You're so vain, you probably think this piece is about you: Attacking influencer culture - opinion

What I did not expect was the sheer number of people who insisted on missing the point.

However, one can't underestimate the prevalence of stupidity in 2025. Some accused me of misogyny. Others insisted it was a personal attack.

Let’s be honest: I have criticized Israel’s prime ministers, the CCP, Putin, oligarchs, rabbis, and institutions with hundreds of millions in resources. Especially the ADL. Do you really think Jewish Instagram influencers are where I draw the line?

If you genuinely believe that article was about you, then—let me put it this way—you’re so vain you probably think this piece is about you. And while we’re on it, so is your speaking fee. This was never about individuals. It was never about women versus men. It was about an entire system—a culture hollowed out by vanity, branding, and image, while the foundations of Jewish sovereignty are under siege. The line about Birkenbags was not a cheap jab. It was a metaphor. A mirror. A wake-up call. And if it stung, that says more about the reality we’ve built than about me.

I do not criticize to tear down. I criticize to build up. And create Zionist discourse like the founders of our movement. Our tradition recorded the words of prophets not because they made people feel good, but because they told the truth. Jeremiah was thrown into a pit. Isaiah was mocked. Amos was dismissed as a nuisance. Ezekiel’s visions were ridiculed. They weren’t loved in their time. They were despised. However, their words endured because they saw reality clearly, while others refused to. I don’t claim to be a prophet. God does not whisper in my ear. This is not a revelation. It is conviction. It is something I feel in my bones I cannot ignore, no matter how many people hate me for it.

If you believe the Jewish people have never, in any way, contributed to the circumstances of antisemitism—that we have never erred, never stumbled, never acted in ways that fed hatred—then you are ignoring both the Bible and Jewish history. We are not flawless. The covenant with God does not make us perfect. It binds us, elevates us, but it does not erase our human frailty. Immediately after receiving the Tablets at Sinai, we built a golden calf and descended into idolatry and debauchery. Our story has always been one of greatness intertwined with failure, faith interwoven with sin. To deny that is to deny who we are. To insist we have only ever been victims, never wrongdoers, is not strength—it is delusion. And in the spirit of the prophets, my voice exists to remind us: until we can acknowledge our mistakes, we cannot correct them. Until we can correct them, we cannot defend ourselves. Or, in other words, get over yourself.

October 7 should have been a turning point. It shattered illusions. It reminded us that sovereignty is not a press release, not a PR campaign, not a curated Instagram post. Sovereignty is responsibility. And responsibility means learning from failure, adapting, and changing course.

Yes, my words provoke anger. Good. Anger means you still care.

Moses shattered the tablets in fury at the Golden Calf. Nathan confronted King David. The prophets provoked fury in kings, priests, and entire nations. Through that fury came repentance and survival. What kills us is not anger. It is apathy. Apathy means the heart has gone cold. Apathy means we would rather scroll than fight. So if my words sting, let them sting—better that than silence.

The line was deliberate: Birkenbags Don’t Build a Nation. Not an attack on women. Not an attack on men. Not even an attack on handbags. It is a symbol—a shorthand for the emptiness of confusing luxury with leadership, branding with sovereignty. Nations are not built on handbags or hashtags. They are built on sacrifice, Hebrew, history, courage, and identity. They are defended not by influencers with curated feeds, but by people willing to face reality, admit failure, and rebuild with strength.

If you thought that line was about you personally, you’ve proven my point.

Here’s the mirror: Our institutions are bloated, distracted, and obsessed with vanity. Our leaders are more afraid of criticism than of failure. Our strategies since October 7 have not delivered the safety or unity we need.

And here’s the financial truth: every dollar spent on inflated speaking fees, glossy PR campaigns, and influencer trips is a dollar not spent on Hebrew education, Jewish security, or empowering the next generation to stand firm.

PR is not policy. Hashtags are not a strategy. Influence is not sovereignty. If we refuse to face this, we will squander the greatest miracle of modern Jewish history: sovereignty.

Criticism without hope is cynicism. That is not what I offer. To defend sovereignty, we must:

So, yes, I will continue to criticize. I will keep writing. I will keep provoking.  And probably offending. Not because I think I’m a prophet. Not because I want attention. But because silence is betrayal. I have criticized people with far more power than the influencer class. If you think this was about you, you’ve mistaken yourself for the center of the Jewish world. You’re not. I will not stop because I refuse to flatter us into failure. I refuse to watch us trade sovereignty for selfies. I refuse to let us mistake branding for strength, or luxury for leadership. That is why I wrote 'The Influencer Industrial Complex Is Hollowing Jewish Culture.' That is why I said Birkenbags Don’t Build a Nation. And that is why I will not stop. Because only people brave enough to face their own reflection are strong enough to secure their future.

I want to commend Adela for engaging with my article. That act alone honors a tradition at the very heart of Zionism: ideas colliding in public, essays answering essays, debate sharpening our vision of the Jewish future. From Herzl and Ahad Ha’am to Jabotinsky and Ben-Gurion, our movement has always advanced through public argument. Zionism was never built on silence or conformity—it was built on pamphlets, polemics, manifestos, and counter-manifestos. Each generation sharpened its convictions not by avoiding disagreement but by confronting it openly, believing that truth emerges from the clash of ideas. That culture of intellectual struggle is one of the greatest strengths of our people, and engaging with my argument—even in disagreement—places her in that lineage.

But let’s also be honest: it does not even seem like Adela read the piece. Much of what appeared in her article had already been sent to me privately in an Instagram DM By contrast, my own rebuttal — You’re So Vain, You Probably Think This Piece Is About You — was written and, within 24 hours of the original “Birkin bag” essay, was published. Why? Because the flood of social media comments made it immediately clear that people had missed the thesis entirely. They personalized a systemic critique, making it about themselves, and in doing so, they proved my point: vanity has hollowed out our discourse.

Adela’s “I am a Jewish influencer and that matters” itself in the title alone underscores the problem. Adela writes about her circle of friends making tens of thousands of dollars from this culture and then, almost as a shield, throws in a trans Black activist living humbly in Israel — mentioned without permission, used as contrast, and ultimately reduced to tokenism. That juxtaposition was not only juvenile in style, but it also once again highlighted the very point I made: the influencer economy is driven by image, not substance, and it collapses under the weight of its own contradictions.

To call this proof is not only juvenile but also naïve. It doesn’t even begin to address the questions of sovereignty or survival. And that again exposes the emptiness of the influencer economy: confusing attention with achievement, mistaking noise for nation-building.

And let’s be honest. Zach Sag Fox’s videos are not worth the nearly $750,000 he has received to make them. Results matter. And the world does not care about your feelings.

And let’s be honest: at the end of the day, when the survivors of October 7 still lack the resources they need, and our soldiers are still without basic equipment, wealthy coastal Jewish influencers don’t need the State of Israel’s money or Jewish philanthropic funds. If they care so much, let them handle it themselves. If they truly want to claim they are sacrificing, then let them come to Israel, make aliyah, wear a green uniform, and fight alongside their brothers and sisters, just like all of us have. It's not different from the hypocrisy of Adela representing Israel in Miss Universe for the city of Tel Aviv, when she does not even reside in the white city. There is no shortage of gorgeous women who could have actually competed who actually live here.

I don’t say that to be mean. It’s just the reality. And many of us in Israel are tired of having our voices replaced by those who sacrifice nothing and enlarge their wallets on the backs of our suffering and experiences.

And since his name has been mentioned, let me clarify: Charlie Kirk was not an “influencer.” It’s a disgrace to reduce him to that. He never considered himself that way, nor should anyone else. He was a movement builder, an organizer, a man with a political vision and an ideological mission. To equate ideological leadership and vision with Instagram branding diminishes both.

The idea that questioning those who profit from this culture is somehow inappropriate is itself un-Zionist. The Zionist movement has always embraced debate, confrontation, and the courage to challenge comfortable orthodoxies. To suggest that influencers or their patrons are above critique is to betray that tradition. I only write this postscript because the reaction to Adela’s article and the social media comments on her piece revealed one thing: many did not read the article, did not think about it, and responded with emotional reactions to metaphors without ever engaging with the main argument. That exposes the very problem I described.

Our community has become so accustomed to branding that it cannot recognize when it is looking at a mirror. October 7 clarified the stakes: sovereignty is not a branding tool. It is blood, sacrifice, accountability. It’s the difference between survival and erasure. That was the core message of my essay. That is what was missed. And that is why I will continue to say it.