October 7th will forever be a day seared into our collective memory—a brutal reminder that, no matter how much we contribute to society or how much goodwill we offer, hatred towards Jews endures. For generations, we have carried the painful truth that safety is fleeting and that antisemitism doesn’t need a reason, only an excuse. On that day, the world again revealed its moral bankruptcy, failing to distinguish between right and wrong, good and evil. In our time, the lines between victim and aggressor have blurred, where truth is ignored and where the ugliest actions are too easily excused.

Yet, October 7th didn’t break us—it made us stronger. It reaffirmed our Jewish identity and our pride in being Israeli. It deepened our commitment to the values we hold close. We will never hide. Zionism is not merely a hope or a wish—it is a fact, a lived reality. After centuries of persecution, Jews returned to their ancestral land. Israel stands as the undeniable result of that return. It’s not an idea; it’s a reality, and we will continue to live it daily.

In the face of this evil, Jews and their allies must rise and show the world our strength, resilience, and values. Kindness is not a weakness; it is a sign of unshakable inner strength. This is who we are, and this is how we will continue to stand—unwavering in our pursuit of justice, truth, and peace. We will fight as we always have, with resilience and the firm knowledge that Israel and its people are here to stay, not because of dreams or hopes but because of the undeniable reality of who we are.

The bitter irony of this reality is that Jews have historically been at the forefront of social justice. We have always been the first to extend a helping hand, to stand up for civil rights, and to advocate for the oppressed. Despite this history, antisemitism remains entrenched, and the more we contribute, the deeper the hatred seems to run. It cuts deeply to see our allies—those we once called friends—turn a blind eye to our suffering. Rather than offering solidarity, they met our pain with indifference and criticism, failing to show the support we’ve so often shown them.

Nowhere was this more apparent than in the response to the horrors of October 7th. Jewish women were raped—on that day and in captivity—yet women’s organizations said nothing. The UN, an entity meant to stand for global justice, remained silent. 1,300 people were murdered in a single day—the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust—and yet so many supposed justice fighters failed to condemn it. When people can’t simply say, “Terror is bad, even if the victims are Jews,” it reveals a profound moral corruption. What makes it even more tragic is that many of those killed were not even Jewish or Israeli—they were just there, celebrating life and peace, or simply working for a living, caught in the crossfire of unimaginable violence while the world remained silent.

Since October 7th, antisemitism has surged to terrifying levels. In the United States alone, there has been a staggering 337% increase in attacks against Jews. Over 2,000 incidents were reported in just two months—a record-breaking number since data collection began in 1979. These incidents span from physical assaults to vandalism and harassment, targeting individuals as well as Jewish institutions, synagogues, and schools. This hatred is no longer lurking in the shadows—it is out in the open, a harsh reminder of how quickly the world can turn against us despite our contributions to its betterment.

The surge in violence and hatred has also exposed the deep imbalances in media coverage and public opinion. War never has “good optics”—it is always messy, brutal, and tragic. But what we are witnessing is not just the horrors of war; it’s a skewed narrative that focuses on one side while downplaying the cruelty of a terror organization that operates without limits or humanity. When the world focuses more on how we defend ourselves than on the terror that provokes that defense, it reveals the deeply ingrained biases that shape public discourse. People decry “Israeli aggression” while failing to acknowledge the simplest truth: the best way to avoid this so-called aggression is to not attack us in the first place.

For many, the IDF is just an acronym, a faceless entity symbolizing Israel’s military might. But for us, the IDF has faces—those of 18- to 21-year-olds who bear the weight of defending our nation. . These are not nameless soldiers; they are sons, daughters, parents, and friends who have left behind their families, businesses, and lives to protect their homes. They didn’t ask for this fight, but they answered the call because the alternative is unimaginable.

This is not a fight we chose—it is existential. For my fellow fighters and me, every day is a battle for survival, a battle we didn’t pick but cannot afford to lose. We fight knowing that we do so with as much morality as possible, yet the world chooses to see only the unfortunate outcomes of a war we never wanted. We are villainized for our need to defend ourselves, and this moral blindness deepens the wound, making an already painful reality even harder to bear.

What cuts even deeper is the criticism from (mis)educated people—those who have never been to the region, never served in the military, and never faced the terror we confront, nor do they understand the values of our enemies. They stand at a distance, passing judgment without truly understanding the complexities on the ground. They haven’t seen the inhumanity up close, haven’t faced terror without limits, and haven’t fought to protect their families from an enemy that thrives on destruction. Their criticisms are detached from the grim realities we live in, and it’s this disconnection that stings the most.

October 7th is not just a reminder of the hatred that still exists in the world—it is a call to action. We cannot afford to be complacent. History has shown us that letting our guard down is never an option. The stakes are too high, and the risks too great. The road ahead is fraught with challenges, but it’s a path we must walk with clarity, resolve, and a deep sense of responsibility. We owe it to ourselves, to our ancestors, and to future generations to stand tall, to stay vigilant, and to fight for our right to exist in a world that too often turns a blind eye to our suffering.

The imbalance in public opinion, the lack of empathy, and the blindness to the realities of this conflict only strengthen our resolve. We are not fighting merely for survival—we are fighting for the truth, for our identity, and for the future. This is how we will continue to rise above the hatred, showing the world our unbreakable spirit, the strength passed down through generations of resilient Jews, and the undeniable fact of who we are.

Do something amazing,

Tsahi Shemesh
Founder & CEO
Krav Maga Experts