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Three Generations of Black Women Overcome Boundaries and Setbacks With Love

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LOUISVILLE, Ky.  — 

At the red-brick high school Mattie Little attended in the 1960s, the idea that a Black girl like herself could go to college never crossed her mind. She hoped to become a typist, but teachers in her rural Kentucky town urged her to set aside that dream and focus on getting work as a maid.

“Those were the rules,” she recalled. “And that was how it was going to be.”

Mattie would prove those teachers wrong and decades later beam with pride as she watched her granddaughter, NaKayla Little, walk across the stage at the University of Louisville to receive her bachelor’s degree, becoming the first in the Little family to graduate from college.

It’s a classic American story, one generation building on the work of another. But progress isn’t always linear and neat. That’s certainly true of the paths followed by Mattie and her daughter, Myya, who is the mother of NaKayla.

The story of the Little family women — Mattie, Myya and NaKayla — is one of perseverance, of pushing a bit further than the previous generation and yet still starting from behind.

Mattie Little hugs her grandchildren as family members begin to arrive for dinner in Louisville, Ky.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

For each, there was no trust fund or inheritance, but a lineage of wisdom and love from Black women striving for better lives and leaning on one another to get there. That too is a classic American story.

::

In 1965, Mattie was an 18-year-old high school senior in Lebanon, a town 70 miles southeast of Louisville, known for Club Cherry, a stop on the famous Chitlin’ Circuit, a network of theaters and clubs where Black musicians could perform safely.

She would walk to the club with some of her siblings — more than a dozen brothers and sisters — and from the outside hear the smooth sounds of saxophones and a piano fill the air.

Her mother worked as a cook and her father at a hardware store.

This was the year the Voting Rights Act, which banned racial discrimination in voting practices, became law. Still, Jim Crow was inescapable. She knew which restaurants wouldn’t serve her, which shops she wasn’t welcome to buy a pack of her favorite bubble gum.

“It was how it was,” recalled Mattie, 73. “My mom could work in the restaurant, but her own family couldn’t even sit down and eat inside it.”

Mattie Little at her church, St. Augustine Catholic Church, in Louisville, Ky.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

Her high school had integrated years before, but Mattie remembers most of her classmates being white. “And the teachers, who were also white, no doubt gave them the most attention,” she said.

During her freshman year, none of Mattie’s classmates looked like her, and she remembers wanting to ask questions but stifling them out of fear they would tease her.

“I failed that geometry class,” she said.

But the following semester she transferred to a different geometry class, one with a handful of Black classmates, whose engagement with the coursework gave her confidence. This time, she earned an A, and continued to thrive throughout high school. Still, college felt like a faraway island, nearly impossible to reach.

When the principal, a white man in his 40s, asked seniors what they planned to do after graduation, Mattie replied that she wanted to take typing classes to land a clerical job.

“That wasn’t going to be needed,” she remembered him saying. “Because most of you would do domestic work.”

The reply still stings. “He thought I’d spend my life cleaning houses.”

After graduation, Mattie moved to Louisville, where she had an older sister. “It was the big city to us back then,” Mattie recalled with a laugh.

She found a job at the VA Medical Center, delivering dinner trays to patients’ rooms, and married her boyfriend, Jarvis Little, who had just gotten out of the Army.

In 1969, she left the VA and entered a six-month typing class funded by the Urban League. She soon got a job as a secretary at a furniture store, where she worked for a few years, before becoming a data processor at a company that would eventually become BellSouth.

The woman who had been told she would be cleaning houses was now working for a major telecommunications firm. Mattie remembers the relief of getting a job where, in 1970, she earned about $67 a week. The job, which would later become unionized, funded courses at Spalding University, and Mattie took classes here and there but never finished as she started a family of her own.

She had a son and then, in 1976, she had Myya.

“There was so much joy in also having a girl,” she recalled.

As the family grew and money stretched increasingly thin, Mattie began applying for positions with more responsibility within the company, but the promotions almost always went to her white colleagues, she said.

“They were for one, white, so they were at an advantage because all the bosses were white,” she said. “They also had college degrees.” She never got promoted.

Mattie preached the importance of an education to her children — college, she often told Myya, would be a ticket to a better life in America.

::

Myya grew up in the West End of Louisville, the part of town where Black families, including her own, had settled because of racist redlining practices that blanketed cities across the nation.

A man walks by a mural of Muhammad Ali in Louisville, Ky.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

The area had high poverty rates born of decades of governmental neglect, but the neighborhood boomed with pride over its native son: Cassius Clay. When Myya was growing up, Clay, by then Muhammad Ali, was retired and regularly visited the area.

“He was one of the best things about this neighborhood,” Myya said.

When she turned 18 during her senior year, in 1994, the themes of segregation and racism made global headlines. South Africa held its first multiracial elections as apartheid ended, electing Nelson Mandela president.

Back in Louisville, the school district had, for decades, used a busing plan to desegregate classrooms, which later required at least 15% and no more than 50% Black enrollment at the district’s schools.

Her school, Ballard High, was in the East End of Louisville — the white side of town — and Myya never felt like she truly fit in. There were a few kids from her neighborhood who were also bused to the mostly white school. She didn’t like leaving her neighborhood and quickly lost interest.

“It was just a place to hang out,” said Myya, now 45. “It’s sad to think back on it and say that, but it was.”

She said she felt like none of the teachers cared about her success, and she began to wonder what the point was. Despite her mother’s pleas to improve her grades, she started skipping school.

Myya Little and her youngest daughter, Lylah, in an old family cemetery near Lebanon, Ky.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

Myya thinks back on her youth and how she did not understand the long-term consequences of her decisions. It pained Mattie to see her daughter not value school — especially after all she had been through in Lebanon. But, still, she never stopped believing in Myya’s potential.

“It’s your child,” Mattie said. “You never stop loving them and wanting to see them shine.”

Myya had a boyfriend, Jamal Oliver, got pregnant and in February 1994 — her senior year — gave birth to NaKayla.

Four months later, she was still able to get her diploma and even won a $5,000 grant to study nursing at Spalding University.

“It was a natural fit,” she said of nursing. She’d always been gregarious and wanted to help people.

Myya Little sits at the front desk at the food pantry where she was recently its director.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

But between rent and books and meals, she couldn’t afford everything she needed for NaKayla.

“I had this new responsibility,” she said. “I was a mother, and only mothers know what love and bond feels like when they have a child.”

She dropped out and took a job as a cashier making minimum wage. She often dreamed that, perhaps, one day her daughter would fulfill the dream she’d deferred: becoming a nurse.

::

Every week, family gathered for dinner at Mattie’s house, and three generations of women laughed and cooked together. A regular favorite: baked spaghetti. They talked about their dream trips overseas — Paris, somewhere in Peru or Africa.

Mattie and Myya stressed the importance of education — a degree, they told NaKayla, was the ticket to those far-off places they dreamed about.

“School was always No. 1 for me,” said NaKayla, who went to private Catholic schools, funded by sponsors who were members of the Little family’s church.

She was among a handful of Black students, but it didn’t deter her. She got good grades and didn’t think twice about her next step.

“There was a sense of pressure, because no one in my family had graduated from college,” she said.

It was 2012 — the U.S. was bouncing back from the recession and President Obama, the nation’s first Black president, was campaigning for a second term. But with that optimism came a devastating reality in NaKayla’s neighborhood: gun violence.

NaKayla, then 18, knew several young men shot to death in her neighborhood, she said, and she wanted to move away, so she enrolled at Hampton University, a historically Black college in Virginia.

She never felt like she fit in — some of her classmates came from privileged backgrounds — and NaKayla grew homesick, longing for those weekly meals with Mattie and Myya. Soon she returned to Louisville.

NaKayla Little on the campus of the University of Louisville, where she was the first in her family to graduate from college.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

NaKayla started cosmetology school and graduated, but soon realized she wanted a career with more earning potential. A degree in something — anything — was a better option, she told herself, rejoicing when she got accepted at the University of Louisville.

She got her bachelor’s degree in communications in 2016, but then came to another realization: She struggled to find a job that was rewarding.

She thought about moving far from home to try out life in Seattle, where she found there were plenty of opportunities in the communications field.

NaKayla knew a little about Myya’s dreams of becoming a nurse but had never given it much thought as a career option for herself.

She prayed on it.

Then, nearly 25 years after her mother enrolled as a nursing student at Spalding, NaKayla followed in Myya’s footsteps, quickly discovering she shared her mother’s love for the profession. She graduated from nursing school in 2019.

For most of the pandemic she has been too consumed by the job to think much about her student loans — about $65,000 — which she hopes she can pay off within a decade. The long hours inside intensive care units and concerns about getting the coronavirus have consumed her.

“The work has kept me busy,” she said. “I need to work and stay healthy.”

::

NaKayla, Myya and Mattie Little enjoy an evening on the front porch in Louisville, Ky.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

On a muggy evening a few months ago, Myya and NaKayla sat on the porch of Mattie’s house in Louisville, the home where both women were basically raised. A helicopter buzzed across the sky and the hum of cicadas echoed off the neighbors’ houses.

“There’s going to be a lot of joy this year,” Mattie said, now that “we have a new little one on the way.”

NaKayla smiled, resting her hand on her growing belly. She and her boyfriend, Lealand Robinson, were expecting their first child.

NaKayla and Myya had also started to think about opening their own business — something for both women to do on the side. A family friend has a food truck and NaKayla recently looked up the price: $1,200.

Myya had cooked plates of food — fried fish, baked potatoes, rice — and sold them during the early months of the pandemic, when she was between jobs and needed to make money. Myya was inspired by NaKayla to think about working for herself. They want the truck to specialize in some of the vegan recipes Myya has been testing.

“We can work for ourselves, now wouldn’t that be nice?” Myya said.

“It’s what we’ve always wanted,” NaKayla nodded.

Being your own boss. It’s another classic American goal.

But, bit by bit, the three Little family women have achieved fundamental goals. It’s a story that’s played out time and again across this country.

Mattie overcame bigotry and exceeded expectations to create a home for her daughter. Myya set aside her dream to raise her daughter and helped NaKayla discover her passion. Now, NaKayla is inspiring Myya.

Mattie, the matriarch, smiled at her daughter and granddaughter as a bright sun slipped under the horizon.

NaKayla smiled back, continuing to rest her hand on her belly.

She and Lealand had recently picked out a name for their child: a daughter, Amelia Eleanor Rose. She was born Wednesday.

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Looking for a Boost, Taiwan’s Oldest Political Party Turns to the Great-grandson of Chiang Kai-shek

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TAIPEI, Taiwan — 

Between internal strife, muddled campaign messages and a stance on China that has become a political liability, Taiwan’s oldest political party is deep in existential crisis.

The Chinese Nationalist Party, better known as the KMT, or Kuomintang, was founded in mainland China but went into exile in Taiwan in 1949. It ruled the island for 50 years before losing its grip on power.

The party has long pushed for closer ties with China, a position that has increasingly put it out of touch with a younger generation that identifies as Taiwanese and has grown wary of the Chinese Communist Party’s designs on the island.

Now the 110-year-old KMT is looking to a rising star to refurbish its image: Chiang Wan-an, who is favored to become the next mayor of Taipei — among thousands of local offices up for grabs in nationwide elections Saturday.

The charismatic 43-year-old former legislator and lawyer has billed himself as a thoroughly modern figure who can lead the party into the future. He supports same-sex marriage and lowering the voting age from 20 to 18. His handsome looks and young children haven’t hurt his appeal either.

At the same time, he claims deep roots in the party’s past as a great-grandson of the revolutionary Chiang Kai-shek.

It was under Chiang Kai-shek that the party fled to Taiwan after losing the Chinese civil war to Mao Zedong’s Communist Party. Waiting to someday take the mainland back, the KMT often using brutal means to suppress any political threats, finally lifting martial law in 1987as Taiwan began to democratize.

Ham radio, a niche hobby among older Taiwanese, has reemerged as a potential wartime tool as China’s military aggression grows.

Now, it’s the Communist Party that wants to retake Taiwan. In the face of growing aggression under President Xi Jinping, who considers the democracy of 23 million a part of China, much of the national political discourse has centered on the best way to defend the island.

President Tsai Ing-wen of the Democratic Progressive Party, or DPP, was reelected by a landslide in 2020, thanks to growing Taiwanese nationalism and anti-China sentiment. But this year, the KMT has enjoyed a boost of support that could help it clean up in local races.

The mayorship of Taipei is often a stepping stone to the presidency. According to recent polls, Chiang is leading independent candidate Huang Shan-shan, the former deputy mayor of Taipei, and the DPP’s Chen Shih-chung, who as minister of health and welfare oversaw Taiwan’s pandemic response.

“He is the young, fresher and slightly updated face that the KMT needs,” said Lev Nachman, a political science professor at National Chengchi University. “But one candidate does not a successful political strategy make.”

In local elections, cross-strait tensions take a backseat to more immediate concerns. The mayoral candidates have talked a lot about urban renewal, the rising cost of housing, subsidies for young parents and ways to make the city friendlier for pets. Chiang wants to improve health insurance for animals and expand programs to let them ride on public transportation.

He has also sought to capitalize on voters’ dissatisfaction with the Tsai administration, in particular pointing to a lack of transparency in its vaccine rollout early in the pandemic.

“This is a contest of values: democracy against the black box,” he declared at an election rally Saturday night. “Hard work against laziness, integrity against lies, light against darkness.”

In the crowd that night was Mark Chu, a 30-year-old IT worker who found the event to be a moving morale boost for KMT supporters. However, he couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of people his own age.

“There’s a sense of distance between the KMT and young people,” Chu said. “They’re getting further and further away from mainstream ideas.”

But Chiang has managed to convince Bernie Hou, a 33-year-old public relations worker who has supported politicians from various parties over the years.

His decision to back Chiang is in large part a vote against the DPP for its handling of the pandemic. He also was impressed by Chiang’s performance during the mayoral debate.

“He has all the makings of a capital mayor,” Hou said. “And he looks very good.”

Still, even in local races, the strained relations between Beijing and Taipei are an unavoidable factor.

The ruling DPP leans toward independence for Taiwan and has taken a confrontational stance toward China, an approach that appeals to those who came of age under Taiwan’s democracy and rebuke Beijing’s calls for unification. Those voters are leery of giving too much leeway to an authoritarian regime that has threatened to fulfill its territorial claims by force.

The president, whose term ends in 2024, has recently stepped up efforts to capitalize on those fears. But her calls to resist China have failed to translate into broader support for the DPP this election.

“It’s a tough balancing act,” said Sung Wen-ti, a political scientist with Australia National University’s Taiwan Studies Program. “DPP has been riding on the wave of its Taiwanese nationalism card since 2014 and is inevitably facing a degree of voter fatigue.”

The KMT wants to maintain the status quo of Taiwan’s democratic governance, but favors a friendlier relationship with Beijing. Its support comes largely from older generations, who associate the party with their Chinese identities and mainland roots. A minority within the party still hope to see reunification with China.

As the KMT grapples with how to appease both its traditional base and reach a new one, Chiang could help bridge that gap.

His father Hsiao-yan, a former vice premier and foreign minister, was born with the surname Chang, but he changed it after gathering evidence that he was the illegitimate grandson of Chiang Kai-shek. Though some still doubt that claim, his son changed his last name too.

Older KMT members revere the former generalissimo for his contributions to Taiwan’s industrial development and his experiences fighting Japanese and Communist forces. Younger Taiwanese see him as an emblem of the island’s authoritarian past.

The Chiang Kai-shek legacy has come under greater scrutiny in recent years amid initiatives to compensate the families of victims that suffered under his reign and remove statues glorifying him.

Chiang Wan-an has at times found himself caught in the middle. Earlier this year he advocated for removing Chiang Kai-shek’s name from a famous memorial hall in Taipei. But he dropped the proposal after KMT supporters criticized him for diminishing his own history and Chinese identity.

“Leaning too far into his family background is a risk,” said Brian Hioe, a founding editor of the Taiwan-based media outlet New Bloom. “Now there is much more backlash against these second generations and political dynasties.”

The bigger challenge for the KMT looking ahead to the 2024 presidential election may be persuading voters that it can adeptly navigate cross-strait relations without acceding to pressure from Beijing.

Watching Chiang greet voters in Taipei on Monday, Wendy Chang, a 25-year-old visiting home from studying business in the Netherlands, said he seems more modern than the traditional KMT candidates. Nonetheless, she has a hard time swallowing the party’s friendlier attitude toward China.

“I feel like Taiwan’s elections ultimately are all about cross-strait relations,” she said.

Yang is a Times staff writer and Shen a special correspondent.

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The Times Podcast: Mexico’s Unique, Binational Soccer Fans

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Right now, the eyes of much of the world is on the FIFA World Cup in Qatar as 32 teams fight for national pride. One team is Mexico, whose unique fanbase sets it apart from the world. With loyalties to both Mexico and the United States, it’s a representation of resilience, controversy and so much more.

Today, we examine the phenomenon. Read the full transcript here.

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A New Foreign Policy Headache for Biden As Israel Forms Its Most Right-wing Government Ever

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WASHINGTON — 

The Biden administration is grappling with how to deal with a new Israeli government that will be the most right-wing in that country’s history and may stand in the way of core U.S. goals for the Middle East.

The new government will be led by Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel’s longest serving prime minister, who was ousted from the job just a year ago and is on trial for corruption. To regain the position, Netanyahu formed an alliance with controversial political figures known for their extreme anti-Arab views, likely dooming any peace deal with Palestinians.

Dealing with the Netanyahu-led government will pose major challenges for the Biden administration, which desires a resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and broader acceptance of Israel in the Arab world.

Republicans in the U.S. who are eager to cast themselves as true friends of Israel are sure to question any Biden administration criticism of the new government.

Netanyahu and the GOP have grown closer over the past decade, undermining decades of bipartisan support for Israel.

In 2015, Netanyahu, whom congressional Republicans had invited to address a joint session of Congress, used the speech to criticize President Obama’s nuclear deal with Iran. Former President Trump moved the U.S. Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem and recognized the Israeli annexation of the Golan Heights, delighting Netanyahu. Just this week, Netanyahu delivered a speech to the Republican Jewish Coalition, a partisan group.

Itamar Ben-Gvir, who has a long record of extreme anti-Arab rhetoric, is promised the post of national security minister in Israel’s new government.

Netanyahu and President Biden have both said that U.S. support for Israel should remain bipartisan.

Netanyahu’s new allies may make that difficult, however. Some U.S. officials have already privately indicated they will not meet with Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezazel Smotrich, two likelymembers of Netanyahu’s government.

Ben-Gvir and Smotrich advocate recognizing illegal Israeli settlements in the West Bank, where most Palestinians live, and eventually annexing most or all of that territory. They oppose a separate Palestinian state. Netanyahu needs their support to cement a majority in the Israeli Knesset, or parliament. Their support could also help him pass a law that would allow him to dodge his corruption trial.

The two men have also called for a far harsher crackdown on Palestinian militants and their supporters, including strict curfews in Palestinian villages, mass deportations and targeted killings of terrorism suspects. They have advocated making it easier for Israeli security forces to use live ammunition against Palestinian protesters who throw stones.

Ben-Gvir has also expressed affinity for the late ultra-nationalist rabbi Meir Kahane, whose ideology the Anti-Defamation League has described as reflecting “racism, violence and political extremism” and whose organization until recently was listed as a terrorist group by the U.S. government.

For years, Ben-Gvir had a poster of Baruch Goldstein, an Israeli American terrorist and Kahane disciple who murdered 29 Muslim worshippers in Hebron in 1994, hanging in his home, according to Israeli media. In 2007, an Israeli court convicted Ben-Gvir of incitement to racist violence and support for a terrorist organization.

Israel has sworn in its most religious and right-wing parliament after nearly four years of political deadlock and five elections.

Ben-Gvir and Smotrich want to head the ministries of public security and defense, respectively, portfolios that have the closest contact with U.S. officials. On Friday, Netanyahu’s Likud party and Ben-Gvir’s Jewish Power party announced an agreement for Ben-Gvir to become security minister.

“This country is a democracy that elected a leadership and I intend to work with them,” the U.S. ambassador to Israel, Thomas Nides, said in an interview with Israeli media, adding quickly: “That said, we have to stand up for the things that we believe in, that’s what American values are about. We have a very strong ally in the state of Israel, but there will be times when we will articulate where we believe our differences are.”

Nides and other U.S. officials have stated that the two countries’ points of disagreement include expansion of Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank and the possible annexation of the territory.

“The administration will have to decide what the real red lines are,” said Michael Koplow, a senior analyst with the Israel Policy Forum, a U.S.-based pro-Israel organization that advocates the two-state solution. “This will test U.S. boundaries on all fronts.”

Negotiations to form the government are underway and could take days or even weeks. A fair amount of horse-trading is part of the process, so it remains unclear which politicians will assume which posts. Netanyahu offered Smotrich the Finance Ministry instead of Defense, according to Israeli media, but Smotrich has so far given no indication he will budge from his initial demand.

“We provide nearly $4 billion a year to the Defense Ministry … and do we want to put our money in the hands of these guys?” said Daniel Kurtzer, former U.S. ambassador to Israel who now teaches at Princeton University. “I’d say no.”

Netanyahu is reported to be considering Ron Dermer as his foreign minister. Dermer served as Israel’s ambassador to the United States starting in 2013 and through the Trump administration, with which he was especially friendly. He arranged Netanyahu’s 2015 speech to Congress. Dermer’s appointment would be a “poke in the eye” for Biden, Kurtzer said.

Former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert defamed his successor, Benjamin Netanyahu, and must pay damages to Netanyahu and his family, a court rules.

Republicans remain eager to criticize anything short of unquestioning support for Israel from the Biden administration. After the Israeli government revealed that the U.S. Justice Department had launched an inquiry into the May killing of Palestinian American journalist Shireen Abu-Akleh near the West Bank city of Jenin, Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) demanded Atty. Gen. Merrick Garland and “everyone involved in this debacle” be “fired or impeached.”

Multiple investigations by independent human rights and journalism organizations have concluded that an Israeli soldier probably fired the shot that killed the veteran journalist. Israel eventually acknowledged one of its soldiers was likely responsible. No one has been disciplined.

If the new Israeli government decides to try to annex the West Bank, it would jeopardize the Abraham Accords, a deal brokered under the Trump administration that opened business and some diplomatic ties between Israel and several Persian Gulf states, such as the United Arab Emirates, that had previously refused to recognize Israel’s existence.

The UAE’s entry into the agreement was predicated on Netanyahu, in his previous stint as prime minister, backing away from plans to annex West Bank territory.

“If they push too far, it will foreclose any movement forward” in regional relations, said Aaron David Miller, a former U.S. envoy for the Middle East now at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

Miller thinks Biden and Netanyahu will attempt to avoid overt conflict to safeguard their own domestic and global positions: “Biden wants to avoid a public wrestling match with Netanyahu,” Miller said, while Netanyahu “craves the international stage and is intending to strut on it.”

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Publicly, U.S. officials remain cautious, saying they want to see what kind of government Netanyahu ultimately forms, reiterating their “ironclad” commitment to Israel while emphasizing American “values” that include freedom and prosperity “in equal measure” for Israelis and Palestinians.

“The administration is right to be concerned … and to telegraph those concerns,” Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.), a member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, said in an interview. He is one of several Democratic lawmakers who are firm supporters of Israel but have raised alarms over potential members of the new government. These include Sen. Bob Melendez of New Jersey, who chairs the committee, and California Rep. Brad Sherman (D-Northridge).

But Ben-Gvir further alienated Biden administration officials by taking an electoral victory lap at a memorial service for Kahane, who was assassinated more than 30 years ago.

“Celebrating the legacy of a terrorist organization is abhorrent — there is no other word for it,” State Department spokesman Ned Price said in unusually strongly worded comments. “We remain concerned by the legacy of Kahane and the continued use of rhetoric among violent right-wing extremists,” he said.

Ben-Gvir has reached an agreement with Netanyahu that would allow him to vastly expand police powers and remove officers from oversight by other legal authorities.

Naming a person who has been convicted of terrorism-related charges to head Israel’s national police force has alarmed numerous Israelis.

“It means that the police will become politicized to favor the extreme right,” the liberal Israeli newspaper Haaretz said in an editorial this week. “Those who are supposed to be safeguarding democracy have turned into soldiers at the service of politicians. That’s what happens when those accused and convicted of crimes take control of the institutions charged with maintaining law and order.”

The prospect of a Ben-Gvir-run police force has also alarmed American supporters of Israel. Ben-Gvir “has promised a no-holds-barred crackdown on terrorism and increased police and border security presence,” Yulia Shalomov, a fellow at the U.S.-based Atlantic Council think tank, said in a recent web appearance. His party “has consistently stoked domestic ethnic and societal tensions,” she said.

Netanyahu’s right-wing partners will also push for other legislation that would not only have an impact on Palestinians and Arabs. They have threatened to criminalize homosexuality and to ban non-Orthodox Jews from Israeli citizenship. Many U.S.-born Jews are members of more progressive branches of the faith, such as Reform or Conservative Judaism, and might not be able to obtain Israeli citizenship under the proposed laws.

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