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Israel deported me for helping West Bank Palestinians. I won’t give up on a peaceful future for the country I love
In the dark, sparsely furnished Israeli Immigration Authority waiting room at Ben Gurion airport, handcuffs around my wrists, I picked up a siddur — a prayerbook. It was 6 a.m. and I began to recite the ancient words of shacharit, morning prayers. Praying was familiar, an attempt to make sense of the baffling circumstances I found myself in: a Jew being deported from the Jewish state.
Thousands, if not millions, of other Jews across Israel would recite those same words that morning. But unlike them, I knew this was the last time — for a long time — that I would be able to say them in the Jewish homeland. I had just learned I would not be allowed to return to Israel for a decade.
All because I was on a bus, as part of an activist excursion organized by a peaceful, solidarity-focused NGO, that entered a recently-declared closed military zone in the West Bank as we tried to reach Palestinian farmers in their olive groves. A closed military zone is determined at will by the Israeli army; it is a designation that gives soldiers legal authority to bar entry or remove anyone—including residents.
I entered the closed military zone unknowingly. The usual consequence for a Jew who does that is a temporary restriction from the West Bank — not a 10-year ban from the country.
I am 18 years old. For me, 10 years feels like a lifetime.
A deep, critical connection
In September I joined a program called Achvat Amim, or “solidarity of nations,” for a gap year before starting at Williams College. The program is organized around learning Jewish texts, considering Israeli and Palestinian history, and volunteering in both Israel and the occupied West Bank.
Achvat Amim felt like the perfect way for me to deepen my connection to a place I both love, and struggle with.
Judaism has been the lens through which I experience the world, and as Jewish values inform my understanding of self, they also inform my understanding of Israel. As I have tried to find my place in an imperfect and deeply unjust state, I have turned again and again to the Jewish concepts of tikkun olam (repairing the world) and b’tselem elohim (a belief that every human being is created in the image of God).
When I lived in Jerusalem during 10th grade, I attended pro-democracy protests every week. On my many trips to Israel since, I’ve joined protests demanding an end to the war in Gaza and the return of the hostages. These mass displays showed me that many Israeli Jews were willing to fight for and honor the Jewish values that drive me. They urged me to believe there was a just future for this country.
In the two months before my deportation, I was introduced to a world of Jewish leftists in Jerusalem who split their time between synagogue, Shabbat meals, political demonstrations, and solidarity actions side-by-side with Palestinians in the West Bank. They showed me a way to be deeply Jewish and connected to Israel, yet unapologetically critical of the injustice I saw.
And I saw injustice. As I spent more time in the South Hebron Hills and Jordan Valley, I saw demolished homes, burned villages, and fields of uprooted olive trees. There was also joy: I held babies, danced with little girls, and drank cup after cup of sage-infused tea. When the olive harvest began, I joined the Israeli organization Rabbis for Human Rights, going twice each week to help protect farmers from harassment or attack by Israeli settlers and soldiers.
Accompanying farmers as Jews made a statement: We would not stand idly as our fellow Jews burned Palestinians’ fields, murdered their sheep, and harmed their bodies.
A forceful rejection
I spent many days high up in olive trees, meeting other Jewish activists as we separated leaves from fruit. The day I was detained began exactly that way. I climbed trees, laid out tarps, and poured multicolored olives into buckets. But walking back to our bus, volunteers were confronted by Israeli soldiers. They asked all 11 of us for identification, then announced that we were being detained. Two soldiers boarded the bus and directed the driver to take us to a police station in the settlement of Ariel.
I was not worried. I knew other visiting Jewish activists who had been detained and released the same day, perhaps banned from returning to the West Bank for a couple of weeks. That is exactly what happened to the volunteers who held Israeli citizenship and long-term visas. I watched as each of them walked out of the station.
But after four hours of interrogation and waiting, I began to understand the vulnerability of my tourist visa, and I became worried. Finally, at 7:00 pm, I was informed that my detention had turned into an arrest, and my deportation hearing would be held at 3 a.m. the following morning.
I was shocked. I am not Greta Thunberg, who was deported three weeks before me after attempting to enter Gaza as part of a protest flotilla of aid ships, I am an 18-year-old Jewish American, the daughter of a rabbi.
I was not wearing a keffiyeh, I was wearing rings etched with the words of the Shema prayer. It did not seem to matter what I had said in my many interviews that day nor did it matter that I kept Shabbat, could speak nearly fluent Hebrew, and knew where to find the best falafel in Jerusalem. All that seemed to matter is that by showing up as a Jew to aid Palestinians, I was the wrong kind of Jew.
Israel was supposed to be a home for all Jews, for me. I never imagined it would reject me so forcefully.
A few minutes after learning that the state where I had always been told I belonged was deporting me, I asked a police officer wearing a kippah if I could borrow a prayerbook. He watched me recite the words with a confused expression. I imagine that my knowledge of the prayers defied his assumptions about Jews like me.
I realized that this binary-defying confusion is our power. It asserts that as Jewish activists, we stand with Palestinians not despite our Judaism, but because of it.
Who defines Judaism — and Israel?
I know what my deportation is supposed to mean.
It’s supposed to tell American Jewish activists doing solidarity work in the West Bank that they are not safe, and Jewish high schoolers that they should make other plans for their gap years. It sends a message that the only Jews whom Israel wants are compliant ones.
But we cannot let ourselves be defined by those who use Judaism in the name of violence.
To not return to Israel for a decade is unfathomable to me. I do not want to forget my way around the streets of the old city, or the secret route I like to take to the Western Wall. I want to eat pomegranates from trees that hang over sidewalks, and figs from community gardens. I wanted to taste the olive oil made from the olives I picked with my own hands.
My deportation felt like a betrayal. Israel was supposed to be for me, for every Jew. But the settler movement and the current government would like to redefine what it means to be Jewish along political lines.
In Hebrew, I was taught to love our neighbors and to commit to repairing a broken world. To me, that means that while I may be angry at Israel and critical of its actions and policies, I cannot serve justice by severing my relationship with this land entirely.
I am not done with Israel, not done with Judaism. I am not giving up, and neither should any leftist American Jew. I believe that if there is hope for Israelis and Palestinians, it’s in the place of struggle. It does not serve us, as those who want a future of shared society, security, and justice in this land, to give up on this land.
The post Israel deported me for helping West Bank Palestinians. I won’t give up on a peaceful future for the country I love appeared first on The Forward.
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Canada Sees Record Surge in Antisemitic Incidents for Second Consecutive Year, New Report Finds
A member of law enforcement personnel works at the scene outside the US Consulate after shots were fired, in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, March 10, 2026. Picture taken with a mobile phone. Photo: REUTERS/Kyaw Soe Oo
Antisemitic incidents in Canada surged to a record high in 2025 for the second consecutive year, with 6,800 acts of anti-Jewish hate reported nationwide, underscoring a persistently hostile climate for Jews and Israelis across the country, according to newly released data.
On Monday, the Jewish advocacy group B’nai Brith Canada released its annual report on antisemitism documenting a 9.3 percent increase in hate crimes last year, surpassing the previous record total of 6,219 set in 2024.
With an average of 18.6 incidents per day, this latest figure represents a 145.6 percent increase from 2022, before the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
B’nai Brith Canada CEO Simon Wolle described the findings as a “national crisis,” warning that antisemitism has become increasingly normalized within Canadian society and calling on authorities to confront this rising hatred with stronger, sustained action.
“Our review of the past year’s antisemitic incidents must be understood as a wake-up call,” Wolle said in a statement. “Hate and extremism are a threat to Canadian democracy and civil society, not only to the Jewish community.”
According to the latest data, the report found that antisemitism has “metastasized” across all aspects of Canadian life, with the vast majority — 92 percent — of recorded incidents occurring in digital spaces, including 6,248 cases of online harassment.
Among the recorded cases, there were also 10 incidents of violence, 299 cases of vandalism, and 243 incidents of real-world harassment.
Online platforms have also seen a rise in Holocaust denial, with artificial intelligence being used to fabricate and distort historical narratives.
While geopolitical tensions in the Middle East have contributed to the surge, the report warns that antisemitism has moved beyond the “radical fringes,” pointing to troubling trends on university campuses and in public schools, where Jewish students and faculty increasingly report feeling vulnerable.
The trend appears to be continuing into 2026, with several high-profile attacks — including gunfire directed at three synagogues in Toronto last month, alongside vandalism targeting businesses and physical assaults — signaling an ongoing escalation of violence.
Richard Robertson, director of research and advocacy at B’nai Brith Canada, said many who describe themselves as “anti-Zionists” are in fact reviving long-standing tropes used to dehumanize Jewish people, warning that such narratives are increasingly being normalized in mainstream discourse.
“The fact of the matter is that when it becomes acceptable, and even popular, to demonize Zionists, Jewish communities suffer,” Robertson said in a statement.
This latest report came after Canada’s Senate last week released a separate assessment offering a comprehensive roadmap to counter rising Jew-hatred, calling for expanded law enforcement resources to investigate hate crimes, strengthened Holocaust education, and the implementation of digital literacy programs for youth.
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Smith College to Hold Talks With Students for Justice in Palestine Following Unauthorized Encampment
The “People’s University” encampment, established by Students for Justice in Palestine, on the campus of Smith College in April 2024. Photo: Screenshot
Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts has granted Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) a meeting with high-level officials in exchange for the group’s ending an unauthorized encampment established on campus to protest the board of trustees’ decision to reject a proposal inspired by the boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS) movement against Israel.
On April 18, SJP commandeered the Chapin Lawn and renamed it “The People’s University.” Armed with a litany of demands calling for “restructuring” Smith’s governance of its endowment, transferring power over the institution from administrators to faculty and students, and a “required course on race” informed by the divisive critical race theory discipline, the students initially vowed to dwell in the encampment indefinitely.
Over seven days, SJP hosted a series of anti-Israel themed events on “Palestinian resistance,” “Indigenous resistance,” and “organizing.” On other days, the group filled time with “listening sessions” and even provided dinner, suggesting that the encampment received financial support sufficient to feed dozens of college students. However, the mounting presence of public safety officers around the encampment site and little indication that the demonstration held the drawing power of encampments of previous academic years prompted SJP to consider settling for less than it wanted.
Additionally, the college had notified the group of being in violation of campus policies on peaceful assembly and threatened SJP with disciplinary sanctions, which the group described as “fear tactics.” Tamra Bates, director of student engagement, personally told the students they would be punished as “individuals” and, the group added, public safety officers addressed “at least one student” by their “full name.” After three days, paranoia took hold of the organizers, and they issued a prohibition on photography “at any time … especially of people’s faces.”
SJP ultimately agreed to enter negotiations with the college over email, a process which concluded with Smith College agreeing to hold a meeting with the group and college trustees “before the end of the semester.” The students decamped on Saturday.
Smith College has not responded to The Algemeiner‘s inquiry regarding the substance of the deal.
As previously reported, Smith College became one of the latest higher education institutions to see a class between anti-Zionists and administrators over institutional ties to Israel as college trustees neared a vote on what SJP titled the “ethical investment” proposal. Brimming with falsehoods, the document accused Israel of the crime of “femi-genocide,” which SJP described as “sexual and reproductive violence” and mass murder perpetrated against Palestinian women and girls. The enterprise continues a pattern of depicting Israel, the most progressive country in the Middle East, as a foe of left-wing causes and an enemy of liberalism.
Additionally, the proposal called on Smith to withdraw investments in armaments manufacturers while arguing that divestment from Israel is a prelude to divesting from fossil fuels, a subtle but common tactic in which far-left groups place Jews and Zionists at the center of an array of alleged conflicts and social maladies.
“Militarism and the use of explosive weaponry has a devastating impact on our climate: military carbon emissions from the ongoing occupation and genocide of Palestinians exceeds that of several countries combined,” the proposal said. “We face interconnected human rights crises at home and abroad that jeopardize our immigrant and international students, faculty, staff, and community members. Broader patterns of forced displacement are inseparable from climate change, and are fueled by a longer history of neoliberalization, securitization, and colonization.”
Citing fiduciary concerns, virtually all colleges asked to adopt BDS have rejected it.
In March 2025, Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine did so when its Board of Trustees voted to accept the counsel of a committee that recommended maintaining investment practices which safeguard the institution’s financial health and educational mission. In a report authored by the college’s Ad Hoc Committee on Investments and Responsibility, it said, “Interventions in the management of the endowment that are rooted in moral or political considerations should be exceedingly rare and restricted to those cases where there is near-universal consensus among Bowdoin’s community of stakeholders.”
Boston University rejected divestment the previous month, with its president, Melissa Gilliam, saying, “The endowment is no longer the vehicle for political debate; nevertheless, I will continue to seek ways that members of our community can engage with each other on political issues of our day including the conflict in the Middle East.”
Adopting divestment proposals dictated by anti-Zionist groups is a recipe for squandering tens of billions of dollars in endowment returns, according to a report published in September 2024 by the JLens investment network, an arm of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL).
Titled “The Impact of Israel Divestment on Equity Portfolios: Forecasting BDS’s Financial Toll on University Endowments,” the report said BDS would incinerate $33.21 billion of future returns for the 100 largest university endowments over the next 10 years, with Harvard University losing $2.5 billion and the University of Texas losing $2.2 billion. Other schools would forfeit over $1 billion in growth, including the University of Pennsylvania, Stanford University, and Princeton University. For others, such as the University of Michigan and Dartmouth College, the damages would total in the hundreds of millions.
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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Jewish Groups Blast Mamdani for Vetoing Bill to Limit Protests Near Schools
New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani holds a press conference at the New York City Office of Emergency Management, as a major winter storm spreads across a large swath of the United States, in Brooklyn, New York City, US, Jan. 25, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Bing Guan
Major Jewish organizations are sharply criticizing New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani after he vetoed a bill aimed at limiting protests near schools, condemning the mayor for what they argue is a failure to protect Jewish students at a time of rising antisemitism.
The legislation, which passed the City Council with bipartisan support, would have created buffer zones around educational institutions to prevent obstruction, intimidation, and disruption during demonstrations. Supporters said the measure was a direct response to recent protests outside Jewish schools and community spaces that have left students feeling unsafe.
In statements following the veto, several Jewish advocacy groups said the mayor’s decision sends the wrong message amid a surge in antisemitic incidents across the city. They warned that without additional safeguards, Jewish students could remain vulnerable to harassment and disruption near their schools.
A group of leading Jewish organizations subsequently released a statement condemning the veto, saying they were “deeply disappointed” with the decision.
“This legislation represented a crucial step toward ensuring that every school and community institution can be better protected,” read the statement from UJA-Federation of New York, ADL New York/New Jersey, AJC New York, Conference of Presidents, JCRC-NY, New York Board of Rabbis, Orthodox Union, The Rabbinical Assembly, StandWithUs, Teach NYS, and the Union for Reform Judaism.
City Council Speaker Julie Menin condemned Mamdani’s veto.
“Ensuring students can enter and exit their schools without fear of harassment or intimidation should not be controversial,” Menin said.
New York City Councilmember Eric Dinowitz similarly criticized Mamdani, saying in a statement that the mayor had undercut his campaign promise to ensure the safety of Jewish New Yorkers.
“The mayor promised to keep New Yorkers safe and increase police transparency,” Dinowitz said. “By vetoing this bill, he is breaking yet another campaign promise.”
Jews for Racial and Economic Justice, a far-left and fringe anti-Zionist group, released a statement framing Mamdani’s veto as a victory for free speech rights.
The group wrote that Mamdani “further demonstrated his commitment to protecting New Yorkers’ First Amendment rights, and his refusal to endorse what is quite simply bad policy.”
“The ‘buffer zone’ bills are not about keeping New Yorkers safe. They are about silencing our voices,” the organization continued. “That they do so under the auspices of combating antisemitism doesn’t just add insult to injury; it actively endangers Jews. At best, these bills change little. At worst, they divide and silence New Yorkers and contribute to the broader political climate targeting protestors.”
Mamdani defended his decision, arguing that the bill’s language was overly broad and could infringe on constitutionally protected protest rights. He said the definition of educational institutions could extend beyond K-12 schools to include universities, museums, and other public-facing institutions, potentially restricting a wide range of demonstrations unrelated to antisemitism.
“As the bill is written, everywhere from universities to museums to teaching hospitals could face restrictions,” Mamdani said. “This could impact workers protesting ICE [US Immigration and Customs Enforcement], or college students demanding their school divest from fossil fuels, or demonstrating in support of Palestinian rights.”
The mayor also pointed to existing laws that already prohibit harassment, threats, and obstruction, suggesting the proposed measure was unnecessary and legally vulnerable.
Still, critics say those protections are insufficient in the current climate. They argue that recent demonstrations, particularly those tied to tensions over the Israel-Hamas war, have at times crossed into intimidation, and that clearer boundaries are needed to ensure student safety.
The backlash has put Mamdani at odds with some Democratic lawmakers and community leaders who had supported the bill. While he allowed a separate measure strengthening protections around houses of worship to become law, opponents say excluding schools from similar safeguards leaves a critical gap.
Skeptics also claim that the veto undercuts Mamdani’s previous vow to protect the local Jewish community amid a surge in antisemitic hate crimes in the Big Apple.
Mamdani, a far-left democratic socialist and anti-Zionist, is an avid supporter of boycotting all Israeli-tied entities who has been widely accused of promoting antisemitic rhetoric. He has repeatedly accused Israel of “apartheid” and “genocide”; refused to recognize the country’s right to exist as a Jewish state; and refused to explicitly condemn the phrase “globalize the intifada,” which has been associated with calls for violence against Jews and Israelis worldwide.
Leading members of the Jewish community in New York have expressed alarm about Mamdani’s victory, fearing what may come in a city already experiencing a surge in antisemitic hate crimes.
The City Council could attempt to override the veto, though it would need to secure additional votes to reach a two-thirds majority.
The dispute highlights a broader national debate over how to respond to rising antisemitism while preserving First Amendment protections, as protests tied to global conflicts continue to unfold across the United States. For many Jewish leaders, however, the issue in New York is immediate and personal, and they say the mayor’s decision falls short of the moment.