Not in a way that diminishes anti-Black racism or any other struggle, and not as a comparison, but as a broad movement of anti-racist activists who have had enough of anti-Jewish hatred and are prepared to say, publicly and collectively: enough is enough.

I’ve been looking at the origins of the Black Lives Matter movement to try and understand how such movements emerge. The acquittal of the man who shot and killed Trayvon Martin sparked widespread anger and grief, particularly within Black communities, and became a catalyst for something much larger. Years later, the killing of George Floyd ignited a global wave of protest that extended far beyond the United States. These movements grew out of moments that crystallized a shared experience into something undeniable.

It is worth asking what would need to happen for something similar to emerge in response to antisemitism. Imagine if attacks on Jewish communities – whether in Manchester, Sydney, Pittsburgh or elsewhere – were widely understood not as isolated incidents, but as part of a broader pattern. Imagine if those moments sparked a decentralized, grassroots response that resonated across countries and communities, giving voice to a shared sense of vulnerability and a refusal to accept it any longer.

Such a response would emerge from lived experience – from the sense that something is happening repeatedly, and that it is not being fully seen or taken seriously. For many Jews, that sense already exists. Incidents of antisemitism are off the scale, and yet the response beyond the Jewish community is at best limited, fragmented and inconsistent. This raises a difficult question: why has there been no sustained, global movement that reflects this reality?

Part of the answer may lie in how movements grow beyond the communities most directly affected. One of the reasons Black Lives Matter resonated so widely is that it articulated something others could recognize as morally urgent, even if it was not their own lived experience. It connected specific instances of injustice to broader values: fairness, equality, and the protection of human life.

Any movement addressing antisemitism would need to do something similar. It would need to frame antisemitism not only as a Jewish issue, but as a societal one. It would need to connect to shared principles – the protection of minorities, the rejection of hate and extremism, and the safeguarding of democratic norms. Without that broader resonance, it risks remaining internal, rather than becoming a cause that others feel compelled to stand behind.

Pride is another example that may offer lessons and insights in to how such a movement tackling antisemitism could arise and what it could look like. Pride has a clear, positive identity. Not just: “we are under threat” But also: “this is who we are” “this is what we contribute” “this is what we stand for.” Again, the Pride movement was sparked from a key moment: the Stonewall riots in 1969 – spontaneous protests. We saw protest marches in the UK surrounding Corbyn’s leadership of the Labour Party, but they never mushroomed outside of the Jewish community. Some movements, it seems, succeed when real, lived pressure and injustice are accepted by a broader population. Some don’t. Pride didn’t win only through protests – it expanded into culture: Parades became celebrations of visibility. Media representation increased. Businesses, cities, and institutions got involved. This created a feedback loop: visibility → normalization → broader support → more visibility. We can learn from this that cultural presence matters as much as political advocacy.

Any movement of this kind would need a clear, positive identity. Not just: “we are under threat” But also: “this is who we are”, “this is what we contribute”, “this is what we stand for” Build, don’t just defend. Pride is not only about resisting discrimination – it’s also about joy, identity, and future. That’s a big shift: from “protect us” to “this is who we are, come understand us”.

How might the Jewish community step forward in a similar way – visible, confident, and unashamedly Jewish in the public sphere? What would it look like for Jews to stand not only in response to threat, but in affirmation of identity: present in the streets, in culture, in public life – proud of who we are, what we carry, and what we contribute, without hesitation or apology?

Importantly, Pride has never been a single, unified voice. It has included internal disagreements and tensions, debates over direction and meaning. But those disagreements did not prevent it from growing. If anything, they became part of how it evolved.

The Jewish community too is not monolithic, and it does not speak with one voice. That reality is sometimes seen as a barrier. But it may also be a reminder that successful movements do not require perfect unity. They require a shared sense that something matters enough to bring people together, even if they do not agree on everything.

But there is a third example which could be the compelling example of what this moment requires. A movement that succeeded in turning what could have remained an internal Jewish concern into a global moral cause: The movement for Soviet Jewry. This struggle framed the plight of Soviet Jews not only as a Jewish issue, but as a human rights issue – one that resonated across political, religious, and cultural boundaries. Its message was clear, simple, and morally legible. It mobilized grassroots activism alongside political advocacy. It built coalitions that extended far beyond the Jewish community. This may be the missing piece. Because alongside the need for a catalytic moment, and alongside the need for a clear and affirmative identity, there is also the need to make the issue legible – to translate lived experience into a language that others can recognize as urgent, relevant, and theirs to respond to.

The political landscape surrounding Jews and Israel is undeniably complex, and often more heavily scrutinized than that of other groups. That complexity can make it harder for conversations about antisemitism to be heard on their own terms. That is precisely why a broader movement would need to rise above that dynamic – framing the issue not through geopolitics alone, but through universal principles of dignity, safety, and equality.

A movement like this could only emerge if enough people – both within and beyond the Jewish community – felt a shared urgency. Not as a comparison, but as a recognition that something pressing is happening, and that it demands a response.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)