Jewish identity, misconceptions and the need for allyship
By Rebecca Zarabi and Brittany Goodman
Antisemitism is not history. It is a persistent reality that has shaped Jewish life for millennia; from ancient exile to the Holocaust to the violent attacks of Oct. 7. In its aftermath, many American Jews feel a deep and disorienting sense of isolation. In response, we, a group of Jewish educators, came together to share our stories, support one another and confront the silence.
We realized that much of this isolation stems from a lack of awareness about Jewish identity, culture and the modern forms antisemitism takes. So we spoke up. We brought our experiences to district leadership, and what we shared was met with surprise, gratitude and a willingness to learn. But the conversation cannot stop there. Jewish students and staff deserve to be seen, understood and included. This article broaches topics that offer a path forward for educators ready to become true allies.
Judaism: Ethnicity or religion?
Judaism is an ethno-religion, meaning it encompasses not just a religion, but also an ethnicity and a culture. Jewish identity includes a shared history, culture and connection to an ancestral homeland.
A common misconception is that Judaism is only a religion, but being Jewish is not solely about religious practice. Jews identify in various ways: secular, cultural, Reform, Conservative or Orthodox. Some see their Jewishness as primarily ethnic or cultural.
While Judaism certainly has a strong religious component, it also encompasses a rich cultural, historical and ethnic identity that distinguishes it from many other religions. This misunderstanding not only leads to the exclusion of Jews from diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, where Jewish identity doesn’t fit neatly into standard categories, but it also reinforces narrow stereotypes that erase the rich tapestry of Jewish life globally.
But you don’t look Jewish…
There are approximately 15.8 million Jews worldwide; just 0.2% of the global population. To put that in perspective, the world’s three largest religions, Christianity, Islam and Hinduism, make up roughly 28%, 25% and 15% of the global population, respectively.
Although Jews share common ancestral roots, centuries of persecution, exile and migration due to antisemitism led Jewish communities to settle across the globe. This history has resulted in significant cultural, ethnic and racial diversity.
Some Jews settled in Eastern Europe and are often referred to as Ashkenazi Jews; others established thriving communities in North Africa, the Middle East, Iran and Spain, giving rise to Sephardic and Mizrahi Jewish traditions. As a result, Jewish people today represent a wide range of appearances, languages and cultural customs.
Jews living outside of Israel are collectively referred to as part of the diaspora, communities that maintain a shared identity and a continuous connection to Zion (Israel) despite geographic dispersion.
The first Jewish community in the United States consisted of Sephardic Jews who were escaping persecution in Brazil. Over time, Jews from many other regions also sought refuge in the United States to escape antisemitism and oppression. Although Jewish refugees faced antisemitism upon arriving in the United States, including exclusion from social clubs, universities and certain professions, the U.S. was still safer than most other places at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century.
The antisemitism problem we can’t escape
Jews make up a very small percentage of the global population yet are disproportionately targeted in hate crimes. According to New Jersey State Police Bias Incident’s Report, anti-Jewish incidents comprise 21% of the hate crimes and are second only to anti-Black hate crimes. The numbers from January to June of 2025 reflect a similar pattern. (See bit.ly/nj-bias-incidents.)
Nationally, the numbers reveal a similar pattern: anti-Black hate crimes are the most frequently reported, followed by anti-Jewish and then anti-gay incidents. (See bit.ly/us-bias-incidents.)
At times antisemitism sits at a simmer, but it’s always there, either overtly or covertly. There has been considerable debate around what constitutes antisemitism. It can manifest in slurs, threats or physical attacks, but also in exclusion from DEI conversations, stereotyping, erasure or questioning Jewish identity. This dual nature makes it especially difficult to confront and often easier for others to overlook.
Some expressions, both blatant and subtle, are unmistakably antisemitic and fall into well-established categories: accusing Jews of having undue power or control, perpetuating myths of dual loyalty, denying or distorting the Holocaust, and rejecting the Jewish right to self-determination.
This last form often appears as anti-Zionism. While it is entirely legitimate to criticize the policies or actions of the Israeli government, just as one might criticize any other government, denying the legitimacy of the state of Israel or promoting its elimination crosses the line into antisemitism. Anti-Zionism is, at its core, antisemitic because it denies Jews the same right to a homeland that is granted to other ethnicities. Zionism is simply the belief in the Jewish right to a homeland.
The United States has officially adopted the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism. This definition explicitly includes two examples related to the state of Israel, recognizing that attacks on its legitimacy can be a modern form of anti-Jewish hate. The first is, “Denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., by claiming that the existence of a state of Israel is a racist endeavor.” The second is, “Holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the state of Israel.”
One popular test of whether criticism of Israel is considered antisemitic was created by Natan Sharansky. Sharansky, a former Soviet dissident and human rights activist, developed a framework to help differentiate between fair criticism of Israel and antisemitic rhetoric disguised as political debate. Known as the “3D Test,” this framework helps to distinguish between legitimate critique of Israeli policies and antisemitic rhetoric disguised as political discourse. The three D’s stand for:
- Demonization – Does the criticism portray Israel as inherently evil, using extreme or dehumanizing language (such as comparing it to Nazi Germany or labeling it genocidal)?
- Double standards – Is Israel unfairly singled out or held to standards not applied to other countries with similar actions or challenges?
- Delegitimization – Does the criticism deny Israel’s right to exist or reject the Jewish people’s right to self-determination, a right that is recognized for other groups?
Holocaust education isn’t enough
Holocaust education, while vital, often falls short, concluding with an oversimplified moral: “Be kind to others.” This generalization, though well-intentioned, overlooks the nuanced and horrific history. The Holocaust was not an isolated event. It was the culmination of decades of antisemitic propaganda, normalization of hate, indoctrination in schools and attacks on Jewish identity. Nor was it the first or last time Jews were persecuted and killed.
Holocaust education is frequently presented in a vacuum. We rarely teach who Jews were before the Holocaust or who they became after. The years leading up to the genocide, and the societal conditions that made it possible, are often left out. Similarly, the powerful stories of survival and resilience that followed are often erased. We rarely discuss the antisemitism survivors faced upon returning to homes that no longer belonged to them, or how they were forced to rebuild their lives in unfamiliar countries with nothing. We gloss over the immense trauma, displacement and strength required to reconstruct families and communities.
Instead, what persists today are microaggressions that characterize Jews as universally privileged, less than a century after a genocide that destroyed two-thirds of Europe’s Jewish population. This erasure not only distorts history but also fuels ongoing antisemitism by ignoring both its roots and its aftermath.
From grief to isolation: The lasting effects of Oct 7
The Jewish people are small in number, and the community is close-knit. When a tragedy occurs, it often feels deeply personal. In the case of Oct. 7, many American Jews had direct connections; they knew someone who was murdered, injured, or taken hostage.
In the aftermath, the rise in antisemitism here in the United States, combined with Israel’s vulnerability, created a profound sense of unease. For the past 50 years or so, American Jews had largely felt a relative sense of safety and security in this country, a period during which we thrived and contributed significantly to American society through innovations, discoveries, philanthropy and leadership in countless fields. With antisemitism rising and Israel under threat, however, a new and unsettling question has emerged for many: If things get worse, where would we go? Israel is central to Jewish identity for many American Jews, not only as a homeland, but as a safeguard in a world where Jews have historically had nowhere else to go.
Our collective memory includes centuries of being pushed out of countries and fleeing violence. That history lives in our families and our cultural DNA. Jews around the world often see themselves as part of one extended family. Centuries of persecution, including the Holocaust, have created a deep sense of communal vulnerability.
Immediately following Oct 7, instead of finding ourselves surrounded by the allies that we supported, we found ourselves alone. The very groups we had supported and stood beside in solidarity were silent, or worse, absent, when we needed them most. Even some educational institutions, which should be champions of fact-based information and critical thinking, have at times enabled or ignored antisemitic rhetoric and behavior.
How to be an ally
The Hebrew phrase tikkun olam means “repairing the world” and reflects a core Jewish value: the responsibility to improve society through justice, compassion and action. This principle is deeply woven into Jewish culture and identity. It’s one reason why Jews have long stood in solidarity with other marginalized groups and are often among the first to support social justice movements.
And yet, despite being a minority group that experiences hate crimes, exclusion and microaggressions, Jews are often not recognized as such. Until Oct 7, many of us believed that DEI efforts included Jews. Since then it has become painfully clear that in many spaces, they do not. Too often Jews are not seen as an oppressed or vulnerable group, and as a result, we are frequently left out of conversations about equity and justice.
What Jews need now, more than ever, are allies; non-Jews who will speak out against antisemitism, stand with Jewish communities publicly and help educate others. Many of us have friends who say they support us privately, but their silence in public spaces, especially on social media, is deafening. Some of these same individuals have spoken out in support of other minority groups yet say nothing when Jewish people are targeted. Public solidarity matters. We see who shows up and who doesn’t.
Being an ally can be as simple as reaching out. Ask, “Are you okay?” or “How can I support you?” Events happening globally, especially those affecting Israel, can have a deep and personal impact on Jews living in the U.S. Acknowledging this and showing that you care makes a difference. Ask how they’re doing. Let them know that your classroom or office is a safe and supportive space.
You can also demonstrate allyship by acknowledging, respecting and allowing accommodations during Jewish holidays and heritage months. Learn how to appropriately greet someone observing a holiday. For example, Yom Kippur is a solemn day of fasting and reflection; instead of saying “Happy Yom Kippur,” the appropriate phrase is “Have an easy and meaningful fast.”
In addition, Jewish holidays follow a lunar calendar, therefore often fall on weekdays. Students or staff may be absent for these holidays or refrain from eating certain foods or using technology. A quick search or asking a Jewish friend can help ensure you’re honoring these moments with sensitivity.
School districts should actively integrate Jewish identity and antisemitism into their DEI frameworks and curricula, ensuring comprehensive training for staff. They should also review and update school policies to explicitly address antisemitism and provide clear reporting mechanisms for incidents.
Feeling seen heard and supported
As with any other group, Jews are not a monolith. Jewish identity is multifaceted and cannot be reduced to religion alone. Understanding Jewish identity requires more than recognizing religious practices; it calls for acknowledging a rich cultural heritage, centuries of resilience and the persistent threat of antisemitism.
As educators, colleagues and community members, we must commit to learning, listening, and standing in solidarity. When Jewish students and staff feel seen, heard and supported, we create spaces that are truly inclusive. Cultural competency isn’t just about awareness, it’s about action.
Rebecca Zarabi and Brittany Goodman are educators and NJEA members in Union County.
Resources
Organizations
Jewish members and their allies may join:
Podcasts
- Being Jewish with Jonah Platt
- Unorthodox
Articles and videos
- Speaking About Antisemitism with Students
- U.S. State Department “Defining Antisemitism”
- Mallory Simon “Not just neo-Nazis with Tiki Torches: Why Jewish students say They also Fear Cloaked Anti-Semitism”
- Anne Frank House “Is All Criticism of Israel Antisemitic?” (video and article)
- October 8th (Movie)
- Antisemitism Uncovered
- The Atlantic (requires subscription to access) “Is Holocaust Education Making Anti-Semitism Worse?” By Dara Horn
Books
- How to Fight Antisemitism, by Bari Weiss
- People Love Dead Jews, by Dara Horn
- Uncomfortable Conversations with a Jew, by Emmanuel Acho and Noa Tishby
- A Convenient Hatred: The History of Antisemitism by Phyllis Goldstein (Facing History and Ourselves)