To the Editors of New York Magazine:

We write as organizations representing the indigenous Jewish communities of the Middle East and North Africa, Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews, whose presence in Iraq, Iran, Egypt, Yemen, Syria, Lebanon, Libya, Tunisia, Turkey, Morocco, and across the region predates the Arab conquests by more than a millennium. We write in response to your August 10 “Habibi City” feature on New York’s SWANA cultural scene, and we write not only for ourselves but alongside the many other indigenous and minority peoples of the region including Coptic Christians, Assyrians and Chaldeans, Armenians, Kurds, Yazidis, Druze, Amazigh, Baha’is, Zoroastrians, whose absence from your pages we will return to below. Your editors have said they welcome good-faith criticism of the feature. This is ours.

SWANA is geography. Your feature defines it as ideology.

SWANA is offered to readers as a progressive designation: Southwest Asia and North Africa, a corrective to the colonial coinage “Middle East.” But your feature does not use it that way. In its own words, to be “in SWANA community” means embracing a “set of shared beliefs,” among them the assertion that Israel’s conduct in Gaza constitutes genocide. SWANA, readers are told, is a “decolonial framework” and “a way of moving through the world.” Zionism is listed alongside xenophobia and Islamophobia as one of the forces SWANA New Yorkers must “face.” A mayor born in Uganda to Indian parents is welcomed as “SWANA adjacent” on the strength of his politics and religion, while the question of whether Israelis can claim connection to their own region becomes “complicated,” and grows “more so depending on a person’s ethnic background.” Where Israelis do appear, readers are reassured: “Of course, they’re not Zionists.”

Follow the logic of your own reporting and the definition becomes unmistakable. Geography is not the membership criterion; politics, ideology, and religion are. A South Asian Muslim belongs by faith and conviction. A Mizrahi Jew whose grandparents were born in the region, expelled from their country of origin, and who carries the region in her language, liturgy, and kitchen belongs only upon disavowal of the movement through which her family survived. In your telling, anti-Zionism is the central organizing principle of the contemporary “SWANA community” and the price of admission to it effectively marginalizing the diverse indigenous peoples of the Middle East who have lived in the region for thousands of years but who do not identify with the anti-Zionist hate movement. In doing so, the feature replicates in New York the very pattern of ideological erasure and cultural cleansing that has fueled the ongoing oppression of, and extreme violence against, ethnic and religious minorities in the region itself.

The erasure of the region’s non-Muslim peoples

Your feature states that SWANA, “unlike Muslim,” is “not defined by religion.” Yet its communal calendar runs on Eid banquets, iftars, and Ramadan; its flagship magazine describes itself as a home for “the Muslim left”; its milestones are measured in “Muslim clout,” Muslim creatives, and Muslim restaurants; and its geography stretches to include Indian and Pakistani New Yorkers on the basis of shared Muslim identity. We write this not to begrudge Muslim New Yorkers but to highlight coverage that folds Iranians, Arabs, and South Asians into one community on an implicitly Muslim frame quietly equating the region with its majority faith. Iranian equals Arab equals SWANA equals Muslim. That equation erases everyone the region’s own history has already tried to erase.

The Middle East and North Africa has never been, religiously, ethnically, or ideologically uniform. The peoples listed at the top of this letter are not guests in the region; they are its oldest inhabitants. Most have endured conquest, dhimmitude, massacre, or expulsion at the hands of the region’s dominant powers, experiences entirely missing from a feature that presents that dominant culture, transplanted to New York, as the marginalized party. Here is the first moral inversion: a “decolonial framework” that treats the heirs of one of history’s great imperial expansions as the colonized, and the region’s actual indigenous minorities as invisible, or, in our case, as presumptive colonizers of our own homeland.

What Zionism actually is to us

Our communities lived continuously in the Middle East and North Africa for over 2,500 years, before the emergence of Islam. In the twentieth century, close to one million Jews were driven from the Arab and Muslim world, frequently under laws that criminalized Zionism itself. In countries throughout the Arab world Zionism was made a capital offense, over 3,000 Jews were imprisoned, and Jews were stripped of citizenship and property as “Zionists”; across the region, families were dispossessed, imprisoned, or forced to flee under duress. In the political Zionism of the 20th century, we asserted our own indigeneity after living for millennia as second-class and, finally, exiled citizens of the lands of our birth. The movement your feature files alongside xenophobia and Islamophobia is the reason hundreds of thousands of those refugees had somewhere to go, and the reason their descendants, today the majority of Israel’s Jewish population, exist as communities at all. To renounce Zionism as the condition of belonging to a SWANA community is to demand that Jews disavow our own survival. Being Jewish or Zionist is not in opposition to being from a geographic region. For most of us, the two are how we are still here.

The cuisine your feature celebrates makes the point vividly. Food is one of the truest records a people keeps of where it has been. The dishes in your pages were also carried out of Baghdad, Sana’a, Cairo, and Casablanca by refugees who left with little else and they survive as living traditions rather than museum pieces because those refugees had a country to carry them to. Your food coverage goes further still: it prints, without comment, a featured restaurant’s menu map on which Israel does not appear at all, retitled “Discover Palestine,” and it refers in the magazine’s own editorial voice to “the land mass currently called Israel.” It reports, with evident satisfaction from one interviewee, that Israeli-owned restaurants are now retreating behind the euphemism “Mediterranean” some, by your own account, after vandalism. A feature devoted to the pride of naming oneself openly treats the return of Jews to concealment as a development to be savored. That is the second moral inversion.

The label “Arab Jew”

Your feature applies the label “Arab Jew” without qualification. Most Mizrahi Jews reject it and in current usage it functions largely to sever Jewish identity from Israel. The Tunisian-born sociologist and philosopher Albert Memmi answered the label half a century ago, responding to Muammar Gaddafi’s offer to welcome Jews back as “Arabs like us” after they had been brutally ethnically cleansed. He acknowledged the nostalgia the phrase evokes, then wrote: “We would have liked to be Arab Jews. If we abandon the idea, it is because over the centuries the Moslem Arabs systematically prevented its realization by their contempt and cruelty.” The identity was refused to us when we lived in Arab lands. It is now conferred on us in New York, without our consent, because it is politically convenient: an “Arab Jew” is a Jew whose story can be told without Israel. The great majority of Mizrahi and Sephardic Jews were never asked whether we accept the label. Instead, your writers located the small minority who embrace it, presented them as representative, and left the rest of us to discover that our identity had been defined by others on our behalf. That is not inclusion. It is a curated exception, deployed to suggest the community has been consulted when it has not – erasure presenting itself as representation.

October 7 as a date without victims

In your feature, October 7th appears repeatedly and always as a calendar marker for what came after it, never as an event with victims of its own. It was carried out by Hamas, an organization whose founding charter is openly genocidal, calling for the destruction of Israel and invoking Islamic scripture commanding the killing of Jews, and whose record of violence runs in every direction: against Israelis in massacre and hostage-taking, and against Palestinians themselves, from the executions of political rivals in its 2007 seizure of Gaza to its ongoing torture and killing of dissidents. On October 7th, 2023 some 1,200 Israelis were murdered and 251 taken hostage, communities were burned, and sexual violence was documented – none of it acknowledged, even in passing, in thousands of words that date an entire cultural renaissance to that morning. Your readers might never learn that among the towns invaded that day including Ofakim, Sderot, Netivot are some of the most heavily Mizrahi communities in Israel: descendants of the very refugees from Morocco, Iraq, and Yemen whose food and music fill your pages. The people of the region were both among the murdered and among the murdered’s mourners, and your feature could not spare them a single sentence. A “SWANA community” whose “shared beliefs” in anti-Zionism require total silence about Jewish suffering and about the genocidal intent and movement that inflicted the tragedy of October 7th is not practicing solidarity with Palestinians. It is practicing antisemitism. That is the third moral inversion.

What we ask

We are not asking to be tolerated as exceptions to an ideological rule. We are asking to be recognized as what we are: peoples of the region. We ask that New York Magazine acknowledge that its framing excludes the Jews of the Middle East and North Africa except on ideological terms, and renders the region’s other non-Muslim peoples nearly invisible; that future coverage of SWANA communities include Mizrahi and Sephardic voices as we actually are, which for the great majority of us means Zionist, alongside the other erased non-Muslim indigenous voices of the region; and that your editors meet with representatives of the undersigned organizations to discuss how that happens.