A hand holding a Star of David.
We can and should criticize Israel when its actions warrant criticism. But we can and should separate those criticisms from criticisms of the Jewish people. Credit: Canva Credit: Canva

Let me let you in on a little secret: I’m a convert to Judaism. I chose to cast my lot in with the Jewish people.

And, in the end, I did so because of the Jewish people I’ve met.

I don’t know much about God, but I do know this: you can find God anywhere, if you look closely enough.

What I know better is people. After all, in my life, I’ve met a lot of them. Good ones and not so good ones. And some of the best people I’ve met have been Jews. 

Which is why, when I was looking for a community to call my own, some years ago, I looked for a Jewish one. If the Jews I had met were any representation of the whole, I reasoned, then these were the people in whose company I wanted to build my life. 

About a year ago, I was explaining this decision to a dear friend of mine: I was a trans woman who aspired to be Jewish. I really knew how to pick my marginalized communities, my friend replied. She was right.

Because, in choosing to be Jewish, I was choosing to become at least potentially a target of antisemitic hatred.

Not every criticism of Israel is antisemitic

The specter of antisemitism haunts discussions of the ongoing war in Gaza. Those who support the war very often accuse their political opponents of harboring antisemitic beliefs. While those who oppose the war very often accuse their opponents of using those same accusations as a shield to deny legitimate criticisms of the state of Israel and its military actions.

Now, I want to be very clear about something. Some criticisms of the state of Israel are antisemitic; but the mere fact that one is criticizing the state of Israel and its actions does not make a person antisemitic. If Israel is going to be a member of the global community of nations, it needs to accept that people are going to criticize it for legitimate reasons, and not necessarily because they hate Jews. 

What is antisemitic, however, is assigning to every Jew everywhere a kind of blood guilt for the violence the state of Israel is committing in Gaza. 

We can and should criticize Israel when its actions warrant criticism—moral, political, and otherwise. But we can and should separate those criticisms from criticisms of the Jewish people. The state of Israel is not the House of Israel, nor vice versa. We Jews are so much more than a single political entity.

The aspirations of a people

I want to be very clear about something else, too.

I believe in Israel’s right to exist. And I believe in the Palestinian people’s right to self-determination, too.

I believe Israel has a right to defend itself against violence. And I believe the Palestinian people have a right to defend themselves, too. All nations do. 

We do not have to imagine how other nations would have responded had they, instead, experienced the events of October 7th, 2023, on their territory. I hardly need to remind people that after the September 11, 2001, attacks, the United States responded by blowing up the Middle East. When nations are attacked, they go to war.

But, as a Jew, I don’t want Israel to be just a nation like any other. I want it to be a light unto the nations. I want it to be different, to aspire towards loftier ideals.

There is a prayer in the Siddur my Reform Jewish community uses in its corporate worship each Shabbat morning. It reads, in part:

I am a Jew because

Israel places humanity and its unity

above the nations and above Israel itself.

I am a Jew because above humanity, image of the divine Unity,

Israel places the unity which is divine.

To join the House of Israel at a time when the state of Israel is at war is not to endorse that war or its tactics. 

But it is to assert that my place is with the Jewish people, in times of peace as well as of conflict. 

It is to take upon myself the weight of that people’s history, and the promise of its future.

And it is to aspire to something greater than myself and greater even than Israel: It is to aspire to a better, and more humane world. 

After October 7

After October 7, my synagogue hired security guards to stand watch over its times of public, corporate worship.

After October 7, my synagogue displayed in its foyer a picture of every hostage Hamas still held in captivity.

After October 7, my synagogue began to pray every Shabbat for the release of those hostages, now.

After October 7, whenever I mentioned that I wanted to become Jewish myself, I was met with a certain degree of incredulity.

After October 7, whenever I expressed my desire to convert, I had to explain that, yes, it was with full knowledge that it could happen here, too.

I was already living as a trans woman when I converted to Judaism, so in some ways my understanding of what it meant to choose to be Jewish came filtered through my experiences of choosing to be transgender.

That said: It is dangerous to liken axes of oppression. Transphobia is not antisemitism. Each has its own history and ways of manifesting in the world. But there are a few points of contact. For one, living as a trans person and living as a Jew both carry their own risks. Both are choices, in their own way. And both are choices that the people who hate us would much prefer we did not make.

But if we refuse to be who we are—who we need to be—for fear of hatred, then the people who hate us win. And that is unacceptable to me.

In the end, I choose to be Jewish in spite of October 7 and the war that has since followed. I choose to be Jewish because I find the Jewish people to be loving, hopeful, and holy. I choose to be Jewish because I want these people to be my people.

I choose to be Jewish in a time of war because that choice in no way predetermines my views of the war. I choose to be Jewish because, in the end, my hope is still in people: in our capacity for good, for change, and for peace. 

Charlotte Dalwood

Charlotte Dalwood (she/they) is a Student-At-Law at Prison & Police Law in Calgary, AB; and a Master of Laws student at Osgoode Hall Law School of York University. Find Charlotte online at www.charlottedalwood.com.