In today’s social and political climate, identity has become currency. And for good reason: Lived experiences matter. Who we are shapes how we see the world, how the world sees us and how power operates within our lives. As a Jewish, Israeli, Zionist, LGBTQ activist and advocate in media, politics and entertainment, I know this intimately. I also know when identity is being weaponized—not to liberate or empower but to shield extremism and silence truth.
We live in a time when the language of inclusion and justice is being co-opted by some of the very ideologies that oppose the values these terms are supposed to represent. Nowhere is this clearer than in the growing alliance between radical Islamists and certain segments of the far-left progressive movement. This is not a theoretical concern; it is a real-world threat to liberal democracy, LGBTQ rights, women’s rights and Jewish safety.
Time and again, I have witnessed how individuals and organizations with openly theocratic, anti-democratic agendas cloak themselves in progressive rhetoric. They use the language of human rights to push ideologies that are fundamentally incompatible with pluralism, tolerance and equality. They shout “justice” while supporting regimes and movements that oppress women, execute LGBTQ individuals and seek the destruction of Israel, often while sitting comfortably within coalitions that pride themselves on inclusion.
It is dizzying. And it is dangerous.
How did we get here? Identity politics, in its best form, seeks to give voice to the marginalized. But it has also created a perverse incentive: Claim a grievance, and you gain moral authority; position yourself as oppressed, and you become untouchable. This allows radical actors to evade scrutiny. When Islamist groups or sympathizers present themselves as simply misunderstood minorities, criticism is branded as Islamophobia, even when the critiques are aimed at violent, theocratic ideologies, not people of faith.
I say this with full acknowledgment of the real discrimination faced by Muslim communities. But defending individual rights and calling out radical ideology are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are necessary companions in any honest fight for justice.
In my work, I have seen how this distortion plays out across media and cultural institutions. Entertainment platforms bend over backward to appear inclusive, so much so that they sometimes feature voices that openly call for violence against Jews or the erasure of the State of Israel, all under the guise of “Palestinian solidarity” or misguided claims for “decolonization.” What is left out of those soundbites is the glorification of terror, the denial of Jewish indigeneity, and the suppression of any Palestinian or Arab voice that calls for coexistence.
Progressive circles that once stood for human dignity now walk a precarious line, too often allying themselves with groups that would deny me and people like me the right to exist. I have been in rooms where LGBTQ rights are championed, while simultaneously hearing praise for political movements that would imprison or execute someone like me (and most people in those rooms) in their homelands. The hypocrisy is astounding; the silence from supposed allies is deafening.
This is not just about me. It is about all of us. When ideologies that oppose freedom of expression, gender equality and religious pluralism are allowed to masquerade as part of the progressive cause, we all lose. We erode the very values we claim to defend.
I am not a victim. I am a fighter. A survivor. I do not shy away from the complexity of identity. But I refuse to let my identities—or anyone else’s—be used to justify hatred or extremism. I believe in coalitions rooted in shared values, not shared grievances. I believe in solidarity that is honest, not performative. And I believe in speaking out, even when it is uncomfortable.
Now is not the time for silence. It is time to expose the dangerous merger of radical theocracy and performative progressivism. It’s time to reclaim the language of justice from those who would twist it to pardon oppression. And it is time for those of us who live at the intersection of multiple identities to lead the way—not as symbols, but as voices of clarity, courage and conscience.