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Lorraine Hansberry’s second play had a white Jewish protagonist. Oscar Isaac and Rachel Brosnahan are reviving it.

NEW YORK (JTA) — Sidney Brustein, Jewish Hamlet? 

Anne Kauffman thinks so. She made the comparison in a phone interview about the play she’s directing — a buzzy production of Lorraine Hansberry’s “The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window” that opened on Monday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music starring Oscar Isaac and Rachel Brosnahan.

“One artistic director who was thinking of doing this [play] was like, ‘You know, it’s not like he’s Hamlet, but…’ And I thought, well, no, actually I think he is like Hamlet!” she said.

She added another take: “I feel like he’s Cary Grant meets Zero Mostel.”

Hansberry saw just two of her works produced on Broadway before her death from cancer at 34 in January 1965. Her first, “A Raisin in the Sun,” which follows a Black family dealing with housing discrimination in Chicago, is widely considered one of the most significant plays of the 20th century. The other, “The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window,” ran for a few months in the fall of 1964 until Hansberry’s death and has only been revived a handful of times since, all outside of New York. 

Now, the star power of Isaac and Brosnahan is driving renewed interest in the play, which deals with weighty questions about political activism, self-fulfillment in a capitalist world, and racial and ethnic identity — including mid-century Jewish American identity. 

The Brustein character, as Kauffman alluded to, is many things. A resident of Greenwich Village deeply embedded in that historic neighborhood’s 1960s activist and artistic circles, he is somewhat of a creative renaissance man. At the start of the play, his club of sorts (“it was not a nightclub” is a running joke) called “Walden Pond” has just shuttered and he has taken over an alternative newspaper. As the script reads, Brustein is an intellectual “in the truest sense of the word” but “does not wear glasses” — the latter description being a possible jab at his macho tendencies. Formerly an ardent leftist activist, he is now weary of the worth of activism and a bit of a nihilist. He’s in his late 30s and is a musician who often picks up a banjo.

Brustein is also a secular Jew, a fact that he telegraphs at certain key emotional and comedic moments. Others, from friends to his casually antisemitic sister-in-law, frequently reference his identity, too.

At the end of the play’s first half, for example, Brustein brings up the heroes of the Hanukkah story in talking about his existential angst — and his stomach ulcer. He has become belligerent to his wife Iris and to a local politician who wants Brustein’s paper’s endorsement.

“How does one confront the thousand nameless faceless vapors that are the evil of our time? Can a sword pierce it?” Sidney says. “One does not smite evil anymore: one holds one’s gut, thus — and takes a pill. Oh, but to take up the sword of the Maccabees again!”

Hansberry’s decision to center a white Jewish character surprised critics and fans alike in 1964 because many of them expected her to follow “A Raisin in the Sun” with further exploration of issues facing Black Americans, said Joi Gresham, the director of the Lorraine Hansberry Literary Trust.

“The major attack, both critically and on a popular basis, in regards to the play and to its central character was that Lorraine was out of her lane,” Gresham said. “That not only did she not know what she’s talking about, but that she had the nerve to even examine that subject matter.”

Hansberry’s closest collaborator was her former husband Robert Nemiroff, a Jewish New Yorker whom she had divorced in 1962 but maintained an artistic partnership with. Nemiroff was a bit Brustein-like in his pursuits: he edited books, produced and promoted Hansberry’s work, and even wrote songs (one of which made the couple enough money to allow Hansberry to focus on writing “A Raisin in the Sun”). But Gresham — who is Nemiroff’s stepdaughter through his second marriage, to professor Jewell Handy Gresham-Nemiroff — emphasized that his personality was nothing like Brustein’s. While Brustein is brash and mean to Iris, Nemiroff was undyingly supportive of Hansberry and her work, said Gresham, who lived with him and her mother at Nemiroff’s Croton-on-Hudson home — the one he had formerly shared for a time with Hansberry — from age 10 onward.

Instead, Gresham argued, the Brustein character was the result of Hansberry’s deep engagement with Jewish intellectual thought, in part influenced by her relationship with Nemiroff. The pair met at a protest and would bond over their passion for fighting for social justice, which included combating antisemitism. The night before their wedding, they protested the execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, and they would remain highly involved in the wave of activism that blossomed into the Black-Jewish civil rights alliance.

“Bob and Lorraine met and built a life together at a place where there was a very strong Black-Jewish nexus. There was a very strong interplay and interaction,” Gresham said. “I think Lorraine was very influenced by Bob’s family, the Nemiroffs, who were very radical in their politics. And so there was a way in which she was introduced to the base of Jewish intellectualism and Jewish progressive politics, that she took to heart and she was very passionate about.” 

Robert Nemiroff and Lorraine Hansberry were married from 1953-62. They are shown here in 1959. (Ben Martin/Getty Images)

Hansberry didn’t hesitate to criticize Jewish writers who said controversial things about Black Americans, either. When Norman Podhoretz wrote “My Negro Problem — And Ours,” an explosive 1963 article in Commentary magazine now widely seen as racist, Hansberry responded with a scathing rebuke. She also sparred with Norman Mailer, who once wrote an essay titled “The White Negro: Superficial Reflections on the Hipster.”

Gresham said Brustein’s nihilism represents what Hansberry saw in a range of Jewish and non-Jewish white writers, whom she hoped could be kickstarted back into activism. But Hansberry also nodded to the reasons why someone like Brustein could feel defeated in the early 1960s, a decade and a half after World War II.

“You mean diddle around with the little things since we can’t do anything about the big ones? Forget about the Holocaust and worry about — reforms in the traffic court or something?” Brustein says at one point in the play to a local politician running as a reformer.

Daniel Pollack-Pelzner, a Jewish scholar of literature who has written on Hansberry, said the resulting Brustein character is a very accurate depiction of a secular Jew at the time — both keenly attuned to prejudice in society and also lacking some understanding of the experience of being Black.

“I was just intoxicated that Hansberry could conjure that world, both so affectionately, but also so clear-sidedly that it seems like she can see the limitations of all of the characters’ perspectives,” he said. “But she also represents them with sympathy and humor.”

Kauffman, who also helmed a revival of the play in Chicago in 2016, is impressed with how “fully fledged” the Brustein character is.

“Who are the cultural icons who have sort of articulated the Jew in our culture in the last 50 years or 60 years, you know?” she said. “Brustein is not a caricature of a Woody Allen character, he’s not even ‘Curb your Enthusiasm’ or a Jerry Seinfeld character. He’s a fully drawn character.”

Isaac, who is of mainly Guatemalan and Cuban heritage, has played Jewish characters before, including a formerly Orthodox man in an Israeli director’s remake of the classic film “Scenes From a Marriage.” In the lead-up to this play, he has largely avoided getting caught in headlines focused on the “Jewface” debate, over whether non-Jewish actors should be allowed to play Jewish characters on stage and screen. 

But when asked about the responsibility of playing a Jewish character in a New York Times interview, Isaac referenced the fact that he has some Jewish heritage on his father’s side.

“We could play that game: How Jewish are you?” he said to interviewer Alexis Soloski, who is Jewish. “It is part of my family, part of my life. I feel the responsibility to not feel like a phony. That’s the responsibility, to feel like I can say these things, do these things and feel like I’m doing it honestly and truthfully.”

When Kauffman directed a version of the play at the Goodman Theater in Chicago in 2016, her lead actor had “not a single drop of Jewish heritage…in his blood,” and she said she had to convey “what anger looks like” coming from a Jewish perspective. Working with Isaac has been different — instead of starting at a base of no knowledge, she has been pushing for more of an Ashkenazi sensibility than a Sephardic one.

“I believe that his heritage leans, I’m guessing, more towards Sephardic. And mine is pure Ashkenazi,” she said. “We sort of joke: ‘[The part] is a little bit more Ashkenazi than that, you know what I mean?’ Like, ‘the violence is actually turned towards yourself!’”


The post Lorraine Hansberry’s second play had a white Jewish protagonist. Oscar Isaac and Rachel Brosnahan are reviving it. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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The Art of the Heart: A Message From Israel for Valentine’s Day

As Valentine’s Day, celebrated on Feb. 14, approaches, preparations are seen underway in the markets in ghodbander road, Thane, on Feb. 12, 2026, in Mumbai, India. Photo: Praful Gangurde/Hindustan Times/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect

In the weeks before Valentine’s Day, hearts appear on everything: cards, shop windows, menus, and messages. It’s sweet and familiar. We use the heart as a symbol for love because it’s the body’s center for the emotion of love.

The heart is not just a Valentine’s Day symbol, however. It’s an organ that works without stopping, and it responds, quietly and powerfully, to the way we live — how and what we eat, how much stress we carry, how well we sleep, how often we move, and whether we feel connected or alone.

I came to Israel from Los Angeles in 1983 with a mission that has guided me ever since: “Healing Ourselves; Healing the Planet.” A few years later I founded what became Reidman College, beginning with a small school for holistic massage. Back then, my belief was simple: When you touch someone, you touch their soul. Done with care and respect, touch can ease pain in the body, and it can also soften something deeper: the constant bracing that so many people carry without even noticing.

What I’ve seen through the clinical training our students provide across Israel is that people don’t arrive with only a physical complaint. They arrive with a full life behind the symptom. The body is not separate from the person. The heart is not separate from the story.

That is why Valentine’s Day can be more than a commercial holiday. It can be a useful mirror. Not because everyone needs romance, but because everyone needs and wants love in the wider sense: connection, belonging, steadiness, and the feeling that I am not carrying everything alone.

Heartbreak is not just the aching heart in a Country Western song. The emotions of prolonged stress, grief, anxiety, and loneliness often show up physically in the heart. A tight chest. Shallow breathing. Poor sleep. A nervous system that never truly calms down.

When stress becomes chronic, the body behaves as if danger is always close. That affects how we breathe, how we digest, how we rest, and how we make decisions. We reach for quick comfort because the system is asking for relief. Over time, those patterns shape the habits that can protect or damage heart health: movement, sleep, food choices, emotional regulation, and the ability to recover after difficult days.

In integrative medicine, we know that changing only one habit doesn’t solve everything. We also don’t separate a person into compartments — heart here, mind there, life somewhere else. At Reidman, we teach that real care is both responsible and grounded, and that integrative approaches work best; that is, conventional medicine alongside Natural Medicine, and not instead of it. If someone has symptoms that worry them, whether that be chest pain, shortness of breath, dizziness, unusual fatigue, or unusual palpitations, they should get checked. Only with a clear diagnosis can one then begin to take the right path toward better health.

For many people, the most meaningful change for better heart health begins with a question: What does my heart need from my daily life right now?

Usually, the answer is not dramatic. It starts with the nervous system. Many adults live in a state of constant tension — shoulders lifted, jaw tight, breath held, like we are bracing for impact. You don’t have to change your whole life to change that message. Even a small daily practice of slowing the breath, especially lengthening the exhale, can help the body come down from alert mode. I’ve seen again and again in our teaching clinics: When the breath settles, the person settles. And when the person settles, the heart doesn’t have to work as hard just to keep them emotionally afloat.

Then there is movement. A short walk most days is one of the simplest ways to support circulation, mood, and sleep. It also gives stress a place to go. So many people are trying to “think” their way out of tension. But the body often needs a physical release. A 10-minute walk after a meal, a few minutes in fresh air, small things, repeated, can shift the baseline.

Sleep matters more than people like to admit. When sleep is poor, everything becomes louder: worry, cravings, irritability, sensitivity. A tired nervous system is fragile. A rested one is resilient. The heart is part of that story. If Valentine’s Day is a time for gifts, then let this message be a gift to you: Protect your evenings from constant stimulation. Create a softer landing. Less screen. Lower light. A warm shower. A few quiet minutes before bed because your body repairs itself at night and your heart benefits when you respect that repair.

And then there is the most overlooked “heart health” factor of all: connection.

Love is not only romance. Love is the person who checks in. The friend who answers. The community that makes space for you and perhaps having a pet. It is known that people with pets to care for and receive love from live longer and happier than most others. Dogs, in particular, are renowned for giving unconditional love.

Valentine’s Day can unintentionally reflect to single people, widows and widowers, the divorced, the grieving, and the lonely that they are “outside” the story. But the heart doesn’t only respond to couple-hood. The heart responds to belonging. To the feeling that you matter to someone, and someone matters to you.

If you want a simple Valentine’s practice that is actually meaningful, it’s this: Reach out in a real way. Not a reaction emoji. Not a forwarded video. A sentence that carries warmth. “How are you, really?” “I’m thinking of you.” “Do you want to take a walk together?” It sounds small, but small acts of connection are often what keep people steady.

Judaism understands something essential here: We are not meant to live as isolated individuals. We are built for community. Even the rhythm of Shabbat — pausing, disconnecting from constant doing, returning to family and to presence, is, in its own way, a heart practice. It reminds the body that life is not only pressure. There is also rest. There is also meaning. There is also relationship.

And there is touch, appropriate, respectful touch, which is increasingly missing in modern life. We live in a world that is both touch-starved and touch-confused. But the body still needs safe contact: a hug that is asked for, not taken; a hand held; a massage given with dignity. This is one reason I began in massage all those years ago. Because when touch is done properly, it can communicate something words often can’t: “You are safe, you are seen, you are not alone, and I am here with you.”

At Reidman, we speak a lot about dignity. And that includes the way we treat ourselves. Many people live at emergency speed. The heart doesn’t respond well to constant stress. It responds to steadiness. To daily care. To a life that is livable.

So yes, enjoy Valentine’s Day. Enjoy the sweetness. Send the heart emoji, send the flowers, book that romantic dinner.

But if you want the holiday to mean something deeper, let it be a reminder that your real heart is listening to your life. This month, give it more than a symbol. Give it calmer breathing, steadier sleep, gentle movement, and real connection — because love is not only what we celebrate. Love is also what we practice. Love is the most powerful healer of all. Loving ourselves; and loving others. Perhaps the Beatles were right: “All we need is love, love. Love is all we need.”

Sally Reidman, who immigrated to Israel in 1983 from Los Angeles, is the founder of Reidman College, Israel’s largest institute for complementary and integrative medicine.

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Israel’s bobsled team is chasing more than medals in its first Olympic outing in Milan

(JTA) — No matter what happens when Israel’s bobsled team hits the ice next week at the 2026 Winter Olympics, team captain Adam “AJ” Edelman has already had a year for the history books.

The 34-year-old Brookline, Massachusetts, native is the first Orthodox Jewish athlete to compete at the Winter Olympics, and now the first Israeli to qualify for the Games in two sports. He placed 28th in skeleton at the 2018 Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea.

But for Edelman, the 12-year journey that culminated in Israel’s first-ever Olympic bobsled appearance — which he has nicknamed “Shul Runnings,” a spin on the 1993 movie about Jamaica’s bobsled team — is about more than success on the track.

“The Olympics were never a goal,” Edelman told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in an interview prior to the Games. “The Olympics were the tool, or the stepping stone, to get to the goal, which was to fundamentally redefine, or change, how our community — both the Israeli and the Jewish one — view investment into and the role of sport.”

Edelman’s journey began in 2013, when Israel attempted to recruit him to play for its national hockey team. Hockey had been Edelman’s first sport, which he played through college at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he was the first Shabbat-observant player in program history.

Edelman discussed the idea with the long-time alumni director of his Jewish day school, Brookline’s Maimonides School. Mike Rosenberg pointed something out to Edelman that ultimately sparked a calling.

“AJ, no one from this school has ever gotten to the level of sport beyond high school that you’ve gotten to that didn’t go to, let’s say, [Yeshiva University] or Brandeis,” Edelman recalls Rosenberg, who died last year, telling him about the two historically Jewish colleges.

Edelman couldn’t believe that. Out of thousands of Maimonides alumni (including his older brother, Emmy award-winning comedian Alex Edelman), only Edelman — who called himself “not a very gifted athlete” — had reached that level? He had a theory as to why that might be.

“I came to the conclusion that it had to be a self-selection process,” Edelman explained. “That people were selecting out of sport as a journey before they got to that level. And why were they doing it? Because there was no priority placed on sport. 
It wasn’t something people in our community aspired to do or invest in.”

Edelman said the lack of investment in sports led to a lack of infrastructure and a dearth of role models for Jewish kids to look up to. He set out to change that — to “be the change.”

“The only way to do that was a certificate, so to speak, of excellence in sport, and that’s the Games,” he said. “The Games are essentially the certificate of, ‘you did something.’ So in that way, the Olympics became very, very much the tool for which I wanted to make the change.”

Edelman began training in skeleton after graduating from MIT in 2014. His initial scouting report was not promising: he was told he was “not athletic, would never make the Olympics, and would never be competitive in sliding sport.”

That did not deter him. Edelman moved to Israel in 2016, where he kept training, teaching himself the sport on YouTube when he couldn’t afford a coach. He ultimately clinched Israel’s first sliding sport Olympic appearance in 2018.

Then the pandemic hit. Edelman was pursuing an MBA at Yale University when classes were suspended. Edelman was visiting Jordana Balsam, a close friend who is an attorney in New York City, when the Olympics came up.

“He was telling me about his history with skeleton, and how he competed in the 2018 Games, and how he was actually really intrigued by bobsled,” Balsam recalled. “And in an offhand comment, I’m like, ‘Well, why don’t you pursue that, since you have this time off from Yale?’ And I guess something clicked in his brain, where he was just like, ‘Yes, I’m gonna do that.’ And the rest is history.”

Edelman began working toward bringing Israel to the Olympics in bobsled. Again, there were hurdles. He had to recruit a team from scratch. Israel’s own athletic authorities were skeptical — its Olympic committee almost didn’t accept an invitation to the 2026 Games. Funding was practically non-existent. Still, the team continued training, ultimately missing out on Olympic qualification for the 2022 Games by 0.1 second.

Then came Oct. 7, 2023, and the subsequent Gaza war, in which five members of the team were called into combat and multiple team sponsors backed out. Still, Edelman kept his eye trained on the 2026 Games. He used Instagram DMs to recruit a new team — most of whom play other sports and had never been in a bobsled — which also features Israel’s first Druze Olympian, Ward Farwasy.

Israel ultimately qualified in late January at an event in Lake Placid, the same location where Edelman had been told 12 years ago that he’d never make it. The team often trains there, as well as in Park City, Utah, British Columbia and elsewhere. Edelman said he is rarely in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time.

“Once he had something in his head — an idea, a concept, a goal that he has — he dives into it 200%, and it’s something that I admire greatly,” Balsam said. “I’ve never seen anyone so dedicated to their craft, to their sport, to their goal. It really is inspirational.”

But even qualifying for the Games didn’t end the obstacles. Due to Olympic security, Edelman said his team’s training time in Cortina was limited. Then the team’s apartment in the Czech Republic, where they were training prior to leaving for Italy, was robbed on Feb. 7. Edelman said thousands of dollars in personal belongings, including passports, were stolen.

Throughout the process, Edelman said the wave of support, particularly from American Jews, has been “pleasantly surprising” — especially compared to the reaction after he qualified in 2018, which he called more of a “blip.”

That support has manifested through donations and merchandise sales, with Edelman fundraising to support the team’s Olympic costs. There has also been ample news and social media coverage, inside the Jewish and Israeli communities and out. U.S. Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee has given the team a shoutout, too.

Edelman said the positive response has been all the validation he needed.

“There was a constant question of, at the end of the road, you’re doing this for a reason, right?” he said. “
And the only reason to do this is for the goal, the goal of making a change. Of people caring about sport. Of being the change. So if the change doesn’t come and it doesn’t make an impact, then all of it is irrelevant… I think that, from what we’ve seen in the last [several weeks], the answer is an unequivocal yes. It was 100% worth it.”

In Israel, sports fans are proud of the historic nature of the bobsled team’s Olympic appearance, but the story has not broken through to the same extent, according to David Wiseman, who lives in Jerusalem and runs the popular “Follow Team Israel” Facebook page that tracks Israeli sports.

“The media are very football [soccer] and basketball-centric, so they get all the headlines,” Wiseman said. “Someone like Deni Avdija gets significantly more coverage. They know of him being the first Israeli to play in the [NBA] All-Star game far more so than this. They think it’s cool that [Edelman] made it, but they don’t devote any more thought to it. Independent of Israel, bobsled is a niche, niche sport.”

Still, Edelman and some of his supporters have seized on the narrative draw of Israel’s underdog bobsled story — not to mention the apartment break-in and other obstacles — to amplify an almost muscular form of pro-Israel advocacy. Edelman commonly uses the phrase “victors, not victims,” in reference to his team and to Israel’s spirit more broadly.

Jared Firestone, who is representing Israel in skeleton in Italy, said there was “no chance I’d be here without AJ’s guidance.” Edelman helped coach Firestone in skeleton after he made aliyah in 2019, and the pair co-founded the nonprofit Advancing Jewish Athletes to support other Jews in sports.

“I think it means so much to Israelis and to the Jewish community at large to see, with a little investment, how much can be accomplished,” Firestone said. “Unfortunately for me and AJ, we’ve had to dedicate so much of our time that could’ve gone to training and progressing on the ice to fundraising, but hopefully we’ll be inspiring people who could help to create that infrastructure so the next AJ and Jared could just focus on sport and being even better than we are.”

Balsam, who also serves as a director of Advancing Jewish Athletes, said it’s hard to articulate how meaningful Edelman’s achievement of making the Olympics is to him, and to her.

“AJ has been very, very passionate about trying to cultivate the idea that sports can be a career path for Jewish kids,” she said. “He wanted to make it to the Olympics. He wanted to show that this is possible. So for him to combine both of his passions and achieve his dream, I think is something that he can’t put into words, that I can’t put into words, but it’s just immense pride.”

Now comes the actual tournament. Israel will compete in the two-man races on Feb. 16 and 17 and in four-man on Feb. 21 and 22, with Edelman piloting the sleds. His Shiba Inu Lulu, the team’s mascot, is staying with Balsam in New York, where they’ll be cheering him on.

But no matter where Israel places, Edelman has one more box to check to fully accomplish his mission to change Israeli sports.

“There is one thing that I wish beyond anything, and it’s that I’m not the only one to do it,” he said. “
What I really wanted to accomplish through it was that someone else saw it and decided to do it themselves. That they saw that pathway opened by someone who was less than stellar, who  was not, like, a God-gifted athlete, and went, ‘You know what? I’m pretty good at what I do. I can do that.’

“You have to leave it better than you found it, and it has to be for a purpose, and that purpose is always going to be to inspire someone to do it better than you did.”

The post Israel’s bobsled team is chasing more than medals in its first Olympic outing in Milan appeared first on The Forward.

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Debate over the Blue Square Super Bowl ad is fading. The racist responses from my fellow Jews will be felt longer.

(JTA) — Days after the Super Bowl, I am still reeling from how a moment designed to confront antisemitism — a 30-second ad from Robert Kraft’s Blue Square Alliance — shined a light on the hate within some corners of our own community.

The ad spurred debate over its effectiveness — a worthy conversation. But what immediately struck me was how quickly and prominently anti-Black responses played a role. I realized once again that American Jews are not only experiencing hate but must confront it within our own ranks as well. As a community, we will not succeed in combating antisemitism if we allow anti-blackness to live within our movements.

The ad, called “Sticky Note,” featured a non-Jewish Black child showing kindness to a Jewish child who was the victim of antisemitic bullying.

It spurred legitimate criticism about how to best fight antisemitism. But layered throughout was casual racism cloaked in the language of Jewish advocacy — even glee in an opportunity to engage in anti-Blackness under the guise of combating antisemitism.

Online, one person dedicated time to remaking the ad with AI so the bullies were darker-skinned and then had the Jewish child attack them.

Another person wrote that the bullies in the ad needed to be recast, because “most of our enemies aren’t white.”

Some exotified the Black child and leered at his natural hair, his height, his walk and his apparent “coolness.” People wrongfully claimed that the scenario was entirely unrealistic because Black people — at the individual or the organizational level — never stand against antisemitism.

Even more bizarrely, others claimed that the ad was somehow a tacit endorsement of the Black Lives Matter movement.

“There is a very casual and thoughtless ‘why the hell was a Black person shown being nice to a Jew, how dare they’ view being expressed here, and it’s not right,” tweeted Ben Badejo, who is both Black and Jewish.

“I am not asking Jews on X to like Kraft’s ad,” he added. “But I am definitely asking Jews on X to stop saying that a black person would never befriend a Jew and that it was wrong for the ad to depict this.”

Indeed, the downright racist responses from some parts of our community hurt Jews, our allies in Black communities, and the fight against antisemitism at a moment when the stakes couldn’t be higher. They highlight just how much work remains in fighting our own anti-Black racism.

None of the critics who were so furious about the inclusion of a Black child acknowledged a basic fact: There are hundreds of thousands of Jews of Color in the United States. The child in the ad — who approaches the Jewish protagonist and says he has experienced hatred too — could easily be Jewish himself, or have Jewish family members. Yes, his name is later revealed to be Bilal, but names do not always reliably map onto religious, racial or ethnic identity.

And that matters.

I know because I feel it personally. I am married to a Jew of Color, and we have two Black Jewish kids.

The claim that it is impossible, outrageous or ideologically suspect to depict Black people as allies in the fight against antisemitism does something deeply harmful: It erases the existence of Black Jews. That erasure is itself both antisemitic and racist. You cannot claim to defend the Jewish community while denying the reality of over 200,000 Black Jews in America. That number will only grow. Those numbers come from a 2020 Pew survey — my youngest wasn’t born yet.

You cannot fight antisemitism while actively and purposefully hurting Jewish kids — including my kids.

The claim also erases important alliances with members of the non-Jewish Black community.

In both my professional and personal life, I have experienced profound moments of solidarity and kindness in the fight against antisemitism from non-Jewish Black Americans. As director of Advocacy for One Mitzvah A Day, a project of Jewish Federations of North America that mobilizes communal gratitude to those who support us, I witness daily acts of courage and moral clarity from people of all backgrounds who choose to stand against antisemitism. Through our daily texts highlighting these moments of solidarity, our subscribers have sent more than 1.5 million messages of gratitude. We have thanked artists, elected officials, government leaders, and civil rights activists — many of them Black — who have spoken out loudly against antisemitism and stood with the Jewish community. To remain silent in the face of racism would be a betrayal of the kindness, solidarity, and moral leadership they have shown.

I felt compelled to post something on X on Sunday to push back against the racism I was seeing online: “You’re not making Jews safer. You’re hurting Jews. You’re not fighting antisemitism — you are hurting your community.” The backlash was swift and predictable. The rage didn’t stop at disagreement — it turned personal, aimed at me and at anyone who pointed out that being racist does nothing to combat antisemitism in American society. Within hours, I was branded an enemy of Israel, a self-hater, an apologist, and accused of being paid to tweet.

It’s important to emphasize: Debate is core to Jewish culture – it has kept us a strong, vibrant community for over 3,000 years. Debates about this 30-second spot are happening around Shabbat dinners, shul lunches and friendly coffees. All of this is fair game, healthy even. Criticize the ad. Debate Jewish professionals and how we are fighting antisemitism. It’s our job to serve the community. But hatred is not a productive form of debate. I know these spaces intimately. I’ve been a full-time Jewish professional since 2019 and have been active in Jewish advocacy long before that. As the mother of Black children and wife to a Black Jew, my commitment to normalizing Jewish life as multiracial is non-negotiable.

Still, I mostly responded with humor. When you’ve walked these lines long enough, none of it is surprising.

That, perhaps, is the saddest part of all.

How completely predictable it was.

The Super Bowl is over, and the controversy around the ad will soon fade, replaced by the next hot topic. But the effects of the racist posts are forever and leave an ugly, enduring stain that harms us all.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

The post Debate over the Blue Square Super Bowl ad is fading. The racist responses from my fellow Jews will be felt longer. appeared first on The Forward.

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