Earlier this week, something extraordinary happened: The Israeli-American Council (IAC) was officially accepted into the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations.

For many, this may sound like just another piece of communal news. But for me, it represents the closing of a deeply personal circle.

When I first arrived in New York as a young aspiring attorney, I wanted to make a difference. I began volunteering with an organization called Dor Chadash, whose mission was simple but groundbreaking: to bridge the gap between Israeli and American Jews in New York. We believed in the power of connection — but not everyone believed in us. At one meeting, a prominent Jewish leader turned to us and said bluntly, “You Israelis should live in Israel.”

I remember feeling angry; but more than that, I felt hurt. My grandparents were forced out of Iraq. My other grandparents survived the Holocaust. My parents served in the IDF. I served in the IDF. And here I was, being told that because his family had come to America generations ago, this individual’s place in America was secure while mine was conditional. That my place as a Jew was only on one side of the ocean.

Years later, I found myself working as the Israel Connection program manager at the Kaplen JCC on the Palisades, in Tenafly, N.J. My office was a converted storage closet; I liked the symbolism. I’ll never forget when the CEO shared with me that there had been a time when he was advised not to offer programs for Israelis. 

“We shouldn’t make it too comfortable for them to live here,” he was told. 

Thankfully, he didn’t listen.

A few years later, I left the JCC as director of the Israeli Center, where I led a department with an entire floor dedicated to our work. We had come a long way from that storage closet.

And somewhere between those experiences, the IAC was born. It became and remains the only national organization focused on the Israeli-American community. It gave us a name. It gave us pride. It transformed “Israeli American” from a hyphenated label into an identity we could own, celebrate and — most importantly — pass on to our children.

Today, I am fortunate to serve as the IAC’s chief programming officer. This week, I stood in awe as our organization was welcomed into the Conference of Presidents, an institution representing the established leadership of American Jewry. The very community where we were once seen as outsiders now embraces us as equal partners. We are not just welcome — we are needed. We have a voice, and we have earned our seat at the table where decisions and initiatives that shape Jewish life are made.

Most Israelis living in America may not know what the Conference of Presidents is, but I can tell you this: their work impacts us all. Whether it’s advocating for legislation that supports Israel, uniting the Jewish world in moments of crisis like the historic rally in Washington after Oct. 7, or representing our people’s interests at the highest levels, this organization has shaped Jewish life in America for generations.

Now, for the first time, Israeli Americans are part of that conversation.

My story has come full circle — but our story is still being written.

We have a voice in the American Jewish conversation. We have influence. And we have responsibility. It’s time for Israeli Americans to show up, speak out and take our place as leaders in shaping the future we want — for our children here in America, and for the future of Israel.

Take pride in who we are. Be part of the story.

Aya Shechter is the chief programming officer of the Israeli-American Council and a Los Angeles resident.