As a journalist I’ve interviewed hundreds of Jews in various fields. Some—not many—were born into privilege. Most weren’t. In fact, most Jews I've spoken to worked tirelessly from the bottom. They worked shitty jobs. They incurred debt. They endured failure and rejection.‬

Many Jews fled from Iran and other countries to start over. They sacrificed everything, including their sanity, to make it in industries that had great barriers to entry. They became lawyers, entrepreneurs, physicians, professors, writers, and yes—many of them work in the media and Hollywood. 

The notion that Jews are all privileged, that they have “all the power” and “all the money” is ridiculous, untrue, and dangerous.

It is an anti-Semitic myth that Jews run Hollywood, or the Federal Reserve, or the banking industry, or any industry.

The truth is, many Jews—who you probably don’t hear about—are still working their way up, hoping to “make it” one day, the way we all want to in America, and all over the world. Remember, it was the American Dream, not the Jewish Dream, they sold us on here in the U.S.

I have never met a single Jew whose motivation to succeed was fueled by the desire to have “all the money” or “all the power.” The motivation was always to pursue excellence, work hard, find meaning, make enough to start a family, enjoy life, and give back.

Sounds relatable, right? That’s because it is. Across the board, among other religions and races and ethnicities you will see that people have very similar values, hopes for success, desire for love, plans to procreate, and timelines for their dreams. We all pray for health and happiness and success.

And in all of our communities—I don’t care who you are or where you come from—there have been and will be some bad seeds that are not representative of the best of us. We need to stop assuming those seeds represent the collective.

Our communities might be insular, but we all know Christians and Muslims and Jews and Caucasians and Blacks and Asians whose core values are admirable. We go to school together, we work together, and once we get to know each other, we find common ground. We are more similar than we are different.

So when you see someone trying to correct or educate those who make ignorant statements about Jews, or Blacks, or Muslims, or Mexicans, or gays, or women, or anyone, don’t mock them for their passion. Don’t silence them. Don’t call them sensitive.

You don’t like “the media” and “the people in power” right? You don’t like “the left” or “the right”? You don’t have to. Stop using politics as an excuse to shut people down. Politics has always been divisive. Learn to listen to human beings and their stories without any bias.

Social media and the internet can be used to divide us, but if you take politics out of the equation, these platforms amplify the voices of the oppressed, the poor, the people who suffer, the people who need help. These platforms are changing lives.

Ordinary people are educating celebrities and people in power.

Ordinary people are signing petitions to dismantle oppressive systems in government.

Ordinary people start GoFundMe accounts and raise thousands, sometimes millions, for families in need.

Social media can literally save lives.

Your words can save lives. You can save lives, even if you think your platform isn’t big enough. People care, and they listen, and they are moved by ordinary people. Social media is what got Nick Cannon and DeSean Jackson to apologize and start a new conversation about anti-Semitism and the relationship between Blacks and Jews. Social media started #metoo, and BLM, and so many other movements.

In the past few months, Black people have told me how emotional they’ve gotten seeing people from different backgrounds standing up for them in solidarity. Gay people have told me LGBTQ allies have made them want to keep living. Poor people have told me that seeing others post about income inequality and the wage gap made them feel less alone, and worthy of more. Young girls have told me that seeing other women come forward about being sexually assaulted made them feel powerful, like their stories and pain are valid. That they plan on teaching their daughters to stand up to men who disrespect them, and on teaching their sons to respect and value women.

This is what your teachers—who were and are egregiously underpaid—meant when they told you in school that you should always stand up for something you believe in, and against injustice. This is what they meant when they told you that your voice matters. That you should use it.

And if it bothers you that your peers use social media to stand up for people who deserve equality and justice and respect— if it bothers you that they speak up against anti-Semitism and racism and other prejudices, then maybe you should log off, because it’s going to get louder.