To be Jewish in this moment is to be caught between ancestral trauma and modern-day terror. It is to scroll through social media and see our pain dismissed, our history denied, and our people dehumanized. It is to walk into spaces that claim to be progressive only to find that we, Jews, have been erased, vilified, or forced into silence.

But I am not silent. I am here — as a Jew, as an Israeli, as an American, as a Zionist, as a gay man, as every other part of my identity –and I am fighting forward.

The phrase “never again” was never meant to be passive. It was a call to action. A warning. A demand. Yet here we are, witnessing a resurgence of antisemitism so blatant, so emboldened, that it feels ripped from the pages of history we swore we wouldn’t repeat. From mobs calling for the destruction of Israel, to campus chants openly invoking genocidal rhetoric, the world has grown increasingly comfortable with its hate toward Jews, especially when it hides behind the veil of activism or academic theory.

But we are not just targets. We are not just survivors. We are sovereign people with a right — not only to defend ourselves — but to live with pride, to celebrate our culture, and to exist unapologetically.

As a Jewish advocate and a storyteller, I have spent years using my voice to confront hate, bridge communities, and inspire pride. I appear as a commentator on international news networks and write regularly for news publications, bringing Jewish voices and perspectives into the global media discourse.

I meet with US Congress members and Israeli Knesset representatives to advocate on behalf of the US, Israeli, and international Jewish communities — speaking up for our needs, our challenges, and our aspirations. I support Jewish organizations, community groups, and student groups by providing workshops, media training, and strategy sessions that help them move from trauma to resilience. And I work closely with survivors and the loved ones of victims, helping them take their next steps forward — not just in healing, but as examples of leadership and strength. This is what Jewish advocacy looks like — not just standing up to hate, but lifting each other through it.

What I have come to learn is this: The greatest resistance to antisemitism is Jewish joy and Jewish power, rooted in Jewish education. Not power as domination, but power as presence. Power as permanence. Power as pride. Power as knowledge.

It’s easy to vilify Jews when we are painted as invisible or other. But when we speak, create, dance, love, and shine as Jews, we disrupt the lie. We remind the world that we are not a relic of the past, not a scapegoat for political agendas — but a people with a story that continues, despite every attempt to silence us.

This moment demands that we move beyond survival mode. Survival is essential — but it’s not enough. The future of Jewish life depends on sovereignty of spirit. That means reclaiming our narrative in every realm — media, politics, education, and culture. It means rejecting the idea that we must make ourselves smaller or quieter to be accepted. It means holding our heads high when we speak of Israel — not as a footnote or a caveat, but as the indigenous homeland of our people, the miracle of Jewish self-determination.

Yes, I am a Zionist. Not because it’s fashionable — it isn’t. Not because it’s easy — it’s not. I am a Zionist because I believe in the right of the Jewish people to live freely in our ancestral land. I believe in the right to security, sovereignty, and survival — for all peoples — but especially for the one that has been hunted, exiled, and massacred across millennia.

And I reject the false binary that tells me I cannot be progressive and proudly Jewish. I will not choose between justice and my Jewishness — because Judaism is justice. Judaism is the original call for human dignity, for equity, for repairing the world. Our values are not at odds with activism — they are the root of it. I might be “old school progressive,” and I have separated from the misguidedness of today’s overreaching Progressive movement. My values have not changed, yet the movement sure has.

We must be louder — not just in reaction to hate, but in celebration of love. Jewish festivals should fill our streets. Hebrew songs should fill our schools. Israeli innovation should fill our headlines. Our art, our food, our humor, our wisdom — these are all weapons of light against the darkness.

We also need allies who don’t just whisper behind closed doors, but who are bold and visible in their support. Too many people say that they care about Jewish lives, but disappear when it matters most. To those who claim to be our friends: If your allyship isn’t loud when the hatred is loud, it’s not allyship. It’s convenience.

I speak from a place of pain, but more so from a place of power. I am the descendant of Jews who fled pogroms and persecution, who survived extermination attempts across continents and centuries. But I am also the embodiment of their triumph. I am alive, thriving, and proud. And I will not shrink for anyone.

To my fellow Jews: Wear your Star of David like a badge of honor. Speak your Hebrew with pride. Celebrate Shabbat with joy. And yes — defend Israel without shame.

Let us stop playing defense and start playing offense. Not with hatred, but with truth. Not with vengeance, but with vision. The future of Jewish life doesn’t belong to those who hide or blend in — it belongs to those who show up and stand tall.

We’ve spent generations proving we can survive. Now, let’s show the world what it looks like when we truly live and with full meaning say, Am Israel Chai.

Yuval David is an Emmy and Multi-Award-Winning Actor, Filmmaker, Journalist, and Jewish LGBTQ+ activist and advisor. A creative and compelling storyteller, on stage and screen, news and across social media, Yuval shares the narrative of Jewish activism and enduring hope. Follow him on Instagram, YouTube, and X.

The post Reclaiming Jewish Pride in an Age of Rising Hatred — I Am Done Being Quiet first appeared on Algemeiner.com.