“I hate to say it, because I try to stay very calm and be very level-headed, but I’m filled with so much anger.”
For Beth Balsam of the Upper West Side, that anger comes from heartbreak and betrayal. Raised in a deeply Democratic Jewish family, she says being a Democrat was never just political—it was central to her identity, alongside being Jewish. But after October 7, she felt the party she had supported for decades no longer stood with people like her. Watching Democrats tolerate or excuse antisemitism, she says, sent a painful message: “We don’t need you. We don’t care about you. And that breaks my heart.”
While she also rejects extremism on the right, the disappointment cuts deeper because it comes from those she once trusted most.
Beth’s story is one of political homelessness. Her values have not changed—she still deeply care[s] about “literally every Democratic issue”—but support for Israel’s existence and the treatment of Jews are a non-negotiable deal breaker. She remains registered as a Democrat only to vote in primaries, but says she no longer feels like one “at heart.” What once felt like home now feels unrecognizable.
Beth Balsam stands in her living room in Manhattan. While she once considered the Democrats “my people,” she now finds herself politically homeless. Photographed by Tali Goldsheft
After October 7, she says, “My blinders came off,” describing how years of warning signs suddenly became impossible to ignore. The issue is deeply personal: her sister lives in Israel, where several nephews were called into military service after Hamas attacked the country. One nephew, who had been serving in the Gaza envelope, was only spared from being massacred or taken hostage on October 7 because he was home for the holiday. “If my nephews can fight a literal war, I can fight on social media,” she says.
She once considered the Democrats “my people.” She expected the coalition that championed racial justice, women’s rights, and LGBTQ equality to stand with Jews as well. “That they haven’t is devastating,” she says. “I feel betrayed. 1,000%.”
That rupture now shapes her daily life. Beth says she has “zero fucks left to give” if friendships shrink because of her views, but there is loneliness beneath the defiance. Even local politics reinforced her disillusionment, particularly seeing support in her own neighborhood for candidates she believes dismiss Jewish security concerns. She and her husband are now seriously considering moving to Florida—something she once dismissed outright.
Ultimately, Beth Balsam’s story is not about changing sides. It’s about feeling cast out by a political home she once loved. She still knows what she believes. What she no longer knows is where she belongs.