The first day I moved back to my college campus, I, a Black Jewish woman, watched the news as the U.S. Capitol building was overtaken by white supremacists and Nazis. For a brief moment that day, my heart had fluttered with excitement about the news of a Black man and an Ashkenazi Jewish man representing Georgia in the Senate for the first time in history.
Even though I was born and raised in California, I come from Southern folks who fled the pervasive racism of the Confederacy. Senators Warnock and Ossoff represent the legacy, pain and triumph of hardworking, multiracial coalitions in the South demanding equality. I hoped, even if just imagined, that my ancestors would let out a sigh of relief, twinkles of pride would glisten in their eyes, and we would sense that we finally made them proud.
Yet, the news coverage quickly shifted to another unbelievable picture, one filled with no cheers of progress and long-deserved representation. The Capitol was captured, and all I could do was continue to unpack my suitcase. I saw images of white men wearing gigantic animal horns upon their heads, paint smeared on their faces as if they viewed themselves as warriors. A noose hung, and a Confederate flag waved in the air. My social media feed became plastered with individuals wearing shirts printed with anti-Semitic phrases.
I got up to stick my little mezuzah on the doorpost of my new room, adding to my magen david necklace around my neck, impressive afro and skirt that goes past my knees. I recited the traveler’s prayer before the plane took me to the side of the country where individuals — claiming to be patriots — invoked violence and terror onto my nation.
I thought that if any minority committed even a fraction of these acts, they would have not even made it to the steps — security would have taken them down. But I wasn’t surprised or shocked. America was watching America being shown who it truly is. I was simply witnessing the underbelly of this country become exposed to the entire world.
I was witnessing the underbelly of this country become exposed to the entire world.
I spent the rest of the day and the following scrolling through social media to distract and occupy my mind during a numbing quarantine. I eventually came across fellow friends and accounts posting about the importance of language when describing what occurred on January 6, how this insurrection threatened marginalized Americans and how to donate to various social advocacy organizations and individuals in need.
As a Jewish woman, I wondered why the only people acknowledging the blatant anti-Semitism demonstrated on the steps of our Capitol were other Jewish people. Jewish content creators, activists and everyday individuals were posting about the traumatizing experience of seeing Nazis parading in the revered halls of our Capitol. I became deeply upset that the Jewish community was being ignored, disregarded or, at the very least, not considered during these acts of terror.
As I watch the aftermath, I am still angry that individuals and accounts on social media speak about violence and discrimination in America without mentioning the real harm days like January 6 represent for Jewish people. I understand that Jewish people in this country do not neatly fit into the People of Color versus white binary or any one political affiliation. We are an incredibly diverse community with many different skin colors, cultures and stories.
Yet Americans tend to reduce us to being white and having experienced one traumatic event in Europe, which is taught in schools here and there. These perceptions contribute to the erasure of our identities as Jewish people and the discrimination we have experienced for thousands of years.
To speak plainly, everyone is an activist for equal rights until they have to support Jewish people. Nazis attack us and have always attacked us first and foremost. Jewish stories deserve to be taken seriously by social advocacy movements, and we deserve to live in peace.
I sit in a Black, observant, Jewish, female body that loves Israel, and I prepare for the world to attack me every day. I want the Jewish community to be listened to, I want Jews of color to be heard, and I want to not fear for my life each waking moment.
I say Am Yisrael Chai with the greatest pride, Black skin and a honey voice.
Tova Ricardo is a senior at Columbia University studying English and Sociology. She is also the Communications Intern at the Jews of Color Initiative.
Being a Black Jewish Woman in America on January 6
Tova Ricardo
The first day I moved back to my college campus, I, a Black Jewish woman, watched the news as the U.S. Capitol building was overtaken by white supremacists and Nazis. For a brief moment that day, my heart had fluttered with excitement about the news of a Black man and an Ashkenazi Jewish man representing Georgia in the Senate for the first time in history.
Even though I was born and raised in California, I come from Southern folks who fled the pervasive racism of the Confederacy. Senators Warnock and Ossoff represent the legacy, pain and triumph of hardworking, multiracial coalitions in the South demanding equality. I hoped, even if just imagined, that my ancestors would let out a sigh of relief, twinkles of pride would glisten in their eyes, and we would sense that we finally made them proud.
Yet, the news coverage quickly shifted to another unbelievable picture, one filled with no cheers of progress and long-deserved representation. The Capitol was captured, and all I could do was continue to unpack my suitcase. I saw images of white men wearing gigantic animal horns upon their heads, paint smeared on their faces as if they viewed themselves as warriors. A noose hung, and a Confederate flag waved in the air. My social media feed became plastered with individuals wearing shirts printed with anti-Semitic phrases.
I got up to stick my little mezuzah on the doorpost of my new room, adding to my magen david necklace around my neck, impressive afro and skirt that goes past my knees. I recited the traveler’s prayer before the plane took me to the side of the country where individuals — claiming to be patriots — invoked violence and terror onto my nation.
I thought that if any minority committed even a fraction of these acts, they would have not even made it to the steps — security would have taken them down. But I wasn’t surprised or shocked. America was watching America being shown who it truly is. I was simply witnessing the underbelly of this country become exposed to the entire world.
I spent the rest of the day and the following scrolling through social media to distract and occupy my mind during a numbing quarantine. I eventually came across fellow friends and accounts posting about the importance of language when describing what occurred on January 6, how this insurrection threatened marginalized Americans and how to donate to various social advocacy organizations and individuals in need.
As a Jewish woman, I wondered why the only people acknowledging the blatant anti-Semitism demonstrated on the steps of our Capitol were other Jewish people. Jewish content creators, activists and everyday individuals were posting about the traumatizing experience of seeing Nazis parading in the revered halls of our Capitol. I became deeply upset that the Jewish community was being ignored, disregarded or, at the very least, not considered during these acts of terror.
As I watch the aftermath, I am still angry that individuals and accounts on social media speak about violence and discrimination in America without mentioning the real harm days like January 6 represent for Jewish people. I understand that Jewish people in this country do not neatly fit into the People of Color versus white binary or any one political affiliation. We are an incredibly diverse community with many different skin colors, cultures and stories.
Yet Americans tend to reduce us to being white and having experienced one traumatic event in Europe, which is taught in schools here and there. These perceptions contribute to the erasure of our identities as Jewish people and the discrimination we have experienced for thousands of years.
To speak plainly, everyone is an activist for equal rights until they have to support Jewish people. Nazis attack us and have always attacked us first and foremost. Jewish stories deserve to be taken seriously by social advocacy movements, and we deserve to live in peace.
I sit in a Black, observant, Jewish, female body that loves Israel, and I prepare for the world to attack me every day. I want the Jewish community to be listened to, I want Jews of color to be heard, and I want to not fear for my life each waking moment.
I say Am Yisrael Chai with the greatest pride, Black skin and a honey voice.
Tova Ricardo is a senior at Columbia University studying English and Sociology. She is also the Communications Intern at the Jews of Color Initiative.
Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.
Editor's Picks
Israel and the Internet Wars – A Professional Social Media Review
The Invisible Student: A Tale of Homelessness at UCLA and USC
What Ever Happened to the LA Times?
Who Are the Jews On Joe Biden’s Cabinet?
You’re Not a Bad Jewish Mom If Your Kid Wants Santa Claus to Come to Your House
No Labels: The Group Fighting for the Political Center
Latest Articles
Why Was Platner’s Nazi Tattoo Tolerable?
Why America Wins When Europe and Israel Stand Together
Hasan Piker and the Narrative about Israel – Untethered to Reality and Harming the Cause of Palestine
Who is Going to Disarm Them?
How Zionism Strengthens Judaism
Don’t Book Family Trips, Build Legacies Instead.
All My Journeys — A poem for Parsha Matot-Masei
It all started in New Jersey…
A Bisl Torah — Confidence in Them, Trust in Yourself
Our tradition not only teaches to have confidence in the children we are raising but to also trust ourselves, our ever-evolving characters.
The Young Investors Redefining What It Means to Support Israel
Israel Bonds, the organization that has mobilized diaspora investment in the State of Israel for 75 years, is building a community among a new generation of pro-Israel professionals in Los Angeles.
Print Issue: Remember Who You Are | July 10, 2026
An Open Letter to My Fellow Jews on Peoplehood, Memory, and Israel
A Moment in Time: Israel – Coming Home Again
Psalm 35:8 United the First Congress of the United States and the State of Israel
Rabbis of LA | Rabbi Geller Is Still Making History
First of three parts
Hebrew University-UCLA Exchange, New Staff at BJE, Repair the World Volunteer Day
Notable people and events in the Jewish LA community.
Arab Citizens of Israel: Between Integration and Separation
Arab citizens are an integral part of Israeli society. They serve as physicians, nurses, lawyers, engineers, pharmacists, entrepreneurs, professors and judges.
‘Floaters’ Brings the Joy and Heart of Jewish Summer Camp to the Big Screen
“The Floaters” opens at Laemmle locations in West L.A. and Encino on July 17.
Alan Rothenberg Brought the World Cup to America in 1994. Now He’s Bringing Soccer’s Jewish History to L.A.
The man behind the 1994 FIFA World Cup is chairing The Beautiful Game: The Untold Story as the Holocaust Museum L.A.’s Goldrich Cultural Center prepares to open in mid-August.
More Than a Game: How the Equalizer Is Bridging Israel’s Divides One Child at a Time
Through The Equalizer (Sha’ar Shivion), children from Jewish, Arab, Druze, Bedouin, religious and secular communities meet through soccer – not only to compete, but also to build friendships and break down barriers that often keep their communities apart.
NYBD & Bakery in Mar Vista Features Hamantaschen?
It’s important to the owners, Lenny and Adaeze Rosenberg – and the neighborhood – to stay true to its longtime recipes.
A Ka’ak By Any Other Name
A symbol of hospitality, families bake batches for holidays, family celebrations and visits with friends and relatives.
Table for Five: Matot-Masei
Keeping Your Word
From Roadmap to Reality: UCLA Must Move Beyond Aspirational Commitments in Combating Antisemitism
UCLA has an opportunity to become a national model for confronting antisemitism through principled leadership, transparent accountability, and meaningful action.
Emanuel Gives Israel Some Love Tough Rather Than Tough Love
I can imagine many Israelis rolling their eyes: OK, where’s he going with this? When is he telling us what he really came here to say?
The Story That Never Goes Away
Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of slain hostage Hersh Goldberg-Polin, can’t stop speaking about her pain and the public love her body cannot always receive. She talks to the Journal about her son’s legacy and her new book.
Remembering Who You Are
An Open Letter to My Fellow Jews on Peoplehood, Memory and Israel
Rosner’s Domain | A Dime-Store Abe: The Karhi Crisis
This week’s “Constitutional Crisis” is typical of the way the government operates. It issues a statement, or a tweet and then walks it back. Oops, we did not mean it. Or rather, we did, but we also meant to deny that we did.
More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.