The bass dropped, and the room pulsed with blue and white lights. Israeli flags were draped across the walls and a crowd of sweaty college kids bounced in sync to Hebrew pop. For a few hours on a Thursday night in St. Louis, the atmosphere felt more like a Tel Aviv nightclub than a Midwestern campus. “It was a really good opportunity for Jews to come together in a place that was safe, and where we could be ourselves,” said Noam Karger, former WashU Jewish Student Association President.
From Grief to Celebration
Club TLV was born out of a simple but urgent question: how do Jewish students celebrate identity after Oct. 7? In the weeks following the Hamas attack, campus events largely centered around vigils and mourning. Important as they were, they left students weighed down by grief. “All of the events we tried to do post–Oct. 7 came from a place of beauty and hope, but on campus they just felt weak,” recalled co-founder Zev Kupferman. “We wanted a way to inspire people to be proud of their Judaism without it feeling political.” At a Shabbat dinner in Los Angeles, Kupferman and his friend Jack Resin tossed around ideas until they landed on one that clicked: if vigils weren’t enough, maybe a party was.
A Party with a Purpose
Club TLV became an Israeli beach-themed fundraiser, complete with a DJ who mixed Hebrew and English hits, with giveaways like hostage tags to honor those still missing. Proceeds supported Tribe of Nova, which aids survivors of the Nova music festival massacre. Resin explained. “It’s an identity thing … We have to be as loud as they are, but with joy instead of hatred.” The partnerships made it possible. Hillel stepped up to help with logistics and funding, frats and sororities helped drive turnout and grants from groups like ZOA, JNF and ICC covered the essentials. What started as a wild idea was ultimately pulled together in just a couple of weeks. The first event sold out. Students packed onto the dance floor, and a line stretched at the door, everyone singing along to every word. “Stepping back and seeing everyone jumping and dancing to Hebrew music in St. Louis, Missouri, was really inspiring,” Resin said.
United by Rhythm
For many students, the event was about more than music. It shifted how they saw themselves on campus. “On campus, it’s hard to see who else is Jewish or Zionist, but when you go to Club TLV, you just know that everyone around is standing arm in arm with you,” Karger said. The apolitical setting mattered. “In a party setting, you can bring your non-Jewish friends, and there’s nothing political about it. You can still showcase your Zionism and Jewish pride, just with joy,” Kupferman emphasized.
A Growing Movement
After the event, word spread quickly. Students at other universities started reaching out, asking how they could host something similar. “Students here and on other campuses reflected on how incredible this was, that we were creating this safe and celebratory environment of Zionism, which has been shunned on campuses around the world,” Resin said. Kupferman added that there’s nothing preventing it from catching on. “Any campus with a Jewish population can whip up a party like this in a couple of weeks. All you need is a DJ who knows Israeli music, and you put it toward charity. It’s simple, but powerful.” Now, the co-founders are looking for leaders to carry the torch. They want ambitious students willing to hustle, lean on campus networks, and create their own version of Club TLV.
Beyond the Dance Floor
For the founders, the success of Club TLV is measured not just in turnout but in what it represents: Jewish students finding strength in joy. The mantra “We Will Dance Again” is no longer abstract. It’s something they lived on the dance floor. “Since Oct. 7, Jewish students have felt isolated,” Karger reflected. “But in that room I realized nothing could stop us from celebrating who we are.” And as the music swelled and the crowd bounced to the beat, the message was clear: Jewish pride is not only surviving on campus, it’s thriving.
