More than one in four Canadians aged 15 and older, about 27% of the population, are living with a disability, according to the latest data from Statistics Canada. That’s an increase from 22% in 2017, and the numbers are expected to continue rising as our population ages and mental health challenges become more prevalent.
This isn’t just a statistic. It’s a reality for more than eight million people. Yet, despite these numbers, many of us in the disability community still find ourselves on the margins of Canadian society – overlooked, underestimated and too-often excluded.
I am neurodiverse. I have a cognitive disability, and I am a self-advocate for the disability community. I speak from experience and from the heart because I know what it feels like to be left out.
One of my earliest and most painful memories happened nearly 30 years ago, but it still lingers. In elementary school, there was a class camping trip I’d looked forward to for weeks. I stayed up all night baking chocolate chip cookies to share with my tentmates. But, when I got to school, I learned no one wanted to share a tent with me. That night, I slept alone in a tent that flooded during a rainstorm. I was soaked, cold and humiliated.
It wasn’t an isolated experience. I remember birthdays where I was the only classmate not invited, weekends without playdates, and watching other kids plan sleepovers I was never part of. These moments left marks, not just as a child, but as an adult working to change things for others.
I share these stories not to seek sympathy, but to urge action, because these experiences are still happening. Many of us with disabilities face uncomfortable, unkind or dismissive attitudes simply because we are different.
While some people make a sincere effort to be open-minded and inclusive, others respond to our presence with unease or judgment. We are frequently excluded from mainstream media,social spaces and cultural narratives. When we are represented, it’s often through inaccurate, stereotypical or tokenizing portrayals. This must change.
We need a cultural shift in how Canada understands, engages with and includes people with disabilities. That starts with honest conversations and with listening. Are you assuming what we need instead of asking? Are you speaking for us rather than with us?
There’s a powerful phrase within the disability rights movement: “Nothing about us without us.” It means decisions that affect our lives must include our voices. That should be the standard in education, policy, health care, the arts, employment, everywhere.
The next time you interact with someone who is different, pause. Consider your assumptions. Choose empathy, choose respect and choose inclusion.
Remember: more than a quarter of Canadians have a disability. We are your neighbours, your co-workers, your classmates and your friends. We are part of Canadian culture. We belong.
In Grade 9, the English teacher rotates table placements monthly because sitting with different students helps expose everyone to new worldviews. In general, this makes sense; discussions about literature require us to hear lots of opinions. This was also where, last week, my kid got exposed to a view that our household could have done without.
I didn’t know about the rotating seating until one night at dinner, when my kid asked if I knew of a short video that I could recommend. He needed to explain to a classmate that “all Jews are rich” was an antisemitic stereotype. Both parents stalled for a moment as we sought more information.
It turns out that other tablemates shut down this classmate immediately. They told her to be quiet and do her schoolwork. Let’s call the student Anna. These other female classmates’ backgrounds were Filipina and African Muslim. While grateful, my kid can’t wait until the seat assignments will be changed. He believed that Anna got her information about the Gaza war and Jews from TikTok and that maybe fighting this misinformation with facts, using shortform videos, would help.
When pressed, we learned my kid didn’t have a social media connection with Anna for forwarding information, nor did we think she would watch the video. After all, Anna’s grandmother was Palestinian and liked Jews, saying we were cousins. We parents concluded that someone in Anna’s life or online introduced hateful stereotypes to her. That’s what she believed – not her grandmother.
My husband retold the story of when his family was forced to couch surf. They were homeless for a year. My father-in-law, a young architect without financial backing, sold their family home to fund future work, including their new, half-built house. When the bank lost the deposited cheque from the house sale, they had nowhere to go. My husband, a kindergartener, his toddler brother and his mother spent the year at his grandparents’ New York Lower East Side apartment. My father-in-law had to stay with his parents in New Jersey. When the awful lost cheque episode resolved, they finally moved into their half-built house. They washed their dishes at the only faucet – in the bathtub. My husband could have gone on: his grandfather, raised in Mezrich, Poland, lived in a home that they shared with their cow for winter warmth and financial security. His great-grandmother had 13 children. This included three sets of twins, but none of the twins survived.
Our son said he didn’t want to share any family information. Our truths didn’t matter to Anna, he thought. He didn’t want this kid spouting hate to think he cared or even discussed this with his family. He wanted her to think her prejudice hadn’t affected him. He felt, aside from showing a video to counteract it, he’d get nowhere in explaining how she’d upset him.
This reaction correlates to a JTA article by Ilana Horwitz, a Tulane University professor. Noting that her Jewish studies students didn’t choose topics concerning antisemitism or Israel, she asked why. Her students are constantly facing antisemitism outside her classroom online and in person. Their anxiety about “saying the wrong thing” when it comes to Israel means that they don’t want any more discussions or pressure than they already face. Exhausted, they come to her class to find ways to deepen and strengthen their Jewish knowledge and history and find “Jewish joy.” They want “to remember what we’re fighting for.”
My child’s experiences echo some of the code-switching I did as a teenager in Virginia more than 35 years ago. As an adult, I realized that my Jewish identity, practice and ideals were carefully separated and toned down when we were a small minority amid Christian Southerners who were perhaps ignorant at best when it came to treating Jews as equals. Not much has changed, although, in Winnipeg, the majority culture is coded as secular Christian rather than religious, and there are many more Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and other religious traditions around.
I recently attended a Jewish-Christian interfaith event on the 60th anniversary of Nostra Aetate, when the Pope decreed that the Catholic Church should guard against antisemitism and that Jews hadn’t killed Jesus. The event’s planners had great intentions. The speakers were good. Rabbi Lisa Grushcow (PhD) and Dr. Murray Watson, a Catholic theologian, brought thoughtful, intellectual views on the subject. They didn’t shy away from much-needed dialogue as a bulwark against rising hate. Unfortunately, the event moderation left something to be desired. The well-intentioned Catholic senior citizens, who rose during the Q&A to speak, didn’t have critical questions. Instead, they wanted to “testify” about the “great Jewish boss” they’d had or seek reassurance that it was OK to disagree with the nice “quite Orthodox Jewish couple” in their senior living facility when it came to the West Bank/Judea and Samaria. I couldn’t help myself. Leaning over to a Jewish friend, I whispered that it’s good there are these amazing Jewish examples mentioned, because of what it suggested about the rest of us “no-goodniks”!
After several awkward moments, I felt relieved when the event ended. As a small minority in Canada, we need allies and connections. We cannot afford to give up on building bridges with others. First, we might make deep friendships and gain positive community, but also, with rising hate, it’s important to have allies (like those school tablemates) who stand up and tell haters to stop when they spout prejudice.
That said, this work to counter antisemitism isn’t solely our problem. Perhaps my teen and those students at Tulane are right. We should devote more energy to our Jewish joy, culture and history. Let’s embrace all the good, rich parts of our identities and re-invest in our learning and celebration. My kid, and most of his tablemates, didn’t want to give hateful stereotypes any airtime. In this instance, he was probably right. Lots has changed since I dealt with this in high school. I was often forced to give all the explanations and information about Jews, since I was the only Jew there. Then, afterwards, there was Jew-hate spewed towards me anyway.
What’s changed is our understanding of what causes criminal behaviour. We now recognize that a short skirt doesn’t cause sexual assault. Nothing we do specifically, as Jewish individuals, brings on this hate. Nothing the modern state of Israel or individual Jews do created this ancient hatred. It’s not our behaviour or fault. We don’t have to own this or fight this alone. Antisemitism is an old symptom of a much more invasive disease of ignorance and hate.
The solutions are complicated. Meanwhile, let’s consider shutting down these biases when they pop up, just as they did in my kid’s Grade 9 class. Let’s offer some Jewish joy to the mix – and let’s also remind one another that it’s not all on us. What causes antisemitism? Antisemites.
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
The passage across the Øresund, the body of water that separates the Danish peninsula from Sweden, is, at its narrowest, about the same distance as Horseshoe Bay to Bowen Island. But the waters can be treacherous – especially when it’s 1943 and the waters are swarming with Gestapo Kriegsmarine boats. Yet, for two weeks at the beginning of October 1943, 7,000 Danish Jews – about 95% of Danish Jewry (including the wonderful Victor Borge) – were safely transported across the Øresund in small fishing boats to the “sacred soil” of neutral Sweden.
In his new book, A Light in the Northern Sea: Denmark’s Incredible Rescue of Their Jewish Citizens During WWII, Tim Brady, author of the popular story of the Dutch Resistance Three Ordinary Girls, uses his excellent narrative skills to outline in detail how Danish Jews were warned about Nazi deportation plans, how they escaped and how they were treated when they arrived in Sweden.
Brady has described himself as a storyteller, rather than as a professional historian, but he has done his research and he tells this story in great detail. As he did with Three Ordinary Girls, Brady brings history alive with the telling of stories through the eyes of participants, rather than simply cold facts. The eyes here are, for the most part, those of the remarkable Dutch resistance fighter Jurgen Kieler, whose recently published memoirs (encouraged by Elie Wiesel) would not have been available to earlier rescue historians.
Readers might be surprised that the “light in the northern sea” of the title refers to welcoming Sweden, not, as you might expect, given the book’s subtitle, Denmark. But, as Brady is quick to point out, the Swedish “light” was not always bright – before, and early in the war, Sweden had demanded that Germany mark the passports of Jewish emigrés with a “J” so they could be more easily refused, and Sweden refused potential Jewish immigrants who were not financially independent.
However, as Brady notes, largely due to the enormously influential intercession of the great Danish Nobelist Niels Bohr (a dedicated Nazi-hater) with the Swedish government, Sweden’s position regarding the Jewish immigrants changed radically by October 1943, when it decided to admit all 7,200 Jews fleeing the recently occupying Nazis in Denmark.
Swedes almost universally opened their homes to the Danish Jews. The refugees were also made to feel comfortable in churches, community centres, hotels and schools, as welfare agencies constructed camps, provided clothing and household items, and helped them find employment. Also, as Brady notes, during the post-rescue months of the Danish resistance, Sweden provided a 25 million kroner (about $70 million in today’s dollars) credit to help Denmark train and organize the Danish Brigade revolutionary group.
Interestingly, the “rescue of Denmark’s Jewish citizens” referred to in the book’s subtitle has a double reference for Brady. On the one hand, there is the escape across the Øresund. But there is a second “rescue” described in the ending chapters of the book. These chapters deal with the 1943-45 undertakings of the Danish resistance, including detailed accounts of both their successful and non-successful sabotage activities. However, most of these Danish fighters were ultimately captured, and Brady carefully narrates their terrible experiences in German concentration camps. But, once again, the Danish Jews were “rescued.” Thanks to a coordinated effort of the Swedish Red Cross and the Danish government, most of the Danish concentration camp prisoners were returned to Denmark in the remarkable “White Bus Rescue” that was made possible in March 1945 by negotiations instigated between the Swedish diplomat Folke Bernadotte and Heinrich Himmler, which Brady describes at the end of his book.
When put into historical perspective, as Brady is careful to do, the rescue of 95% of Danish Jewry, while utterly unique in Europe, was not completely surprising. At no time had Danish Jews been required to wear a yellow star. Moreover, King Christian X, while greeting his Danish subjects, would never salute the occupying Nazis, and would habitually visit Denmark’s Great Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah. (King Christian, in contradiction to popular myth, never wore the yellow star – but he would later be placed under house arrest.) As well, Jews lived comfortably in Copenhagen; for 100 years, they had enjoyed full human rights and become very active in arts, politics and philanthropy. For these reasons, as Brady explains, and also because the Danish population was, in his words, “peculiarly democratic,” Germany hesitated to “twist the arms of Denmark regarding its Jewish problem” (no less was Denmark anxious to “poke the Third Reich bear,” as Brady puts it).
But how did the Danish Jews know about the Nazis’ plans todeport them? To answer this question, Brady emphasizes the courageous actions of Nazi diplomat Georg Duckwitz, whom history should celebrate as a kind of Raoul Wallenberg- or Oskar Schindler-type figure. With his life on the line, Duckwitz tipped off Danish authorities when, in September 1943, the Nazis decided to solve the Danish “Jewish problem” in the way history shows they “solved” other problems. Duckwitz also, after tipping off Danish authorities, courageously traveled to Stockholm to tell Sweden’s prime minister about the impending roundup of Danish Jews.
As a result of Duckwitz’s actions, Danes were warned in time of the impending roundup and, when the Gestapo came calling, there was no one home. Almost all (except the very ill and disabled who did end up deported) were in neighbours’ homes or schools, churches, hospitals or safe houses, preparing for their trip to Sweden.
Once the fishing boats were assembled, the flight to Sweden began in earnest. The boats were usually crammed; children and babies were usually sedated; and the passage was often rough, as high winds would often raise waves four to six metres high.
As an aside, in 1989, the annual Holocaust Symposium at the University of British Columbia arranged by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre focused on the Danish rescue. The speakers were a Danish Jewish woman who was rescued and a Danish fisherman who was among the rescuers. In the Q&A portion of their presentation, the fisherman admitted that he and the other rescuers charged as much as 1,000 kroner ($5,000 in today’s Canadian money) per “Jewish ticket.” Brady notes this, but finds it “understandable,” since the fishermen’s livelihood was at stake in crossing the Gestapo-infested Øresund.
All in all, the Danish rescue, as Brady presents it, is truly a remarkable story – and a welcome reminder that, even in the roughest seas and at the darkest times, the basic light of humanity can shine brightly.
Graham Forst, PhD, taught literature and philosophy at Capilano University until his retirement and now teaches in the continuing education department at Simon Fraser University. From 1975 to 2010, he co-chaired the symposium committee of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre.
Almost every year that the Jewish Independent has entered the American Jewish Press Association’s Simon Rockower Awards for Excellence in Jewish Journalism competition, the paper has been recognized for its editorials. We have won for other articles, too, in several different categories, but have taken away the most honours for our editorials. This year, for instance, we took first and second place! (See jewishindependent.ca/ji-editorials-win-twice.)
The JI’s editorial board, Pat Johnson, Basya Laye and I, don’t always agree initially on what the editorial’s stance will be. Our back-and-forths, exchanging our different views and coming to a consensus, is one of my favourite parts of running the paper. It’s a key reason, I believe, that the editorials have been so award-winning.
Another reason is that the three of us have read and worked on the Jewish Independent for so many years, and we’ve been part of this community for so many years. We are grateful for those on whose shoulders we stand. The wisdom of previous generations, and that of our own generation, inspires how we look at what’s happening here and elsewhere in the world.
As I looked through the JI archives, I came across the first editorial I wrote for the paper, when it was still called the Jewish Western Bulletin, and before Pat, Basya and I became a team. I also clipped out just some of the thousands of editorials that have been written over the years. There are so many recurring themes, including communal and democratic responsibilities and the importance of free speech. The editorials variously try to calm, cajole, educate or empower readers.
April 13, 1945: The paper’s editorials were brought under community review. Associate editor Goodman Florence describes the meeting that took place and comes to the conclusion that, “He who aspires to express himself must expect to receive both ‘bouquets and brick-bats’ – and if he is intelligent he will use them both.”Oct. 26, 1973: Jewish Western Bulletin editor Sam Kaplan calls out community members who’ve not contributed funds to Israel in the wake of the Yom Kippur War. The editorial floats the idea of publishing a list of these “Missing Jews of Silence.”Feb. 6, 1998: My first editorial for the paper argued for limited regulation of the internet, concluding that state censorship is more dangerous than free speech, including hate speech.
The JI editorial board’s first place Rockower Award winners from 2024 – and our many other missives – can be read at jewishindependent.ca.
Tori Avey’s Honey Apple Bundt Cake before being dusted with sugar powder or decorated with icing. (photo by Shelley Civkin)
Rosh Hashanah may well be in the rearview mirror, but Tori Avey’s Honey Apple Bundt Cake (toriavey.com/honey-apple-cake) is guaranteed to be a staple on your dinner table, no matter the time of year. It’s definitely not your typical yontif honey cake that doubles as a brick. Filled with shredded apples, it not only satisfies your sweet tooth but is off-the-charts moist.
Except for the apple-shredding part, which I do by hand, this recipe is fast and easy. I used to have a food processor with a shredder attachment but I never used it, so I gave it to my niece. I also used to have a Bundt pan, but I rarely used it, so I gave it to my niece. She now has an extensive collection of high-end small kitchen appliances. And I borrow from her. My point is that this cake was a colossal hit at my Rosh Hashanah dinner table, and is one recipe I’ll be making on the regular. You’re welcome.
HONEY APPLE BUNDT CAKE
3 large eggs 3/4 cup honey 1/2 cup white sugar 1/4 cup light brown sugar 1 1/4 cups canola oil 1 1/2 tsp vanilla 3 cups all-purpose flour 1 tsp baking powder 1 tsp baking soda 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon 3/4 tsp salt 1/4 tsp allspice (optional) dash ground cloves (optional) 4 apples (peeled, cored, shredded) 3 tbsp powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 325˚F. Peel, core and shred your apples.
In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs until they’re frothy. Whisk in the honey, white sugar, brown sugar, oil and vanilla. In a separate medium-sized bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, salt and spices (optional) together. Incorporate the flour mixture into the liquid, and stir to blend. Fold in the shredded apples (I used Ambrosia or Fuji but you can use any kind you like) and their juice.
Spray your nine-inch Bundt pan with cooking spray, making sure to evenly coat the entire inner surface. Pour the batter into the pan. Since Bundt pan sizes vary (I use a 10-to-15-cup pan), make sure the batter fills the pan three-quarters full or less – don’t fill beyond that or your cake might overflow during baking. Use a spatula to gently smooth the batter on the top so it’s flat and even all the way around the pan.
Bake the cake for 75 to 90 minutes. If you’re using a dark-coloured Bundt pan, it may bake faster, so start checking at 50 minutes. When the edges darken and pull away from the sides of the pan, and the cake is brown all the way across the top, insert a toothpick (or wooden shish kabob skewer) into the thickest part of the cake. If it comes out clean, it’s done. It’s a very moist cake, so it’s easy to undercook it. Bake it a little longer if you’re unsure, but not too long or it’ll dry out.
Let the cake cool for 10 minutes, then invert it onto a flat plate. Tap the Bundt pan gently to release the cake, then let the cake cool completely before you dust it with powdered sugar. Since the cake is moist, it tends to soak up the powdered sugar, so only add it right before serving. I put three tablespoons of powdered sugar into a small handheld mesh sieve and sprinkled it on top of the cake by tapping the sieve. If there’s any cake left over, keep it in the fridge, covered.
If you happen to be a fan of drizzled icing, this next part is for you. To make an icing, sift one cup of powdered sugar into a mixing bowl. Add a quarter teaspoon of vanilla extract and half a tablespoon of water or non-dairy creamer. Whisk the sugar and liquid to blend, adding the liquid very slowly, until it just comes together. Add additional liquid by half teaspoonfuls, mixing constantly, until the mixture has the texture of very thick honey. When you pull a spatula through the icing and it takes a few seconds for the gap to close again, the texture is right.
Pour the icing into a sealable plastic bag. Close the bag, leaving a small bit open to vent, and push the icing towards one lower corner of the bag. Cut the very tip of that corner off the bag. Squeeze gently to drizzle the icing over the cake. Let the icing dry completely before serving – this takes 30-60 minutes. Slice and enjoy!
Another new Rosh Hashanah recipe I tried convinced me that not all tzimmes are created equal. Ksenia Prints’ Russian Jewish Carrot Tzimmes (immigrantstable.com/my-grandmas-russian-jewish-carrot-tzimmes) is definitely a cut above and checks all the boxes for rich depth of flavour. Some of my Rosh Hashanah guests actually asked if they could take some home!
RUSSIAN JEWISH CARROT TZIMMES
2 lbs carrots peeled & cut into 2-inch pieces 7 oz pitted prunes 7 oz dried apricots zest of 2 oranges, in strips juice of 2 oranges 4 tbsp honey 1/4 cup brown sugar 3 tbsp butter 1 tsp ground cinnamon 1/2 tsp ground ginger 1/4 tsp ground cardamom (optional) salt to taste
Ksenia Prints’ Russian Jewish Carrot Tzimmes. (photo from immigrantstable.com/my-grandmas-russian-jewish-carrot-tzimmes)
Preheat oven to 350°F.
Blanch carrots in boiling salted water for 5 minutes, then drain.
In a large ovenproof dish, combine carrots, prunes, apricots and orange zest.
Combine orange juice, honey, brown sugar, melted butter, cinnamon, ginger and cardamom (optional), and pour this over the carrot mixture. Toss to coat.
Cover the dish with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil, stir, and continue baking uncovered for 30 to 40 minutes, until carrots are tender and the sauce has thickened and reduced to a glaze. Season with salt to taste and let rest for 10 minutes before serving.
The orange zest strips become almost candied and the glaze is sweet and slightly spicy. This dish freezes perfectly and offers a deep, rich flavour that only gets better with time. Seriously. You can make it in advance, like I did, then defrost and reheat it in the microwave. No one was the wiser. And everyone was happy.
The $64,000 question is this: Why do we save these delicious recipes only for holidays? Get thee to the oven now!
Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.
היום השאלה האם להמשיך ולגור בישראל, לעזוב או לחזור ולגור בה או לעשות עלייה -היא רלוונטית יותר מאי פעם. מצד אחד ישראל נמצאת במצב בטחוני, כלכלי וחברתי לא פשוטים, ומצד שני האנטישמיות ופגיעה בישראלים וביהודים היא ממשית ביותר
אני עזבתי את תל אביב ועברתי לגור בוונקובר שבמערב קנדה לפני למעלה מעשרים שנה. אני יכול רק להצטער שלא עזבתי שנים קודם לכן בעת היותי צעיר יותר כי זה היה חלום חיי. חברו לחלום ההרגשה שהפכתי להיות זר בישראל ולכן העדפתי להיות זר בחו”ל. בנוסף, המצב הבטחוני של ישראל גם הוא הטריד אותי. אילו הן שלוש הסיבות המרכזיות שהביאו אותי לעזוב את ישראל. כבר בראשית שנות השמונים (אחרי השירות הצבאי) התחלתי לחלום על מעבר לחו”ל ולצערי רק כעבור עשרים שנה הגשמתי זאת
לקום ולעזוב לחו”ל זה דבר לא פשוט שכרוך בהרבה מאוד סיכונים. וצריך גם אומץ רב והאמת שזה היה חסר במקרה שלי. רק בסוף שנת 2004 כאשר קיבלתי את הניירת ההגירה לקנדה החלטתי שהפעם אני לא נותן לעצמי שום הנחות ותירוצים – מדוע שלא לעזוב. כעבור שלושה חודשים סיימתי את כל ענייני בתל אביב ועליתי למטוס שהביא אותי לוונקובר, בה אני חי עד היום
בשנות השמונים והתשעים רציתי לעבור לאירופה (תחילה ללונדון ולאחר מכן לאמסטרדם). בראשית אלפיים זכיתי בגרין קארד ואז החלטתי לעבור לניו יורק. אך היעדר האומץ כפי שציינתי והעבודה שכל כך אהבתי בתחום המדיה: “החזיקו” אותי בישראל. עבדתי בעיתונות במשך שבעה עשרה שנים והיה לי מאוד קשה להיפרד ממנה. בשנים האחרונות למגורי בישראל קיבלתי הצעות מפתות מהעורכים המובילים בעיתונות אך דחיתי את כולן, כי אחרת הייתי מתקשה עוד יותר קשה לעזוב. משה ורדי הציע לי לעבוד בידיעות אחרונות, אמנון דנקנר – מעריב, גיא רולניק ואיתן אבריאל – דה מרקר (שהיה מופרד אז מהארץ) וחגי גולן – גלובס
לבסוף הצלחתי להתגבר על כל המכשולים הנפשיים ועזבתי את ישראל לטובת קנדה. מרבית בני משפחתי וחברי הבינו אותי, ותמכו בצעדי. כמובן שהיו בודדים שלא ראו בעין טובה את “ירידתי” מישראל ולאורך הזמן היחסים ביננו הפכו לקרירים ואף נותקו. הגעתי לוונקובר, ובשנותי הראשונות עבדתי כמחפש מידע בחברה כלכלית. לשמחתי במשך מרבית שנותי כאן כתבתי (כפרילנס) עבור ידיעות אחרונות ווינט על מה שקורה בקנדה. לפני למעלה מאחת עשרה שנים הצטרפתי לחברה הפיננסית המספקת הלוואות סאב-פריים, ואני משמש מבקר החברה ואף עובד מהבית בשמונה השנים האחרונות
עוד שגרתי בישראל ראיתי עתיד שחור למדינה שהופכת להיות יותר דתית-חרדית-ימנית-לאומנית. אז התחלתי לקלוט שאין לי יותר מקום במדינה בה נולדתי וגדלתי ושהייתה בית מצויין במשך שנים. לצערי המציאות השתנתה לרעה וכאמור התחלתי להרגיש זר בישראל. מצאתי את עצמי שייך למיעוט שהוא וקטן וכיום ההבדלים בין שני המחנות עצומים ולא ניתנים לגישור. מלחמת ששת הימים עם הניצחון הגדול הביאה את תחילתה של תנועת ההתיישבות בשטחים הכבושים. וכך גם החל לגדול המחנה המשיחי. ומטבע הדברים לדתיים וחרדים יש הרבה ילדים והמספרים מנצחים. מציאות זו לא מתיישבת עם עקרונותי ודרכי ועל כן מצאתי לי בית חדש בקנדה
כיום אני מנותק כמעט לחלוטין מהוויה והתרבות הישראלית ורק השפה העברית מקשרת אותי לישראל. הקשר עם בני משפחה וחברים בישראל עדיין חשוב לי אך במקביל המרחק ביני ובין המדינה הולך וגדל. ישראל לא תשוב עוד להיות ביתי
On the weekend of Oct. 11-12, the Okanagan Jewish Community Centre hosted a memorial exhibit to mark two years since Oct. 7. It was designed as a series of information booths, to allow visitors to engage with the material at their own pace. (photo from OJC)
On the weekend of Oct. 11-12, the Okanagan Jewish Community Centre (OJC) hosted a memorial exhibit to mark two years since the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre in Israel. The program brought together Kelowna, West Kelowna and Okanagan area residents, the Jewish community, other faith groups and allies, as well as local, provincial and federal elected representatives and some of their staff.
The exhibit, created by Mila Shapiro and Harley Kushmier, was designed as a series of information booths, to allow visitors to engage with the material at their own pace. Each station explained different parts of the story: the historical context, the scale of the violence and the hatred that drove it. Displays showed how people from all backgrounds – left or right, foreign nationals or Israelis – were targeted and suffered the same nightmare.
One of the most difficult-to-view sections showed video footage recorded by the Hamas terrorists during the attacks. The reaction from visitors was intense, with many saying it was overwhelming, but also something they needed to see to understand the scale of the cruelty.
(photo from OJC)
On the Saturday evening, the guest speaker, Nitzan, shared her story of Oct. 7 to a room filled to capacity.
Nitzan, who preferred to go by her first name for this article, grew up in a small northern town in Israel, where having to take refuge in a shelter wasn’t necessarily a scary experience.
“Back then, we didn’t have Iron Dome, we didn’t have an alarm system,” she said. “We heard the whistle and then the boom.
“As we grew older, my sister moved to the south of Israel, where she fell in love and built her life in Kibbutz Be’eri, an amazing peaceful, community. Be’eri made the desert bloom.”
On Oct. 7, Nitzan’s sister sent a photo of her and her family in their safe room. “I called her, asking why they were in the safe room, what’s happening. She said the amount of rockets is insane. We’re in the safe room, but I’m not sure what’s going to happen to the people partying at the music fest – they have nowhere to go.”
A few minutes later, “She was outside with the kids and, on a video call, I said to her, what if they come?”
The family returned to their safe room, said Nitzan. But the doors to safe rooms don’t lock. “You have to hold the handle up,” she explained.
Fifteen minutes later, texts started flooding in – attackers were in the kibbutz, they were breaking into people’s homes.
“As the night went on,” said Nitzan, “they, Hamas, were burning the houses, smoking people out of their homes, shooting, killing, murdering whoever they could. They broke into my sister’s house five times. She and her husband held onto the door, not letting go, not letting them in.
“As the night went on, her texts were begging for help, saying goodbye, not thinking they were going to make it through the night.
“Her husband’s family all live in the kibbutz – his two sisters and his mom. His mom was hosting her sister, her husband and son. They didn’t make it,” said Nitzan. His mom, Pessi, her sister Hanna, husband Zizi and son Tal were all killed.
“My friend Abouya answered my texts, saying he’s holding onto the door and then he stopped reading my messages. They had shot him in the stomach, and he died at home. He was a close family friend…. His grandkids,two 12-year-old-year-olds, a boy and girl, Ynai and Liel, were being held in Pessi’s house. They were murdered with her. The terrorists gathered 15 neighbours, murdering 12 of them.”
(photo from OJC)
Nitzan knew many others who were killed.
“I ended up in an emergency room,” she shared. “I couldn’t bear the horror. I was throwing up, sweating, shaking. When I got to emerg, the doctor told me he had to give me something to calm me down. I said, I can’t take it. If I need to make the decision to go home, I need to be able to make it. He looked at me and understood. When I saw him a few months after, he asked me, how are you doing? Did your family survive?
“They did, and I am so grateful for that.”
Nitzan spoke about the rising amount of antisemitism in Canada and around the world.
“We have to stick together, we have to find each other, support each other and find why,” she said, mentioning former hostage Eli Sharabi’s book, Hostage, in which he describes meeting Hersh Goldberg-Polin, another hostage, who was murdered in the tunnels of Gaza with five others in August 2024. Goldberg-Polin told Sharabi, “If you have the why, you’ll find the how” to survive. Sharabi talks about how this idea, also expressed by Friedrich Nietzsche (“he who has a why to live for can bear almost anything”) helped him survive 491 days in captivity.
“It has been two long years, years of hurt, of pain,” said Nitzan. “I wish for all our hostages to come home … victims’ bodies are still there. I wish for us to be united, to know that we are stronger together, that we have many friends that support us and that we are not alone.”
(photo from OJC)
The evening concluded with a Q&A session. Questions and comments ranged from the sharing of personal experiences, to questions for Nitzan, to concerns about antisemitism and the growing fear that many Jewish Canadians are now living with.
On Sunday, Liel, who also didn’t want her surname used for this article, shared her story about Oct. 7. She spoke about the loss of someone very close to her and the continuing impact that day has had on her perspective and sense of community. As well, she discussed the challenges on Canadian and American university campuses, describing how painful it has been to witness the reactions and divisions that have emerged.
“We can’t stop talking about the victims of the seventh of October,” said Liel, the more than 1,200 “innocent people who lost their lives in senseless violence,” and those who were kidnapped.
“We can’t forget about the heroes of that day,” she said, talking about the soldiers and civilians who fought hard that day, the “heroes that saved countless lives by sacrificing themselves. We must keep all of their memories alive by continuing to remember them and talk about them, and share their stories.”
“As a Jew, I carry the weight of my ancestors’ pain and resilience. Our voice must never be silent,” said Kushmier about why it was important for him to help create this exhibit. “The pain in Israel and in the Jewish diaspora has been profound, yet we rise above the hate. We stand as ourselves, stronger and united, showing the world that we will endure, heal and continue to thrive.
“Every generation of our people has faced hardship, but we have never been broken,” he said. “Through centuries of persecution, we have built communities, told our stories, and held onto our faith. Our people are strong, and our unity is our power. In the face of hatred, we choose love and life.”
Shapiro said the Oct. 7 massacre hit very close to home, and her family lost someone very close to them at the Nova music festival.
“My land and my people are suffering and I believe it’s critical to bring historical facts and context to the forefront, so others can truly understand the roots of this conflict,” she said. “Only through education and awareness can we make change toward truth and justice.
“In addition, in the aftermath of such a horrific tragedy, I believe it can be deeply healing to come together in mourning – to honour and remember those who were brutally murdered, massacred, burned and tortured. Their lives were taken in unimaginable ways, and we owe it to them and to ourselves to remember their names, their stories and their humanity. Mourning together is not just an act of remembrance – it’s an act of resistance against forgetting.”
In a city where the Jewish community is small but strong, the exhibit was a chance to learn, to bear witness and to connect, said Kushmier and Shapiro, who thank Nitzan for sharing her story.
They also thank their families and the volunteers, including Bitachon (security) members, who assisted with the two-day exhibit, which was funded by donations from the Okanagan Jewish Community Centre and the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, and included material from StandWithUs.
Samantha Kushmier is a member of the Okanagan Jewish Community, and mother of exhibit organizer Harley Kushmier.
Songs of Deliverance, a solo exhibit by Michal Tkachenko, opened last month at the Zack Gallery and is on display until Nov. 10. While its title is inspired by the lyrics of a Bethel Music song – “You unravel me, with a melody / You surround me with a song / Of deliverance, from my enemies / Till all my fears are gone” – its focus derives from three psalms.
“I really wanted to have a subject for the exhibition that would bind communities together and so I came to rest on the psalms, which span both Judaism and Christianity, but are also used in secular society as a means to reach out to a greater being beyond ourselves,” Tkachenko told the Independent. “For me, this is a huge departure from previous work in both subject and vulnerability. It is my most honest work so far and, as the exhibition falls on the two-year anniversary of everything I saw with my spirit, I feel myself rising from the anguish and am ready to speak about my experience now, to move towards creating what I saw was possible.”
Lacking the exact words to describe it, Tkachenko said she had a near-death, or mystical, experience two years ago, and she was in that state for more than a week.
“It instantly changed my entire outlook on life and death and it completely changed me,” she said. “I was so excited about it until I began to realize how isolated it made me and how those I reached out to didn’t always have a helpful response. I quickly spiraled into the dark night of the soul and have been traveling that road…. Two very deep things came to rest in me during this time. The first was a deep longing in my spirit for something greater than myself, to draw and stay extremely close to God. The second was a deep grief that all that I had seen with my spirit, particularly an unseen solid force of love that is everywhere and how we are meant to love and be vulnerable with each other as our primary purpose in life, were things I could not make happen however hard I tried.”
Psalm 23 – “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil” – was with Tkachenko throughout this two-year period. “For me,” she said, “it was a psalm about my journey and how, in the midst of the darkness, God was always with me and more vivid than I had ever experienced outside of that extraordinary week.”
Michal Tkachenko’s solo exhibit, Songs of Deliverance, is at the Zack Gallery until Nov. 10. (photo by Andrea Lee)
As she approached the one-year anniversary of that week, Tkachenko asked two people to write her a blessing, as she made a vow to God and shaved her head. “One of the blessings,” she said, “included Psalm 63 and it reflected my own deep longing for God, ‘I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry parched land where there is no water.’… My hair that I shaved off is part of the exhibition in an aged box that is meant to suggest a holy relic of the past, when people had more vivid experiences with God.
“Psalm 139 is such a beautiful expression of God’s love and absolutely full of beautiful imagery as an artist,” she continued. “It is a psalm that has also kept me company on my two-year journey and moves me every time I read it.
“For this psalm,” she said, “I made a pile of sketches of different verses and the images that came to me. Of those, I chose seven to do larger pieces on mylar. In many of the pieces, the spirit of God is represented by the white negative space. In ‘You Hem Me in Behind and Before, You Lay Your Hand Upon Me,’ the image of a human is abstracted in a long, dark column down the centre of the page, but the figure is not the focus. Instead, the white empty space is the representation of God hemming that figure in from ‘behind and before.’”
Songs of Deliverance marks Tkachenko’s return to drawing and painting after this two-year period, during which she spent a lot of time writing. “My goal is to make short, layered videos using these writings,” she said.
She also took a break from painting during COVID, making art out of dollhouses that people were getting rid of in the decluttering that took place then. In these dollhouses, she created COVID lockdown scenes in miniature.
“My interest is not held by one medium or one style alone, although I do have a style that often emerges naturally,” she said. “The older I get, the less interested I am in creating what I think others will like or want to buy and more about what I want to say and what I am excited about making and expressing through the medium that seems best suited to that particular message.”
Tkachenko was born in Victoria but grew up in Vancouver. Her dad, an architectural technician, builder and musician, was a Ukrainian immigrant to Canada after the Second World War, while her mom, a teacher, music teacher and musician, was a second-generation Canadian with a Scottish/British background.
“My parents were part of the hippy movement in the ’60s and ’70s and, when I was young, we lived in communal housing,” said Tkachenko, who is the oldest of four sisters.
“Growing up in a big creative household, there were always guests and cooking parties (Ukrainian food), live music and all sorts of art projects going on,” she said. “My parents didn’t push the academics as much because they wanted to make sure we found what gave us excitement and joy and they invested in building our self-esteem instead.”
That said, Tkachenko has a bachelor’s and a master’s in fine arts. For her schooling, she has lived in Vancouver, Victoria, Calgary, Toronto, Florence and London (England). She has lived and volunteered in Haiti, Kenya, Malawi and Liberia, among other places. She has studios in both Vancouver and Manchester, as she, her husband and kids travel between Canada and the United Kingdom.
Despite knowing from a young age that she was going to be an artist, it took time for Tkachenko to recognize her skill and justify making art – “I considered it a luxury item, when the poor existed in the world,” she said.
“My hippy parents had driven us down to Mexico a number of times when my sister and I were young children (we are the oldest two) and we had been taken to the slums to understand how most of the world lived and how, despite our modest life in Canada, we were rich compared to rest of the world. It had made a huge and lasting impression on me as a child.”
At 18, she moved to Haiti to volunteer for a year, she said, “but before the year was out, I was in a life-altering car accident in which a friend died, my skull was shattered and my face smashed in on one side. I was flown back to Canada for reconstructive surgery and to recover.”
She volunteered for a spell in Kenya a few years later, but then finally decided to follow her calling in art.
Tkachenko works out of Parker Studios in Vancouver. She is also on the advisory committee for the DTES Small Arts Grant. “Being on this committee and working out of Carnegie [Community Centre] in the Downtown Eastside joins two things I value – the arts and working among the less fortunate,” she said.
Tkachenko’s husband is Jewish on his mother’s side – “her parents fled Czechoslovakia and Germany for the UK during WWII,” Tkachenko shared.
“Although they purposefully lost a lot of their Jewish heritage during the shift for safety reasons, my kids and I have become interested in it,” she said. “I came from a very open faith background because my parents were hippies that were part of the Jesus People Movement. They always encouraged us to find our own way to God and faith and, as a result, the people I am drawn to with my spirit are varied, from Jewish to Muslim, from Buddhist to Eastern Awakenings. The value of community does go beyond a single group [an idea she explores in one of The Journey series videos she is currently working on] and the more open and loving we become with each other, the more we can appreciate the differences that we each were gifted. And the more we see the bigger picture and what we all have in common.”
The overwhelming joy of seeing the remaining hostages reunited with their loved ones, and Israelis and Jews heaving a sigh of relief after two excruciating years, is tempered with the sadness of all that was lost on and since Oct. 7, 2023. The entirely reasonable fear, also, is that this eight-decade conflict is not over. With the days-old ceasefire already fraying, it is not clear that even the immediate conflict is decisively ended.
For Jews in the diaspora, the past two years have seen two related but distinct conflicts. The war in the Middle East, with the fate of the hostages as well as the loss of Palestinian and Israeli lives, has been a constant source of pain. The paroxysm of antisemitism worldwide has been a parallel phenomenon.
We are careful to note that the phenomenon of antisemitism is parallel to the war in Gaza, not caused by it. The blame for antisemitism must always be placed where it belongs – on antisemites. To justify it as being a consequence of international affairs is to excuse the perpetrators and avoid the problem. Even so, it is naïve to ignore the parallel – for decades, every time violence flares between Israelis and Palestinians, trouble increases for Jews worldwide.
Assuming that the war is over, we will see whether the antisemitism we have witnessed and experienced – the violence against Jews, the attacks on Jewish institutions, the loss of jobs, the end of friendships, the graffiti, vandalism, and tsunami of online and verbal hatred and conspiratorial speculation (and even unintended offence) – abate. Even if it does subside, the underlying issue remains. Antisemitism in Canada is a Canadian problem. To accept that it ebbs and flows with international news is not an acceptable approach for people who claim to oppose racism and advance inclusion.
Two interesting approaches – and doubtlessly scores more that have received less publicity – take aim at the issue. They come from organizations with significantly different views and propose significantly different responses. This diversity is understandable, in part because antisemitism manifests in diverse ways and so requires diverse responses. This also points to a larger problem: antisemitism is so diffuse and varied, and so historically enduring, that we can disagree on its very nature, its manifestations and causes, let alone how to confront and overcome it. If anyone had the magic solution, we wouldn’t be having this discussion three millennia on.
The latest intervention is a report by the Nexus Project, a US-based nonprofit focused on combating antisemitism while protecting democratic norms like free speech and civil rights. The Shofar Report: A Call to Defend Democracy and Confront Antisemitism contends the best way to combat antisemitism is to strengthen the values of American society (and other Western societies). It argues that Jewish safety and security and American (or, we might extrapolate, Western democratic) institutions are inseparable. Put succinctly, their approach rests on the conventional wisdom that the very societies where antisemitism flourishes are endangered in existential ways. As such, antisemitism is a kind of canary in the coal mine of societal erosion.
The report has several calls to action, including expanding education around the Holocaust, media literacy and diverse Jewish contributions to society; strengthening civil rights enforcement; countering disinformation and conspiracy theories; preserving academic freedom; building cross-community coalitions; and so forth. It critiques antisemitism on the left and right of the political spectrum. While these are not fresh ideas, they are compiled and contextualized here within the apparent erosion of American democracy. If these approaches have not seemed to work, a response might be that we have not been doing them forcefully enough or with enough resolve. With a rapidly changing landscape, might focused attention and some new tactics yield better results?
The Heritage Foundation has a rather more assertive approach. The foundation is perhaps best known in this era as the authors of Project 2025, which serves as a policy map for the current American administration.
Project Esther: A National Strategy to Combat Antisemitism, which was released a year ago, rests on the assumption that antisemitism in the United States (and, again, to extrapolate, in the West) is not an incidental, populist phenomenon, but a deliberately fomented strategy of a coordinated “Hamas Support Network.” The strategy of this report is to put pressure across academic, social, legal, financial and religious spheres to identify and isolate forces they see as perpetrators, supporters or fence-sitters. Their aim is to dismantle the “pro-Palestinian” movement as it is currently constituted, including associated liberal and progressive organizations. To that end, they focus exclusively on left-wing antisemitism. They recommend a combative strategy based on existing and new counter-terrorism and hate-crime laws, investigations and litigation.
We may agree with aspects of one approach more than the other, or take nuggets from each and a thousand other tactics. The solution to antisemitism’s rise, if there is one, will probably come from some synthesis of strategies: building bridges, fighting for democracy, and holding individuals and institutions accountable for their failures and fomentation. The most important thing is to be engaged in the struggle and not to assume that, if an overseas conflict is resolved, the domestic problem will be solved. That would be a form of denial and, while we can disagree over the potential resolutions, we must be unanimous in recognizing the painful realities of the problem.
Orca Wiesblatt was to play for the ECHL’s Allen Americans this season. The 25-year-old died in a car accident on Vancouver Island Sept. 14. (photo from allenamericans.com)
A crowdfunding initiative is underway to honour the memory of Orca Wiesblatt, a professional hockey player who died in a car accident on Vancouver Island Sept. 14, and to help his family and friends navigate through the hardship of losing a loved one who was only 25.
Paula King, a family friend of the Wiesblatts, launched the GoFundMe campaign shortly after news of the tragedy broke last month. The goal is to raise $22,000. Thus far, more than $16,000 has been contributed.
“There has been such an outpouring of love for this young man in statements from so many fans, friends, former teammates and every organization he has played for. His talent, love of life and infectious smile never went unnoticed on or off the ice; it is one to be recognized and to be remembered with such a high regard,” King, who knew the Wiesblatt family through the hockey community in Calgary, says on the site.
“I want the Wiesblatt family to know that they are not alone,” writes King. “Every friend, teammate and fan that has come to know them, we are here, standing united as a deep-rooted hockey community from near or far away. It takes a village, and we are here for them now more than ever.”
Wiesblatt was one of four hockey-playing brothers born to deaf parents. The children learned American Sign Language before they could speak English, and each could communicate in French and Quebec Sign Language as well.
Raised in both Kelowna and Calgary, Wiesblatt’s skills as a hockey player were evident early. In 2007, at age 7, he was ranked the best player in his class in the Okanagan.
The family was featured in a Nov. 9, 2007, article by Kelley Korbin in the Independent. At the time, his father, Art Wiesblatt, said, “Orca’s able to steal the show. I feel bad for the other parents, but he just gets out there and he’s all over the ice and the other kids just can’t keep up. Like Ocean (his older brother), he’s beyond the age range of the other boys he’s playing with. He’s at a whole different level.”
Wiesblatt’s death has been met with shock and grief from the teams he played for in his professional career. The Calgary Hitmen of the Western Hockey League, where Wiesblatt got his start, said in a statement, “It is with great sadness that we mourn the tragic passing of [former Hitmen] Orca Wiesblatt. We are heartbroken for his family, friends and everyone who knew and loved him.
“On behalf of the ownership, management, coaches, players and staff of Calgary Sports and Entertainment, we extend our deepest heartfelt sympathies during this very difficult time.”
Scott Hull, president of the Athens (Ga.) Rock Lobsters of the Federal Prospects Hockey League (FPHL), where Wiesblatt spent the 2024-25 season, said, “Orca will always be remembered as one of the players who helped set the tone for our franchise in its very first season.
“His passion for the game and his infectious energy made him a fan favourite and a true teammate. But, more than that, Orca was an even better person off the ice – kind, humble, and someone everyone was grateful to know. We are devastated by this loss and our thoughts are with his family.”
Wiesblatt was slated to play for the Allen (Tex.) Americans of the ECHL (formerly called the East Coast Hockey League) for the 2025-26 season after the team signed him in August.
“We are all heartbroken,” said Steve Martinson, the Americans general manager and head coach. “Orca was really looking forward to this next step in his hockey career. He wasn’t just skilled, he was a momentum-changing hitter. I can still see his grin when he would return to the bench after one of his big hits. That is what we will miss the most, his infectious smile.”
The Americans will pay tribute to Wiesblatt during their home opener on Oct. 24.
According to Vancouver Island’s CHEK News, Wiesblatt was driving a vehicle that veered off the road in Nanaimo and struck a light pole during the early morning hours of Sept. 14. He died at the scene. A passenger was treated in hospital for minor injuries.
Wiesblatt and his brothers were the subject of a 2019 Sportsnet Home Team Heroes segment titled “The Remarkable Story of the Wiesblatt Family.” Done in English and ASL, the piece covered the determination of Wiesblatt’s mother, Kim White, to have her sons participate in sports.
In the video, Wiesblatt credits his mother for paving the way for their hockey careers. “You don’t hear of a lot of people that have five kids in their family, four of them playing high elite hockey. She sacrificed everything for us. She is a hero to us.”
Of his other brothers, Ocean Wiesblatt currently plays for the Danville Dashers of the FPHL,Oasiz Wiesblatt for the Milwaukee Admirals of the American Hockey League and Ozzy Wiesblatt for the National Hockey League’s Nashville Predators.
To learn more about the family and King’s fundraising effort, visit gofund.me/9000f7caf.
Sam Margolishas written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.
