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Action: Take Action

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The Power of One to Make a Difference

By Melissa Garlick, Senior Director of Combating Antisemitism and Building Civic Engagement at Combined Jewish Philanthropies

I have dedicated my professional life to combatting antisemitism and hate and have realized that the starting place for this work is a hard acknowledgement that antisemitism can’t be solved with just one magic solution. With increasing incidents of antisemitism, violence, and division in our country, the feelings of despair can overwhelm and sometimes distract from the mission. But every day, individuals in our communities are choosing to use their power by lifting their voices, sharing their stories, building solidarity, and raising awareness.   

I am personally inspired by recent stories that highlight the power of one to make a difference in this work—including the bravery of Chanie Krinsky, who shared her story and her voice in NBC’s coverage on the rise of antisemitism in Massachusetts, and the determination of Arlington High School senior Cooper Katzman, who hiked 275 miles to raise money for the ADL and the fight against antisemitism. 

Each one of us has the power and the responsibility to take action in the collective work to combat antisemitism. We can draw inspiration and motivation from people like Chanie and Cooper as we strive toward a future where all Jewish people are able to live proudly and safely. 

Here are some action steps you can take to make a difference in fighting antisemitism: 

  1. Educate yourself and become a better advocate—knowledge is power. Do you know how to talk about and intervene with antisemitic tropes and myths? Do you know how to explain them and their impact on you? Check out the ADL’s Guide to Antisemitic Tropes and learn more.
  1. Raise awareness—use your own voice to elevate the problem of antisemitism and the impact on you and your community. Write in local outlets, engage in public conversations. 
  1. Know how to report antisemitic incidents. 
  1. Be a good ally—and remember, antisemitism is not only an attack on the Jews. Understand how antisemitism intersects and often is found with other “isms.” Build meaningful relationships across communities and reach out to others in times of need for solidarity.     
  1. Celebrate and find joy. Proudly displaying Jewish identity and finding times of joy are essential to the fight against antisemitism.
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NBC Boston Covers Jewish Hate

On Wednesday, July 12, NBC Boston interviewed Chanie Krinsky of Chabad Jewish Center in Needham and CJP’s Sarah Abramson about what has become a horrifying trend.

Stay informed with our antisemitism newsletter

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Why Reporting Antisemitism Matters

By Kara Baskin

Speaking up to report an antisemitic incident takes courage. It requires vulnerability. But it’s also immensely powerful. While you should absolutely contact law enforcement if you’re the victim of a crime, we all know that antisemitism can be so much more insidious: Maybe you spotted vandalism at a school or read antisemitic content in a news story. If you see or experience something antisemitic, you can report an incident to the Anti-Defamation League (ADL).  

Why? The ADL was founded in 1913 to stop the defamation of Jews, going on to branch out to all forms of racial bias and extremism. Today, the ADL logs all reports of antisemitic incidents. From these reports, they harness annual data to identify trends, which informs outreach to law enforcement, community leaders and lawmakers. They also partner with schools on anti-bias initiatives.

Most of all, their published reports are a crucial snapshot that captures the state of bias in the United States. Thanks to their reporting, it was revealed that antisemitic incidents in the U.S. reached an all-time high last year with a total of 3,697 incidents of assault, harassment and vandalism tracked by ADL’s Audit of Antisemitic Incidents. This represents the largest number of incidents against Jews in the U.S., recorded by ADL since 1979. Knowing this, the ADL can craft tools to target and vanquish hate—and to amplify the problem, backed up by data, reminding all of us that antisemitism is still incredibly widespread.

So, what can you do? To demystify the reporting process, I spoke to Peggy Shukur, interim regional director of ADL New England.

People might consider reporting something and then wonder: To what end? Why report an incident?

I want to make sure that everybody knows that if they report—even though they may feel very vulnerable, and that it’s scary, and they’re putting themselves out there—they can do it anonymously. We’re not going to share their name or information with anybody.

The act of reporting is so helpful, because we use those numbers for our audit of antisemitic incidents. We’re able to take that to policymakers, to elected officials and to the community to say: This isn’t a problem of the past. This is a problem of today. For example, we can advocate for additional funding for Holocaust education and for community security grants to protect faith-based institutions to offset some of those exorbitant costs of additional security that, unfortunately, is a requirement for Jewish congregations. Public data gets attention.

What exactly does the ADL do with this data and with this information? How do you make these numbers work for the public good?

Each year, we do an audit of antisemitic incidents of harassment, vandalism or assault against individuals and groups that were reported to ADL. We typically don’t include online incidents, because there’s no way we could categorize everyone who is harassed online. We take the information, and we make a phone call to the person who reported it. It may be as simple as: “We’re aware of this; we’ll be back in touch with you if we need more information.”

For example, when a swastika was found in Natick in April, we had probably a dozen incident reports on that. We want to let people know we’re on it and we’re aware, but we just don’t have the resources to call every single person back. Our work is to categorize it: Does it meet the requirements of vandalism of property or harassment or assault? Is it clear that there’s some sort of anti-Jewish animus on the part of the perpetrator? We will make our own best judgment of whether a reasonable person could conclude that they were victimized due to their Jewish identity.

How do you determine what rises to the level of an antisemitic incident?

There’s a lot of judgment. We don’t just take everything as reported. We get our fair share of trolling incidents and fabricated incidents, which are pretty easy to vet and not include. There are a lot of people out there who just don’t know where else to go and who report things that are troubling or concerning, which might indicate some sort of mental health need but wouldn’t really be an antisemitic incident.

If 12 people report the same incident, does the ADL count it as one incident? Or do you count each report?

One incident. Consider something like banners on overpasses. It’s one incident, even though many people were harmed and affected by it. We also compile another report on white supremacist propaganda. A subset of that is antisemitic in nature. But some of it is anti-gay, racist, et cetera. Reporting those incidents is also really important to us because we track extremist movements as well. That’s really important information to us, as we’re looking at trends and where these groups are operating.

Why is this reporting so important overall?

It’s important to count and validate. It’s also important for many individuals to report because it validates what they’re experiencing, which is often fear and intimidation. That’s a really important thing to acknowledge. There’s a lot of gaslighting with antisemitism, unfortunately—people saying: “It’s not so bad. You shouldn’t feel so bad about this. It’s not a big deal.” And, actually, it is a big deal.

I also like to stress that, with reporting and acknowledging that antisemitism is a real problem, it allows people to be empowered to act. At the end of the day, we want the full community to feel that they are not alone and that together, they can stand up and confront antisemitism. And I think that having a way to report this, to acknowledge it, to see the numbers, is a really important component to that work of making people feel like it is legitimate to raise this as an issue. The harm they’re feeling can be heard and seen.

What can someone who reports expect after they file?

They should expect some kind of email or phone call, but we are not a legal services agency. When somebody feels like they need a lawyer, the best we’re going to be able to do is refer them to someone. There are limitations to what we can do. People often want us to shut down a speaker on a topic, which we can’t do, because of the First Amendment. But we can do some things around the situation. For example, if a university is hosting a speaker, we can ask the university to distance themselves from any hateful views of that speaker, even if it’s taking place on the university’s campus. We will work with people to try to find a way to address the concern.

If there’s a school-based incident, we will call the principal and maybe the superintendent to ensure they know about the professional development services that we can provide in terms of anti-bias education. We have a really wonderful guide for school administrators on responding to incidents of hate and bias when they happen, including how to communicate with your school community.

Believe it or not, there are still schools at which an incident will happen—and, of course, kids are going to come home and talk about it—but the school won’t put out a communication for whatever reason. Maybe they just think that it’s a bad reflection or it gives too much attention. That is not our recommendation. We’ve put all of that advice—a roadmap to responses—available for free online. It includes reflection moments. It’s not just focusing on the person who perpetrated the incident; it’s for all the people who are affected by it to use as a teachable moment. We’ve been trying to provide resources for the most common types of incidents. In terms of what you can expect if you report, you can expect that we will get in touch with your school and provide those resources to them so that this kind of incident ends up being a teachable moment.

In Natick, the town knew just what to do. They reported it. Law enforcement got involved. They organized a rally. We’ll count that; we’ll also do our best to make a call, in that case to the organizers of the rally just to make sure they knew we’re available as a resource and support.

How do you interact with communities and schools?

We want to make sure that schools have the resources to respond to these types of incidents in the future as well. While we won’t be so much a legal advocate, we want to make sure that our guides are in the hands of the right people, that they have available professional development so that educators are well-versed in addressing issues of hate and bias—not just limited to antisemitism, because it’s all connected.

There may be particular cases where we’ll be involved enough to write a letter to say: “We’re concerned about XYZ, or this was brought to our attention,” and try to facilitate a meeting about what’s going on. For example, we were involved in some incidents in Danvers a couple of years ago, involving a hockey team and some antisemitic, anti-gay and racist messaging. That might be a situation where our involvement might be a little bit deeper. In most cases, there’s a lot of receptivity from schools for these resources, because they don’t have this at their fingertips. In my perfect world, we would find a way to distribute this to every superintendent for use in their school district—because it’s not if an incident of hate or bias is going to happen, it’s when.

Can a school district call you? Or do you reach out to them?

School districts can call us at any time. We have educators on our staff, and they are involved in delivering our World of Difference anti-bias peer learning program, as well as providing professional development for educators throughout New England. We also run the No Place for Hate program, which schools can elect to join at no cost, where they commit to doing three anti-bias activities in the course of a year and be designated a No Place for Hate school.

Who else do you work with?

Individuals in the community—perhaps an individual who isn’t given enough of a religious accommodation or gets some sort of penalty if they try to take days off for particular holidays. That’s a common one. We might be involved with the sale of antisemitic content online. A couple of years ago, for example, there was a company selling a caricature of a Jewish merchant with a big nose, greedy looking. This is an example of where we jumped in and worked with [the vendor] to stop selling something.

What might stop people from reporting, and what can you share with those who are reluctant?

I really want to remind them that these numbers are important. We won’t share their name or any information with law enforcement. We won’t publicly disclose any of their information. Sometimes people just need to be heard.

There is often a fear of retribution, but people still need to have their stories heard. We are able to collect those stories and follow those trends, which informs the education and prevention work that we do. We begin with incident response, but that’s not where ADL’s work ends. We’re involved every day on the education side of fighting hate and bias.

Kara Baskin is the parenting writer for JewishBoston.com. She is also a regular contributor to The Boston Globe and a contributing editor at Boston Magazine. She has worked for New York Magazine and The New Republic, and helped to launch the now-defunct Jewish Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Email her at kara@jewishboston.com.

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Understanding Traumatic Reactions to Antisemitism

By Kara Baskin

I know plenty of people who have been victims of antisemitism, from microaggressions to physical attacks. There is a sense of pervasive fear, of bracing for the worst. How do we conquer and counter this cocktail of dread and terror, both in the aftermath of an attack and overall? How do we take care of ourselves?
 
I spoke to Jessica Slavin Connelly about how to address antisemitic trauma. She’s a Boston-area psychotherapist and longtime Jewish educator and lay leader who has worked in the Jewish school community in various settings, including as an interfaith youth facilitator for the Anti-Defamation League. She’s also led antisemitism workshops for audiences ranging from kindergarten to adults.

Here’s her advice.

On antisemitism’s many forms:

Several of my friends’ teenagers have been on text threads where casually racist messages and swastikas will suddenly pop up. Other times, it’s more public: bathroom graffiti or antisemitic signs billowing on bridges above the highway, or during an interview with a celebrity.
 
But antisemitism can often manifest more subtly as what Slavin Connelly calls “unintentional microaggressions,” even from a friend or a neighbor—the mom at drop-off who jokes that she only wants a Jewish lawyer or the neighbor who remarks on your kids’ Jewish nose. “A microaggression is anything that’s a generalization applied to a group of people,” she says.
 
“When first faced with antisemitism in our lives, people are often stunned, confused and scared, wondering if they’re overreacting and angry. Because, if [antisemitic incidents are] still happening, then what does that mean about all of the work the previous generations did to pass down our history, and what does that mean about our worldview? If reenactment, remembrance and maintaining Jewish identity hasn’t kept antisemitism from rearing its ugly head again, like we thought it would, then that may leave us questioning everything about our past, present, future, safety and Jewish identity,” she says.
 
These incidents—any of them—can feel hugely destabilizing, and your feelings are valid, whether you’re a kid or an adult.

On common responses to trauma: 

Trauma is an emotional response to a terrible event. Slavin Connelly says that fight, flight, freeze or fawn reactions are common, either when talking about it or after witnessing something frightening.
 
Flight: Holing up at home, retreating and hiding out in fear and feeling out of control.
 
Fight: Posting angrily on social media, or cutting out relationships rather than expressing yourself calmly and assertively.
 
Freeze: Not knowing what to say when a friend makes a microaggressive comment, so remaining silent instead.
 
Fawn: Going overboard to make others feel comfortable with your Jewishness, assimilating or keeping quiet, even when uncomfortable.

On the after-effects of trauma:

Trauma is an ongoing experience. People who experience antisemitism might suffer lingering, ongoing symptoms: “You might ruminate, become easily angered or irritable, have disrupted sleep and a decreased ability to focus, experience a loss of appetite, feel disconnected from day-to-day life, become hyper-vigilant or unable to stop scrolling or turn off the news,” she says.
 
You might also experience cognitive distortions. “Experiencing a trauma typically involves a change in personal beliefs about the self and the world that can be scary and unmooring,” Slavin Connelly says. This often takes the shape of catastrophic, all-or-nothing thinking: The world is doomed, everywhere is unsafe, nobody is trustworthy. You might begin to shame yourself for feeling upset or become enraged when non-Jewish friends or family don’t speak up.

On self-care and taking action:

There’s help. Slavin Connelly urges people who’ve experienced trauma to reach out to their local Jewish community for communal support, to share with trusted friends and to “take action while also holding space for gam zeh ya’avor: ‘This too shall pass,’” she says.
 
It’s also OK to take a break and retreat if you need to. This can be hard, “especially for the Jewish community, where we are taught not to look away, to be there in times of crisis for others, to remember what our own community went through,” she says. “Depending on how much of this was part of the ethos of your upbringing, it can be very hard to look away, but ruminating over and over engages us in a loop that reinforces traumatization.” Go easy on yourself.
 
Tikkun olam (repairing the world) matters, too. Helping others is a refreshing way to put your feelings in perspective. “Help others on the micro level, one-to-one, human-to-human and zoom out to recognize that we are in a world where so many are experiencing hardship or prejudice and recognizing that while our thoughts, feelings and reactions about antisemitism matter, really matter, there are infinite other things that matter equally,” she says.
 
And, maybe most importantly, “Look to Jewish history not only backward in fear of repetition but instead as a reminder that the Jewish community has repeatedly faced hardships in a cyclical way over the course of history and has always endured, survived as a people and thrived,” she says.
 
For more support, visit cjp.org/mental-health.
 
Kara Baskin is the parenting writer for JewishBoston.com. She is also a regular contributor to The Boston Globe and a contributing editor at Boston Magazine. She has worked for New York Magazine and The New Republic, and helped to launch the now-defunct Jewish Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Email her at kara@jewishboston.com.

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What to Do When You See a Swastika

By Kara Baskin

Recently, I got a text from a friend who lives in a rural part of central Massachusetts, down a long driveway. A swastika had been spray-painted at the foot of her street. She had no idea who did it; the symbol was a chilling reminder of the anonymous hatred that lurks even in quiet, supposedly safe places. Although her neighbors attempted to erase it, the hauntingly faded outlines remain.

These instances are numerous and often far more out in the open. In 2022, ADL tabulated 3,697 antisemitic incidents throughout the United States. This is a 36% increase from the 2,717 incidents tabulated in 2021 and the highest number on record since ADL began tracking antisemitic incidents in 1979.

In this climate, it’s easy to become inured to this kind of hideousness. To paint over the ugliness and move along. But we can’t. We have to act as though every time is the worst time, that every incident is disgusting, to resist complacency. I talked to The Rashi School middle school dean Joni Fishman and ADL New England deputy regional director Peggy Shukur about how to do this, especially with kids, as incidents become more prevalent.

“Some call antisemitism the oldest form of hatred,” Shukur says. “It’s something that feels more frequent judging by the types of incidents we’re getting, and it demands that parents have conversations with children.” (If you have experienced or witnessed an incident of bias, hatred or bigotry, you can report it here.)

Explain what a swastika is. Whenever possible, teach.

In this era, the symbol is notorious, but what does it truly mean? As more and more Holocaust survivors die off, the chilling significance of the symbol as the emblem of the Nazi party can lose its meaning, recognized merely as an easy means to instill fear.

“People have chosen a symbol that’s widely recognized as one of the most notorious hate symbols in Western culture, whether they know details about the Holocaust or not,” Shukur says. Some kids might even doodle it, not knowing what it is. Tell them. Says Fishman: “When I once asked a young person, ‘What does a swastika mean to you?’ they responded, ‘Well, it’s one of those things you see, and it’s not so nice.’ Not so nice!” Some people truly might not understand the true weight of the symbol. As we move further and further from the Holocaust, she says, we need to educate whenever we can.

Words have power, and actions matter.

We’re inundated with news around the clock; we can fire off tweets and reduce sentiments to hashtags. It’s easy to simply say, “Just kidding! I didn’t realize!” Fishman says. But even now, especially now, words still matter. Conversations still matter.

This is especially important for young people. Talk to your children. Ask them, “What have you seen in the news? What are you thinking about? What are you worried about?” she says. The delivery mechanisms for information might have changed, but the human capacity to make sense of it all hasn’t evolved along with it. Pause to check in with your kids.

Yes, we live in a scary world. Antisemitism and other forms of hate have been rising, and the impacts of climate change and gun violence are also threatening. If your children come home scared, “You can always listen,” says Fishman. “Say, ‘Tell me what’s on your mind. Is there anything specific you’d like me to do?’ Don’t jump into, ‘I’m going to fix this,’ but offer tools to help them feel safer,” whether that’s explaining safety measures their school has taken or helping them to understand where hate and bias come from in the first place, so it’s less sinisterly mysterious. There are tools available to help have these conversations not only with your children, but also with adults who need support.

Use the ADL’s Good Fight toolkit.

This is a 30-page, easy-to-read primer on antisemitism. What is it? Why does it exist? How do we fight it while also protecting our own safety? What are the origins?

The toolkit explains: “Systemic antisemitism has existed since ancient times, originating as religious intolerance after Christianity became the central religious, cultural and political force in medieval Europe. Following the development of ‘scientific’ explanations for race, Jews were seen as a biologically inferior and distinct group, oftentimes a justification for isolation and expulsion. Central to antisemitism is the myth that Jews are to blame for society’s problems.”

The free download offers a helpful grounding framework; it’s a comprehensive resource on how to respond to hate—ways to talk to your children about what they might see and hear, how to press peers if they make antisemitic comments and how to report incidents. Read it. 

Kara Baskin is the parenting writer for JewishBoston.com. She is also a regular contributor to The Boston Globe and a contributing editor at Boston Magazine. She has worked for New York Magazine and The New Republic, and helped to launch the now-defunct Jewish Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Email her at kara@jewishboston.com.

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What to Tell Kids About Antisemitism

By Kara Baskin

Antisemitism has always existed. But the threats are drawing ever closer, and the urgency to confront this hatred is more urgent than ever. In February 2023, white supremacist groups attempted to organize antisemitic activities as part of a “National Day of Hate,” sparking terror and fear as synagogues, Jewish schools and businesses braced themselves for assault. It’s a familiar feeling. According to a new survey by the American Jewish Committee, one out of six Jewish Americans in the Northeast say they were targets of antisemitism in recent years, and 80% believe antisemitic acts have risen lately. 

So, what do we tell our kids? How do we explain these acts as something that can be interpreted and resisted, maybe even through faith? Rabbi Rachel Silverman, director of the Camp Ramah Day Camp of Greater Boston, shares ideas. 

On reading

For young kids, Silverman recommends Dr. Seuss‘s “The Sneetches and Other Stories,” an illustrated, lighter-hearted look at prejudice and how silly it is. For a less allegorical take, she likes “The Whispering Town,” a story of a Danish family who shelter a Jewish family during the Holocaust despite their neighbors’ suspicions. 

On checking in after school

“I’m a fan of using language about being an ‘upstander’ rather than a ‘bystander,’” Silverman says. “When we talk to our kids about their days, instead of just asking how school was, we can ask questions like, ‘How were you an upstander today? How were you kind today?’” 

While this might not directly relate to antisemitism or prejudice, it sets the stage for courageous behavior should the situation arise, even if it applies to something as ordinary as a spat on the playground. (And hopefully it only does.) 

On Judaism’s teachings

“The Torah reminds us many, many more times to protect the stranger, the widow, and the orphan, the most vulnerable members of our society. It tells us about this more than keeping Shabbat, keeping kosher,” Silverman says. “It’s a hard commandment to follow, but the many reminders demonstrate how important it is.” 

Leviticus 19, verse 18, teaches us, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 

This might seem obvious, she says, but “the Torah includes loving one another as a mitzvah precisely because our actions don’t indicate that it is obvious for us. At times, it’s easier to keep Shabbat, make sure our weights are fair and to build a parapet around our roofs than it is to see the humanity in others. Many of the mitzvot are checklist-like; we take care of them by doing them once, or once in a while, and can check them off our list. Not so with loving one another,” she says. 

On exposing kids to differences

It’s helpful to talk about being an upstander and to explain why antisemitism is wrong. But also try to live it. Expose your kids to people who aren’t like themselves, too, whether it’s through volunteering or travel or reading. Do whatever feels comfortable for your family, but exposing them to diversity will make them appreciate their own. 

Silverman likes this quote from  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: “I used to think that the most important line in the Bible was, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. Then I realized that it’s easy to love your neighbor because he or she is usually quite like yourself. What is hard is to love the stranger, one whose color, culture, or creed is different from yours. That’s why the command, ‘Love the stranger because you were once strangers resonates so often throughout the Bible.”

Kara Baskin is the parenting writer for JewishBoston.com. She is also a regular contributor to The Boston Globe and a contributing editor at Boston Magazine. She has worked for New York Magazine and The New Republic, and helped to launch the now-defunct Jewish Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Email her at kara@jewishboston.com.