Sure, be mad I voted for Mamdani — I’m still just as Jewish (and Israeli) as you are
My choice to support the mayor-elect brought on a wave of fury. Here’s what I learned
Mayor-elect of New York City Zohran Mamdani (C) stands alongside members of his transition team as he speaks during a press conference at the Unisphere in Flushing Meadows Corona Park on Nov. 5. Photo by Alexi J. Rosenfeld/Getty Images
Politics was once about hiring someone to do a job, a public service for the greater good. Now it’s about picking a team — and God help you if you cheer for the wrong one.
I’ve been learning a lot from reactions to my recent op-ed describing why I voted for New York City Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani. The lessons aren’t really about Mamdani, or New York, or even about me — they’re about what’s happened to politics and civic life itself.
There was a time when elections were about competence and vision. Voters weighed experience and judgment. Campaigns made the case for why their candidate was best suited to serve the public. Now, it feels like the World Cup. Candidates are teams, voters are supporters, and politics is no longer about governing — it’s about belonging, and the fan bases are vicious.
Almost none of the reactions to my endorsement of Mamdani have had anything to do with whether he’d be a good mayor. In the hundreds of comments and messages I’ve received, not a single one — literally zero — was about his qualifications, his experience, or his readiness to serve. Instead, the conversation has been entirely about which team I’ve joined.
Apparently, as an Israeli and as a Jew, I’m not supposed to be on Mamdani’s team. My support created a dissonance for those who see politics through binary, populist lenses. The response was to tell me I’d defected — to the “other” side. That I’m no longer really Israeli. Not Jewish. That I’ve betrayed my people.
That’s completely illogical and — let’s be honest — stupid. I’ve done 23andMe. I’m about as close to 100% Ashkenazi Jewish as anyone can get. My Israeli citizenship is affirmed by passports and birth certificates. None of this is up for debate.
One friendly acquaintance in Tel Aviv even commented publicly on my Facebook wall, sarcastically asking, “Since when are you Israeli, and in what way?” The question was cloaked in feigned ignorance but carried a real accusation. Rather than do the mental work of asking herself why it seems so preposterous that a proud Israeli-Jewish-American-Canadian leftist — someone who’s spent her life and career believing in and speaking up for justice and shared society across all her homelands — might support a Muslim leftist candidate for mayor, her knee-jerk reaction was to question my identity, my citizenship, my belonging.
I get it. It’s easier to kick me off the team than to deal with my point of view from within it. I also think that’s lazy, and a little bit silly.
But beneath the silliness is a deeper lesson about how hollow civic engagement has become.
Political discourse is now an identity-sorting exercise, a game of tribal belonging where substance is nearly irrelevant and loyalty is everything. There is no greater good anymore, just a tunnel-vision sense of what’s good for me and my team.
And here’s what’s striking: There should absolutely be room for meaningful debate about Mayor-elect Mamdani and his policies. I’ve had tough conversations with myself about his platform, and I landed where I landed, but I don’t think it’s the only legitimate place to end up. I don’t see myself — or my politics — as all-knowing or universally applicable.
We should argue, question, and disagree with each other about leadership and governance in this city. But in responding to my essay, not one person brought up substantive objections involving Mamdani’s legislative record, his housing policy or his approach to social services. No one asked questions about those things, either.
Instead, people threw out sound bites, like Mamdani’s remark that he’d support efforts to have Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu arrested on an International Criminal Court warrant if he sets foot in New York. (The United States isn’t a party to the ICC, making this campaign promise notably hard to realize.)
That line has been used again and again in my mentions as supposed “proof” that supporting Mamdani equals endorsing antisemitism.
But let’s pause on that for a moment. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis filled Kaplan Street for months before the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023, protesting Netanyahu’s corruption and authoritarianism. Since early in the war that followed those attacks, they’ve been out again to demonstrate against his abandonment of the hostages. When Jews around the world staged protests in solidarity in major cities, they were hailed by many as pro-Israel.
The slogans and imagery — Israeli flags held high — were explicit: “Lock him up.” “He belongs in jail and in hell.” I remember one poster vividly: an Israeli flag turned on its side so the blue stripes formed prison bars, with a caricature of Netanyahu clutching them from behind. No one called those protesters antisemitic. They were simply patriots — of the liberal variety.
So when Mayor-elect Mamdani, someone who believes in applying international law consistently, says he wouldn’t make an exception for Netanyahu, why is that suddenly antisemitic? Is it because he’s Muslim? Because he’s not Israeli? Because he’s daring to say what Israelis themselves have shouted in the streets for years?
Even Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove of Central Synagogue in Manhattan, a prominent liberal who famously joined a protest against Netanyahu outside the United Nations in 2023, taking the podium to lambast his corruption, used his pulpit to denounce Mamdani. In doing so, he cited — among many other concerns — that same statement about Netanyahu as evidence that Jews would not be safe in Mamdani’s New York.
What changed? Has Netanyahu’s corruption faded? Has his abandonment of the hostages made him more defensible? Has his tacit support for Hamas — the mutual dependence that has fueled this endless, brutal war — suddenly made him more worthy of protection? Or has the war itself, the issue that brought him before the ICC, done so — despite the broad belief, held within Israel as well as without, that Netanyahu worked to extend that war for personal gain?
The reversal reveals not a change in Netanyahu’s behavior, but in our own political reflexes. When a Muslim criticizes him, it’s alarming. When Jews do, it’s democracy — and even Zionism.
Dozens more people pointed me to a campaign video Mamdani released in Arabic as “evidence” that I was supporting a Hamas sympathizer. Not because of anything he said. Because he spoke Arabic.
That’s not vigilance; that’s anti-Arab hate. Arabic is one of the most widely spoken languages in the world. That includes New York. It’s also one of the languages of Israel, and of Mizrahi Jews. The fact that a Muslim elected official in the U.S. speaking Arabic to his constituents can be twisted into “evidence” of treachery says more about our own moral panic than about him. We’ve reached a point where solidarity across difference — where a Jew supporting a Muslim candidate who believes in justice — breaks people’s mental circuitry.
And in this morass of politics-as-World-Cup, we are not just losing nuance — we’re losing each other. The machinery of division thrives on turning minorities and working-class communities against one another. Jews and Muslims, Black and brown New Yorkers, immigrants and long-timers — somehow, we’ve all ended up pitted against one other to keep the system intact.
It’s a cruel and dangerous game. It’s not sustainable. In supporting Mamdani, I expressed support for a New York City, and a world, where solidarity wins over suspicion, where Jews and Muslims are allies rather than adversaries, and where justice is not conditional on which “team” you’re on. Politics is not the World Cup. It’s the daily act of choosing whether to build walls, or build community.
And for everyone asking: No, I’m not looking forward to a mandatory hijab — since that will never be a policy in Mamdani’s New York. But I am looking forward to my hijabi sisters feeling free and safe here, just as I’m looking forward to feeling that way myself.
