But, Is It Good for the Black Jews?
By Denise A. Lettau, Esq., Co-Founder and Chair, Alcee Hastings Black-Jewish Alliance, Broward County Zahav Fellow (2025)
There’s a phrase that echoes through Jewish communal life, often said with a mix of irony and sincerity: “Is it good for the Jews?”
I’ve always winced at that question. Not because I don’t understand its origins—it comes from a place of survival—but because it feels too narrow. As someone who is both Black and Jewish, I’ve never been quite sure whether the “we” includes me.
Black Jews live at the intersection of two powerful lineages: one shaped by the generational struggle against racial injustice, and the other rooted in Torah, memory, and peoplehood. We are the children of both Exodus and Exile. And when we’re asked to consider what’s “good for the Jews,” the better question might be: Which Jews?
Even more urgently: Is it good for all of us?
Division as a Political Strategy
In today’s America, fear is ambient. Every group feels on edge, guarding its place in the ever-shifting hierarchy. This isn’t accidental. Division is a time-tested political strategy. The genius of it lies in convincing struggling white Americans that their pain comes not from economic inequality, but from people who look or speak differently.
History is replete with efforts to fracture potential coalitions between the Black and white working class. From the postbellum South to the Civil Rights Movement, when these groups begin to align, systems of power push back hard. As the scholar Eddie Glaude puts it, America is shaped by a Value Gap—the deeply held belief that white lives are inherently more valuable than others.
For those of us who live with this reality daily, it is not theory. It is the unspoken math of everyday life.
Europe and the Measure of Worth
I lived for more than a decade in Germany, where I worked as a legal scholar and educator. There, I was simply “the American”—not “the Black American,” not “the Jewish American.” Just American.
In European classrooms and courtrooms, I experienced a different metric of value—one based on intellect, not skin tone. I understood why Black artists like Josephine Baker, James Baldwin, and Nina Simone found freedom there. Their worth was measured by talent, not appearance.
Returning to the U.S. felt like walking into a wall. Here, race is often the first filter. It precedes your name, your credentials, and your story.
And yes, even in Jewish spaces—spaces that pride themselves on justice and memory—Black Jews often face silent skepticism. We are met with stares, probing questions, and the unspoken challenge: What is she doing here?
The Work Within Our Own Community
This is why initiatives like the Zahav Fellowship, a project of Zioness, are so vital. Zahav brings together Black Jewish Zionists to build community, confront antisemitism and racism, and celebrate Jewish self-determination in the ancestral homeland of Israel. It provides a space not of sameness, but of solidarity—where identity doesn’t have to be divided or defended.
Because the truth is: Black Jews are not monolithic. Some of us are the children of interracial marriages. Others trace their lineage to Ethiopian or African Jewish communities. Many have joined the Jewish people through conversion. What binds us isn’t uniformity—it’s belonging.
Yet full inclusion in Jewish communal life is still not a given. Despite decades of conversation around diversity, the lived experience of many Black Jews remains marked by marginalization.
And still, we persist. We show up. We contribute. We lead.
A Broader Truth
When American Jews and African Americans travel to Israel, a powerful shift often occurs. Many are surprised to discover that Israel is not a “white” country. The American racial binary collapses in the face of Israeli diversity: Mizrahi, Ethiopian, Sephardi, and Ashkenazi Jews share space, identity, and struggle.
It’s a reminder that Jewish peoplehood has never been homogenous—and that Jewish belonging must be capacious enough to hold us all.
If It’s Good for Black Jews…
So let’s return to that foundational question: Is it good for the Jews?
If the answer does not include Black Jews, it is incomplete. But more than that—if it is good for Black Jews, it is likely good for everyone.
History affirms this. The victories of the Civil Rights Movement—born in part through Black-Jewish partnership—didn’t just uplift two communities. They transformed America. Voting rights, school desegregation, fair housing laws—these expanded freedoms lifted the entire nation.
Equity is not a limited resource. When we invest in those most marginalized, we create a society where everyone has more room to thrive. When policies close the Value Gap, when we challenge systems built on exclusion, the benefits ripple outward.
This isn’t just a moral proposition. It’s an empirical one.
So perhaps the next time we ask “Is it good for the Jews?”, we should also ask:
Does it build a world where all of us can belong?
Because what is good for Black Jews is, in truth, good for everyone.
About the Author
Denise A. Lettau is an estate planning attorney based in Tamarac,Florida. She is Co-Founder and Chair of the Alcee Hastings Black-Jewish Alliance and a 2025 Zahav Fellow with Zioness.
