Between Passion, Leadership, and Belonging
A long time ago, there was a movie called An Argentinian in New York. I often think about it, because in many ways, I’ve lived that story. There’s a Spanish expression — sapo de otro pozo, “the frog from another pond” — but here in New York, I’ve never really felt that way. This city, with all its languages and cultures, is a true melting pot. It’s a place where I feel at home, where identities can coexist freely.
And I carry several. One ties deeply to Israel. My mother is Israeli, and my family’s roots trace back to strong Zionists who fiercely believed in the Jewish people’s right to self-determination and to live freely in the land of Israel. Another identity connects me to Argentina — my homeland, where I was born and raised. And finally, my life in the United States, specifically in New York, has become my daily home — the place where I built my family, raise my children, and live the life I love.
When I think of Argentina, I can’t help but think of the passion that defines its people — our music, our food, and above all, our soccer. We Argentinians live and breathe the game. Back home, we had a little ritual: we never changed the seats, the room, or the channel when we watched. Superstition or loyalty — maybe both.
When I came to America, I carried that same spirit with me. I remember once asking my then-boyfriend — now my husband — to take me to an Italian café on Avenue U in Brooklyn. It was a tiny place, filled entirely with men except for the woman behind the counter making the coffee. Argentina was playing Germany, and I showed up wearing my team’s T-shirt, the only Argentinian in the room. I didn’t know what to expect — whether anyone would care or how it would feel to celebrate alone. But as soon as Argentina scored, the entire café erupted. Everyone jumped up, shouting and clapping, and suddenly there was no difference between us.
Later that day, when I left my seat and came back, another man had taken it. The others told him to move — “That’s her seat.” It wasn’t about nationality; it was about respect. They had seen something sincere: a young woman’s passion for her country. It was another proud moment that showed me how far we go for what we love.
That same passion extends beyond the soccer field — it’s part of who we are as a people. And today, it finds new expression in Argentina’s current leadership. President Javier Milei is, perhaps for the first time in decades, a leader who is not corrupt — a president of the people. He doesn’t have everyone’s support; some oppose him fiercely. But what he does have is a strong moral compass.
In a country that once, tragically, offered refuge to Nazis fleeing Germany through the infamous “red line,” it feels nothing short of miraculous that Milei rose to the presidency. And now, against all odds, his party has won again in the most recent elections.
During a time when Israel faced war and isolation — when many world leaders stayed silent or bent under pressure — Milei stood tall. He spoke clearly and unapologetically, declaring himself a forever friend of Israel. He reminded the world that moral clarity still matters.
The Torah says, “Those who bless you will be blessed, and those who curse you will be cursed.” I believe that deeply. There is something powerful and sacred about leaders who dare to do the right thing, even when it goes against the grain. None of them are perfect, but courage matters most in the hardest moments — the moments that shape history.
For a country that has twice been attacked by Hezbollah, it takes extraordinary bravery for its president to speak so firmly in support of Israel. My hope is that the blessings promised by the Torah will pour over Argentina — for its people, who wear their hearts on their sleeves; for a nation that has known joy, music, and warmth, but also pain and struggle.
May Argentina, under righteous leadership, finally know prosperity and peace — and may it be blessed for standing with truth, with freedom, and with the people of Israel.
