Remembering Who We Are and Why It Matters

Moral Clarity Demands That We Rise Above the Moment and Act

It’s been two years since the world stopped turning on its axis. Everything froze, everything changed, and nothing will ever be the same — not just for Israel, but for Jews and Christians everywhere. October 7 wasn’t just a terror attack; it was a rupture of the moral order. It revealed the true agenda of the psychotic Islamist mindset — one that insists no other religion can exist. And boy, are they in for a rude awakening.

I’ve spent every day since October 7, 2023, trying to process what it did to my faith, my politics, and my view of humanity. And I couldn’t be more profoundly grateful that I chose to take this tragedy and use it to find the path of strength that carries me forward to doing now what must be done. Because something — many things — must change.

I used to think outrage was dangerous. Now I see it differently. Outrage, when rooted in truth, can be both channeled and empowering. It can wake you up — not to hate, but to a clarity of mission.

What I’ve learned is this: the enemy isn’t only on the battlefield in Gaza. It’s in the slogans shouted on American streets, the masked agitators who justify slaughter as “resistance,” the journalists who twist words until murder sounds like activism. They are not fighting for freedom — they are guilty of marching in lockstep with those calling for selective annihilation. Let’s stop pretending otherwise.

Two years after the slaughter of innocents by drugged-up Islamist monsters, I am ready to defend my people, my heritage, and my right to exist. Those who continue to stand by the terrorists will suffer their own ignorance — cursed by their willful blindness. And a pox on the houses of every anti-Zionist Jew who has betrayed their own heritage. History will remember them, as it has the Kapos of the ghettos and concentration camps — not kindly.

Now, as I prepare to attend the World Zionist Congress, I do so with a mission: to strengthen the Jewish people, however I can. My voice is my vote, and my purpose is clear — to make sure that those who dare try to drag Jews back to a time gone by are met with truth, light, and consequence. My intention is to live up to my parents’ ideals, ensuring their survival of the Holocaust was not in vain.

Happily, I’ve found my way back to the better part of my community — one that doesn’t flinch, doesn’t excuse, and doesn’t beg for permission to exist. We’re not waiting for institutions or politicians to protect us; we’re organizing, training, and watching out for one another. From self-defense courses to synagogue security to neighborhood networks, we’re building resilience the old-fashioned way — together.

This is the new resistance. We’re becoming the partisans in memory of those who fought a similar despicable evil before us. We can’t afford to be naïve or fearful anymore. We must be strong — physically, mentally, and morally. We will arm ourselves with knowledge, fitness, and faith. We will build circles of safety and solidarity. Because the war we face isn’t just in the Middle East — it’s right here, in the rhetoric, in the streets, in the culture that’s been poisoned by moral cowardice.

And yet — amid all that darkness, I see light. Out of grief, we found resolve. Out of fear, we found community. Out of betrayal, we found each other. That’s the silver lining of October 7: it reminded us that being Jewish isn’t a posture — it’s a promise. One we intend to keep.

#BringThemHome #WontBeSilent

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