on the edge. But their hope along with the testimony of Danny Rabinowitz (a Jewish anthropologist) and Mustafa Abbasi (an Arab-Israeli historian of Palestine) holds out the possibility that somehow rival national narratives might coexist in the same physical space. Rabinowitz says he still longs for hope, but without knowing exactly where to look for it. He is waiting for “leaders of vision and courage” from both sides. In the words of Abbasi:

There are those on both sides who believe that there is no shared future. I tell them, the future belongs to coexistence, and there is no solution other than mutual understanding.

When Hanna Safran and Nabila Espanioly — two veterans of the feminist struggle, one Jewish, one Arab — argue about political agency, Espanioly points out how obvious it is in the feminist context that freedom to be yourself is a sine qua non of being free politically. It’s a clear point and one given further depth and richness later by the testimony of Ayat Abu Shamis who is a mother, a resident of Jaffa, and an Arab who writes poetry in Hebrew. She reads her poem in Hebrew about coexistence as part of her interview.

Watching Split and some of the ways Arab-Israelis were treated — specifically how former soccer commentator and MK Zuheir Bahloul talked of his constituents’ rights — reminded me of Count Stanislas de Clermont-Tonnerre’s famous statement of emancipatory racism. The identity prescribed by the State of Israel for Arab-Israelis carries a philosophical contradiction as old as modern Jewish citizenship. In December 1789, during the French Revolution, Clermont-Tonnerre articulated the bargain at the heart of Jewish emancipation: Jews should receive full rights as individuals but no separate political rights as a nation. The promise was equality. The price was the surrender of collective difference in the public sphere.

Israel reverses that historical equation in fascinating and uncomfortable ways. It was established to make Jewish collective identity politically sovereign. Yet within that Jewish state live Arab citizens who — until the passage of the 2018 Israeli Nation-State Law downgraded Arab identity in Israel from “equal” to “special” — had full rights as individuals, but whose own collective identity, history and national aspirations were, by and large, proscribed. The challenge is not merely to grant equal rights to individuals, essential though that is. It is to imagine a democracy capable of accommodating communities whose understandings of the state itself may be irreconcilable with each other.

In last month’s elections, Arab representation in the Knesset reached a record high, approximately one-sixth of its membership. Finally, Arab MKs are at a level approaching the proportion of Arab citizens in the electorate. That political presence matters. But parliamentary representation cannot by itself resolve the contradictions visible on a street in Lod or Jaffa. The novelist Amos Oz famously described the Israeli-Palestinian conflict not as a struggle between good and evil but as a tragedy of “right against right.” In that formulation he recognized that competing claims can possess equal moral force, even when they cannot both be satisfied completely.

Split brings that abstract proposition down to the municipal level, where coexistence is less a philosophical ideal than a daily negotiation. The film’s deeper question is not whether Jews and Arabs can learn to like one another. Some already do. Nor is it whether they can avoid discussing everything that divides them. Evidently, they sometimes must. It is whether a shared civic life can eventually become robust enough to accommodate the disagreements it currently suppresses.

The chef Habit is given the last word:  “But I don’t want the Jews to leave. If the Jews leave, it won’t be the same place. Jews and Arabs have to live together, they can live together. If I weren’t optimistic, I would’ve stayed in Ramla.”

As the world perfects the technology and politics of polarization, Israel’s mixed cities offer neither an easy inspiration nor a comforting warning but something more useful: evidence that people can remain profoundly divided while still sharing responsibility for the places they call home. The future depends on learning how to live with our differences — especially when the people across the street have every intention of staying.

“Split: Life in the Israeli Mixed Cities” has its U.S. premiere as part of the Other Israel: New Perspectives Film Festival. It will show on Mon, Nov. 9 at 7:30 PM at the Marlene Meyerson JCC Manhattan and again on Wed, Nov 11, 7:30 PM at the Brooklyn Heights Synagogue.

The post In Israel’s mixed cities, the future of coexistence is already being tested appeared first on The Forward.

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A staunch supporter of Israel, Hakeem Jeffries would lead a Democratic majority pushing for change in U.S. policy

(JTA) — When the next Congress convenes in January with a Democratic majority, it will likely be Rep. Hakeem Jeffries, the pro-Israel Democrat from Brooklyn, who leads the House of Representatives.

As House Speaker, Jeffries would play a key role in setting the House’s legislative agenda at a time when many Democrats have taken more critical stances on Israel and AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobbying group. Jeffries himself has asserted that a “change in direction is needed” for the U.S.-Israel relationship.

His support for Israel and ties to AIPAC have angered a number of progressives who want to see party leadership apply greater pressure on the Israeli government. Advocates have blasted Jeffries for opposing an amendment to end U.S. military assistance to Israel and pressured him to reject AIPAC’s support and criticize its election spending.

Hadar Susskind, president and CEO of the progressive group New Jewish Narrative, told JTA that Jeffries will have to navigate leading a caucus that includes “a much larger group of members who really care about this and feel like they need to deliver for their voters” on broader Israeli-Palestinian foreign policy.

Susskind pointed to the Stop the Settlements Act introduced by Texas Rep. Joaquin Castro as an example of where Jeffries will face more pressure than in past years to bring bills on the Israeli-Palestinian issue to a floor vote.

“He’s not the far left, he’s not rolling out a DSA agenda,” Susskind said. “But I think it is going to be a different agenda — not only than, of course, what we’ve seen from Republican Congress, but even than we’ve seen from past Democratic Congresses.”

But Jeffries, who would be the first Black House speaker in U.S. history, has retained AIPAC’s support and voted against an immediate cutoff of military aid to Israel. He has fostered close ties with a number of Jewish organizations and leaders.

The Jewish Community Council of Greater Coney Island’s executive director praised Jeffries’ role in securing $1 million for the organization in 2024. Jeffries also secured $850,000 for the Brighton Beach-based Shorefront Jewish Community Council.

Mark Treyger, CEO of New York’s Jewish Community Relations Council, called Jeffries a “dear friend” in an interview with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “This is an individual who, in my opinion, has been an unwavering ally to the Jewish community from his first day in Congress when I got to know him as a City Council member,” Treyger said.

Rabbi David Niederman, president of the United Jewish Organizations of Williamsburg, told Williamsburg 365 that his relationship with Jeffries “spans more than two decades, and throughout his rise to national leadership, he has remained firmly connected to his roots, his district, and the communities he serves.”

Jeffries grew up in Crown Heights, a Brooklyn neighborhood known for the close proximity of Black and Orthodox Jewish residents. Motivated in part by the 1992 acquittal of Los Angeles police officers who beat Rodney King, he decided to attend law school to fight for “liberty and justice for all, in the purest possible way.” He served three terms in the New York State Assembly representing Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Prospect Heights and parts of Crown Heights and Bedford-Stuyvesant.

When Jeffries ran for Congress in 2012, he courted Jewish voters and drew endorsements from a number of Jewish leaders — including Rep. Jerry Nadler, who is retiring at the end of his term next month, and ex-Mayor Ed Koch. At the time, those leaders expressed concerns about his opponent Charles Barron, who in 2009 compared conditions in Gaza to Nazi death camps. The following year, Barron called Israel’s government “the biggest terrorist in the world.” Nadler specifically referred to Barron’s Nazi comparison in his endorsement of Jeffries.

New York Sen. Chuck Schumer, now the party’s leader in the Senate, lauded Jeffries as a “true blue friend of Israel” in his 2012 endorsement. Koch, meanwhile, taped an ad for Jeffries that played on post-Shabbos Jewish radio, the New York Observer reported at the time.

“Jeffries is great on the issues: job creation, affordable housing, protection of Social Security, Medicare, and education,” Koch said in the ad. “Oh, did I mention Israel? He’s a fierce defender of Israel.”

Jeffries arrived in Congress at an uneasy time for Jews in New York City. In 2013, teens were targeting Orthodox Jews with “knockouts,” an effort to knock victims unconscious with a single blow. As a freshman representative, Jeffries joined a group of Black and Jewish leaders in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights to denounce the “game.”

The following year, Jeffries condemned the stabbing of a Chabad-Lubavitch man at the Hasidic movement’s Crown Heights headquarters, and urged people to “stand with” the Jewish community, which he called “an important part of the fabric of Crown Heights, where I grew up.”

Jeffries’ support for Israel has included a total of eight visits to the country, including at least once as an Assembly member with the JCRC, and six congressional delegations led by a nonprofit affiliate of AIPAC, the most recent of which took place in August 2023.

During the 2014 Gaza war, Jeffries spoke at a rally in support of Israel outside the United Nations, declaring, “Israel today, Israel tomorrow, Israel forever!”

About five weeks after Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023 attack, he did not mention a ceasefire but called for “a just and lasting peace between Israel and the Palestinian people” at the pro-Israel rally held at the National Mall in Washington. On numerous occasions, he has affectionately called Jerusalem “the sixth borough” of New York City.

Progressives have taken issue with Jeffries’ pro-Israel stance over the years and with his endorsement from AIPAC, which got him the nickname “AIPAC Shakur” from radio host Charlamagne tha God.

Multiple pro-Palestinian protests have been held outside Jeffries’ offices, including one NYC-DSA demonstration in November 2023 in which protesters demanded that he “stop supporting genocide.”

Some of the democratic socialist candidates who will enter Congress in January indicated that they would need Jeffries to back certain policies — including pushing the Block the Bombs Act — to secure their support in the election for House Speaker. But those politicians’ leverage diminished after Democrats secured a large House majority last week, giving Jeffries room to lose some votes from DSA and DSA-aligned members and still secure the majority of votes cast for named candidates to become Speaker.

Still, Jeffries is facing pressure from the left on issues including Israel, as well as what critics perceive as insufficient resistance to the Trump administration. Some House Democrats have been “inundated” with calls from constituents urging them not to elect Jeffries, Axios reported, while a petition calling for a different Speaker — which was shared by actor Mark Ruffalo, who has been a vocal advocate for Palestinians — has garnered more than 1 million signatures.

California Rep. Ro Khanna said last week that he would press Jeffries to commit to holding votes on eliminating military aid to Israel, defunding the Iran war and advancing Medicare for All. (Jeffries told CNN on Wednesday that Democrats will seek to end the Iran war as part of a sweeping affordability agenda.)

Treyger said he is confident that Jeffries, who voted against the Massie amendment to cut military aid to Israel this summer, will not waver.

“The person that I know is never a person that bends to pressure,” Treyger said. He pointed out that Jeffries’ vote came less than a month after left-wing supporters chanted “You’re next!” when Jeffries’ face appeared on screens at Rep.-elect Claire Valdez’s victory party.

In September 2025, J Street, the liberal Middle East advocacy group, endorsed Jeffries, just two years after the group’s president Jeremy Ben-Ami challenged Jeffries over the congressman’s comments that U.S. military aid should “remain ironclad” and not be conditioned over Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s radical judicial reform efforts.

“Our concern is that U.S. tax dollars shouldn’t be funding material and arms that facilitate the deepening of occupation and the permanent demise of a possible Palestinian state. That’s not in anyone’s security interest,” Ben-Ami said at the time.

Now, Jeffries is one of a dwindling group of Congress members supported by both AIPAC and J Street, two groups that went head-to-head in a number of races this year and have conflicting visions for military assistance and the U.S.-Israel relationship. He is also backed by Democratic Majority for Israel, whose CEO Brian Romick called Jeffries “a gifted consensus builder and a steadfast champion of the U.S.–Israel relationship” in an email to JTA.

In a statement to JTA on Thursday, Ben-Ami said that Jeffries “has been clear that, for the good of both Israelis and Palestinians, it is time for U.S. policy toward the Middle East to change.”

“We look forward to working with him to make that change a reality, including by passing the West Bank Violence Prevention Act, ending Trump’s war of choice with Iran, and ending unconditional military aid to Israel to ensure it is consistent with American laws and values,” Ben-Ami said.

Though Jeffries voted against the Massie amendment, he said that he would not be telling his colleagues how to vote, and wrote in a letter that “there are good faith reasons that will result in Members voting in a variety of different ways with respect to the amendment.” His letter also suggested that a new security arrangement after the current Memorandum of Understanding expires in 2028 could end direct military subsidies. Trump last week said he would wind down defense assistance to Israel, and Netanyahu has indicated he is on board with transitioning to a relationship where the two countries’ militaries remain closely aligned, but in which Israel does not depend on U.S. money.

When reached for comment, AIPAC pointed to its statement on X congratulating both Jeffries and Schumer “on the resounding victories for their caucuses.” It did not respond to a question about his support from J Street or view on military aid.

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post A staunch supporter of Israel, Hakeem Jeffries would lead a Democratic majority pushing for change in U.S. policy appeared first on The Forward.

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Illinois voters pass proposals objecting to state anti-BDS law

(JTA) — Voters in eight municipalities in Illinois approved ballot measures last week registering formal objections to the state’s law barring state pension investments in companies that boycott Israel.

The ballot measures will have no effect on state policy. But pro-Palestinian groups are celebrating the wins as demonstrations of shifting public opinion against the law, first signed in 2015 to oppose the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement.

The village of Oak Park and the townships of Champaign, Cunningham, DuPage, Kickapoo, Medina, Normal and Peoria all approved similarly worded ballot measures that urge the state to repeal its anti-BDS law or support specific state legislation that would do so. According to unofficial tallies, 65% of voters in Oak Park, a Chicago suburb whose local Jewish population mounted a sustained objection to the referendum, approved the measure there.

Jewish groups including the Jewish United Fund, Chicago’s federation arm, had campaigned against the ballot measure. The Illinois law, championed by JUF when it was first passed, was the first of what has become dozens of state anti-BDS laws in the country. First Amendment groups have challenged the laws.

“We would have much preferred a victory,” Dan Goldwin, chief public affairs officer for JUF, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Monday. Yet Goldwin pointed out that Oak Park voters had approved the measure by smaller margins than their votes for top Democratic candidates including Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker and former presidential candidate Kamala Harris.

“Once people began to be exposed to the meaning of what the referendum was about, they moved against it. We just didn’t have enough time,” he said.

Some members of the Oak Park opposition had engaged in a drawn-out fight over the eligibility of the signatures the ballot measure activists had gathered. That time, Goldwin theorized, “was probably time better spent convincing people to vote against it.”

Separately, voters in Bloomington Township approved a measure stating that the federal government should “ban the transfer of weapons to any country that is a dictatorship, apartheid state or major violator of human rights.” The ballot language did not mention Israel, but pro-Palestinian activists have long maintained that Israel commits apartheid and that the U.S. should halt weapons sales to the country.

Local Jewish figures have said the campaign troubled them.

“It felt like it was a local chapter of a global movement to destroy the world’s only Jewish state, and I felt it personally and acutely,” Rabbi Adir Glick of Conservative Temple Har Zion in River Forest, which borders Oak Park, told the Wednesday Journal of Oak Park and River Forest about the campaign. “I know people who lost friendships in the last few months, and difficult moments with neighbors and colleagues, but it also galvanized our Jewish community.”

Goldwin said the measures’ passage wouldn’t change JUF’s own strategy opposing the repeal of the anti-BDS law at the state level. He noted that ballot measure activists, with the exception of Oak Park, largely didn’t target municipalities with large Jewish communities. In his view, those seeking the repeal of the law “are still a significant minority.”

The BDS movement had a more significant policy victory on election night with the passage of a binding ballot referendum in Providence, Rhode Island, to divest that city from “foreign countries conducting ethnic cleansing, apartheid, illegal military occupation, or genocide.” Proponents and opponents of the measure alike have said they believe the language and parameters of the question will include Israel.

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post Illinois voters pass proposals objecting to state anti-BDS law appeared first on The Forward.

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