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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.”
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We’re Jews in Zohran Mamdani’s neighborhood. You don’t want NYC to be like this.
The excitement in the air is palpable as our neighborhood turns out for Zohran Mamdani. In many ways, we know him well: he’s been our assemblyman for the last four years. In any other world, we would be excited by the possibility of a man like Zohran — an eloquent speaker, attuned to the affordability crisis, relatable despite his family wealth, a first-name figure in the community — rising up to challenge the establishment.
But that is not our portion. As Jews of District 36, Zohran’s Assembly district, we live in a world where his tenure and campaign have fragmented our community, fractured our trust in each other, and upended our sense of belonging and safety. We are left-wing Jews, right-wing Jews, and out-of-the-box Jews who want nothing more than to focus on the kinds of policy questions that affect our material conditions as New Yorkers.
But our experience in our neighborhood has torn us away from everyday concerns like making the rent and paying for groceries. That’s because the vision that Zohran said drew him to the Democratic Socialists of America five years ago — a stance on Palestine that calls for the isolation of Zionists, rejects “normalization” or relationships between anti-Zionists and supporters of Israel, and sanctions armed violence — has shaped what it’s like to live here since Oct. 7, 2023.
We go to different synagogues, work in different fields, and have different Jewish backgrounds. But when we came together as friends and neighbors in a local WhatsApp group for Astoria Jews in the aftermath of Oct. 7, we learned we had a common experience — one that we unfortunately shared with others in our neighborhood’s diverse Jewish community. Here, with the collective input of local Jews — religious and irreligious, queer and traditional, Mizrahi, Sephardi and Ashkenazi — we explain why our objections to a Mayor Mamdani are rooted not in abstract fear or deep-seated bias, but the product of daily life in a community shaped by Zohran’s public political choices.
On Oct. 8, 2023, just hours after the Hamas attack in Israel, Mamdani opted for a political statement of blame, rather than words of comfort and care so desperately needed by his own constituents. Since then, we’ve seen graffiti reading “Long Live Hamas,” “Sinwar Lives,” “Kill Yourself Zionist,” and Hamas red triangles spray-painted on residential buildings and businesses. Flyers attacking “Zionist capital” were distributed during a local rezoning debate, and people waving Hamas flags have rallied in our streets.
At a holiday block party, a mother was called a “genocidal killer” in front of her preschool-aged children; another was called a “bitch” by a man miming throat-slitting while she scraped graffiti from a lamp post. At a neighborhood bar’s karaoke night, a man sang “Deutschland über alles” while giving a Nazi salute. Posters and stickers with keffiyehs and machine guns have regularly appeared near playgrounds and public spaces.
Our teens have skipped school on cultural appreciation days to avoid being ostracized, and our hearts have shattered as our children reassure us of their safety with phrases like “don’t worry, no one knows I’m Jewish.” Signs that welcome the stranger, the immigrant — a longstanding Jewish value immortalized in verse by the Jewish-American poet Emma Lazarus — now live alongside swastikas and hate-speech on lampposts and shop windows across the district.
What we haven’t seen is any meaningful response to just how normal this has become. When a local business hung a massive, blinking “Fuck Israel” sign alongside a portrait of Hitler, we spoke up at our community board meeting in front of a silent Mamdani representative, to no response. We have filed complaints, we’ve removed stickers, we’ve spray-painted over violent imagery — and we’ve been at it alone. This is not the New York we want to live in, and this is not the New York of equality, safety and inclusivity that Zohran is promising.
In a city as diverse as New York, where nearly 40% of residents are immigrants and many more are part of transnational or multicultural communities, Jewish New Yorkers are not unique in carrying layered identities. The 80% of American Jews that consider Israel to be an “essential or important component” of their identity, are mirrored by Indian, Korean and Dominican Americans who feel the same connection to their homeland. What is unique, and unacceptable, is being sent the message that this connection is somehow at odds with our identity as New Yorkers.
This election is not a referendum on Israel or the place of Jews in New York City. It is, more pointedly, a reflection of a referendum that has already taken place; one that shaped the culture in which Zohran was raised as a cosmopolitan scion of the academic and cultural elite, with access to some of the best resources this city has to offer.
These resources — private grammar schools, specialized high schools, wealthy neighborhoods, the glitter- and literati — hold hints of old-boys-club antisemitism filtered through the lens of new-age anti-Zionism. Left unquestioned, they lay the foundation for an unrecognizable New York. When 54% of all hate crimes last year targeted Jews, we would argue we are already halfway there.
When we heard Zohran describe the fear of his Muslim family members in the aftermath of 9/11, we wondered why he can’t see the fear of most Jewish New Yorkers today.
We took notice when he said, as he was reported as saying in Brooklyn, that he would be here for us “when the mezuzah falls.” We want to be clear: a mezuzah doesn’t fall. A mezuzah is taken down discreetly while the streets echo with calls to globalize the intifada. It is kissed one last time, while the memory of being called a genocide lover in front of your children infuses the parchment. It is wrapped and placed in a box alongside other whispering mementos from grandparents who survived Iraq, Morocco, Poland, France, Uzbekistan, as we wonder if its hum has gotten loud enough for us to listen and know that the time to leave has come once more.
Our pain and fears are real and valid; the frustrations on all sides of the Jewish spectrum come from a shared concern for the wellbeing of our city and all of humanity. In our synagogues, alongside the prayer for Israel, we say the prayer for our country and wish wisdom upon its leaders, just as JHews have wished upon the leaders of every Diaspora nation where we have lived.
Our history has taken us, the Jewish people, through many lands, from our origins as a people called Israel in the Levant through thousands of years of exile, transfer and return. Today, just over a million of us — still that same people — are proud to call New York City home, and we want to keep calling this city home. We have given deeply to this place, pouring in whatever we had in every generation: labor, culture, protest, philanthropy, policy, innovation. So, too, have we been nourished by this city.
We love New York. We want to stay, not in silence, not on sufferance, but fully and without fear. We wonder if that is possible in a city led by Zohran Mamdani.
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Feminist vs. Jewish: These women say NYC’s mayoral election is forcing a painful choice
Tracey Wells didn’t necessarily want to see Andrew Cuomo resign in disgrace as New York’s governor in 2021.
“But I firmly believe that you believe women,” Wells, the owner of a recruitment firm, said, noting at the time, New York’s attorney general had substantiated sexual harassment claims from 11 women. That number that would later rise to 13 following a federal Department of Justice investigation.
Nonetheless, Wells, who is Jewish, surprised herself by deciding to vote for Cuomo to become mayor of New York City. She made the decision in part because she sharply disagrees with Democratic nominee Zohran Mamdani’s critical views on Israel.
“He’s not my favorite, but he’s better than the alternative options,” Wells said about Cuomo, rationalizing that the allegations against him could have been more egregious. “He’s obviously been in trouble before. I’m a woman, a feminist, and I do think that the things that he got in trouble for, 10 or 15 years ago, would have never been an issue.”
Wells’ thinking reflects the complicated calculus facing many Jewish women in New York City this week. Mamdani, the frontrunner, has divided Jewish voters with his vociferous criticism of Israel, and many of those who are spurning him over that see Cuomo, who is polling a distant second, as the best chance to keep him out of Gracie Mansion. But Cuomo has his own baggage: a track record of sexual harassment allegations — which he denies — that derailed his last stint in public office, and remains a turnoff for many voters.
“As somebody who identifies as a feminist, I really wish there was a better option,” said a Lower Manhattan 28-year-old woman who works in influencer marketing. She declined to share her name, citing concerns about publicizing her voting record.
“Every other election that I voted in, I’ve been very sure in my decision, and I’ve been excited to cast my vote and use my voice,” the woman said. “In this election, it feels like I’m voting more against something than for something that I’m excited about.”
Usually, she casts a ballot on the first day of early voting. But this year, she waffled until Wednesday, when she voted for Cuomo — not to support him, but to count against Mamdani.
“As the candidate who won the Democratic primary, I normally would just go for it,” she said. “But I think just because so much of his platform has been around that [anti-Zionism], I struggle, I fear, that that would energize that super anti-Israel base more. And anti-Zionism often bleeds into antisemitism.”
A fevered push among many Jewish leaders to get out the vote against Mamdani has largely sidestepped Cuomo’s history with women. Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, in a Shabbat sermon urging New Yorkers to back Cuomo, said only that Cuomo, “like any politician, comes with both personal and professional baggage.”
A letter quoting Cosgrove’s sermon has now been signed by more than 1,150 rabbis across the country, including hundreds of women.
Tracy Kaplowitz, a rabbi at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue on the Upper West Side, was among them. Asked about how Jewish women should weigh the allegations against Cuomo as they vote, Kaplan said, “Judaism believes in the dignity of every human being. People need to make their decisions honoring the dignity of every human being. We are not endorsing any candidate. We’re not encouraging people to vote in a particular way that’s not our role or our place, and we recognize people will come to different conclusions.”
The writer Emily Tamkin lives in Washington, D.C., and cannot vote in the election. Still, as she wrote in The Forward, the pro-Cuomo push among prominent Jews feels unnerving.
“The failure of so many Jewish leaders to meaningfully engage with what Cuomo’s election might mean for women has deeply alarmed me,” Tamkin wrote.
“The idea that I, or any woman, has to pretend that the normalization of sexual harassment in politics is somehow irrelevant to our day-to-day safety — because our commitment to Jewish peoplehood comes first — seems to me to be an extremely limited understanding of Jewish safety,” she continued.
Some rabbis have in fact called attention to Cuomo’s history as a reason to find the election challenging for Jewish voters. “When we are considering whom to elect as leaders, a candidate who has been morally compromised should not easily collect our votes,” Rabbi Rick Jacobs, head of the Reform movement, wrote in an essay. “As I have questioned what Mamdani might do based on his statements, so too I question what Andrew Cuomo might do in light of past findings of his pattern of harassment.”
Rachel Gildiner, executive director of SRE Network, a group that helps Jewish organizations achieve gender equity and create inclusive workplaces, said the election is doubly challenging for many Jewish women.
“Today, many Jewish women are feeling pressure from all sides and wondering if their own safety and belonging are being fully seen and understood,” Gildiner said in a statement. “At SRE, we are focused on helping the organizations we work with support women who are experiencing the double threat of antisemitism and misogyny in this moment. To all the women struggling: we see you and you are not alone.”
Some Jewish women say they feel no need to reconcile themselves to supporting a candidate with a record of allegations against him — because they prefer Mamdani anyway.
“I’m really happy with Zohran,” said Jaime Berman, a 33-year-old attorney and one of two Democratic state committee members for the 76th Assembly district, representing the Upper East Side. “And also Cuomo is literally the most evil person in New York, and is a sexual harasser.”
But for many Jewish women, the decision is proving to be fraught to the election’s very last days. Alisha Outridge, a tech entrepreneur in her late 30s living in Manhattan, said she sees advantages and disadvantages to both leading candidates. For her, the allegations against Cuomo aren’t weighing heavily.
“I think it’s bad, but I wouldn’t make decisions based on who our mayor is on that,” she said, noting that she is leaning toward Mamdani. “Local policy is really what I think is most impactful.”
Blima Marcus, an Orthodox nurse in Brooklyn, wrote on Facebook that she had abandoned an earlier promise not to vote at all and would cast a ballot for Cuomo if she can make it to the polls.
“A sexual predator is a red line for me, but I must say that after watching Zohran Mamdani carefully and listening to what he does and does not say I don’t want him in office and I don’t want it on my conscience that I sat this election out,” she wrote.
For Wells in Williamsburg, her vote for Cuomo is coming with hope that the mistakes of the past are not soon repeated.
“Obviously, he made a few bad calls,” Wells said. “I would like him to not make any bad calls as the mayor of the city.”
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Overwhelmed by the NYC mayor’s race between Zohran Mamdani and Andrew Cuomo? Start here
Just now tuning in to the New York City mayoral election or feeling utterly overwhelmed by it? As early voting is underway, and Tuesday’s election nears, here’s a look at what each mayoral candidate could mean for Jews.
– Zohran Mamdani –
Democratic nominee
Start here: Mamdani, a 34-year-old self-described democratic socialist, won the Democratic mayoral primary in a major upset in June. Mamdani has served as a State Assemblyman representing Queens since 2021. If elected, he would be the city’s first Muslim mayor.
His pitch to voters: Mamdani has focused on affordability. His signature campaign promises include making buses “fast and free,” freezing the rent for tenants in rent-stabilized apartments, and creating city-owned grocery stores.
Plans to combat antisemitism: Mamdani has committed to increase funding for hate crime prevention by 800%. He also supports the “Hidden Voices” curriculum, which teaches students about Jewish Americans in U.S. history, as a way to combat antisemitism in schools. The curriculum defines Zionism as “The right to Jewish national self-determination in their ancestral homeland,” which seems to be at odds with Mamdani’s own position that Israel has a right to exist as a democratic state, but not a Jewish one.
Positions on Israel and Gaza: Mamdani got his start in political organizing as co-founder of a Students for Justice in Palestine chapter at Bowdoin College, which he graduated from in 2014. He has called the Palestinian cause “central to my identity.”
In 2020, Mamdani said he joined the Democratic Socialists of America because of their stance on Israel and said mayoral candidates should pledge to boycott Israel. He later downplayed those remarks, but has also called for a permanent end to New York City’s investments in Israel bonds.
Days after Hamas attacked Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, Mamdani said, and has repeated, that Israel committed genocide in Gaza.
Mamdani has declined to recognize Israel specifically as a Jewish state and said he would refuse to visit the country as mayor. He has also pledged to arrest Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he comes to New York, honoring an arrest warrant issued by the International Criminal Court. The U.S. is not a party to the ICC, making it highly unlikely Mamdani would be able to carry out the arrest.
In June, Mamdani drew fire for his initial refusal to condemn the phrase “globalize the intifada,” though he later said he would discourage its use.
Policies affecting Hasidic communities: Mamdani has said he would work to protect Hasidic yeshivas that face scrutiny for failing to meet state education standards.
Bagel order: “As someone who grew up in Morningside Heights, I have to go back to Absolute Bagels. Poppy seed bagel, scallion cream cheese. Some pulp Tropicana on the side. And this is going to lose me some votes, but to be honest with you: toasted.”
What else you need to know:
- Mamdani has clashed with the Anti-Defamation League, saying the ADL does not speak for New York Jews’ concerns.
- Mamdani has many Jewish advisors and was endorsed by Jewish city comptroller Brad Lander in the primary.
- Rabbis across the country have weighed in on Mamdani’s candidacy. A group of 650 rabbis and cantors signed a letter opposing Mamdani and the “political normalization” of anti-Zionism. A second rabbinic letter offered support for Mamdani, and there are others circulating as well.
- Ruth Messinger, the first Jewish woman to win a New York City mayoral primary, endorsed Mamdani.
- Mamdani has pledged to keep Jewish police commissioner Jessica Tisch, who is currently serving in Mayor Eric Adam’s administration.
– Andrew Cuomo –
Independent
Start here: Cuomo, the 67-year-old former governor of New York, is running as an independent in the general election after losing the Democratic primary to Mamdani. Cuomo resigned as governor in 2021 following allegations of sexual harassment. Cuomo denied the allegations, and all criminal charges related to the matter have been dropped or dismissed.
His pitch to voters: Cuomo has cast himself as a pragmatic moderate with the governing experience to get policy passed. He has also argued Mamdani poses a threat to New York’s Jewish community.
Plans to combat antisemitism: Cuomo has committed to adopting the International Holocaust Remembrance Association (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which labels many forms of anti-Zionism as antisemitic. He also plans to “provide a strong response to antisemitic incidents in schools, including curriculum reforms.”
Positions on Israel and Gaza: Cuomo visited Israel three times as governor. In 2016, he signed an executive order barring government business with any company that boycotts Israel.
Cuomo has defended Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu against the International Criminal Court’s claims of war crimes. Later, he distanced himself from Netanyahu, saying, “I never stood with Bibi” and calling for the “horrific” Gaza war to end.
In September, Cuomo told the Forward he wanted three things: “We want killing to stop, because it’s a matter of humanity. We want the hostages returned, and Hamas eliminated. If you don’t eliminate Hamas, you accomplish nothing. This will happen again and again.”
Policies affecting Hasidic communities: Cuomo apologized to New York’s Orthodox Jews for his handling of the COVID-19 pandemic as governor, when he imposed health restrictions that also limited religious gatherings.
“I recognize that some of those decisions caused pain in the Jewish community because we did not always fully consider the sensitivities and traditions that are so deeply important,” Cuomo said.
Bagel order: “Bacon, cheese and egg on an English muffin, and then I try to take off the bacon, but I don’t really take off the bacon. The bagel I try to stay away from, to keep my girlish figure.”
What else you need to know:
- Cuomo has been endorsed by several Orthodox Jewish leaders.
- Cuomo has referred to himself as a “Shabbos goy” and said Mamdani won’t be able to “stand up to Donald Trump, who’d knock him right on his tuches.”
- Cuomo has also pledged to keep Jewish police commissioner Jessica Tisch.
– Curtis Sliwa –
Republican nominee
Start here: Sliwa, 71, is a former radio talk show host and founder of the Guardian Angels, a nonprofit citizen patrol group that deploys volunteers across the city to deter crime. Sliwa is the Republican nominee after running unopposed in the primary. He is not a supporter of President Donald Trump and said he did not vote for him in 2016 or 2020.
His pitch to voters: Sliwa has a “law and order” platform and argues he is the best candidate on public safety. He has proposed hiring 7,000 new police officers.
Plans to combat antisemitism: Sliwa has said that “Jews must protect themselves,” telling the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, “If you depend strictly on Gentiles, history is replete with instances where you’re going to be horribly disappointed.“ He said groups like Shmira or Shomrim, Jewish civilian watch groups that operate mostly in neighborhoods with large Orthodox Jewish populations, should secure Jewish safety.
In July, Sliwa apologized for past remarks about the Jewish community, including a claim that Hasidic Jews are “making babies like there’s no tomorrow” to collect government benefits.
“I’ve said a lot of things I shouldn’t have,” Sliwa told the Forward. “What I’ve learned in life is the art of apology. You have to understand the hurt that you cause people, and you have to apologize and mean it.”
Positions on Israel and Gaza: Sliwa has visited Israel three times and has criticized Mamdani as having “no love in his heart for the State of Israel and for Israelis.” He also rebuked Mamdani for his initial refusal to condemn the phrase “globalize the intifada.” Sliwa has acknowledged that “there are many Jews who are opposed to the killing of what’s gone over in Gaza,” but said “I disagree with them.”
Policies affecting Hasidic communities: Sliwa said the Bill de Blasio administration didn’t do enough to enforce state guidelines requiring private school education to be “substantially equivalent” to instruction at public schools.
“If parochial schools and religious schools that are not ultra-Orthodox or Hasidic have to follow those rules, then everybody does,” Sliwa told the Forward. We can’t start making exceptions.”
Bagel order: “I get me and my wife’s breakfast while she feeds our five rescue cats. For me it’s two toasted plain bagels. The schmear 🥯 is butter. My wife has an everything bagel toasted. The schmear is cream cheese. Two cups of coffee and we are good to go. I go to Giacomo on the UWS [Upper West Side]. A mom and pop shop with classical music playing and the customers standing on line waiting are a good political focus group for me. 👍”
What else you need to know:
- During the 1991 Crown Heights riots, Sliwa patrolled the streets with the Guardian Angels to protect the Jewish community.
- Sliwa has two Jewish sons who are being raised as Jews by their mother, Melinda Katz. She and Sliwa are no longer a couple.
- Sliwa was the sour garlic pickle-eating champion of the world for four years in a row.
- In 2002, Sliwa placed second in a matzah ball eating contest, only to be disqualified after he was caught squishing the matzah balls to get the liquid out.
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