In a world where dialogue so often turns into arguments, Emmanuel Acho, former professional football player and sports analyst, has chosen a different path. Instead of stepping back from difficult topics, he steps toward them, creating his YouTube series Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man. His purpose is simple and profound: to open a space where people can speak honestly, without shame, and with genuine curiosity. Recently, Acho extended this work through a collaboration with Israeli American author and advocate, Noa Tishby. Their new book, Uncomfortable Conversations with a Jew, invites us to consider something essential: We don’t need the same history to care about one another’s stories, and we don’t need to agree on every point to treat each other with dignity.
I felt this message deeply during a recent Oakland University event, Listen, Learn, and Act: Stories That Move Us Forward, sponsored by Cis Maisel Center for Judaic Studies and Community Engagement. Cis Maisel, a respected centenarian and beloved community member and staunch advocate for education, was present. I had the privilege of speaking with her. With a warm smile she told me she reads our JSL newsletter, adding, “Some of your columns are too long.” Her gentle candor reminded me that honesty, offered kindly, is itself a bridge.
Later, in the packed conference hall, Noa Tishby, in conversation with David Kurzman, Senior Director, Community Affairs for JFMD, spoke with clarity about her fierce love for Israel and the Jewish people. She honored our collective story while creating room for others to learn, not through pressure or argument, but through calm, open presence. She offered practical advice to respond to discrimination and exclusion with steadiness, pride, and self-respect.
Earlier that afternoon, many of us viewed a public screening of the film, My Name is Sara, the true story of the mother of local philanthropist, Mickey Shapiro. The film depicts how Sara Goralnik-Shapiro, a 12-year-old Jewish girl, survived the Holocaust by hiding her identity and living among strangers who took her in.
It’s a story of courage and devastating loss, of memory carried across generations, and of our shared human need for safety and belonging. Sitting in the theater, I felt the weight of history. Listening to Tishby, I felt the responsibility to remember Sara’s story.
Tishby and Acho’s book doesn’t attempt to equate the Black experience and the Jewish experience, because they aren’t the same. But it reveals the threads that connect them: a record of pain, a hope for security, dignity, and peace. Their message is clear: Healing begins when we listen. We learn by asking questions. We honor each other when we allow one another to bring our full stories to the table. Listening doesn’t erase differences; it respects and illuminates them. It says, “Your experience matters. Mine does, too. Let’s stay in the room.”
JSL Survivors and those in the greater Detroit community regularly discuss the past with Dr. Charles Silow, Director of the JSL Program for Holocaust Survivors & Families. They share personal histories and memories of families, homes, and communities that vanished. They recall how antisemitism began quietly, while neighbors looked away and the world hesitated to respond. Survivors speak of the lifelong grief of having their suffering minimized, of being told their trauma was exaggerated. For decades, many couldn’t or wouldn’t speak about what happened. With time and support, they found their voices and reclaimed their heritage and identity in the world. As Dr. Silow says, “Telling their stories is their lasting gift.”
This is the work of bridge-building and understanding. Not loud speeches, no debates, no winning or losing, but choosing to treat one another with humanity. In these times, that’s no small thing. It’s our hope for a better future. We may not repair the whole world at once, but we can mend the space between us, one conversation at a time.
May this day bring rest to our hearts, peace to our spirits, and gentleness to the world we are still trying to heal.
Shabbat Shalom.