Talking about domestic abuse is often the conversation we don’t want to have. Discussing violence in families and relationships feels uncomfortable, awkward and painful, not to mention frightening. This is likely why, for too long, this issue has been layered in silence and stigma, only occasionally addressed in mainstream Jewish and philanthropic spaces.  

The time to change that is now.  

Courtesy

Keshet Starr (second from left) along with fellow Makom Shalom participants on a panel at "Safe Homes, Safe Spaces," a two-day summit on domestic abuse hosted by the UJA-Federation May 19-20, 2025.

In May, the UJA-Federation of New York partnered with Shalom Task Force and convened the “Safe Homes, Safe Spaces” summit on domestic abuse in the Jewish community — the first-ever program of its kind at the New York federation. As one participant shared with Alex Roth-Kahn, managing director of the caring department, “I’ve worked in this building for 20 years, and this was my first time coming to a summit about domestic abuse,” underscoring how isolated conversations on domestic abuse have been from the wider sector of Jewish nonprofit work. 

In this moment of war in Israel, rising antisemitism in the United States and the evergreen challenges of engaging future generations in Jewish life, it’s easy to push issues like family violence off to the side to address once the crisis passes. However, in our work we have found that what happens to families and relationships in crisis impacts Jewish communal life — and future Jewish engagement — more profoundly than any of us realize.  

As one survivor who shared her story at the summit put it: “My child will remember not just what happened to us at home, but how our community responded when we needed them most.” As she shared her story, she spoke about the moments when people did show up: the therapist who believed her, the neighbor who helped her move, the friends who opened their homes. But she also talked about the times when no one was present and the missed opportunities. The silence. The whispers. The harm that could have been prevented if someone had stood up, asked a question or simply believed she — and her child — deserved more. These two realities — the ways we help and the ways we don’t — define a survivor’s experience in the Jewish community; and, as she so eloquently and passionately described, they shape how their children will feel about Jewish life moving forward. As this survivor’s experience illustrates, how Jewish communities respond to victims of abuse matters deeply, and the impact of our response can last for generations.  

We have both heard versions of this story countless times in our careers. Echoing the concepts shared at the summit, we want to share our vision for how we, as a community, can do better.  

Move conversations about abuse to the mainstream  

Too often, domestic abuse work is heavily siloed, rarely in conversation with the larger Jewish organizational or philanthropic communities. However, we will not create profound change on this issue unless we move it from the margins to the mainstream. Family violence needs to be something we talk about, teach about and address openly. Stigma and shame have always thrived in silence; when we bring these topics into the open we empower survivors and diminish the power of abusers.  

We also must recognize the unfortunate prevalence of abuse in human relationships. One in 4 women and 1 in 7 men will experience intimate partner violence in their lifetimes, meaning that across the Jewish community, thousands of us are experiencing this devastating challenge. Given its pervasiveness in society, we need to address domestic abuse openly and seriously if we want to lessen its power.  

Lift up safety as a core need 

According to Maslow’s famous hierarchy of needs, safety is a basic and core need. Without safety, other dreams and goals are only a distant dream. 

In a Jewish community so rich with opportunities and experiences, we must recognize safety as a core prerequisite to living a meaningful Jewish life and engaging in the array of opportunities Jewish communal life provides. Safety is not only physical, but also psychological — feeling seen and supported in their hardest moments. If the Jewish community is only there for us when we fit a certain life narrative, we will seek out other spaces where we can find safety.  

‘Grow the pie’

While intimate partner violence is unfortunately widespread, the prevalence and urgency of this issue is not yet reflected in our giving. While Jewish communal studies indicate high charitable giving rates overall, according to the Lilly Family School of Philanthropy at Indiana University, only 1.8% of philanthropic dollars go to issues impacting women and girls. These sobering statistics beg the question: If the Jewish community is a leader in emulating the value of tzedakah, why is the core need of safety still so underfunded?  

It’s time for a paradigm shift. We need to view domestic abuse as a central conversation that the entire Jewish communal world must engage in rather than a siloed “women’s issue.” Supporting services and change-making work for survivors of intimate partner violence is an investment in building sustainable safety and justice within our communities. In this moment where federal funding is uncertain, philanthropic support for work combating domestic abuse is particularly critical. If we can collectively “grow the pie” of resources dedicated to combating domestic abuse through advocacy, services and systemic impact, we will see real change on the ground.  

Belonging means all of us 

Recently, I was privileged to attend Jewish Federations of North America’s and SRE-Networks’ first-ever Belonging Summit, focusing on thinking collectively about improving belonging for all Jews. 

In our work with hundreds of survivors of domestic abuse, we have seen the pain of their lack of communal belonging over and over again. Survivors describe being ignored at shul, being forced to opt out of community spaces due to fees they cannot afford, and watching as their Shabbat and holiday invitations trickle and stop. These challenges cut across all denominations; no part of the Jewish community is immune from this dynamic. But every community has the power, and the responsibility, to change it. 

Ultimately, we must ask: Are we building a Jewish community that only welcomes families that look whole? Or one that understands every person — no matter their circumstances — deserves to belong?  

The decision is up to us, but without actively bringing survivors into our communities, they will still struggle with belonging.  

The time is now — really.  

There will always be pressing communal needs, emergent crises and shifting challenges. While it’s understandable that funders and leaders are drawn to urgency and the search for the next innovative or “sexy” project, it’s just as important that we continue investing in the foundational work that quietly sustains our communities. 

If we’re serious about continuity, we must support the hard but essential things: 

• Strong social service agencies 
• Accessible, culturally competent mental health care 
• Systems to effectively prevent and respond to abuse 
• Training for clergy, educators and community members 
• Efforts to remove stigma so survivors can access services  

This isn’t about choosing between Israel advocacy and domestic violence prevention, or between youth engagement and trauma-informed care. It’s about recognizing that all our continuity investments are at risk if people don’t believe Jewish communities will support them when they need it most. 

The strategic question for Jewish philanthropy isn’t whether addressing safety and trauma fits our priorities — it’s whether our current priorities can succeed without it. 

In our work, we have seen firsthand the deep pain of abuse survivors when they encounter a Jewish community ill-equipped to adequately support them. We have also seen the extraordinary impact strong community support has not only on survivors themselves but on their children and families.  

We call on funders and organizational partners to center this critical issue in your work, and to build the support network that survivors deserve.  

Because at core, we all deserve to be safe — and to belong. 

Keshet Starr is the CEO of Shalom Task Force.

Shoshannah D. Frydman is the clinical director of Shalom Task Force.