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There’s a moment when something ordinary turns into something chilling. For me, it was while driving past a busy highway exit in Cincinnati, the one that leads to our hospitals, the University, and some of the city’s most traveled streets. Someone had vandalized a real estate sign, spray-painting across it in bold letters: “From the river to the sea.” It wasn’t tucked in an alley or hidden in the shadows. It was right there in broad daylight, where thousands pass every day.
This phrase, often shouted at rallies, scrawled across posters, and displayed online everywhere you look is not a call for peace.
It is a call for genocide.
It calls for the elimination of Israel and, by extension, the erasure of the Jewish people who live there. And after that, every Jew around the world. Call it what it is. A slogan for ethnic cleansing doesn’t get a free pass because it fits on a protest sign. And it is not just about Israelis. It is about all Jews, worldwide. It has never been about land. It has always been about us.
So I took it down. Because that’s what we do. No one should have to drive past a message questioning their people’s right to exist. And yet, these incidents are becoming more common, and too often the responses are passive or delayed.
Where is the public outrage? Where is the collective condemnation? Where are the community conversations? Too often, the response is silence not just from the broader society but from within the Jewish community itself.
And here is a painful truth: we stood with every single oppressed group. We marched, we donated, we spoke out. And when it was our turn, when Jewish lives were on the line; those same groups abandoned us. Not just with silence, but by siding with those who terrorize us, who chant for our destruction, who attack anything visibly Jewish.
I get it. I get how some of us feel. You miss belonging. You want to be accepted. You hope that if you nod along, if you soften your stance, your voice will be welcomed. But it never is. And somehow, we’re still surprised.
We need to stop seeking approval from people who would rather we disappear. Each Jew must take it upon themselves to stand up for our people. Not out of anger, but out of love. Not for applause, but because history has taught us that silence buys nothing but more hatred.
That evening, I hosted a parlor meeting with Ayelet Shmuel, a social worker from Israel. She shared a sentiment that stayed with me: “I’m tired of apologizing and asking for permission. I just care about my people.” That mindset is not radical. It is healthy. It is necessary.
Jewish lives are not disposable. Our safety should never be negotiable. We don’t need to raise our voices in anger, but we do need to raise them. Whether it’s defending our homeland abroad or standing up for our community here at home, responding to hate is not radical. It’s what we owe each other.
Our history is filled with those who stood up in dark times: from Moses to King David, from the Maccabees to the fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto. That legacy lives on in every Jew who chooses pride over fear.
As Holocaust survivor Nate Leipciger said at the 2024 March of the Living, “Jewish rights are also human rights. Yes, I repeat, it’s important. Jewish rights are also human rights. Stand up to antisemitism and fight hate and falsehood where you are. And: Never Again Means Now. Am Yisrael Chai.”
We did not survive TWO THOUSAND years without sovereignty just to stay quiet now. Stand tall. Be unapologetically Jewish. Be proud.
Raise your voice. Protect your people. Make it clear. Jewish lives are not up for debate.
Aaron Binik-Thomas is a Cincinnati-based real estate professional, father of three, and advocate for Jewish safety, dignity, and self-determination.
