Uncategorized
Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
—
The post Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
How Mira Nair and Mahmood Mamdani’s politics shaped New York City’s new mayor
(New York Jewish Week) — When he sat down for an interview in November with the Chronicle of Higher Education, Mahmood Mamdani offered one parameter: “Let’s not talk about the mayor thing.”
It was just two days after the Columbia University professor had taken the stage alongside his wife and daughter-in-law after his son Zohran had been elected mayor of New York City, winning more than 50% of the vote in a three-way race.
Zohran Mamdani, a 34-year-old democratic socialist with a long track record of pro-Palestinian activism, has said he counts his father as one of his political inspirations.
But Mahmood Mamdani preferred to talk about his own record, as a professor of anthropology and international affairs and a longstanding pro-Palestinian activist who was the first faculty member to address the Gaza war encampment on his campus.
His wife, filmmaker Mira Nair, and Zohran’s wife, the artist Rama Duwaji, likewise are respected in their fields and well known for their pro-Palestinian advocacy and adherence to the movement to boycott Israel.
Zohran Mamdani has described the BDS movement as “consistent with the core of my politics,” and in 2023 introduced a bill while serving as an assemblymember that sought to block nonprofits from funding Israeli settlements in the West Bank.
While it is unclear the extent to which Mamdani will pursue BDS policies during his upcoming mayoral term, his politics and those of his parents reflect a shared alignment with pro-Palestinian causes.
“When you’re the kid of two parents who are very involved in social justice, a lot of times what you remember as a playdate was you being at some rally or some march,” Mamdani recalled in an interview with City & State in April 2023.
Now, as Zohran takes the city’s reins, here’s what you need to know about his immediate family.
Mahmood Mamdani, viewing Israel through an anti-colonial lens
Long before his son’s mayoral campaign, Mahmood Mamdani, 79, was known widely as one of the foremost scholars on colonialism and postcolonial politics in Africa. Born in India in 1946, Mamdani was raised in Kampala, Uganda at a time when the country was racially segregated. After receiving his bachelors, masters and doctorate from universities in the United States, Mamdani was expelled from Uganda in 1972 after Ugandan President Idi Amin ordered all Asians to leave the country.
Since 1999, he has been a professor of government at Columbia University, and has published several books and essays on colonialism and political violence including “Citizen and Subject: Contemporary Africa and the Legacy of Late Colonialism” in 1996 and “Good Muslim, Bad Muslim: America, the Cold War, and the Roots of Terror” in 2004.
As a scholar, Mahmood Mamdani is best known for his analysis of colonial rule and how it shapes the identities of both the occupied and occupiers. In his 2020 book, “Neither Settler nor Native: The Making and Unmaking of Permanent Minorities,” he uses case studies that include Nazi Germany, Israelis and Palestinians and post-apartheid South Africa.
Mamdani has spoken directly and repeatedly about how his broader scholarship shapes his thinking on Israel and Palestinians. “The issue is not settlers, but settler colonialism,” he wrote in “Neither Settler nor Native.” In 2021, during an 11-day outbreak of violence between Hamas and Israel that was sparked by tensions in Jerusalem, Mamdani wrote on X, “Palestinians have a right to resist. This is a colonial occupation, not a conflict!”
Three days later, as Hamas and Israel exchanged missiles and airstrikes, Mamdani wrote that the conflict was not between Israel and Hamas, but rather the resurgence of a third intifada.
“The resistance this time began in Jerusalem and spread to Gaza, now the West Bank and Palestinian communities beyond. This is not a conflict between Israel and Hamas,” wrote Mamdani in a post on X. “We are witnessing something far more meaningful, the birth of the Third Intifadah against settler colonialism!”
In 2002, as the second intifada was in full force, Mamdani signed onto a petition calling for Columbia University to divest from companies supplying arms to Israel, saying at the time his support for the petition was to make a “moral statement registering concern over the exercise of power by Israel.”
In the Chronicle of Higher Education interview, Mahmood Mamdani spoke about being the first faculty member to address the pro-Palestinian protesters who set up an encampment at Columbia in 2024. He said his talk focused on “lessons of the divestment movement in South Africa.”
In a 2022 Zoom lecture at the Carter G. Woodson Institute of the University of Virginia, Mahmood Mamdani argued that while there was reason to give “full and enthusiastic support” to the BDS movement, he cautioned against the movement extending its boycotts against the breadth of “Israeli society and not just to its Zionist sectors.”
During his lecture, Mamdani also argued that Israel must learn from the dissolution of the South African apartheid, saying that the only way forward in the region was if there was an “epistemic revolution” in Israel where they realized the “flourishing of Jews and Jewish life does not require a Zionist state.”
“Whites did not need to monopolize political power to have a home in South Africa. It is this lesson that needs to be driven home to Israelis, as many as possible, that Jews do not need to have a Jewish state to have a secure home in Israel-Palestine,” said Mamdani. “Indeed, Jews are more secure in New York City than they are in Israel.”
Asked whether he supports a one-state solution, Mamdani recently told The Chronicle, “I’m sympathetic to only one type of one state, a state which is based on rule of law and guarantees equal rights,” a position his son echoed on the campaign trail. “I’m opposed to any kind of discrimination. I’m opposed to any form of apartheid which I understand to be a legally enforced distinction between two groups in society, where one benefits and the other is penalized.”
In an interview with The Nation in January 2024, Mamdani criticized the public response to the pro-Palestinian protests erupting across the U.S., saying that conflating anti-Zionism with antisemitism was a danger to democracy.
“To conflate the critique of a state with the critique of a people poses a challenge to a democratic culture,” he said. In his recent Chronicle interview, Mamdani pointed favorably to the Jerusalem Declaration definition of antisemitism, signed by over 200 mostly Jewish scholars, which insists that the movement to boycott Israel is not in and of itself antisemitic. The declaration, he said, “makes a very clear distinction between the State of Israel and the people of Israel,” as opposed to the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition.
In a January 2024 letter published in the Columbia Spectator, Mahmood Mamdani criticized the school for dissuading the use of the words “intifada” and “from the river to the sea,” arguing that excluding them would “rule out any meaningful dialogue on Israel and Palestine on this campus.” (He told the Chronicle that the “river to the seas” concept appears in the Likud party manifesto, which declares that “between the [Mediterranean] Sea and the Jordan [River] there will only be Israeli sovereignty.” He also claimed that he had not actually heard “from the river to the sea” chanted in Columbia’s quad, and had only read about it.)
Zohran Mamdani similarly downplayed rhetoric that many Israel supporters consider incendiary. In June he declined to condemn the phrase “globalize the Intifada,” arguing that the phrase symbolized a “desperate desire for equality and equal rights in standing up for Palestinian human rights.” (Mamdani later said he would “discourage” the use of the phrase, which many supporters of Israel, recalling two violent uprisings of Palestinians in 1987 and 2000 that killed hundreds of Israelis, see as a call to violence.)
At an appearance on the encampments, Mamdani described charges of antisemitism as “part of the currency the administration uses to demonize protests like this,” according to the Columbia Spectator.
Critics of the elder Mamdani say he underplays Jewish historical vulnerability and antisemitism, minimizes Palestinian political agency and their internal divisions, and ignores the way Zionism differs from European colonialism. But like his son, he believes even younger Jews are increasingly adopting his critique of Israel and Zionism.
In a December interview with Peter Beinart for Jewish Currents, a leftist magazine, he said he believed the Jewish diasporic community would play an “important role” in discussions over the “Palestinian question” in the future.
“Jewish children in New York City have become increasingly skeptical of the direction in which Israel has been moving, and increasingly disillusioned with both the moral and the political efficacy of that route and increasingly open to explore an alternative,” said Mamdani.
Mira Nair, a supporter of cultural boycotts
Nair is an award-winning Indian-American filmmaker whose debut 1988 film, “Salaam Bombay!,” earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Language Film. She also directed several acclaimed films including “Mississippi Masala” in 1991, “Monsoon Wedding” in 2001 and “The Namesake” in 2006.
Born in India, she met Mahmood Mamdani in Uganda in 1989, and they married two years later. Nair was also married to the Jewish photographer Mitch Epstein from 1981 to sometime before 1989; he has declined JTA’s requests for an interview.
Nair has also been an outspoken critic of Israel and a supporter of petitions backing the Boycott, Divest and Sanctions movement.
In 2013, Nair declined an invitation to the Haifa International Film Festival. “I will not be going to Israel at this time. I will go to Israel when the walls come down. I will go to Israel when occupation is gone,” she tweeted at the time. In a subsequent post, she added that she stood with the BDS movement.
In March of this year, Nair signed onto a petition calling for the Academy Awards to remove Israeli actress Gal Gadot from its ceremony, accusing her of showing “support for Israel’s military actions against Palestinians,” according to an Instagram post by the group.
Following the election of her son, Nair has also declined to discuss Mamdani’s attitudes towards Jews and Israel in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter.
“What I love so much about Zohran is that he embraces the multiplicity of our lives in the most natural way — this mosaic that is our city but that no one has seen until this young man came along,” Nair told The Hollywood Reporter of her son.
Rama Duwaji, an artist with a political vision
Mamdani’s wife, Rama Duwaji, whom he married this year, has also made pro-Palestinian advocacy a focal point of her work in ceramics, animation and illustrations.
While Duwaji has largely refused interviews with the press and did not appear at campaign events or fundraisers, last month she sat for her first interview post election with The Cut.
“Speaking out about Palestine, Syria, Sudan — all these things are really important to me,” Duwaji told The Cut. “I’m always keeping up to date with what’s going on, not just here but elsewhere. It feels fake to talk about anything else when that’s all that’s on my mind, all I want to put down on paper.”
“Everything is political; it’s the thing that I talk about with [Zohran] and my friends, the thing that I’m up to date with every morning, which is probably not great for my mental health. It’s what I talk about when I check on my family back home,” continued Duwaji.
During the interview Duwaji also discussed the meaning behind part of her election night outfit —- a black top designed by Zeid Hijazi, a London-based Palestinian-Jordanian label.
“It’s nice to have a little bit of analysis on the clothes because, for instance, during the general-election night, it was nice to send a message about Palestinians by wearing a Palestinian designer,” said Duwaji.
Duwaji, 28, who is ethnically Syrian and grew up in Texas and Dubai, also frequently posts illustrations that advocate for pro-Palestinian causes on her Instagram account. Her art has been featured in The New Yorker, The Washington Post, the BBC, and VICE, according to her website.
https://www.instagram.com/p/DNQ85ehpSo6/?hl=en
In August, she posted an animation of the Palestinian flag along with the words “end the genocide,” and posted another last month depicting the Global Sumud Flotilla.
In March, she posted an illustration of Mahmoud Khalil, a pro-Palestinian student activist at Columbia University, calling for his release after he was detained by the Trump administration amid its campaign to purportedly combat campus antisemitism.
“This is an attack on freedom of speech, and sets a scary f—king precedent for anyone who speaks up for what’s right. Resist,” wrote Duwaji.
“He’s his own person”
In an interview with the New York Times in June, Mahmood Mamdani spurned suggestions that his politics had an outsized impact on his son’s political views.
“He’s his own person,” Mamdani said. “Now, of course what we do as his parents is part of the environment in which he grew up, and he couldn’t help but engage with it. That doesn’t mean anything is reflected back on us.”
But Nair was quick to disagree, telling the Times that her son had “very much absorbed” his parents’ politics, which largely center on anti-colonialism.
“I don’t agree!” Ms. Nair said. “Of course the world we live in, and what we write and film and think about, is the world that Zohran has very much absorbed.”
The post How Mira Nair and Mahmood Mamdani’s politics shaped New York City’s new mayor appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
How Jewish politics are shaping the 2026 election map, from coast to coast
(JTA) — After a year in which Israel, antisemitism and political polarization scrambled long-standing alliances, the American Jewish political map is heading into 2026 unusually unsettled.
From New York City Hall to swing-state governors’ mansions to some of the most crowded Democratic primaries in memory, the coming election cycle will test how much Jewish voters still cohere as a political bloc — and whether the issues that have dominated Jewish life since Oct. 7 will continue to shape the ballot box. The rise of outspoken pro-Palestinian candidates, fractures inside both parties over Israel, and the growing visibility of antisemitism on the left and the right have turned races that might once have seemed parochial into national bellwethers.
As Democrats and Republicans jockey for control of Congress and key statehouses, Jewish candidates and Jewish issues are no longer confined to the margins. Instead, they are central — sometimes uncomfortably so — to debates about ideology, identity and power. These are the big political questions facing the American Jewish community as 2026 approaches.
The Mamdani era begins
After the most closely watched — and, in some Jewish corners, feared — mayoral race in generations, Zohran Mamdani will be sworn in as New York City’s next chief executive on the first day of the year. For many Jews, both in and beyond New York, 2026 will be measured by how the democratic socialist mayor will wield his power and influence once in office — and by how many candidates in the midterms are able to follow in his footsteps when it comes to explicit pro-Palestinian activism.
Ahead of his inauguration, Mamdani seemed to heed some of the Jewish alarms over his harsh criticism of Israel. During his transition he dismissed a staffer over her past antisemitic posts; met with the New York Board of Rabbis, which include some vocal critics of his; and, after the deadly attack on a Hanukkah celebration in Australia, visited the grave of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
Tensions remain. The Anti-Defamation League has launched a controversial monitoring project focused on his administration. He also still pledges to arrest Benjamin Netanyahu should the Israeli prime minister visit New York, a threat that Netanyahu has shrugged off.
Once he takes power, Mamdani’s outreach efforts to Jews will continue to be closely scrutinized, as will Jewish leaders’ willingness to be in the same room with him — or to discourage, or encourage, further attacks on him.
Seismic shifts on the right
Republicans could have seized upon the rise of Mamdani as an effort to appeal to worried Jews ahead of the midterms as the pro-Isael, anti-antisemitism party. Instead, the GOP now seems unsure what it thinks about Jews at all.
While President Donald Trump says he remains resolutely pro-Israel, and many establishment Jewish groups continue their eagerness to work with him, his second-in-command JD Vance has opened the door to a rising tide of anti-Israel and anti-Jewish sentiment on the party’s hyper-nationalist wing. At Turning Point USA’s annual convention, Vance declined to join the critics of conservative antisemitism, and instead encouraged the party to widen its tent.
Meanwhile, conservative thought leaders such as the Heritage Foundation and Turning Point USA, which have wielded power to vet and promote GOP candidates, have opened doors to outright conspiratorial talking points about Jewish and Israeli power, via figures such as open antisemite Nick Fuentes and podcaster Tucker Carlson, who has offered him a friendly platform.
Already some Republican candidates, driven by “America First” ideology and their disdain for U.S. aid to Israel, are taking explicitly anti-Israel platforms. Florida gubernatorial hopeful James Fishback, for example, has pledged to refuse donations from AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobby, and praised Heritage for its defense of the Carlson-Fuentes interview. “Why is it that when we’re critical of Israel, it feels like a fourth branch comes out to almost criminalize our speech?” the Gen Z hedge-fund manager has said.
And in the Ohio gubernatorial race, the biotech entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy — who as a 2024 presidential candidate was one of the first major figures of his party to suggest cutting aid to Israel — appears to be the likely GOP nominee. He will likely face a Jewish Democratic candidate, former state health official Dr. Amy Acton.
A test for Josh Shapiro
A Jewish governor with a national profile, Josh Shapiro is seeking reelection in November. Stacy Garrity, his GOP opponent, is the only person to earn more votes in Pennsylvania history than Shapiro when she was elected state treasurer in 2024. A popular moderate with a reputation as a humanitarian war hero, Garrity hopes to unite the state as Shapiro did, despite her record of boosting election denials. She’ll remind Jewish voters that she boosted the state’s Israel bond investments.
An upset — seen by insiders as unlikely but not impossible — could put a screeching halt to talk of Shapiro becoming the first Jewish president.
The Upper West Side story
Few Democratic primaries this year promise to be more circus-like than the race for the Manhattan district being vacated by longtime Jewish Rep. Jerry Nadler, a progressive on domestic issues who could read the haftarah at synagogue one day and offer what he considered loving criticism of Israel the next. Nine candidates have so far thrown their hats in, including three big Jewish names with very different takes on Jewish issues.
The favorite is New York State Assembly member Micah Lasher — a close confidant of Nadler. But Lasher’s path to the nomination is far from guaranteed, especially if progressives want to send a message to a Democratic establishment that they are unhappy for a range of reasons — including Israel.
Enter Cameron Kasky, a survivor of the Parkland High School shooting and Jewish Gen Z political activist. The 25-year-old, courting pro-Palestinian voters, has already made fighting “support for genocide” a central plank of his campaign (he recently returned from a pro-Palestinian solidarity mission to the West Bank). And Kasky isn’t alone among Jewish candidates popular with the online left: Jack Schlossberg, 32, a Kennedy scion with millions of social media followers, is running on what he describes as the “cost-of-living crisis” and erosion of democratic norms under Republican leadership.
Threading the needle on Israel
As support for Israel erodes in the Democratic party and in portions of the right, a number of Jewish candidates insist that there is room for progressive Jewish voices who can be critical of Israeli policy. A number of declared Jewish candidates this year are looking to represent this vanguard. In many cases they’re vying to replace long-serving Jews and/or stalwart Democratic leaders.
Kasky exemplifies the trend. But progressive Brad Lander, the Jewish New York City comptroller and Mamdani ally, may have a clearer path to Congress: He is challenging Jewish Rep. Dan Goldman, a more typically pro-Israel lawmaker, for his House seat, and early polling has given him an advantage.
Scott Wiener, a state senator in California, is running for the seat being vacated by retiring Democratic figurehead Nancy Pelosi. Wiener holds conventionally left-of-center views on housing reform, civil rights, LGBTQ+ issues, climate and tech regulation and has pushed for antisemitism prevention in schools. He has also publicly condemned actions by the Netanyahu government.
And Daniel Biss, the progressive Jewish Israeli mayor of Evanston, Illinois, is running in the Chicago-area congressional district previously held by retiring Jewish Rep. Jan Schakowski. Like many pro-Israel centrists, he’s an advocate of the two-state solution, but has veered to their left by calling for an early ceasefire in Gaza and for pausing offensive U.S. weapons sales to the Israeli government amid the humanitarian crisis in Gaza. He is facing, amid a slew of challengers, the leftist Palestinian-American influencer Kat Abugazelah.
Israel and the midterms
Months after the tentative ceasefire, will voter sentiment about the Gaza war have an impact on midterm races? AIPAC, whose endorsements were once courted by politicians, is now seen as toxic by candidates who have been reading the tea leaves. Case in point: Rep. Seth Moulton, the Massachusetts Democrat, has publicly said he will return the campaign donations he previously received from AIPAC and will not accept future support from the organization.
In New York’s 15th Congressional District race, where Democratic Rep. Ritchie Torres is seeking reelection, former state assemblyman and ex‑Democratic National Committee vice chair Michael Blake has made Torres’s pro‑Israel stance a central issue of his campaign. Blake has accused Torres of prioritizing U.S. support for Israel over his constituents’ needs, including alleging that Torres’s positions effectively support what Blake calls a “genocide” — language that has drawn criticism from local Jewish leaders.
In the Michigan Senate race, Rep. Haley Stevens, a non-Jewish pro-Israel stalwart who previously won AIPAC’s support over progressive Jewish incumbent Andy Levin, is the favorite in the race right now. But she faces two progressive challengers, including one, former county health executive Abdul el-Sayed, who has also labeled Israel’s military campaign in Gaza as “genocide” and opposes U.S. military aid to Israel.
A Jewish hopeful for New York governor
Bruce Blakeman is the first Jewish county executive of Long Island’s Nassau County. He shouldered aside former frontrunner Elise Stefanik, upstate’s fiery Trump ally and scourge of college presidents, for both Trump’s endorsement and the likely Republican nomination to challenge Gov. Kathy Hochul. Blakeman’s hawkish pro‑Israel advocacy aligns him with the segment of the Republican base that emphasizes strong U.S.-Israel ties and opposition to movements like BDS. In the 2026 governor’s race, he’s likely to draw a contrast with Democrats, even if Hochul herself has strong pro-Israel bona fides.
Much ado about a tattoo
Graham Platner, the progressive Maine Senate candidate running in what Democrats see as a must-win race, has refused to quit following revelations that the military veteran had a Nazi-era tattoo on his chest for years. Even after shedding staff and facing fiery condemnations over both the tattoo and derogatory comments he made on Reddit, a defiant Platner is still polling within range of establishment candidate Gov. Janet Mills ahead of the June 9 Democratic primary.
Could the oyster farmer (who has claimed he didn’t know what the tattoo was, and covered it up following the revelations) actually pull off the upset primary win? Like Mamdani and several other progressive candidates this year, Platner also holds ardently pro-Palestinian views and has accused Israel of genocide. The elder statesman of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party, Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders, has shrugged off questions about his tattoo, giving it a Jewish stamp of non-concern.
The post How Jewish politics are shaping the 2026 election map, from coast to coast appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Mayor Zohran Mamdani reassures Jewish New Yorkers at inauguration: ‘I will protect you’
Zohran Mamdani’s swearing-in at City Hall on Thursday afternoon highlighted the full diversity of New York City and included a striking display of Jewish presence and pride during a historic change in leadership.
In a scene rich with symbolism, Sen. Bernie Sanders, who once ran to become the nation’s first Jewish president, administered the oath of office to the city’s first Muslim mayor as Mamdani placed his hand on a Quran.
Looking on from the dais was Sen. Chuck Schumer, the highest-ranking elected Jewish official in the United States. Jewish actor Mandy Patinkin, who hosted Mamdani for Hanukkah, led a musical performance with elementary school students from Staten Island. A bagel and lox schmear even got a mention during Mamdani’s inaugural remarks.
Mamdani’s vision of New York City
Mamdani, a democratic socialist and Israel critic whose surprise rise divided the city’s Jewish community, used his address to cast New York as a shared civic project shaped by its many languages and faiths. “The authors of this story will speak Pashto and Mandarin, Yiddish and Creole,” he said. “They will pray in mosques, at shul, at church, at Gurdwaras and Mandirs and temples — and many will not pray at all.”
The new mayor also mentioned Russian Jewish immigrants in Brighton Beach, who, along with other immigrant communities, came to America with a dream of a better life and nodded to his own upbringing deeply rooted in Jewish culture. “Where else could a Muslim kid like me grow up eating bagels and lox every Sunday,” Mamdani said, a line that drew cheers from the crowd.
Mamdani, a supporter of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement against Israel, drew louder applause when he acknowledged Palestinian New Yorkers in Bay Ridge, saying that under his tenure, they “will no longer have to contend with a politics that speaks of universalism and then makes them the exception.” Mamdani faced fierce backlash during the Democratic primary for defending the slogan “globalize the intifada,” used by some at the pro-Palestinian protests and perceived by many as a call for violence against Jews. In the inauguration crowd was Mahmoud Khalil, the Columbia University graduate who was held for deportation for his role in pro-Palestinian protests.
Mamdani also pledged to divest from city investments in Israel. This commitment could create a clash with Mark Levine, the incoming city comptroller, who has pledged to repurchase the bonds as part of the city’s portfolio. “This has been a rock-solid investment for decades,” he said. “Israel has never missed a bond payment, and a good, balanced portfolio should have global diversity.”
Levine, who is Jewish, took the oath of office on the Five Books of Moses, called the Chumash. “How remarkable is it that on these steps today, we have three swearings-in,” Levine said, “One by a leader using a Quran, one by a leader using a Christian Bible, and one by a leader using a Chumash or Hebrew Bible. I am proud to live in a city where this is possible.”
Mamdani orders new antisemitism office to stay open
In a signing ceremony for his first three executive orders, Mamdani announced that he will keep open the recently-created mayor’s office to combat antisemitism. “That is an issue that we take very seriously,” he told reporters. Former Mayor Eric Adams used the office to counter antisemitism, including pursuing a measure adopting the controversial International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism, which considers most forms of anti-Zionism as antisemitic.
According to the executive order about the structure of the city government, the second measure Mamdani signed after the ceremony, the office will lead efforts to reduce antisemitism and anti-Jewish hate crimes using existing resources and act as a liaison between the city and the Jewish community on safety and security issues. It would regularly advise Mamdani on public education, tracking enforcement cases and reviewing city materials for bias.
Mamdani also issued an executive order revoking all previous executive orders issued by Adams after September 26, 2024, the day of his indictment on federal bribery and fraud charges. That includes the June 2025 measure adopting the IHRA antisemitism definition.
At the inauguration, Mamdani addressed skeptics directly, in a move to lower the temperature after a polarizing campaign. “I know there are some who view this administration with distrust or disdain, or who see politics as permanently broken,” he said. “And while only action can change minds, I promise you this: if you are a New Yorker, I am your mayor. Regardless of whether we agree, I will protect you, celebrate with you, mourn alongside you, and never, not for a second, hide from you.”
The Anti-Defamation League, which clashed with Mamdani during the election and launched a “Mamdani Monitor” to track and scrutinize the new administration’s appointments, said in a statement on Thursday that while holding him actions, the advocacy group will “stand ready to engage constructively” with the new mayor.
On City Hall steps and in the plaza

The ceremony featured a benediction delivered by Imam Khalid Latif, executive director of the Islamic Center at NYU, who co-founded the NYU ‘Of Many’ Institute for Multifaith Leadership with Rabbi Yehuda Sarna. Appearing alongside the Imam was Rabbi Ellen Lippmann, founder and rabbi emerita of Kolot Chayeinu/Voices of Our Lives in Brooklyn and a board member of the progressive Jews For Racial & Economic Justice.
Levine, who speaks fluent Hebrew and Spanish, used the Hebrew terms for welcome and thank you in his remarks as the city’s new comptroller. “Welcome, everyone. What a joy that you came,” he said in Hebrew, after using similar terms in Spanish and Greek. “To those of you who don’t understand Spanish, Hebrew or Greek, welcome, thank you, and please download Duolingo,” he quipped.
Patinkin, an early supporter of Mamdani who appeared in a get-out-the-vote video with the candidate during the campaign, performed “Somewhere over the Rainbow” with the PS22 Chorus of Staten Island.
Rep. Jerry Nadler, co-chair of the Congressional Jewish Caucus, sat on the dais next to Schumer, who refused to endorse Mamdani during the election.
Among the 4,000 guests was Rabbi Moshe Indig, the leader of the Hasidic Satmar Ahronim faction who endorsed Mamdani in the general election. Also present were some Orthodox leaders who didn’t endorse and were close allies of Adams — Rabbi Chaim Dovid Zwiebel, executive vice president of Agudath Israel of America, and Josh Mehlman, head of the Flatbush Jewish Community Coalition.
Outside, a group of rabbis protested Mamdani’s swearing-in by displaying Israeli flags. It was led by Rabbi Avi Weiss, founding rabbi of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, and Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun on the Upper East Side. Both rabbis publicly opposed Mamdani during the election. In an interview with Talkline Network, a Jewish online radio, Steinmetz said it was a “demonstration of Jewish pride.” However, he said, New York Jews shouldn’t be fixated on Mamdani, they should assess his actions day by day.
The post Mayor Zohran Mamdani reassures Jewish New Yorkers at inauguration: ‘I will protect you’ appeared first on The Forward.
