[time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”]On May 21, Sarah Milgram and Yaron Lischinsky were brutally murdered in an antisemitic attack outside the Capital Jewish Museum, where the American Jewish Committee was hosting an event for young professionals, diplomats, and advocates.For many Americans, that may have been the first time they’ve heard of the museum, where I served as an educator a from 2011 to 2019. And while the Capital Jewish Museum is only a few years old, the organization has a deep backstory that makes it is an essential institution for understanding the flourishing of individual and American Jewish identity in the face of antisemitism. The museum’s history also illuminates the advocacy efforts that have defined Washington’s Jewish community for over two centuries as they found their place within American democracy.On Dec. 17, 1862, during the Civil War, Union General Ulysses S. Grant issued and signed General Order No. 11, which stated that “the Jews, as a class violating every regulation of trade established by the Treasury Department and also department orders, are hereby expelled from the Department within twenty-four hours from the receipt of this order.​”The order applied to all Jews (men, women, and children) in the war zone under Grant’s command known as the Department of the Tennessee, which stretched from Northern Mississippi to Southern Illinois, and from the Mississippi to Tennessee Rivers. Frustrated with cotton traders and merchants who were smuggling goods to the Confederacy and profiting from the war, the general weaponized ancient stereotypes and antisemitic tropes about Jews and money to fabricate a scapegoat.What happened next offered a template for combatting antisemitism with the specific tools American democracy offered. Read More: The Rise of Antisemitism and Political Violence in the U.S.The leaders of of B’nai B’rith, (“Sons of the Covenant”)—a Jewish organization founded by immigrants in 1843 to promote the quality of life for Jews in America—met with President Abraham Lincoln to voice concerns about the antisemitic order, and the president rescinded it immediately. Additionally, representatives from Jewish organizations and synagogues, as well as prominent rabbis, each met with Grant to explain the offensive nature of the order, and to educate the general on the error of his ways. In the mid 19th century, this represented a radical approach to handling antisemitism—one that reflected how, unlike the way they had been treated historically in Europe, Jews enjoyed full citizenship rights in the U.S. In Washington, many members of the Jewish community not only thrived, but also chose to engage in the civic process, advocating for themselves and others. This culture meant that, rather than wait for Grant’s order to take effect, Jewish Washingtonians had no hesitancy about requesting meetings with the president, writing to their representatives, or trying to educate Grant to prevent any repeat of the order.The Jewish community’s commitment to advocating for themselves, as well as educating and building a relationship with Grant proved to be transformative. When the general became president in 1869, he appointed more Jews to federal positions than any of his predecessors and became an outspoken supporter of Jewish refugees from Russia, and elsewhere, seeking American citizenship to escape pogroms and persecution. In 1876, thanks to a personal invitation from Adolphus Solomons, a prominent Jewish Washingtonian, philanthropist, and co-founder of the American Red Cross, Grant attended the dedication of the city’s first purpose-built synagogue—and made history as the first sitting U.S. president to attend a synagogue service. Grant even gave Tzedakah (a righteous contribution) to the synagogue and sat for the entirety of the hours long traditional Jewish service, most of which was in Yiddish and Hebrew, during a hot D.C. summer day.Officially dedicated, the synagogue became home to Adas Israel—a traditional congregation of predominantly German immigrant families who had come to Washington from neighboring cities and ports like Baltimore and New York during the boom years of the Civil War, when the city grew exponentially.The growth of the Jewish community in the American capital city was historic. For centuries, Jewish communities across Europe had confronted antisemitic expulsions from capitals and major cities. While antisemitism still existed in Washington, and in America more broadly, many Jews felt safer than they ever had. This sense of safety empowered them not only to advocate for themselves, but to think about ways they could partner with their non-Jewish neighbors to improve life for all Americans. Anchoring these actions were Jewish values such as Tikkun Olam (“repairing the world”) and Tzedek (“justice”).These principles continued to shape Jewish life in Washington in the 20th century. In 1943, Jewish Washingtonians participated as prop managers and extras in playwright Ben Hecht’s musical stage pageant “We Will Never Die,” which aimed to bring awareness to the Holocaust and the murder of millions of Jews in Europe. They wanted to inspire action among lawmakers, many of whom attended the performance at Constitution Hall. The audience included First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, who wrote about the powerful experience in her nationally syndicated newspaper column. She urged awareness and action to save Jews. The episode demonstrated how local actions by Jewish Washingtonians could create national headlines. This kind of activism reached new heights in the second half of the 20th century, as Jewish Washingtonians took active roles in fighting for a range of causes. Their advocacy included championing DC statehood, participating in and helping on-the-ground organizing efforts for the March on Washington in 1963, and founding the Washington Committee for Soviet Jewry in 1968, among others. Read More: The D.C. Jewish Museum Shooting Was Inevitable. The Time to Act on Antisemitism is NowThis final example demonstrated how Washington’s Jewish community made use of their physical location to enact international change. While many Jewish communities across the U.S. held rallies and advocated for the release of Soviet Jews denied the right to leave the USSR, only Washington’s Jewish community could bring such efforts to the Soviet Embassy itself. Every afternoon for 20 years (1970-1991), a rotating group of Jewish Washingtonians took turns holding a vigil outside the embassy, often singing and dancing the hora. Their message was clear: in America, Jews could openly and safely identify as Jews. They demanded the same for Jews globally. Public awareness campaigns like this compelled actions from politicians, who applied pressure to the Soviet Union. Eventually, after decades of activism, this enabled Soviet Jews to immigrate. Some of them moved to Washington where community members were ready to lend a helping hand. While some of their advocacy focused globally, Washington Jews also worked locally. In 1969, they sprung into action upon learning that the synagogue Grant had helped to dedicate faced demolition. A direct result of Washington’s growth and the move of communities (including Jewish congregations) to the suburbs, the former synagogue building was to be replaced with a new headquarters for the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority. The Jewish Historical Society of Greater Washington argued that the former president’s visit made the synagogue a historic building and they launched a campaign to save it, working swiftly to raise the funds and secure permission from the local and national government to move the building. Again, the campaign reflected how activism was embedded at the core of American Jewish identity. The move would prove to be the first of three over the next half century. When the 1876 Adas Israel synagogue finally found its permanent home in 2018, the synagogue became something broader: the Jewish Historical Society helped to transform it into the largest artifact held by a new Capital Jewish Museum. Its leaders invited many voices into the planning for the new museum adjacent to the historic synagogue, including Jewish educators and scholars, rabbis from many denominations, and historically underrepresented voices such as Jews of Color and the LGBTQ+ Jewish community. A neon sign donated to the Museum’s collection said it all: “If It’s Jewish, We Have It.”Today, the museum collects and display buttons, posters, and political cartoons representing Jewish civic engagement, from the 1868 presidential election to the present. Stories often featured in the Capital Jewish Museum’s core exhibition are about generations of Jewish people who either grew up in Washington or moved to the city filled with ideals and dreams for a brighter future. Milgram and Lischinsky are part of this tradition and legacy. This history that the Capital Jewish Museum represents—of using education, advocacy, and allyship to address antisemitism head on—offers a roadmap for responding to the challenges posed by increasing antisemitism in 2025.Samantha Abramson is the executive director of the Nathan and Esther Pelz Holocaust Education Resource Center and spearheads K-12 initiatives at the Milwaukee Jewish Federation. She has worked at several Jewish and American museums, including the Jewish Historical Society of Greater Washington/Capital Jewish Museum from 2011-2019.Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors.