UNTIL OCTOBER 7 AND ITS AFTERMATH, I hadn’t understood just how pervasive and systemic Jew-hatred was. (Is.) I did know it was Out There, of course, but only intellectually. It’s something else to see it in its natural habitat.
Case in point: This past August, I encountered what I call an incident of “casual antisemitism.” In its wake I sent the following email to some Jewish friends:
Hope this finds you all in good health and spirits. I recently had an experience which left me feeling shaken and more than a bit helpless, so I am turning to you for sharing and feedback.
Last week I was at a reunion lunch that [a mutual friend I’ll call “Z”] was having with one of her former teachers and classmates. [Z] hadn’t seen these people since 8th grade. (Obviously, I didn’t know them, and I wasn’t wearing my kippah at the time.) During the course of an otherwise very pleasant afternoon, [Z’s] former teacher, “Miss C,” related a conversation she had had in the late 1960s at a party with other young teachers – colleagues – and two of the couples were voicing what Miss C. called “radical” political viewpoints, touching on Communist ideals.
Then she said, matter-of-factly: “The Nakamuras hated America because they were Japanese; the Weinsteins hated America because they were Jewish.”
It is no exaggeration to say that I was immediately flooded with adrenaline; even typing it right now is activating my flight/fight reflex. I am not asking you what I should have done, but I am curious as to what you would have done. Comments?
Their responses were uniformly supportive, but also varied in tone and tactic:
“This IS always a shock. Like having ice water thrown at you. Just so ugly. Truly disappointing and sad that this woman was teaching children. In the past, I’ve let this slide by because I choose not to engage with people who have such clear biases. It seems a pointless draining of my energy. That said, I’m always impressed by others who pick up the gauntlet and challenge ignorance.”
“These unforeseen and surprising comments are always upsetting. And because we get blindsided with them it throws us offguard and don’t know how to react.”
“I’d want to have asked what exactly the Weinstein’s perspective was? – to potentially compare different Jewish perspectives the topic. Which of course presumes Miss C would engage in such a conversation. In other words, it might have been a teaching moment. The challenge is to be prepared.”
“I’ve had some experiences like this; it’s like encountering a rattlesnake when mowing the lawn.. What I do is immediately create distance, mental and to whatever degree possible physical. Then I assess what to do about the snake. Malevolence is contagious, and the company of idiots is degrading. I avoid them both.”
“I am so sorry not only that you had that experience, but also that it is still eating at you.”
“I’m sorry you had to experience this bullshit.”
Many urged me to write the teacher, which idea I had already been toying with. So I did:
Dear [“Miss C”],
It was very nice meeting you and hearing everyone’s stories. [Z] has spoken highly of you over the years, and I can see why. I want to particularly thank you for your kindness in including me in the conversation and helping me feel less of an outsider.
That said, something you said both concerned and hurt me greatly.
At one point, in relating a conversation from long ago, you stated that “the Weinsteins hated America because they were Jewish.” As a Jew, I must say that I found that comment to be both inappropriate and ill-informed. I did not say so at the time because I didn’t want to embarrass you, but neither can I let your remark pass without comment, especially given the current national and world climate of rising antisemitism. We Jews have a long and proud history of patriotism and civic engagement in the United States, and I do not know what led you to think otherwise.
In any case, this email is not intended as a reprimand, but rather an opportunity for clarity. I hope you take it in that spirit.
Thank you again, and be well,
Neal
That was sent at the end of August. As of this writing, I have yet to receive an answer.
Before our present historical moment, I never before realized how much a low-grade sense of emergency I constantly feel, and have felt for years. It’s also weird that right now I have never before and simultaneously felt so alone in the world and so connected to my people. Those not Jewish, even the very kind and good-hearted ones, can never fully understand something so osmotically immersive; in the same way, and for the same reasons, I can never understand another’s challenging life-experience: what it’s like to be a woman, or a refugee, or Gay, or Black. I can support, I can be an ally, I can vote with my feet and my wallet. But I can never understand. It’s the difference between sympathy and empathy, I think.
And yet … we survive. It’s all so absurd, but really — what choice do we have?
Wow!!! Fortunately you have the skills to assess and write back to her. I was recently in a situation where I didn’t speak up and regret it. I was at a meeting of a New Yorker Magazine discussion group and the article under discussion was about the Pope, Out of nowhere a Jewish Member made some comment about the Orthodox Jews. I did not confront him and regret it to this day.
I was also lucky, in that I had her email address. If I hadn’t had, I would still be kicking myself too.
And she was a coward, neglecting to reply to you. That tells you all you need to know.
Well, to be fair … in this household we have a saying: “You can’t interpret silence.” For all I know, she never got it; or she’s afraid to answer, as you said; or she’s so consumed with hate that she’s either dismissive or embarrassed. We just don’t know.
But the coward thing may be a strong possibility.
I’m not so sure you or I cannot understand. No two experiences are alike anyway. But a deeper understanding can be had simply by “translating” your own marginalized experience.
For example, I was raised with the Biblical view of women being the source of original sin, something akin to evil, cursed by the monthly pain and shame of the menses.
Hormones combined with depressive disorder already made the experience emotionally painful, to accompany the physical pain. This punishment, for something I never did, but merely for being born female, cut deeply into my soul, and I cried many tears over it, as a 13 year old girl.
I always thought that being Jewish would feel that way sometimes.
I’d say there’s a possible Venn overlap in some ways, yes. Being Jewish, at least for me, carries a strong sense of belonging. Right now, I also feel a bit like a target. I still wear my yarmulke (along with a KN95 mask) when I grocery shop, do banking, etc. Sometimes I also wear a hat. I don’t think I’ve ever felt “punished” in the way you describe — it sounds awful! — although I have also felt very alone, as I do now. But in the current “matzav” (situation) I also feel more connected to other Jews. It’s very, very weird. I’m comfortable with most forms of ambiguity, but I don’t think I like this.
I guess my point is that. while I can come close to understanding the marginalization of the Black Experience (or any “otherness” of any Other). I can always remove my yarmulke if I want to “pass.” Black people can’t remove their skin. You can’t remove your femality. It’s similar, but also quite different.
But: I am very glad that you’re (at least trying to be) in my camp. It’s much appreciated.
Yes, trying is all you can ask of anyone, and in my opinion, it’s enough.
It is indeed.