Note: This article was originally published in the SF Chronicle and is reposted here with permission of the author. I think it expresses ideas that are very relevant for Davis, yet have been missing (as far as I know). -RM
The attack on my cafe is an inexcusable act of violence. But even in the middle of this ugliness, there are many points of light
By Manny Yekutiel
The windows at Manny’s in San Francisco are boarded up on Thursday. In an act of violence, people vandalized the Mission District cafe on Monday night during protests against ICE actions.
Earlier this week, protesters broke into Manny’s, my cafe and civic space in San Francisco’s Mission District, smashed the windows and spray-painted messages like “Intifada,” “Death 2 Israel is a Promise” and “Die Zionist” on my walls.
It was violent. It was antisemitic. And it was heartbreaking.
This kind of hatred has no place in San Francisco, the city that’s given me everything. And it has no place within the progressive movement — a movement I am a part of.
I created Manny’s as a space for dialogue, for civic engagement and for tough conversations. I’ve seen what’s possible when people sit down with those they don’t agree with. I still believe in that work. But what happened on Monday night wasn’t dialogue. It was destruction intended to cause fear, and it crossed a line.
Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve been targeted. Since before I even opened Manny’s, my business and beliefs have been attacked and misrepresented. There have been protests, boycotts and death threats. I’ve withstood all of it because I believe in creating space for hard conversations. But this was something else.
In recent months, Jewish-owned businesses and spaces in San Francisco and throughout the country have faced targeted attacks. Windows have been smashed, flyers posted and shots have been fired into the backs of unsuspecting Jews.
A disturbing pattern is emerging — one that even here in San Francisco is endangering the core values this city is meant to uphold: tolerance, inclusion, civic engagement and common humanity.
The act of hate at Manny’s is part of a larger danger facing the progressive movement and the country. We are living in a moment where real and painful disagreements are being used as an excuse to turn people against one another. Instead of standing together to fight injustice, some are choosing to let hate and bigotry divide us. We cannot allow that. If we lose the ability to sit across from people we disagree with and have hard conversations, we lose the very foundation of this movement.
We cannot let antisemitism or any form of hate disguise itself as activism. Because when we do, we don’t just hurt one group — we fracture the coalitions we need to take on the real fights ahead: for immigrants, for LGBTQ+ rights, for racial justice, for reproductive freedom and for our democracy itself. We are stronger when we stay in relationship with one another, even when it’s hard. We are stronger when we refuse to let hate define us.
We can — and must — protest injustice. That includes the humanitarian crisis in Gaza and the suffering of Palestinians at the hands of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s extreme right-wing government. It includes condemning Hamas, a terrorist organization that has caused immense suffering — suffering I’ve seen with my own eyes and that cannot be normalized or justified. I, too, pray for the immediate return of Israeli hostages, for a ceasefire and an end to the killing of innocent people caught in the crossfire in the region.
But we have to draw a firm line. Protest must never become persecution. Activism must never become hate.
Because while we are being pulled apart like this, the far right is gaining power. They are rolling back immigrant protections. Attacking trans kids. Banning books. Restricting reproductive care. Criminalizing protest itself. Even handcuffing a U.S. senator from California. They want us distracted and divided. They want us too busy fighting each other to fight them. We cannot give them that win.
But even in the middle of this ugliness, there were many points of light. Since the news broke that Manny’s was vandalized, I received hundreds of messages of love and support from all corners of the city. Mayor Daniel Lurie, without even asking, showed up to my space to hold my hand, to console and to cry with me. Before I could even start cleaning up the damage, strangers from the neighborhood stopped what they were doing to help. A kind man named Jesus grabbed my paint bucket and started covering the first layer of graffiti without a word. The outpouring has been overwhelming.
And then, the next day, something beautiful happened.
A group of 40 or so members of the Jewish community in Noe Valley organized a simple gathering. They came to buy coffee and tea, to support the cafe financially and to create a space for support. We sat together for nearly two hours, sharing stories, crying and discussing how the current situation had affected us. It was a raw, vulnerable, sad and powerful experience.
In the middle of that beautiful gathering, Maria Christina walked in wearing her keffiyeh. She had led protests outside Manny’s for nearly a year when I first opened. But over time, we got to know each other. We realized we had much more in common than we first thought. We stopped being opponents and started being collaborators.
She came in that afternoon simply to tell me how upset she was by what had happened and to give me a hug. She said clearly: The people who did this do not represent her, do not represent the fight for justice.
It was one of the most moving moments I’ve experienced since opening my small business.
That moment also represents what’s possible when we stay in relationship and conversation with each other and refuse to let hate win.
San Francisco needs to be the city that demonstrates how we can come together in difficult moments, how we can give people — especially our neighbors — the benefit of the doubt, how we can ask questions first and judge second, how we can be willing and able, and even excited, to sit down with people we don’t know and understand them.
Davisite 
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