DON’T HIDE. FIGHT.

THE QUESTION, “WOULD YOU HIDE ME?” SHOULD INSTEAD BE “WILL YOU FIGHT BESIDE ME?”

“Will you hide me?” “I’ll do you one better: I’ll fight beside you so it never comes to that.”

I got some pushback after a recent post.

On April 15, I posted the piece “Would you hide me?” which explored the discussion I have heard from many of my Jewish friends in the past couple of years. In a world where anti-Jewish racism is coming most noticeably from people who self-define as “anti-racist” and reliable allies for Jews are lamentably few, the question is understandable.

The issue, I think (and as I wrote then), is not so much that Jews are wondering how their friends would behave if the stakes in the future were life-and-death. What they are really asking is, “Why haven’t you spoken up already, when the stakes (for you) are so low?”

I admit: standing with Jews right now is a tad more challenging than it was in some other moments in recent history. To voice the slightest defence of Jewish people or opposition to antisemitism is to invite a tsunami of whataboutery like “What about the Palestinians?” And then the ostensible ally is forced into a discussion about geopolitics for which they may be ill prepared. This, in itself, is an antisemitic response (and I’ve got a rejoinder below).

But let’s be serious. It doesn’t take a ton of courage to say and do the right thing right now. (If you think it could mark you for trouble in future, well, then, you should understand the hiding question even better.)

But several people called me out (and, by extension, I guess, called out their fellow Jews) for this line of questioning.

One reader, with whom I later had an amazing, deep telephone conversation, wrote: “I get the point here, but I am not the kind who would hide. My question is, instead, Would you fight beside me?”

Yes! That should be the question.

The question “Would you hide me?” is, I want to make clear, a justifiable one. Again: I think it is a plea for solidarity while the stakes (for the ally) remain comparatively low as much as it is a belief in the inevitability that the near future could include hiding in attics or forests. But it does imply that we are sitting around waiting for things to get worse.

The question “Would you fight beside me?” declares that we will not wait for things to deteriorate to that level.

We don’t need to wait for the worst to happen. We can act now. Off the top of my head, here are a few ways to do this.

Jewish friends: This is not for you. (But of course it is. Because Jews are the main people standing up to antisemitism today. So, by sharing this piece, you let your non-Jewish friends, family, colleagues and acquaintances know that you see their absence and hear their silence.)

First of all …

Send a message

Literally. Send a message to your Jewish friends, colleagues, acquaintances. The simplest words can have the most powerful impacts. Don’t wonder whether your Jewish friends in Saskatoon or San Antonio are affected by the current climate of antisemitism. Assume they are. (They are.)

[Example: “This message may seem belated but also out of the blue. I just want you to know that I am thinking about you and your family. I know that antisemitism is affecting you, though I cannot know what that feels like exactly. I do just want you to know that I am an ally and am available to listen. What wouold be most helpful to you?]

Act.

Sending a message is the most powerful thing you can do right now to support the Jewish people around you. It is also the easiest. But it is a beginning, not an end. Take action.

Investigate.

Don’t put all the burden on the Jews you know. In antiracism, this is called “emotional labor.” Don’t throw up your hands and declare, “I wish I knew how to help but I don’t.” Here are a couple of ideas.

Let down your defences.

I’m surprised at the number of people I speak with who treat opposing antisemitism like a buffet. They do not do this with any other cultural group, as far as I can see. I hear seemingly well-intentioned people express support for Jews and opposition to antisemitism and then begin to outline the limits of their support. They question hate crime stats. They diminish the seriousness of the problem. They equivocate or deflect to other, “more serious” issues. They flip the script and (inadvertently or otherwise) enumerate why Jews experience antisemitism. (Too often, this scenario veers into victim-blaming rather than blaming the perp.) Perversely and paradoxically, given time and space, this almost always (do I overstate? I hope so) veers into a form of antisemitism in which the ostensible ally goes down a rabbit hole of perceived Jewish “hypersensitivity,” “crying wolf,” or some other evidence that permits the ostensible ally to get on with their business without actually doing anything ally-like. Don’t do that. Don’t look for ways to show that antisemitism isn’t as big a problem as some people say.

Shut down whataboutery

Do not let others derail the discussion about antisemitism. When they reply, “But what about …” You reply, “No. We are talking about antisemitism. Please do not deflect from the topic.”

It is almost impossible to discuss antisemitism right now without some smirking ahole accusing Israel of war crimes. I’m going to leave aside (for now — not forever, as regular readers know) the whole issue of whether supporting Jews includes supporting their right to national self-determination (it does; I couldn’t entirely leave it aside, even for now) but that deserves its own treatment. When they throw this at you, repeat: “We’re talking about antisemitism here. You are talking about an overseas conflict. Stop deflecting.”

A few general guidelines (according to the interweb) about being an ally:

Listen more than you speak.

Let them share their experiences without redirecting or minimizing.

Educate yourself.

Learn about their community, history, and challenges on your own time, not just through them.

Speak up when it matters.

Use your voice in your circles to challenge stereotypes, slurs, or dismissive comments — especially when your friend isn’t there.

Ask how you can support them.

Everyone’s needs are different. A simple “What would be most helpful from me?” can go a long way.

Show up consistently.

Allyship isn’t just about outrage during a crisis — it’s about sustained support and presence in everyday moments.

Top 5 Things NOT to DO:

Don’t center yourself.

Avoid turning their story into your moment to prove you’re a “good ally.” It’s about them, not your identity or guilt.

Don’t play devil’s advocate.

This often feels like you’re defending oppression for the sake of argument. It erodes trust and safety.

Don’t expect praise or credit.

Allyship isn’t performative. If you’re doing it for approval, it’s not really for them.

Don’t dismiss or downplay their experiences.

Comments like “I’m sure they didn’t mean it” or “That happens to everyone” can be invalidating and hurtful. This seems to be an especially prevalent response to Jews, with people insisting that things are not as bad as they say. As I noted above, it is a core antisemitic trope that Jews are “hypersensitive” or “cry wolf.”

Don’t generalize or tokenize.

Your friend doesn’t represent their entire group. Don’t expect them to speak for “their people,” and don’t reduce them to identity labels.

When someone asks, “Will you fight beside me?” what will you say? And how will you fight?

Jews and non-Jews: What am I missing? What are your experiences? What would you like to share?

Thanks for reading.