Hearing the November 5th Call to Action — or Arms
It’s a Test of Strength and/or Which Sword You're Willing to Fall On?
In the next twenty-four hours, New York City will choose a new mayor — and whether we admit it or not, the outcome says as much about the future of the Jewish people — not only in New York City — as it does about the city itself. It’s not just politics anymore. It’s a pulse check on who we are, how we show up, and whether we still recognize what’s worth fighting for.
Let’s be honest — this isn’t just another election. It’s a referendum on courage. On clarity. On whether Jews in the diaspora still have the stomach to stand up and say: “What just happened?” Regardless of the outcome.
In this moment — as antisemitism roars on college campuses, city streets, and across the bot-filled algorithms of every social-climber app — every Jew is facing the same mirror, and we must all ask one question:
Which kind of Jew are you?
Maybe you’re a “Jews Will Not Replace Us” Jew — the one who woke up watching Nazis with tiki torches in Charlottesville in 2017 and finally realized: assimilation isn’t protection, it’s a cop-out.
Or maybe you’re an October 8 Jew — the one who woke up the day after the massacre in Israel with a pit in your stomach, realizing that the words never again now mean “Never say never again — again.” You looked around and saw crowds cheering Hamas while the bodies of Jews were still being raped and tortured and finally admitted, “Maybe none of us are safe.”
And to those who think you can ever again say, “I’m Jew~dramatic pause~ish” — don’t. The irony will kill you.
And maybe — if we’re lucky as a people — you’re a November 5 Jew — the one who’s finally had enough. The one who refuses to let the world get away with its vile rhetoric and threats to our very lives. The one who’s ready to show up, stand tall, say what needs to be said, and stop resting on your silent laurels.
I spent the last week in Israel — easily the most intense and inspiring week of my life, as a Jew or otherwise (and that includes all the great nights at Studio 54). I was in Jerusalem for the World Zionist Congress, meeting with heroes like Yair Lapid and several incredible Knesset members who represent the interests of women and gay rights.
Then came several nights in the heartbeat of Tel Aviv, where I met with the newly returned hostages, surrounded by their families, standing in solidarity onstage at Hostage Square — singing Hatikva and feeling the love and collective embrace of a nation that refuses to break.
From there, we joined 150,000 Israelis at the rally in Rabin Square, marking thirty years since Rabin’s assassination — shoulder to shoulder with my committed, centrist political home, Yesh Atid. I’m so proud to be a member of The Jewish Future.
And between all that — the Mediterranean, the music, the food, the gay beach — I felt something electric: the full, unfiltered joy of Israel. The kind the “Queers for Palestine” crowd will never experience, because they’ve been Stockholm-syndromed into a movement that would gladly throw them off a rooftop if they don’t snap out of it.
That’s what being a November 5 Jew is all about. Hearing the call. Showing up. Refusing to apologize for your existence, your people, or your homeland. Because if October 7 taught us anything, it’s that silence doesn’t buy safety. It’s deadly.
So as the votes come in and the noise grows louder, remember this: history doesn’t wait. It tests. And it’s testing us again right now.
Which kind of Jew are you willing to be when the sirens of history sound again?
[SIDEBAR] Yes, I’m aware November 5 means something else in England — Guy Fawkes, rebellion, revolution, and a familiar reminder: silence and inaction never saved anyone, which is why I say, Won’t Be Silent — Don’t Stop ’til It Matters.