As we mark Juneteenth, I am thinking about the difference between being declared free and being fully recognized.
Juneteenth marks the day in 1865 when enslaved African Americans in Texas were told they were free. Its advent as a federal holiday in 2021 reminds us that freedom has always required more than declarations. It requires people and communities willing to ask who is still standing outside the promise.
That is one reason “belonging” work matters, in communities including ours in the Jewish world. When people see themselves reflected in our communities — in classrooms, sanctuaries, camps, justice work, stories, and decision-making — they are more likely to believe Jewish life has room for their gifts. They are more likely to step forward. They are more likely to lead.
Too often, American Jewish institutions overlook key members of our community here because they do not match our inherited picture of leadership: Jews of Color, multiracial and multiethnic Jews, LGBTQ+ Jews, disabled Jews, Jews by choice, interfaith families, younger and older adults, and those whose Jewish journeys did not begin in the institutions many of us take for granted.
In 2017, I was invited to be a member of one of the first Jews of Color leadership cohorts called JewV’Nation, a fellowship created by the Union for Reform Judaism. The cohort brought 17 Jews of Color together from around the country to learn and grow together.
I had never been in the company of so many Jews of Color and immediately felt a true sense of belonging. I saw people who looked like me, who had similar experiences, and could share stories about their identities and experiences and not feel like they would be constantly questioned or asked to leave any part of themselves at the door.
Today, many members of the 2017 cohort are prominent leaders in the Jewish community, leading non-profit organizations, serving as clergy, and showing up in lay leadership roles. A small amount of investment in members of our community who have felt most marginalized and othered can make huge contributions to the vibrancy of our community today and in the future.
That is why belonging is both a spiritual responsibility and a leadership question. Who is seen? Who is heard? Who is trusted? Who is asked to lead?
As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, that question remains painfully alive. It also lands in a moment when diversity, equity, and inclusion work is being challenged, defunded, and recast as suspect.
Some of that language is framed around fairness and neutrality. But in a nation shaped by racial hierarchy, “colorblindness” has too often allowed institutions to ignore inequity rather than repair it.
Jewish communities cannot afford that kind of retreat. Our tradition asks us to build communities where people are present, known, trusted and needed.
Over the past decade, many Jewish communities have learned that welcoming people through the door is only the beginning. The harder work comes after that: examining whose voices shape the culture, whose needs are anticipated, whose leadership is trusted, and who is encouraged to stay and build. Belonging work has deepened because the questions have deepened. It is no longer only about whether people can enter Jewish spaces. It is about whether they can help shape them.
That history matters because every Jewish community is shaped by the people it prepares to lead. If our communities only cultivate the leaders who already know how to find their way in, our future will be too narrow. If we build communities where more people feel invited in, the possibilities expand without limit.
I have seen this in Jewish summer camps, where older campers paired to mentor younger campers learn that part of belonging is making belonging possible for someone else. I have seen it in justice work, when teens organize with classmates, congregational leaders join neighbors across lines of difference, and clergy and lay leaders speak from Jewish values in the public square. In each setting, people practice a form of leadership rooted in relationship. They learn that Jewish responsibility is not only something we study; it is something we live with and for other people.
And I have seen it in the stories of Jews who once wondered whether they had a place in Jewish communal life at all — Jews like me.
To this day, I still sometimes question my own place in the Jewish community. On the one hand, I have been embraced as someone who has helped change the way we think about diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging in Jewish life. On the other hand, when the work gets difficult, I have encountered roadblocks, second-guessing and withdrawal from people who once saw themselves as allies. I have learned that the work of belonging can be both deeply affirming and deeply painful.
I am not dissuaded by these experiences. I am more determined to keep moving forward, because I recognize the trauma that often sits beneath resistance. Most people are doing the best they can with what they know. My job, and my calling, is to meet people where they are and help bring them along. I often return to Maya Angelou’s words: “You belong no place, every place, no place at all. The price is high, but the reward is great.” The hope of creating true conditions of belonging keeps me motivated, even when the work is hard.
That is the leadership pipeline Jewish communities need now: wider, deeper and more reflective of the people we hope will shape our future.
This work is not easy. It takes time, real effort, real commitment, and real resources. It also takes humility. It asks us to listen when people tell us they have been hurt or overlooked. It asks us to look at our policies, our language, our leadership pipelines, our budgets, our classrooms, our sanctuaries and our camps. Good intentions matter, and so do practice, policy and investment.
The call now is not only for Jewish institutions to say they value belonging. It is for us to ask whether our communities are actually preparing more people to lead.
That means looking honestly at who is already in the room, who is missing, and whose leadership we fail to recognize because it does not look, sound, move, speak, learn, pray, organize or lead the way we expected. It means asking whose stories are reflected in our teaching, whose voices shape decisions, whose leadership styles are recognized, and whose gifts are still being missed. It means treating belonging as part of the basic structure of Jewish life: in budgets, training, hiring, governance, classrooms, camp cabins, sanctuaries and public action.
When President Joe Biden declared Juneteenth an official holiday on June 17, 2021, it gave me a sense of pride and purpose that reinvigorated my hope that real progress was possible. As a Black, Jewish woman who grew up in the South, I felt for the first time a true sense of belonging to a country that brought my ancestors here against their will. It inspired me as Jewish leader to work towards creating the conditions for belonging for everyone in the Jewish community; taking a bold and intentional step that moves beyond just feeling included.
So I am issuing a call to action to Jewish leaders. What are you willing to give up or share to create true, equitable conditions for belonging?
Juneteenth reminds us that progress comes not from a single moment but from ongoing acts of recognition and respect. The future of Jewish life depends on whether we are willing to widen the circle of leadership and invest in people whose gifts have too often been overlooked. If we do, we will create communities that are more vibrant, more resilient and more reflective of who we already are.
The soul of the community is at stake when belonging work disappears. But when it is sustained, people begin to see themselves as part of the story — and then they help write what comes next.
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