By Ariella Rada, JNS
As a woman of color, Israel became a home to me just as it did for others of many backgrounds. I now feel it is my destiny to help tell its story.
My earliest memories are of my mother telling me stories about our ancestors in Ethiopia—from the persecution they faced for being Jewish to their hopes that their descendants would one day live in the Jewish homeland.
Each year, a story returned about Sigd, the unique holiday for Ethiopian Jews, also known as Beta Israel, centered on our yearning to return to Jerusalem.
The Ethiopian Jewish community commemorated the day with prayers on a mountaintop, symbolizing the biblical story of Moses receiving the Torah on Mount Sinai. It reaffirmed my community’s connection to the broader Jewish world after nearly two millennia of exile.
But with the majority of Ethiopian Jews now living in Israel, Sigd has evolved into a day of thanksgiving. It has been an official holiday recognized by the State of Israel since 2008.
This year, it falls on Nov. 19-20.
Today, as I celebrate, I am grateful to be the spokeswoman for the Consulate General of Israel in New York, representing the country that brought my community to the Jewish homeland decades ago.
Yet as I’ve immersed myself in American media, I’ve noticed how coverage often simplifies my country to headlines about war or political turmoil. Many outside of Israel are unaware of communities like mine.
I was 3 years old when my family left Ethiopia. It was not always a safe place for Jews. Ethiopia and Israel had no diplomatic relations, and were forbidden from leaving the country.
The only option was to walk to Sudan. My mother carried me on her back, and my sisters, who were 5 and 8, trudged beside us. There, we waited in a refugee camp until we were airlifted to Israel in a small covert rescue operation months before the more well-known “Operation Moses.”
While my family had a happy ending, many others did not. Some lost relatives to disease, starvation or attacks. Others buried loved ones in the desert and had no choice but to keep walking. An estimated 4,000 Ethiopian Jews died on the journey to Israel.
Even though my community fled a place often intolerant of Jews, upon arrival in Israel, we still faced hardship, living in a country where we are constantly threatened by our neighbors. Oct. 7, 2023, was a painful reminder of this antisemitism. Almost everyone in Israel lost someone, including me.
Still, Ethiopian Jews have thrived. We are now part of the fabric of Israeli life, succeeding in many industries.
And this reality extends beyond my community. Israel is home to Jews from Syria, Iran, Iraq, Yemen, Morocco and Europe, as well as Muslims, Bedouins, Christians, Druze and Baháʼís. More than 20% of Israel’s population is Arab. It is the only country in the Middle East where people of all faiths can live and worship freely, be openly part of the LGBTQ community, and vote in a democratic election.
Unfortunately, this truth gets lost overseas.
Earlier in my diplomatic career, when I was the consul for academic and community affairs in Chicago, many were surprised to see a Jewish person of color.
“Where’s the Israeli official?” a college student asked me from the side of the stage. “Not sure,” I fibbed. His jaw dropped when I walked up to the podium.
“Go back to Europe,” brainwashed people messaged me when I posted a video online reacting to the Oct. 7 massacre. Clearly, they did not look at my profile photo.
The majority of American Jews are of European descent. Many fled pogroms in Tsarist Russia, Nazi Germany in the 1930s and 1940s, or the Soviet Union during the Cold War. I’m grateful that the United States offered refuge to so many Jews escaping persecution. Yet this history also created a common misconception in the West that Jewish identity is exclusively European.
The claim that Israel is an “apartheid state” or “a nation of white supremacy” is blatantly false. Israel is a melting pot with people from all backgrounds and cultures living side by side. If this diversity comes as a surprise, it should prompt reflection on what other false narratives exist about my country.
As a woman of color, Israel became a home to me just as it did for others of many backgrounds. I now feel it is my destiny to tell my country’s story and represent the Jewish people, especially as antisemitism rises worldwide.
I am driven by the stories my mother told me as a child. I often think of my grandfather, who longed to reach Israel but died before his dream became reality.
One day, I hope to visit Ethiopia, go to his grave, and say: “Grandpa, we did it!”
I want him to know that I fulfilled his dream of calling Jerusalem home and representing the country he loved so deeply.
