As Fear Rises in America, Jews Must Feel Safe But Also Proud

I’ve lived long enough and seen enough to know fear when I see it. But nothing in my life prepared me for what I experienced this week in Times Square—nothing except the sobering realization that the Jewish world is unraveling on our own soil, under our watch.

I met three women—combat veterans of the Israel Defense Forces. Young. Athletic. Confident. Brave. Courageous. They walked with the posture and bearing that only those who have fought know. They had just returned from the frontlines in Gaza and Lebanon. They stood before me in the heart of Manhattan: fearless warriors of the Jewish people. Yet not long after introducing ourselves, they told me, nearly in unison: “We’re from Belarus.”

You’d think they were ashamed. You’d think they were hiding a secret. It took gentle prodding before one broke under the fear she plainly carried in her gaze. “We’re from Israel,” she confessed in a hushed tone, and said something along the lines of, “But we’re afraid. We saw videos. We heard stories of Jews being attacked on TikTok and Instagram—men punched for wearing a kippah, women shouted at just for speaking Hebrew. In Boulder, Colorado; in Washington, D.C.; here in New York. Some have even been killed for being Jewish.”

I found myself dumbfounded. These were not wandering civilians. They were trained fighters: strong, resilient, trained to defend and endure. And yet, on the streets of the United States of America, in the heart of New York City—of all places—they felt compelled to lie about who they were. To conceal their identity. To erase their connection to Israel.

Because they believe being Jewish—or more specifically, being Israeli—has become a reason to fear for their safety in public.

Hear that again: three young Israeli women who fought terrorists on the frontlines believed they would be safer claiming they were from Belarus than from Israel.

This is not paranoia. It’s real life. The latest data points expose a terrifying truth: antisemitic incidents in the United States have soared to levels not seen since before World War II. Jewish students at Columbia and UCLA walk through campus under police protection. Religious Jews in Boulder and Brooklyn zigzag through crowds to avoid being spat on or worse. Americans of Jewish descent are being harassed, assaulted, and yes, even murdered in their own neighborhoods.

We used to think antisemitism in the U.S. was mostly confined to hate speech on fringe forums or sporadic vandalism. Social media made it visible—but still distant. Israel, when seen through American eyes, was far away. If anyone risks their lives, we assumed, it’s Israelis at war, Israelis living in border towns under rocket fire. But here––in the so-called free world—they could walk proudly, openly.

Those three women destroyed that illusion with a single sentence.

We’ve built Israel believing it to be a safe haven. A fortress. A light to the nations. Somewhere Jews would never again fear for their lives simply because of who they are. Yet we now live in an era where veterans of that fortress step onto the streets of New York and think they need to become someone else.

The moral weight of that realization crushes my soul.

When a Jewish tourist hesitates to open the zip on a Star of David necklace—or when a Jewish veteran undoes their kippah in public because their gut tells them, “Now’s not the time to be seen”—that’s not Israel’s failure. It’s American Jewry’s failure. It is the failure of every Jewish leader, educator, and community organizer who did not prepare the diaspora for what was coming.

These women had no shame in their Jewish identity. They weren’t hiding symbolism because they were embarrassed—they were hiding it because they were scared.

Let me ask: if you fought rockets in Sderot, and bullets at the Lebanese border, and then came here to the world’s self-proclaimed bastion of freedom…did victory just end when you flew across the ocean? Should a terrorist hiding in Gaza be more dangerous than a rapt crowd in Times Square?

If Israelis and IDF combat veterans—and Jews everywhere—are forced into secrecy about our identity in America, we must ask ourselves: what kind of world have we built? What moral code are we upholding?

Listen: I’m not asking every Jew to go out and wave an Israeli flag in the middle of Broadway. But I do demand this: in public spaces, in our communities, in our places of work and worship, you should not feel compelled to erase who you are.

If you are a Jew—Israeli or otherwise—you should feel safe wearing your Star of David, your kippah, your Jewosh identity and pride. If you fought in Israel’s wars, you should feel emboldened to say it—not punished. If you are brave enough to face terrorism in the Middle East, you should not be frightened to face it in Midtown Manhattan.

To my fellow Americans: do not shrug your shoulders when a Jewish child is verbally harassed at school. Do not normalize it when a Jewish student is blocked from campus free speech. Do not pretend antisemitism is just political debate. When Jews in America live in fear, the whole nation rots from within.

To every Israeli who reads this: don’t apologize for your identity. Don’t hide it. Don’t mask it. Your Jewishness is not a threat—it’s the greatest story of overcoming this world has ever known.

I’ve seen a tons of Israelis refraining from speaking Hebrew in Paris or wearing a Star of David in London. But now it’s happening in America as well? God help us.

To the American Jewish community: hold your communities safe, yes. But also hold them proud. Show your children that their identity is sacred—not something to be erased—but something to inspire. Let the Israeli flags fly, let the Hebrew songs be sung. If that scares bully voices into the shadows? All the better.

And to those three women who stood before me in Times Square: you deserve to feel safe. You deserve not to have to make yourselves Belarusian. You are Jewish heroes. You deserve the right to say “We are women of Israel. And we are proud.”

Because every Jew—every Israeli—every descendant of our people’s long battle for survival—should know: we will not be invisible. We will not be silenced. We will not hide.

Not in Tel Aviv. Not in Times Square. And certainly not anywhere in between.

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach is the author of “Kosher Hate” and “Judaism for Everyone.” Follow him on Instagram and X @RabbiShmuley.