Before October 7, 2023, Elissa Wald was perfectly happy in her career as a ghostwriter, using her skills behind the scenes to amplify the voices of other people. “But after the massacre and the world’s response to it,” Wald said, “I hit an emotional wall and felt I couldn’t go on with it. As much as I loved my projects, I felt it wasn’t the highest and best use of my voice at this time.”

What, then, would be a better use of her time?

Well, Elissa noticed the same thing that many of us experienced. Jews were being pushed out of literary spaces. Even those of us who never wrote about Israel were told that our voices did not count. That’s when she launched the Never Alone Substack newsletter and book club.

She also launched Judith. The magazine now features essays from some of today’s leading Jewish writers — pieces that might not find a home elsewhere in the current climate. I’m the nonfiction editor for Judith.

What Wald is doing by creating these Jewish-friendly publications and communities is an answer to an age-old question for Jews who are being marginalized from mainstream communities: Is it better to keep trying to engage with the existing literary community — a community that has made clear in many ways that Jewish voices are not wanted — or should we focus on forming our own organizations and events, as Jews did in many professions in the late 19th and early 20th centuries?

To Wald, the answer is clear.

“I think our ability to do our best work in the world is immeasurably strengthened by a stable, loving home life. Metaphorically, this translates to a strong, supportive community where we take care of each other and support each other as we navigate the ever-narrowing bridge that is the diaspora.”

Even Jewish literary advocate Erika Dreifus is coming around to this point of view. While Wald and I have been very loud in our advocacy, Dreifus has spent about a decade in quiet diplomacy to mainstream literary publications and communities.

I’ve known Dreifus for many years, and throughout that time, I’ve watched her take on a role that few others were willing to assume: pushing back against antisemitism in the literary world, even when it meant risking her place within it.

As Dreifus explained, citing Rabbi Diana Fersko, “Traditionally, when faced by antisemitism, Jews have had three choices, and one is stay and fight, and the other is create something new, and the third is do nothing. And I kind of ruled out the ‘do nothing’ option.”

Over time, Dreifus grew frustrated with the limits of quiet diplomacy. Too often, her private letters went unanswered, or responses from editors were evasive and dismissive. More recently, she has begun to publish these letters herself, including an “Open Letter to the Editor of the New York Times Book Review,” which appeared in Judith.

Still, Dreifus acknowledges that she is weary. “I’m getting really tired and giving up on some of the ‘stay and fight,’ even though I’m very tenacious,” she said. At this stage in her life, Dreifus said, she prefers to focus on deepening her own Jewish knowledge rather than expending energy on editors who are not listening. That desire to spend her time in Jewish spaces also explains Dreifus’ commitment to new initiatives. She is on the board of Artists Against Antisemitism, which is hosting its first major writers’ gathering, or mifgash, in September.

Dreifus will also be a speaker at another initiative aimed at strengthening Jewish literary voices, the Jewish Authors’ Summit organized by 70 Faces Media. I am serving as a behind-the-scenes adviser on the event, which is scheduled for October 23.

Jennifer Rubin, senior producer of digital events at 70 Faces Media, explained the purpose.

 “Since October 7th, it has become increasingly clear that Jewish authors and storytellers, whether they write Jewishly or not, are in need of similar training to promote their work and reach broader audiences,” Rubin said.

Another speaker at the 70 Faces Media summit will be Jonathan Rosen, host of The Jewish Lens podcast, who has been outspoken about the failures of the children’s publishing industry in particular.

“Before October 7th, it was always, ‘We want to be inclusive of everyone, just not you,’” Rosen said. “After October 7th, it’s grown ugly and vile, with daily purity tests. Denounce your kind or be pariahs and face excommunication.”

His conclusion is that Jewish writers should stop asking for inclusion and instead build their own institutions. “When someone constantly tells you that you’re not welcome, don’t beg them. Do your own thing and make it better.”

Miri Pomerantz Dauber of the Jewish Book Council (JBC) said at a writers’ conference I attended earlier this year, that the JBC is not trying to fight antisemitism in publishing directly, but to work around it by demonstrating that Jewish books can be a sound business decision.

If a book event is canceled, they help the author find another venue. They highlight the market share that Jewish titles do have. Dauber said that the most important response we can offer is to show that Jews continue to write books — and, just as critically, that Jews (and other people) continue to buy them.

The uncertainty surrounding the Giller Prize in Canada illustrates the risks of treating Jewish voices as disposable. After boycotts and protests targeted its corporate sponsors for ties to Israel, the country’s most prestigious literary award cut loose longtime backers but has so far failed to secure stable replacements. Without new funding, the prize that once showcased the best of Canadian writing may not survive.

That dilemma — whether to stay and fight for space in mainstream forums or to build our own — has run through every conversation in the Jewish literary community since October 7, 2023. What gives me optimism, for the first time in almost two years, is seeing how many writers are choosing the second path: bypassing the gatekeepers and launching new publications, conferences, and platforms that affirm Jewish identity rather than erase it.

The sheer depth of creativity and commitment on display suggests that, even if we are excluded elsewhere, we are more than capable of building something lasting on our own.

Dreifus said one of her colleagues put it best when she said, “They’ll miss us when we’re gone.”