At the end of April this year, on the first night of Passover, I did something slightly unusual. I usually leave seder preparations to my father, a man who may have little use for religious tradition but always taught me the importance of social justice and tikkun olam, repairing the world. Our streamlined Haggadah always emphasized the theme of liberation for Jews and non-Jews alike.
But post-October 7, I knew that this would not be an ordinary Pesach.
Earlier that day, I spoke with friends studying at nearby Columbia University who had been rocked by both a police crackdown on largely peaceful anti-war demonstrators and videos that emerged of some protesters calling for Jewish students to “go back to Poland.” The rage and sadness I felt led me to write an addition to the “Next Year in Jerusalem” section of the Haggadah.
I hoped that this would be the year that we achieve a future where a democratic Israel lives up to its founding values and exists alongside an independent, unoccupied Palestinian state. I needed to be reminded that another reality is possible.
But my hope has been generationally instilled in me. This year, I’ve been especially inspired by the legacy of activism in my own family. I’m named after my great grandfather Joseph Yancey, a proud Black man who co-founded the first racially integrated track and field club in New York and dedicated his life to fighting racism through sports. His granddaughter, my mother, dedicated her early life to ending Apartheid in South Africa and has not let our callous immigration system keep her from advocating on behalf of immigrants and their families. My father’s ancestors survived generations of pogroms so I could have a better life in America, free from the terror and violence that continue to leave generational scars.
No words do justice to the enormous tragedy that continues to be endured by Israelis, Palestinians and their diasporic communities. And as college students, we’ve had to confront a campus debate often devoid of empathy.
Over the last year at New York University, I’ve been fighting my own sense of disillusionment with Jewish institutions that have failed to recognize the humanity of Palestinians or criticize Netanyahu’s destructive policies – as well as progressive movements that have failed to condemn antisemitism in their ranks. Even now, I feel a deep sense of betrayal from both. Yet, paradoxically, despite my well-earned cynicism, I still cling to hope.
I became involved with J Street U because I wanted a space to support a progressive vision for Israel and advocate for Palestinian human rights. Around this time last year, I was struggling to find an audience for J Street U on campus. Today, we have a full board and have built a community. We lean on each other for support and motivation. We’ve come together around shared grief and alienation. Together, we’re fighting for a better future for Israelis and Palestinians alike.
While the world is wasting its time debating who has the right to exist in Israel-Palestine, the people who actually call the land home are fighting for a better future. As I write this, on-the-ground movements like Standing Together are collecting humanitarian aid for civilians in Gaza and advocating for hostage families, bringing together Palestinians and Jews around an inclusive vision of what peace could look like in the land they share.
As a J Street U leader, I’ve worked to amplify this message. A few weeks before the violent crackdowns at Columbia, my NYU chapter hosted Breaking the Silence at our Hillel. The speakers shared their experience serving in the occupied West Bank and the dehumanizing effects of the occupation on both Palestinians and Israelis. Despite the chaos of the last year, they remain committed to a shared future.
I am under no illusion that the path to peace will be straightforward or easy to find. But continuing on our current path is not an option. The people of Israel, Palestine and Lebanon deserve to know a future beyond perpetual warfare and to have leaders who actually represent them. College students deserve a school year free from antisemitism and Islamophobia, where empathy and dialogue is valued over empty slogans. It should no longer be controversial in either progressive or Jewish circles to recognize the full humanity of Palestinians and Israelis.
As I prepare for a week of memorials and reflections upon this very difficult year, I have one single thought, attributed to labor organizer Mary ‘Mother’ Jones: Mourn the dead, fight like hell for the living.
This piece is part of a series of reflections from the J Street community. Read the rest of the reflections here.