Too Jewish for Feminists, Too Feminist for Jews

To be a Jewish feminist today is to exist in tension. 

Tension between a Jewish community that hasn’t always prioritized women’s voices and a feminist movement that too often excludes Jewish women entirely, especially when they are Zionist. 

Being a Jewish feminist means constantly straddling uncomfortable lines between belonging and exclusion, tradition and progress, visibility and erasure. It means navigating a world that often tells you you’re too much of one thing, not enough of another. Within some Jewish spaces, you may be told feminism is a threat to tradition. Within feminist spaces, you may find that your Jewishness makes you an outsider. 

I’ve felt these tensions intimately. I’ve been in spaces where my commitment to women’s rights was welcomed until I spoke about antisemitism. I’ve been in Jewish spaces where women’s leadership was viewed as secondary or symbolic. I’ve been told that I can’t be a “real” feminist if I support Israel’s right to exist. 

This erasure is exhausting. 

Jewish and Feminist Isn’t New, It’s Tradition

There is a misconception that being Jewish and being a feminist are somehow at odds. This assumption implies that Jewish women must choose between loyalty to their heritage and their beliefs in gender equality. Not only is this a false dichotomy. It is an erasure of who we are.  

Jewish feminism is not a modern concept. It is part of a long, overlooked legacy. Jewish women have always pushed boundaries, spoken out, and taken action. In the Torah, we look to Miriam, whose song of freedom represents female spiritual authority and leadership in a male-dominated society. We look to Deborah, a judge and prophet who defied gender norms by holding judicial and military power. We look to Esther, a courageous queen who saved the Jewish people by risking her life. These figures act as blueprints for Jewish feminist activism by embodying different forms of resilience, agency, and leadership. 

Moving forward to contemporary history, we find Jewish women at the heart of progressive, feminist movements. Emma Goldman championed women’s rights and labor justice. Henrietta Szold advanced healthcare and education in pre-state Israel. Ruth Bader Ginsburg shaped monumental U.S. policy and shattered glass ceilings. These women used their voice to shape the community, challenge authority, and fight for justice, a most Jewish pursuit. 

Feminist Jewish history is rarely centered and often forgotten. When we talk about feminism, we don’t often talk about the women lighting Shabbat candles while running labor unions. We don’t talk about the Jewish women who fought in resistance movements or founded kibbutzim. We certainly don’t talk enough about the Jewish values that underpin so much of their feminist activism. 

Feminism is not a break from our heritage, but rather a continuation of it. At the core of Judaism are principles that naturally align with feminism. Tzedek, Tzefek Tirdof, Justice Justice Shall You Pursue, is one of the most iconic and resonant ethical imperatives in Jewish tradition. Feminism, at its core, is a pursuit of justice. Justice for women, for marginalized genders, and for those whose voices have been silenced. Feminism demands systemic change. It asks for fairness, dignity, and opportunity. The Jewish feminist pursuit is not a departure from tradition, it is a fulfillment of it.  

Kavod Ha’briot, inherent human dignity, is a core Jewish value deeply tied to feminist ethics, radically egalitarian at its heart. This value teaches us that because every person is created in the image of God, b’tzelem Elohim, they are worthy of respect, care, and dignity, regardless of gender. From a feminist lens, Kavod Ha’briot is a direct challenge to any system that marginalizes women or strips them of agency. Feminism, fundamentally, is a demand that women be treated with the same dignity and humanity as men. 

Feminism is not in conflict with Judaism. For many, the feminist pursuit of gender equality comes from a strong commitment to upholding Jewish values. It is our deep resonance with Tzedek and Kavod Ha’briot that pushes us to honor our foremothers through activism. It is how we ensure Jewish life continues to evolve and include all of us, equally. Feminism doesn’t threaten Jewish identity, it grows from it. 

Erased from the Feminist Narrative

While Jewish tradition aligns deeply with the core values of feminism, contemporary feminist movements have forgotten the principles that once defined them. Mainstream feminism today prides itself on being inclusive and intersectional. They claim to have solidarity with all women, until those women are Jewish.

One of the most glaring silences in recent feminist discourse has been around the brutal violence committed against Israeli women on October 7th. Hamas terrorists brutally murdered, raped, amd mutilated Israeli women. This violence was targeted, systematic, and gendered. Yet, many leading feminist organizations stayed chillingly silent in the immediate aftermath of Hamas’s indisputable violation of human rights. Some even justified or downplayed the weaponization of sexual violence because the victims were Israeli, framing the attack as a form of resistance and implying that Israeli women somehow deserved this because of the political situation into which they were born. Feminist voices that have previously decried sexual violence in war zones around the world could not find their voices when the victims were Jewish and Israeli. 

This silence was both a betrayal and an erasure.

You don’t have to support every action of the Israeli government to acknowledge the horror of sexual violence committed against women. You don’t need to understand every political nuance to recognize that rape is never resistance. The fact that such a basic moral stance becomes controversial reveals just how deep antisemitism runs, even in progressive spaces that claim to care about justice.

This phenomenon isn’t new. Jewish women have long found themselves unwelcome in feminist spaces unless they downplay certain parts of their identity. During second-wave feminism, Jewish women were central to shaping radical feminist thought, yet their Jewishness was often sidelined. Our pain becomes politically inconvenient. Our anger over being excluded makes people uncomfortable. Our safety is seen as secondary, collateral damage in a bigger ideological battle. The intersection of being Jewish and feminist has led women to choose between their politics and their people. 

This creates an impossible double standard. Jewish women are both rendered invisible when we are the victims, yet made hyper-visible when our identity becomes politically inconvenient. We are held collectively responsible for a nation-state we may or may not agree with, while simultaneously being denied the very feminism that claims to make space for every woman.

This selective solidarity isn’t just hurtful. It shatters the illusion that feminism, in its current form, truly includes all women. If feminism cannot recognize the suffering of Jewish women, then it has failed. Feminism must mean dignity, safety, and agency for all women, including Jewish women.

Zionism and Feminism – A Litmus Test 

Perhaps the most exhausting and isolating space to be a Jewish feminist today is on the political left, particularly in academic settings where support for Israel is treated as a disqualifier. Being a proud Jewish woman, feminist, and Zionist is framed as incompatible and impossible. 

You’re told being a Zionist makes you “complicit in genocide.” And your feminism is void because it “excludes Palestinians.” Or if you truly cared about human rights, you’d abandon Israel entirely.

In reality, you can believe in the dignity and safety of Palestinian women without negating your belief in the dignity and safety of Jewish and Israeli women. You can denounce the atrocities of October 7th while calling for the welfare of the Palestinian people. I refuse to accept a framework where solidarity is a zero-sum game and Jewish self-determination is uniquely vilified. 

Zionism, for many, is not about politics; it’s about people. Zionism is the belief that the Jewish people have the right to exist safely and freely in our ancestral homeland. That after centuries of statelessness and persecution, we deserve a home. 

Does Zionism mean agreeing with every action of the Israeli government? Of course not. Feminism has always challenged power structures, including within our own communities. But we don’t expect feminists of other backgrounds to denounce their nations in order to be heard, so why are Jewish women held to a different standard?

This ideological litmus test is especially cruel in feminist spaces that claim to prioritize intersectionality. When we are told that our identity as Zionist Jews disqualifies us from community, we are witnessing a profound moral failure. Intersectionality cannot mean solidarity for everyone except Jews. Safety, dignity, and belonging must not be conditional. 

The Feminism Jews Deserve

Jewish feminism is not a contradiction; it is a reclamation of our ancestors’ strength, our own voices, and our rightful place at the table. We come from women who lifted their voices in triumph at the Red Sea, who studied Torah in secret, who crossed borders to protect their families, and who rebuilt community from the ground up. Their legacy lives within us, and our responsibility to uphold it. 

We should not have to erase any parts of ourselves to be feminists. Not our traditions, our trauma, our Zionism, or our joy. True feminism should be expansive enough to hold space for our whole selves. It should have room for the voices of Jewish women in all our diversity, and not ask us to silence ourselves to be palatable. 

We cannot let antisemitism or silencing from within our own communities erase us. Whether we are being excluded because of our Jewishness or asked to suppress our feminism for the sake of communal effort, both dynamics are rooted in injustice. In either case, Jewish women are enough. 

We don’t have to choose between our people and our politics. We are proof that the two can coexist. Not just for us, but for every generation of Jewish women to come.