Open letter to My Jewish brothers and sisters.
To My Jewish Brothers and Sisters: You Are Not Alone
I have been asked countless times why, as a Muslim, I stand so publicly with the Jewish people.
My answer has never changed.
Because my faith and my conscience leave me no other choice.
I was born in Sindh, now under Pakistani rule, into a family that paid an unimaginable price for defending human dignity. My father spent twenty-seven years in prison because he stood for the poor, religious minorities, and those without a voice. He was tortured, separated from his family, and ultimately died in custody.
As a little boy, I waited for my father to come home.
He never did.
That wound never left me.
Perhaps that is why, when I see Jewish families living with fear, I cannot look away.
When I see children hiding their Stars of David, synagogues guarded by armed security, elderly Holocaust survivors wondering if history is repeating itself, or parents questioning whether it is safe to send their children to school simply because they are Jewish, something inside me breaks.
No child should inherit fear.
No family should have to apologize for its identity.
The Jewish people have carried one of history’s heaviest burdens. They endured slavery, exile, expulsions, pogroms, the Holocaust, terrorism, and centuries of relentless antisemitism. Again and again, the world predicted their destruction.
Yet they endured.
They rebuilt.
They continued to heal the sick, educate the next generation, advance science, enrich literature and music, defend civil rights, and help make the world better—not because life was easy, but because hope proved stronger than hatred.
As a Muslim, I believe the Children of Israel hold a unique place in God’s plan. I do not see “chosen” as a declaration of superiority. I see it as a sacred responsibility—one carried through extraordinary suffering, perseverance, and faith.
Standing with the Jewish people does not weaken my Muslim identity.
It strengthens it.
The God I pray to is the God of Abraham.
How could I claim to love Him while remaining silent when His children are hated?
To my Jewish brothers and sisters, I want you to hear these words from my heart:
You are not alone.
Not every Muslim hates you.
Some of us pray for your safety.
Some of us grieve when you grieve.
Some of us celebrate when you celebrate.
Some of us believe your children deserve to grow up without fear, just as every child does.
I am one of those Muslims.
Perhaps my voice is only one among billions.
But silence has never changed history.
Courage has.
If these words bring comfort to even one Jewish family…
If one Jewish child feels a little less afraid…
If one Muslim chooses compassion over hatred…
Then every insult, every threat, and every sacrifice I have endured will have been worth it.
I pray for the day when a Jewish child and a Muslim child can look at one another without fear, without suspicion, and without inherited hatred—seeing only another child created in the image of God.
Until that day, I will keep speaking.
I will keep standing beside you.
And I will keep reminding the world that you are not alone.
With respect, friendship, and love,
Mansoor Hussain Laghari
Muslim. American. U.S. Army Veteran. Human Rights Advocate.
