How American Jews, and Allies Like Me, Can Confront Terror
Living between cultures, I’ve seen how unchecked slogans turn into real-world terror, and why we must speak up.
The news of another attack, this time committed in the name of “Free Palestine,” did not come as a surprise. It came as a heartbreak we had seen approaching for some time. We have watched slogans of resistance morph into calls for annihilation. Words like “intifada” and “from the river to the sea” have entered the mainstream, often with little understanding of their violent implications.
I say “we” intentionally. Though I’m not Jewish by birth, I am deeply rooted in this moment. I’m a Native American and citizen of the Chickasaw Nation. I spent years as an educator dedicated to preserving Native cultures in the U.S. Today, I live in Jerusalem with my Jewish wife and work in an environment where Jewish and Palestinian students and staff learn and work together every day. I made Aliyah with her not out of ideology, but out of love and a belief that coexistence, while difficult, is still possible.
So when I say we knew this was coming, I speak as someone with a foot in many worlds: American, Native, Jewish-adjacent, and Israeli. And I’m watching those worlds convulse with grief, fear, and rage.
We ignored the warning signs
For months, we’ve seen violent rhetoric escalate unchecked. Calls to “globalize the intifada” have appeared in American protests. Social media teems with glorified images of militants, justifications for October 7th, and memes turning brutal massacres into punchlines. University campuses chant slogans that once meant solidarity but now often veer into dehumanization.
Let’s be honest: the October attacks in Israel, where families were burned alive and children kidnapped, weren’t a tragic outlier. They were the result of a narrative that has gone unchallenged for too long. When you leave violent propaganda unchecked, violence follows.
This is not new, it’s historical
This moment is part of a decades-long pattern. Since the First Intifada in 1987, radical Palestinian factions have used terrorism not as a last resort, but as a deliberate tactic. Suicide bombings, bus explosions, attacks on schools, these were not spontaneous acts of despair. They were strategic and aimed at civilians. Today, their echoes appear on college campuses, in protests, and in assaults on Jewish Americans.
Yes, support for Palestinian rights and statehood exists, but so does a radicalized fringe that exploits that banner to justify bloodshed. The failure to distinguish between the two is costing lives.
What can the American Jewish and pro-Israel community do now?
As someone raised outside of Jewish life but now tied to it by love, citizenship, and shared fate, I offer the following:
1. Say it plainly: This is terrorism.
Violence targeting civilians for political goals is terrorism. No euphemism changes that. Speak the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.
2. Call out dangerous rhetoric before it becomes violence.
Not all speech leads to violence, but all violence begins with speech. Challenge slogans that promote erasure, justify harm, or glorify past attacks. Teach your children and your communities to listen critically and speak courageously.
3. Invest in education and security.
Community centers and synagogues need protection. We also need robust education and resources to help young people understand the Israeli-Palestinian conflict deeply, not through memes or algorithms.
4. Forge alliances without losing your moral clarity.
You don’t have to choose between justice for Palestinians and security for Israelis, but justice must not come at the expense of truth. Many Indigenous people, like myself, understand the pain of dispossession. We also understand the necessity of survival. These truths must coexist.
The world is watching. So are our children.
In my daily work, I witness moments of shared humanity, Jewish and Palestinian colleagues and students learning and navigating difference together. Even in that shared space, the weight of generational trauma is always present. If we don’t act with clarity now, the next generation will inherit a world that tells them hate is stronger than hope.
We can change that story, but only if we name the terror we’ve been too afraid to confront.
