One Plus One Will Always Be More Than Zero

Why I refuse to measure the fight against antisemitism by what I cannot change

So often in my job, it can feel like I’m getting two steps forward, only to be thrown one step back.

Almost every day, I have the privilege of engaging with students, educators, and community members. This gives me so many opportunities to see the lightbulbs click, one at a time…

A student who exclaims, “I didn’t know that is what Zionism actually means!”

An educator who says, “I need to add this into my lesson plans.”

A community member confesses, “I thought all Jews were white.”

Each one of these reactions, these epiphanies, fuels me. In that moment, it’s so clear that not only does the work matter, but we are indeed making a difference. We are directly pushing back against Jew-hatred through education, conversations, and engagement. It’s “working.”

And then come the smacks in the face…the incidents that take the wind out of you and throw you backward.

A parent emails a photo of antisemitic graffiti at their child’s school

A student texts screenshots from a peer commenting “Israel did 9-11” on a commemoration post.

An email in my inbox spewing hatred at me for teaching the “Holohoax.”

It’s in these moments that it so easily feels like the work is futile – that I’m just staring at a wave that is just seconds from crashing down and washing everything away with it.

And then… I remind myself that the setback doesn’t erase the progress. The graffiti did not wash away the fact that one more student knows what Zionism actually means. The social media comments did not erase what that teacher learned. The hateful email did not negate the broader view of Jewish identity gained by that community member.

Yes, we often take two steps forward only to be thrown one step back in this line of work. But at the end of the day, that still leaves us with one step forward.  If each day we can move just one step forward… That’s real progress with real impact. 

When fighting the ever-rising tide of antisemitism feels overwhelming or insurmountable,  it can feel like the easiest thing to do is to just stop. Who am I to think I can make a difference in something that has existed for thousands of years? But 1+1 will always be more than zero, and if I stop, my contribution is zero. 

We must remember, as educators, community members, parents, and citizens, that each step forward contributes. None of us are individually going to eradicate antisemitism. No one individual, no one organization, no one piece of legislation, no one country alone can be the “solution.”  But if each one of us keeps putting one foot forward every day, our 1 + 1 + 1 + 1… will always be more than zero.

This outlook has also changed how I measure impact and effectiveness within my work. Would I love to have an audience of one thousand people every hour, every day? Of course. But our most impactful work doesn’t necessarily happen in a full room.

I find it often happens in small-group settings: the face-to-face conversation, the three-hour coffee with a colleague, or the one-on-one planning session with an educator. These seemingly small moments are where real relationships are built. Over time, those relationships lead to more engagement and create movement far beyond that one conversation. So I now believe that 1 + 1 can also equal more than a thousand.  

All of this also makes me feel even more deeply that we need to get creative about when and how we work together. Combating antisemitism is not something one organization, one approach, or one voice can accomplish alone. Sometimes Holocaust education needs to be paired with digital literacy. Sometimes a classroom conversation needs to be followed by a community conversation. Sometimes one organization needs to open the door for another. We have to get outside of our silos, leave our egos at the door, and recognize that we accomplish more when we work together.

It is not my job to solve global antisemitism. It is my job to do my best, every day, within my sphere of influence. Even on the hardest days, when I find myself overwhelmed and my eyes filled with tears, I refuse to accept a zero.