The Lieutenant Governor Sits on College Boards and Should Be a Voice for Jewish Students

There are some convictions in public life that come from policy papers. Others come from experience.

My friendship with Israel and the Jewish people is deeply personal.

I have traveled to Israel twice. I have walked its streets, encountered its history, and seen firsthand a nation built by a people determined not merely to survive, but to live freely.

I made a personal pilgrimage to Auschwitz. I can still see the suitcases and shoes.

Standing on that ground, confronting what human beings did to other human beings, I came away with a conviction that has remained with me ever since:

Never Forget starts at home.

For me, this obligation also has roots much closer to home—because I had the privilege and honor of representing East Los Angeles in the California Legislature. Our streets tell an extraordinary Jewish-American story.

Long before East Los Angeles and Boyle Heights became synonymous with Mexican-American life, Boyle Heights was one of the great centers of Jewish life in Los Angeles. 

During the 1920s and 1930s, approximately 40 percent of Boyle Heights residents were Jewish. Brooklyn Avenue—today César E. Chávez Avenue—was lined with Jewish businesses, organizations, and gathering places. 

Eastside residents were working-class Jews of Eastern European origin. Discriminatory racial-restrictive housing covenants shaped where Jewish families and other minorities could live, so east of the LA River became home for many.  After the Supreme Court struck down judicial enforcement of such covenants in 1948, Jewish families increasingly moved to other parts.

The neighborhood changed, but the history remained. I have always been struck by how naturally Jewish and Latino histories intersect there. Our communities know migration. We know discrimination and segregation. We know what it means to hustle, build businesses, raise families, and create opportunities for the next generation. 

We may not share the same religion, but we each pray to our God and share one of humanity’s greatest stories of liberation: Exodus. It is the story of a people who refused bondage — who confronted tyranny, wandered toward a promised land, and would not surrender faith along the way.

As a Catholic, I developed a deep love for that quest for freedom. I have long looked to the Old Testament for lessons in what constitutes a  principled leader; from David to Solomon and Queen Esther, it motivated me to understand that times such as these require us to stand up, speak up, and lead.

I was aghast as I watched on television the explosion of antisemitism at UCLA during the encampment protests, particularly because I had completed two postdoctoral fellowships at UCLA on my career pathway, I often crossed that quad but never once had to hide in fear of my life.

Whatever one’s views about Israel, Gaza or American foreign policy, certain principles should be beyond debate: No student should have to conceal a Star of David. No student should be intimidated because of a Jewish surname or have to choose between personal safety and openly practicing one’s faith.

Universities must remain places where difficult political ideas can be argued. Protecting free expression and protecting students from discrimination are not mutually exclusive obligations. California must do both.

The lieutenant governor is a voting member of the boards that govern UC, Cal State, and the community colleges. As lieutenant governor, I will ensure that universities protect equal access, enforce lawful policies consistently, respond seriously to antisemitic discrimination, and enforce the antisemitism compacts negotiated with UCLA and other universities and the federal government.

October 7 cannot be only a date on the calendar. What the world saw that day is seared in memory. This year it falls as California begins mailing ballots, and early voting starts. 

This month, I challenge us to go to our churches and our synagogues and remember–but act: mark out ballots, ballot harvest, and turn in our ballots en masse. This October the “surprise” is simply that we commit ourselves to acting for a time such as this.

And it starts with the courage to elect leaders who, clearly and without equivocation, understand that antisemitism has no place in California.