Growing up in New Paltz, a place where a mayor illegally married same-sex couples in an act of civil disobedience, I’ve always felt a deep connection to a liberal, progressive identity. With Ulster County having 40,364 registered Democrats compared to 34,471 Republicans, my home town seemed to embody the values I hold dear: open-mindedness, kindness, and a commitment to social justice. I’ve always considered myself a liberal person, but lately I’ve found myself struggling with a sense of discomfort in these circles, particularly regarding the conversation around Israel. This feeling has left me nervous and even reluctant to express my views, a hesitation rooted in a profound fear of being misunderstood, or worse, hexed.
This tension is deeply personal, forged by the stories of my family. Both of my grandparents and my step-grandmother were Holocaust survivors. My grandfather, Irving, born Moshe Rubinfield, was one of eight children from Jasienica-Rosielna, Poland. On the night of August 10, 1942, the Germans forced the remaining Jews there to dig their own graves before they were shot to death. My grandfather’s survival, which he attributed to “luck,” was, to me, an act of sheer resilience. His decision to change his name from Rubinfield to Rosner is further evidence of this strength, not just chance. For as long as I can remember, I have embraced the stories of survivors as a form of “memory transferring,” a responsibility I was given when, as an only child, I spent countless hours with my grandfather. This memory is not just abstract history; my family arrived at the Port of Haifa on October 24, 1948, arriving in what was then the newly formed State of Israel.
With this history at my core, I am concerned about the antisemitism, misconceptions, and lack of historical awareness I see today. It feels disingenuous for people to say they are only criticizing the Israeli government without understanding its political landscape, like the fact that Arab-Israeli citizens have had representation in the Knesset since 1949, with Arab political parties like the Joint List and Ra’am working to address the needs of their communities. At the same time, I know that internal issues exist, like the fundamentalist principles and violence sometimes promoted by certain sects of Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) Judaism. I also acknowledge that acts of terrorism, such as the settler riot that killed one Palestinian and injured others in the village of Jit, are completely unacceptable.
From a historical perspective, Judaism has a millennia-old connection to the land of Israel. Zionism — defined as a political movement for the self-determination and statehood of the Jewish people in their ancestral homeland — has become a dirty word, stripped of its original meaning. To many Jews, the idea of a return to the land is not just a passage from the Old Testament but a visceral feeling of longing for a sense of comfort and safety. As Dr. King is attributed with saying, “When people criticize Zionists, they mean Jews. You’re talking anti-semitism.” This feels especially true now.
The atrocities of the past and present are a constant reminder of this need for safety. I draw a direct line from the 1972 Munich Olympics attacks to the October 7th attacks, both horrific instances of terrorism. I will never be able to understand why Arab forces attacked Israel in 1948 rather than establish their own independence, unless it was rooted in antisemitism. For Israel, that war secured its existence. For Arabs, it is known as “the Nakba.” My understanding of organizations like the PLO, Fatah and Hamas is that they are terrorist organizations, not liberation movements. It is for this position that I have been called a “zio fascist” and a “genocidal racist.”
What I cannot reconcile, particularly within liberal and leftist circles, is the difficulty in acknowledging the full truth of what happened on October 7th. The evidence presented at the United Nations about the rapes and mutilations committed by Hamas militants is horrifying. As a woman, I believe that any community that expects women to cover their hair is oppressive, and that rape is a pseudosexual act used to dominate women. I find it unfathomable that some are willing to engage in rape denialism and suggest that rape could ever be a form of resistance. This position not only denies the suffering of victims but also makes it increasingly unsafe for Jewish people everywhere. This struggle is the core of my current identity — a liberal person who must reconcile her values with a history that demands a specific kind of vigilance and a community that, at this moment, feels increasingly distant.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Hudson Valley One.
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