Babi Yar Commemoration Remarks on September 25, 2024

Each year, this gathering holds deep meaning for me and for our community. It is more than a commemoration—it is a call to conscience. Today, we come together in community, bound by a shared purpose: to honor the thousands of victims at Babi Yar,[1] to confront antisemitism, and to denounce hatred in all its forms without hesitation or equivocation.

I want to thank Larry Mizel, Melanie Pearlman, and the entire Mizel team for their tireless commitment to fostering a safer and more just Colorado. By creating this space year after year, you prompt us that remembering the atrocity of Babi Yar is not enough. We must respond to the growing rise of antisemitism—with moral clarity, with unity, and with courage.

I. Confronting Antisemitism with Moral Clarity

Under the shadow of rising antisemitism and the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust,[2] my talk last year was about the courage to bear witness.[3] I talked about how it is easier to turn our heads away from the crimes, from the atrocities, and from the dehumanization of others. And the importance of resisting that temptation and bearing witness to the harm that victims have suffered—on October 7th in Israel and here in Colorado on this past June 1st.

Bearing witness is not the end of our journey; it’s merely a beginning. Once we see clearly what hatred looks like in its rawest form, our next step is to respond with moral clarity. That means refusing to rationalize or minimize hate, it means naming it without hesitation, and it means standing firm, even in the face of fear.

From Babi Yar to Boulder, the rise of antisemitism is a reminder of history’s darkest lessons, and a clarion call to respond with unwavering and unequivocal condemnation of hatred in all forms.

In the aftermath of October 7th, communities across Colorado, across America, and across the world denounced the attack for what it was: an atrocity, an act of terror, a crime against humanity. We stood with the victims. We marched for the hostages. We prayed for peace, while refusing to look away from the evil we had seen. And in doing so, we reminded the world that when confronted with barbarity, the answer is moral clarity.

II. A Harrowing Attack in Boulder

On June 1^st, 2025, an assailant attacked Coloradans, including a Holocaust survivor, at Boulder’s Pearl Street Mall. This attack took place during a peaceful “Run for Their Lives” walk—a weekly march advocating for hostages held in Gaza—where the assailant disguised himself as a gardener and launched firebombs into a crowd.[4]

Fifteen people were injured in the attack. Karen Diamond, a loving and compassionate woman, was killed. And the attack was not random. The attacker confessed he had chosen his victims because he believed they were Zionists. He admitted he had been planning the attack for a year. It was premeditated. It was calculated. It was fueled by hate.

In response, I called it what it was: a hate-driven terrorist attack. I urged that both federal and state prosecutors would take this case with the seriousness it deserves.[5] I condemned it as a symptom of increasingly normalized political violence. We committed that Colorado would not stand idly by, and the following week, I marched with survivors, families, and thousands of Coloradans—not in fear, but in defiance. We stood together to say: hate will find no home here.

This attack was especially painful because this was an antisemitic attack on fellow Jews who were peacefully calling out the injustice of the continued captivity and inhumane treatment of hostages taken on October 7, 2023. This pain comes from the shattering of safety in our own state and country, highlighting that the threat of antisemitism is not in the past.

The response to the Boulder attack involved many leaders calling out the attack for what it was—hate against Jews turning into deadly violence. But sadly, politics got in the way, with rival Congressional resolutions failing to present a united front. And the effort to politicize this tragedy undermined the important message our community deserves—we feel your loss and your loss is our nation’s loss, too.

III. The Courage To Be Jewish In Public Life

For Jews, we are hardwired to care about the suffering of others. At the Passover Seder, year after year, we are reminded: never forget the stranger, for we were strangers in a strange land. Even as we tell the story of our own liberation, we pause to take drops of wine from our cup—to dim our joy—because Egyptians suffered and died in that story too.

At my family’s Seder, we carry that teaching forward. As we prayed for peace, we also acknowledged the pain and loss of Palestinian lives in this war. That willingness to let our own cup be less full, to see another’s suffering even in our moment of anguish—that is what it means to be Jewish. It is difficult, during times of suffering, not to harden our hearts—as the Pharaoh of Egypt once did. The core lesson of being Jewish, however, is to keep opening our hearts.

My commitment to remembering the stranger, whether members of the LGBTQ community, immigrants, or anyone deemed as “other,” animates my commitment to public service. President George Washington famously based his vision of America on this principle—this shall be a land that “gives to bigotry no sanction.”[6] I believe deeply in that commitment and will continue to fight for it.

When I first ran for public office, I made a choice: I wouldn’t be afraid to be openly Jewish. I would openly—and proudly—share my family’s story of coming to America as refugees fleeing the Holocaust, because I knew that by telling my story, I might open the door for others to share authentically as well. For me, like others, it wasn’t natural at first, but the more I spoke about my upbringing, my Bubby, and her story of resilience, the more comfortable telling my story became.

One of the goals of these atrocious attacks is shocking communities like ours into silence and submission. To force us to retreat from being who we authentically are. But our answer must be to stand firm, to refuse intimidation, and to speak authentically and with moral clarity about who we are.

Earlier this year, after celebrating Passover Seder, Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro and his family were targeted by an arsonist who admitted he attacked their home because they are Jewish. The assailant traveled with incendiary devices to burn down the governor’s residence while his wife and children slept inside. The Governor’s Mansion looked like a “war zone.” It was an attack meant to instill terror and silence.

But we have a choice in how we respond. Governor Shapiro’s response was direct: “I will never be afraid to be Jewish and never be a captive to fear or worry.” In those words, he modeled what it means to respond with moral courage and clarity.[7]

In Colorado, State Senator Julie Gonzales faced her own intimidation campaign. She received multiple death threats, including violent and vile messages, simply for serving her community and standing for justice. The intent was to silence her voice, to push her out of public life. But Senator Gonzales refused to be intimidated. Even in the face of violent attacks on public officials, she continues to serve, and by doing so, she shows us that threats cannot define who we are.[8]

Both Governor Shapiro and Senator Gonzales demonstrate a principle and a choice: when hate comes knocking, the answer is to respond with courage and conviction, not cowering.

IV. The Virus of Hate Across Communities

Hate is like a virus. It mutates, it spreads, it jumps from one community to another. Left unchecked, it thrives.

We heard it in Charlottesville: “Jews will not replace us.”[9] We saw it in Pittsburgh, when worshippers at the Tree of Life synagogue were massacred.[10] And earlier this year, in Washington D.C., two Israeli diplomats—humanitarians committed to peace—were assassinated.[11] The only response is to condemn antisemitism in all its forms. Full stop.

And we have seen this virus target other communities too. In Colorado Springs, five people were murdered at the Club Q night club, targeted for being LGBTQ+. The only response is to condemn LGTBQ hate in all its forms.[12] Full stop.

In El Paso, Texas, Latino families were slaughtered by a gunman who wrote that Hispanics were “invading” our country. The only response is to condemn xenophobia.[13] Full stop.

In Buffalo, a killer targeted Black Americans in a planned hate crime.[14] The only response is to call out racism and condemn it. Full stop.

In Minnesota, two lawmakers and their spouses were gunned down at their homes in a chilling reminder of the growing threat of political violence.[15] In Utah, the recent assassination of Charlie Kirk, who was killed while giving a political speech on campus, was another such reminder. In the face of these heinous acts, we must condemn political violence. Full stop.

In Evergreen, Colorado, a 16 year old boy was “radicalized through an extremist network,” according to the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department, and shot two fellow students who are seriously injured.[16] The Anti-Defamation League, in commenting on this shooting and other recent ones, noted that “the through line between [the increasing attacks] is [an] ecosystem of hate and violence.”[17] In the case of the perpetrator of the Evergreen shooting, it explained that he “is somebody who was expressing neo-Nazi views and that was active on a violent gore site that we know at least two previous school shooters were active on before him.”[18]

Too often, when confronted with acts of terror, there is a tendency to equivocate—to soften the truth with caveats, to quiver when conviction is most needed. But we cannot afford hesitation. Anything less than that dishonors the victims.

When an attack happens to you or your community, standing strong is more than survival. It is a beacon. Think of a lighthouse: it does not stop the storm; it does not calm the waves. But it cuts through the darkness, guiding ships to safety. That’s why it is important to call out humanitarian crises, whether the fostering of mass starvation or other failures to protect human life. In democratic nations, where freedom of speech is protected, we must use our voice to call out injustice. And when the protection of freedom of speech is threatened, we must call that out, too.

When Jewish communities respond to antisemitism with strength, that light shines for our LGBTQ+ neighbors, for Latino families, for Black and Asian communities, and for our Muslim brothers and sisters. And when others stand with us, their light shines back. Together, those beams create a horizon of hope that no storm of hate can ever extinguish. As Dr. King famously put it, “darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that; hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”[19]

V. Building the Infrastructure to Fight Hate

This is why Colorado has built an infrastructure to confront hate head-on. We launched the Hate Free Colorado partnership, bringing together 18 civil rights and advocacy groups to combat hate crimes. We are working with law enforcement to ensure better reporting, better response, and stronger support for victims.

Too many hate crimes go unreported. Victims suffer alone. Communities remain isolated. That must change. That is changing. In Colorado, violence will be named, it will be reported, and it will be prosecuted.

Let me also recognize the role of the Counterterrorism Education Learning Lab — the CELL — as a core part of this mission. The CELL has stood as a national model for education and vigilance, equipping Coloradans with the knowledge and tools to recognize threats, to stand up against extremism, and to strengthen our communities. It reminds us that our safety is a shared responsibility, one that depends on informed and engaged citizens.

VI. Conclusion: Responding with Moral Clarity

From the ravines of Ukraine to the streets of Boulder, from synagogues in Pittsburgh to nightclubs in Colorado Springs, from the halls of government in Minnesota to the homes of governors in Pennsylvania, the lesson is the same: Once we see hatred for what it is, once we bear witness, we will respond with moral clarity. Not tomorrow. Not eventually. Right now.

There is a song my family often sings at Friday night dinners. The words come from a teaching of Rabbi Nachman: “The whole entire world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to be afraid.”

That song is more than melody—it is a way of life. It reminds us that we walk through this world in vulnerability, in danger, and in uncertainty. But it also reminds us that we cannot be paralyzed by fear and pain. We have a choice to move ahead, not to look down and worry about the danger below, and to believe that we can build a better future.

When we choose moral clarity, act with courage, and leave no place for hate, we honor those who suffer, and we light a path forward for everyone who walks that narrow bridge alongside us. As Americans, we can reaffirm our enduring national motto: E pluribus unum—out of many, we are one. That is our charge. That is our inheritance. And that is our strength.

***

[1] “What Happened at the 1941 Babi Yar Massacre?” History.com. 18 Feb. 29025. (opens new tab).

[2] “The Most Deadly Massacre Against Jews Since The Holocaust.” Holocaust Museum LA. (opens new tab)

[3] “Prepared remarks: The Courage to Bear Witness: Standing Together to Create Bonds of Humanity (Sept. 25, 2024).” Colorado Attorney General’s Office. Sept. 25, 2024.

[4] “Man Charged with Hate Crime in Attack on Boulder Gathering.” U.S. Department of Justice. 2 June 2025. (opens new tab)

[5] “Colorado Attorney General Phil Weiser says Boulder attack is ‘personal to me’.” Colorado Public Radio. 2 June 2025. (opens new tab)

[6] George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, 18 August 1790 (opens new tab)

[7] “Gov. Shapiro says he won’t ‘be captive to fear’ after arson attack at governor’s residence.” CBS 21. 16 April 2025. (opens new tab)

[8] As a state lawmaker, I’ve faced death threats but refuse to let political assassinations, like the ones in Minnesota, silence me (Opinion). The Denver Post. 16 June 2025. (opens new tab)

[9] “Why the Charlottesville Marchers Were Obsessed With Jews.” The Atlantic. 15 Aug. 2017. (opens new tab)

[10] “Mass shooter found guilty of murdering 11 people at Tree of Life synagogue in 2018.” PBS Newshour. 16 June 2023. (opens new tab).

[11] “2 Israeli Embassy staffers killed in ‘act of terror’ in Washington, DC.” ABC News. 22 March 2025. (opens new tab)