People vote in the New York City Mayoral election at a polling site at the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts High School in Astoria, Queens borough of New York City, US, November 4, 2025. (photo credit: Reuters/Kylie Cooper)

Only after our survival us guaranteed will I go back to voting on issues other than Jewish life in America.

It happened suddenly. I spent most of my life fighting for women’s rights. I took a 5 a.m. bus to DC and froze through an abortion march in college, I spent years of my career encouraging women to maintain financial independence after having kids, and I brought my oldest daughter to see so many women senators speak, that at one point I wondered if she knew that men could be Senators too.

I gave a TEDx talk about not stereotyping our children into blue and pink boxes, I confronted Steve Bannon in an elevator, I hosted a call-in radio show for working moms, and most importantly, I raised three feminists: two daughters and a son.

And then October 7th happened, forcing my primary cause to abruptly and necessarily change. Yes, I still care about a woman’s right to choose, about equal rights for women, and about access to parental leave and childcare. But there is now something even more pressing that requires my attention.

It is well known that when a person’s focus is consumed by survival, whether through poverty or literal starvation, they lack the mental energy and resources to engage in creative pursuits. Similarly, when the Jews are under attack as we are now, I cannot afford to put my energy anywhere but into fighting for our survival.

It means I had to choose a mayoral candidate who had been “me too-ed” over a candidate who hates Jews. It means supporting a future governor who was an election denier because she holds college presidents accountable for antisemitism on their campuses, and it means that I have had to leave my Democratic roots and choose individual candidates over the party line. This might sound dramatic, but it feels like a low price to pay for what is at stake.

People vote in the New York City Mayoral election at a polling site at the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts High School in Astoria, Queens borough of New York City, US, November 4, 2025. (credit: Kylie Cooper/Reuters)

Practically overnight, my kids began wondering if it was safe for an Uber driver to know their ethnicity; if it was safe to talk about their holidays in public; and if it was safe to wear a Jewish star as they journeyed through the world.

The comfort I had felt growing up would be foreign to them. My childhood was spent mostly in New York City, but as a competitive athlete, my early years were also filled with a big dose of travel that took me to the crevices of the country, all without incident. In college, it never even crossed my mind that none of my beloved roommates were Jewish. It didn’t seem to matter.

I could never have imagined the world my own children would be raised in just a generation later; a world where international travel is risky, where my college student discovered a giant swastika in her dorm, or where hearing about physical assaults on their fellow Jews is a daily occurrence. And this is why I am now a one-issue voter. Because survival is a necessity, and the issues I have always cared about are comparatively a luxury.

Becoming an October 8th Jew

Until becoming an October 8th Jew, I had not realized that because Israel bravely existed, I could exist in America without any bravery needed. I had not realized that antisemitism could morph into anti-Zionism. I had not realized that institutions I once relied on - my beloved Harvard alma mater, the United Nations I grew up revering, and the New York Times that had once been my go-to paper- could all betray me and my people by spreading lies instead of exposing truths.

These betrayals forced me to find my place in the ecosystem of activists as someone who curates true news in real time and disseminates it through my social media platform.

Since becoming an October 8th Jew, I haven’t just joined the daily war against propaganda, but I have encouraged 100 celebrities to speak out against antisemitism, I participated in the 39th World Zionist Congress in Tel Aviv, and I reignited a close relationship with an Israeli cousin.

I have fought for hostages like they were my own brothers and sisters, I enrolled my child in a Jewish day school, and I have become exceedingly proud of the resilience of my people. I have transformed into a person with a single mission, and I will only return to my old life when our survival is guaranteed.