https://www.thecut.com/article/a-swastika-scandal-hits-omaha-fashion-week.html
There are moments when a headline stops you in your tracks—not because it is violent or tragic, but because it is deeply disorienting. That was the case when I read about the recent scandal at Omaha Fashion Week, where a model walked the runway wearing a jacket that prominently featured what appeared to be a swastika on the back.
The designer, Kelli Molczyk, has since claimed the symbol was inspired by an antique pinwheel quilt—not the Nazi emblem. She has expressed remorse, condemned hate, and insisted that she would never knowingly invoke such a symbol. The organizers of Omaha Fashion Week acted quickly, removing the piece from further appearances, issuing a public apology, and banning the designer from future events. They are reviewing their protocols and committing to do better.
And yet, despite the apologies, despite the lack of malicious intent, the image made its way into the public sphere—and with it, an undeniable wave of hurt, particularly within the Jewish community.
Let’s be clear: the swastika is not just another symbol that can be reimagined or reclaimed. It is a brand of hatred, burned into our collective memory. For Jews, it calls to mind the Holocaust, yes—but also centuries of dehumanization, exile, and murder. Even today, the swastika appears in antisemitic graffiti, in hate-filled marches, in the hands of those who wish us harm.
It is not ambiguous. It is not aesthetic. It is not just a “pinwheel.”
As a rabbi, I do not claim to know the heart of the designer. I don’t believe this was an act of overt antisemitism. But what I do know—and what I must name—is the distinction between intent and impact.
Jewish tradition teaches us that even unintentional harm demands repair. The Torah’s laws of damages hold us responsible not just for what we mean to do, but for what we fail to prevent. If a person digs a pit and someone falls in, they are liable—even if they walked away, even if they didn’t mean harm. Why? Because damage is damage, whether we meant it or not.
This incident is not about villainy. It is about vigilance. It is about cultural literacy. It is about the importance of knowing the power of symbols—especially in public spaces.
In a time when antisemitism is rising across the country, when Jewish communities are grappling with fear and vulnerability, it is not enough to say “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” We must also ask: “What can I learn from this?” “How can I help prevent this kind of harm in the future?”
Teshuvah—repentance—is more than apology. It’s listening. It’s reflection. It’s action. It is learning how to see the world through the eyes of those we may have hurt, and changing our behavior accordingly.
And for the broader Omaha community, this is an invitation. An invitation to learn more about Jewish history, Jewish trauma, and why certain symbols cannot be divorced from the suffering they represent. An invitation to engage—not defensively, not dismissively, but humbly—with a community that still carries the wounds of the 20th century, even as we raise our children in the 21st.
There is no such thing as a harmless swastika. Not in fashion. Not in art. Not in design. There is only the choice: to repeat history, or to remember it.
We cannot undo what happened on the runway. But we can decide what happens next. May this moment lead to deeper understanding, bolder empathy, and renewed commitment to a world where symbols of hate have no place—and where healing begins not with silence, but with truth.