There are few things in politics more damning than silence in the face of evil.
Rep. Iman Jodeh’s absence from a key legislative meeting in February 2024, where Colorado lawmakers met with families of victims of Hamas’s Oct. 7 massacre, is one such silence.
Coupled with her prior actions and rhetoric, it reveals a troubling pattern: Jodeh’s activism for Palestine does not simply overshadow her responsibilities to her constituents, but appears to align — intentionally or not — with justifications for terror.
When Jodeh first ran for office, I expressed concerns in The American Spectator that she would place her activism for Palestine above her duty to serve Colorado’s House District 41. Unfortunately, recent events have proven those fears justified. In Aurora, where her constituents struggle with rising crime, collapsing infrastructure, and skyrocketing living costs, Jodeh remains preoccupied with her advocacy for Palestine. Instead of addressing local priorities, she has tethered her identity and political agenda to a conflict thousands of miles away.
From her early days as a spokesperson for the Colorado Muslim Society — a mosque with a documented history of extremism and bigotry — Jodeh’s affiliations signaled deeper loyalties. CMS leaders have repeatedly preached homophobia, misogyny and violent interpretations of Islamic law. Despite her public image as a progressive, Jodeh has neither disavowed these associations nor explained her connections to the Colorado Muslim Society in the wake of these incidents.
Jodeh’s activism for Palestine does not simply overshadow her responsibilities to her constituents, but appears to align — intentionally or not — with justifications for terror.
The Oct. 7 Hamas attack was a day of unimaginable horror. Over 1,200 civilians were massacred, including women, children and the elderly. Reports surfaced of concert-goers like Shani Louk and Noa Argamani being abducted, tortured and killed, and entire families in Israeli kibbutzim were wiped out. The scenes were reminiscent of the darkest moments in human history — terrorism in its purest form. Yet, instead of condemning these atrocities, Jodeh reframed the conflict with a now-familiar script: Israel’s response was labeled “genocide,” and American support for Israel was declared complicit in these supposed war crimes.
Her rhetoric is not merely biased — it is dangerous. By equating Israel’s military response to genocide, Jodeh diminishes the gravity of real genocides. This comparison reflects not only ignorance but also a form of anti-Semitism, as it delegitimizes Israel’s right to defend itself from existential threats. Her failure to mention Hamas’s use of human shields or its embedding of military operations in civilian areas underscores a troubling unwillingness to assign accountability where it belongs.
On Feb. 5, 2024, the Colorado legislature hosted the families of individuals abducted or murdered by Hamas. Lawmakers from both sides of the aisle, including Gov. Jared Polis, gathered to meet with six grieving family members flown in from Israel. Sen. Dafna Michaelson Jenet poignantly introduced the families: “We can talk. We can call out. We can cry out for help.” Yet, Jodeh did not attend. Her absence at this event was not merely symbolic; it was a statement of priorities.
House Speaker Julie McCluskie had already declined to allow the families to address the House chamber, citing fears of unrest within her caucus. Yet, dozens of lawmakers crossed into the Senate chamber to show solidarity. That Jodeh chose not to be among them suggests more than mere political calculation. It signals a deliberate avoidance of engagement with those who suffered at the hands of terrorists.
Jodeh’s reluctance to confront Hamas is further reflected in her defense of former Colorado State Rep. Tim Hernández.
Following the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks, Hernández sparked outrage with his participation in an “Emergency Protest for Palestinian Resistance” and his engagement with tweets suggesting Hamas was merely “fighting back” against occupation. Though he later removed some posts, Hernández’s initial actions and presence at the protest blurred the line between resistance and terrorism. In a private chat, he further fueled controversy by refusing to explicitly condemn Hamas, stating, “There is no excusing violence for anybody, but… interrogating this issue with a full set of information is imperative before we moralize… by labeling some as ‘terrorists.’ ”
This equivocation was widely criticized for failing to acknowledge the brutality of the attack and the clear distinction between terrorism and legitimate protest.
Hernández’s confrontational behavior extended to the Colorado Capitol, where he publicly argued with a member of Denver’s Jewish community, exacerbating tensions. His actions, characterized by former State Rep. Rob Fairbank as “supporting the destruction of Israel” and engaging in inappropriate behavior at the capitol, were met with backlash from both sides of the aisle.
By erasing the context of Oct. 7, Jodeh portrays the conflict as a one-sided genocide, a narrative that fuels anti-Semitism and ignores the suffering of Israeli civilians.
Despite the outrage, Rep. Iman Jodeh defended Hernández, framing his conduct as misunderstood activism. Jodeh’s support for Hernández, paired with her absence from a legislative meeting with families of Hamas’s victims, highlights a troubling trend in which ideological loyalty and selective outrage take precedence over moral clarity and empathy.
By equating his protest with other forms of political expression, she failed to distinguish between legitimate advocacy and the glorification of terrorism. This inability — or unwillingness — to condemn Hamas reflects a broader problem: a progressive movement increasingly willing to excuse violence so long as it aligns with their favored narratives.
On the first anniversary of the Oct. 7 attacks, Jodeh issued a statement that encapsulated her worldview. Titled “Genocide One Year Later: Humanity’s Moral Duty to Act,” the statement condemned Israel for what she termed a year-long campaign of genocide in Gaza, with 41,000 Palestinians allegedly killed. Nowhere in the statement did she mention the original Hamas attack that had precipitated the conflict. Not a word about the 1,200 murdered Israelis. No acknowledgment of the hostages still held by Hamas, including children.
Instead, Jodeh painted the conflict in the starkest terms, accusing Israel of targeting civilians, hospitals, and schools while calling for the world to demand a ceasefire. The absence of any mention of Hamas’s atrocities reveals more than bias — it suggests a deliberate attempt to rewrite history. By erasing the context of Oct. 7, Jodeh portrays the conflict as a one-sided genocide, a narrative that fuels anti-Semitism and ignores the suffering of Israeli civilians.
Jodeh’s tenure in Colorado politics has been a case study in divided loyalties. At a time when her constituents needed her to address the pressing issues facing Aurora — rising crime, crumbling infrastructure and economic instability — Jodeh remained focused on advocating for Palestine. Her rhetoric in the wake of the Oct. 7 massacre, coupled with her absence from the meeting with Israeli families, reveals a lawmaker who prioritizes ideology over empathy and activism over responsibility.
It is time for Colorado’s leadership to reckon with the implications of Jodeh’s actions. Silence in the face of terror is complicity, and the promotion of biased narratives that excuse violence undermines the very values of justice and democracy. Leaders from both sides of the aisle must condemn not just the rhetoric but the ideology that allows it to flourish.
