Category: Opinion

We cannot walk away

George Floyd’s name may be the best known, but police in the United States (and Canada and elsewhere) have assaulted and killed too many racialized individuals to recount here. While we might hope that the current focus on these needless and unlawful deaths will bring a sea-change in police training and behaviours, the truth is we have seen uprisings of outrage multiple times this century resulting in apparently minimal structural correction. Will this time be different? We can hope so – and act in ways that advance positive outcomes – but one trend is absolutely not helping.

Amid the weeks of protests and riots, the ceaseless attention on this issue has brought to light some factors that are less than encouraging. A backlash to the protests and their sometimes-violent flare-ups unsurprisingly take racist overtones. The mantra “all lives matter,” for example, is a tone deaf and offensive rejoinder to the Black Lives Matter movement. Acts of antisemitism – the spray-painting of a Los Angeles synagogue and a litany of other acts and statements from members of or those supporting a disparate movement – may give perceived consent to some Jews to turn away from the campaign for human equality. But BLM is not an organization; it is a movement. It is made up of scores or hundreds of independent groups and millions of supporters. Some of those individuals are Jews, Black and non-Black. We should be grown-up enough (and sufficiently world-weary) to know that, among any such agglomeration of people, some will express antisemitic ideas. If we are so troubled by this that we throw the baby of racial equality out with the bathwater of fringe extremism, we would be wise to look inward. If we refuse to stand with BLM because of a proportion of bigots in its ranks, take a good hard look at the company we keep by standing with its opponents.

The upshot is that BLM and the larger fight for equality – indeed, the fight to simply keep police from killing African-American and individuals from other identifiable minority communities – is too important to step away from even if we ourselves are targeted by some in the ranks. This should not be about Jews – though, while this should be a given, the world does not work this way. One element that has the potential to strain this alliance is those who have tried to make the relationship between police brutality and racial injustice about Jews: Israelis, specifically.

A tactic has been to focus on training that a comparatively small number of American law enforcement officials have received in Israel. Some voices have made direct parallels between these law enforcement exchanges and police violence in the United States. Some even falsely claim that the knee-on-the-neck move that killed George Floyd is an Israeli invention.

Steven L. Pomerantz, a former assistant director of the FBI and now director of the Homeland Security Program at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America, is an architect of one of the earliest such exchanges, which emerged shortly after the 9/11 terror attacks.

“Despite suggestions to the contrary, there is no field training involved in either the conferences or trips, and no training on holds or arrest mechanics,” he wrote recently. “Participants learn how Israeli law enforcement deters, disrupts and responds to terrorist attacks. They explore the ideology of suicide bombers and other attackers, ways to de-escalate an ongoing incident, and the intelligence-gathering and -sharing process.… Trip participants have discussed efforts to build trust with minority communities, visited hospital trauma units and crime scenes, and spoken with terrorists serving life sentences for murder. One year, JINSA organized a specialized trip for American bomb squad commanders, which focused on topics such as post-blast forensics and the materials used in explosive devices.”

There is a probably no democratic country in the world more experienced in counterterrorism operations than Israel. In today’s world, it would be foolish not to learn from this tragically hard-earned understanding. Like Canada and the United States, Israeli police and military personnel operate with civilian oversight. As Pomerantz writes, it is deceptive to pin on Israel the actions of rogue bad cops in the United States. And, even Jewish Voice for Peace, in their campaign against these law enforcement exchanges, explicitly calls out those who would strip the American context of repressive policing and shift the blame to Israel, as that could be reasonably interpreted as antisemitism and, therefore, harm the movement for solidarity.

It may be that these law enforcement exchanges worldwide – not just those concerning Israel – contribute to the militarization of policing, a trend that is worrying, to say the least. As part of a larger network of exchanges of security forces across the world, it may be that they need to be reassessed. However, to misplace responsibility for police violence – and to choose that scapegoat of ages, Jews – undermines the credibility and the effectiveness of the anti-racist enterprise, and it is disadvantageous to the larger movement for equality.

Good people in the anti-racism movement have and must condemn the targeting of Israel and Jews. Likewise, Jewish people who care about human equality must not step away from this fight, but rather fight on two fronts: against racism and antisemitism. For a better future for ourselves and for other minorities and marginalized peoples, we cannot walk away.

No Silence on Race

An open letter from Black Jews, non-Black Jews of colour and our allies to Jewish congregations, federations, foundations, organizations, nonprofits and initiatives, dated June 30, 2020.

We write this letter as proud members of the Canadian Jewish community. We are Black Jews and non-Black Jews of colour. We are Jewish community board members, educators and leaders. We write from a place of love for our Jewish identities and community, while also grappling with the cultural erasure, exclusion and structural racism that we experience in Jewish spaces. Nevertheless, we are compelled to be in Jewish community because it is who we are.

Over the past month, we have witnessed a racial reckoning within Canadian institutions. Police violence against Black and Indigenous people has continued unabated, with numerous deaths, including that of D’Andre Campbell, Eishia Hudson, Jason Collins, Regis Korchinski Paquet, Everett Patrick, Chantel Moore, Rodney Levi, Ejaz Ahmed Choudry and countless others. In the United States, the tragic murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade, Breonna Taylor, Sean Reed, George Floyd, David McAtee and Rayshard Brooks have gripped the collective consciousness and have been the catalyst for a global call to action. We have witnessed and participated in protests and in conversations for structural change across all sectors and our Jewish community is not exempt from this dialogue.

No Silence on Race is born out of the necessity for inclusivity and racial equity in Jewish spaces. We acknowledge and are grateful for the longstanding work that Jews of colour and Jewish allies in Canada and the United States have dedicated themselves to in addressing structural racism within the Jewish community.

In this letter, we call on our Jewish community to uphold the tenets of justice and equality and to commit to the creation of a truly anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish community.

The work that needs to be done to achieve this vision must happen collectively and systematically. To guide its implementation, we have devised nine pillars outlined below. These pillars are intended to support Jewish congregations, federations, foundations, organizations, nonprofits and initiatives in their transformation towards greater inclusivity and equity.

If you are aligned with the creation of an anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish community, we ask that you sign this letter in support [at nosilenceonrace.ca]. If you are an organization, we ask that, in addition to signing your name, you write a public statement expressing your commitment to achieving this vision.

The nine pillars are:

1) Allyship: creating anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish spaces begins with each individual. We call on everyone within their organizations to make a personal pledge to the work of allyship and to devise a personal plan of 10-15 comprehensive ways they will work towards becoming strong allies and leaders in the creation of more inclusive and equitable Jewish spaces.

2) Education: engage external facilitators for organization-wide anti-racism and anti-oppression education and training led by Black Jews, Jews of colour or people of colour consultants or consulting organizations.

3) Indigenous education and relationship building: engage in education about Indigenous peoples in Canada and cultural competency training. Build meaningful relationships with local Indigenous communities.

4) Equity consultancy: work with an equity consultant with a specialization in anti-racist work to formulate a multi-year strategic plan for your organization to create a roadmap towards inclusion, equity and anti-racist practices. This includes implementing non-discrimination policies, equitable hiring policies, anti-racist frameworks for organizational decision-making and a procedure to report and investigate any breaches of this policy.

5) Employment and recruitment: implement strategies to ensure equitable representation in your staffing, as well as development and retention planning to ensure these practices are adequately conducted.

6) Equity, inclusion, anti-racism advisory: accountability is essential. Create an advisory group to ensure that the equity-and-inclusion policy and strategies implemented are upheld at all levels of the organization. Create metrics to track ongoing anti-racism work.

7) Jews of colour leadership strategy: invest in a leadership strategy to ensure that Jews of colour are poised to be adequately represented in leadership roles in the community. This can include mentorships, educational scholarships and project grants.

8) Programming/events/partnerships: commit to more programming and partnerships with cultural institutions, with the goal of engaging in and elevating a diverse range of Jewish diasporas and histories.

9) Amplify the voices of Jews of colour in Canada: demonstrate explicit support for Jews of colour community groups and active initiatives. Engage in substantial outreach efforts.

We acknowledge that change takes time and recommend Jewish organizations create their own timelines for achieving the nine proposed pillars. We have designed these pillars as a guideline and we encourage all organizations to be intentional and creative in their implementation. While organizational priorities may have shifted amidst the realities of COVID-19, it is imperative that our community does not remain silent about how racial inequity plagues Jewish spaces. We look to the entire Jewish community in Canada to challenge ourselves to do more and to envision the path forward.

Jewish scholars as far back as Rabbeinu Bachya ben Asher, a significant rabbi and scholar from 13th-century Spain, call us to seek “Justice whether to your profit or loss, whether in word or action, whether to Jew or non-Jew.” So, we set our sights on July 9, which this year mark[ed] the fast of the 17th of Tammuz, where we begin the three-week period of mourning leading up to Tisha b’Av.

Tisha b’Av commemorates the destruction of the Temple. It is a time where we reflect on the divisions within our community. But, more importantly, it is a time to reflect on the cost of allowing those divisions to persist. During this holiday, we recognize the importance of taking a more active role in challenging each other and of doing more to make amends. It is in this spirit that we invite Jewish organizations across the country to engage in listening, introspection and action.

Creating anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish spaces will require deep self-reflection, difficult conversations and an ongoing commitment to reimagining what the Jewish community can look like. Above all, it must be guided by the celebration of Jewish culture and a love for one another.

For individuals and organizations who believe in this movement, we invite you to join us in action by adding your name to this letter. We call on organizations to sign their name with the intention to issue a public statement by July 29, outlining your commitment to the vision of creating a more inclusive Jewish community.

The ground is shifting beneath us in ways that are undeniable and it is incumbent on each of us to play a role in shaping our collective future. When we honour our commitment to each other as Jews, our communities will reflect the beauty and diversity that truly exists within our culture.

Sara Yacobi-Harris, Akilah Allen-Silverstein and Daisy Moriyama

Misappropriation of Israeli flag

According to the Associação Scholem Aleichem, in Rio de Janeiro, right-wing religious groups are misappropriating the Israeli flag in their show of support for Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro. (photo from ASA)

This article is a response to the continuing misappropriation of the Israeli flag by right-wing religious groups, followers of a certain Christian belief known as “progressive dispensationalism” (no political connotation), whose adherents support Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro.

Bolsonaro and his stalwarts have consistently raised the Israeli flag while promoting their reactionary views and hate-mongering. Most recently, several Israeli flags were displayed at a public rally in support of Bolsonaro and his policies regarding COVID-19, including his stance against preventive measures such as social distancing and stay-at-home orders, and the championing of hydroxychloroquine as a sufficient means of treatment and prevention.

Within any nation, there may be contention over its symbols. Two Brazilians may wield the same flag in favour of two different ideals. Such a case is restricted to members of the same country. Likewise, as the state of Israel was created to take in and represent Jews, the only non-Israelis who may claim its flag are Jews from other countries. If non-Jews raise an Israeli flag, for whatever reason, they appropriate a symbol that is not theirs. This is all the more serious in a prejudice-filled world in which various peoples have been losing the right to tell their own story.

It is only natural – indeed, healthy – that Jews, in Israel or elsewhere, should discuss the meaning of a Jewish state. Debate has always been part of our culture, and we have never felt the need to agree on everything. But the spokesperson of another people, by seizing another nation’s symbol, makes it the hostage of their own political agenda. It is one thing to raise the Soviet flag, conceived by a party as an emblem of an international revolution. It is not so much an appropriation of a national symbol as it is an endorsement of Bolshevik ideology. The Israeli flag, by contrast, was meant to rally a people in the Diaspora. Jews outside Israel may brandish it; a non-Jew would be overrunning someone else’s realm.

Throughout history, we Jews have constantly encountered non-Jews ready to ascertain if we are a religion, a race or a nation. The consequences have always been tragic. Yet, just as it is for every people to define itself, it is a Jew’s prerogative to determine the depths of his or her Jewishness and, likewise, to determine his or her relationship with Israel. Nowadays, many Christian groups believe that the Second Coming of Jesus will be ushered in by the regrouping of all Jews in the “Holy Land.” It is no gesture of goodwill toward Jews, just another of the many ways of inserting us into a foreign narrative.

Strains of thought within dispensationalism grant Israel an importance peculiar to their religious aspirations, but the country was not established for this reason. Christian dispensationalism sees history as a series of specific stages (“dispensations”) of the “administration” of the “divine plan.” In this scheme, the prevalent trend has imputed a particular role to “the ethnic nation of Israel” – “Israel,” the people chosen for Jesus’s divine revelation. Its fulfilment entails “the end of disobedience,” namely, the embracing of Jesus as our saviour. This entails a kind of eschatological glorification of the Israeli state. Let it be said that this is no favour for Jews. Indeed, were that “dispensation” to come to pass, it would be the effective end of Judaism. Not a single architect of the state of Israel could have entertained such a notion.

But that is not all. To blur the purpose of the Jewish state with the myth of “Israel’s salvation” is to cloud public opinion and impair its perception of what Israel can – and should – represent. Far more troubling, however, is that these very same groups that preach the aforementioned Christian theory and misappropriate the Israeli flag also polarize the political climate wherever they live. In Brazil, they hold considerable sway, and their conduct is extremely controversial, to say the least. The improper use of Israeli symbols links us Jews to these controversies in a wholly detrimental fashion. And regardless of the collaboration between the current Brazilian and Israeli governments – the current Brazilian government has a strong ideological identity with the Netanyahu government, and its members seek to establish profitable commercial relations with Israeli companies – flags symbolize states, not governments.

Brazilian Jews may and should oppose “bolsonarism,” but a delusion under which Bolsonaro links his policies to a universe as complex and diverse as Israel’s will always be harmful. For starters, there is a cultural element to the issue: Bolsonaro is Brazil’s representative, and a disgraceful one at that, but he does not represent Israel in any shape or form, disgracefully or otherwise. It requires immense ignorance on his part to equate the Israeli experience with his political project.

And there is another level, of a more political note. Israelis have their own problems and, regardless of the kind of society they wish to make, it would be detrimental to link it to Bolsonaro’s administration, with all the dire misfortunes the latter casts upon Brazil.

Finally, there is a matter of principle. By parading his submissiveness towards the United States, saluting its flag and playing the lackey to its president, Bolsonaro undermines the sovereignty of his country and degrades his own authority. By juxtaposing Israel’s flag with those of Brazil and the United States, he seizes someone else’s authority and, above all, affronts the sovereignty of someone else’s country. He transgresses the complexities of Israel’s society to subject it to the same submissiveness he expects for Brazil. The United States has a long history of interference in Brazilian affairs and in those of Latin America in general. This – and the specific perversity of the current U.S. president – adds further weight to Bolsonaro’s folly.

The misappropriation of the Israeli flag effectively represents a transgression of the meaning of Israel, regardless of its government, a disdain for the liberty of the Israelis, regardless of their religious tradition and ethnic identity, and a hindrance to the personal choices of Jews, regardless of our country. As Brazilians, we assert that Bolsonaro lacks standing to uphold national sovereignty. As Jews, we maintain that he lacks legitimacy to wield the Israeli flag – and that he is both fraudulent and destructive when he does.

Esther Kuperman submitted this article, which was written by the Associação Scholem Aleichem, in Rio de Janeiro ([email protected]). ASA is a century-old institution founded in Brazil by Jews who came from Europe in search of security and survival, fleeing persecution and wars. Its main mission is the cultivation of Jewish culture, without losing sight of Brazilian cultural manifestations and the defence of human rights.

Hospitality & social distancing

Last weekend, one of my kids and I decided to make bourekas. Made with filo dough, ours were stuffed with two fillings: spinach and cheese, and mushroom and cheese. They were such a success that the family ate all of them in a couple days.

We marveled at how hard it was to make the filo dough into the perfect triangles we remembered, as my sister-in-law’s family holiday events often feature these. Her family is part Turkish and no Jewish holiday would be complete without some of her specialities.

We won’t be eating Aunt Jenn’s bourekas any time soon, however. She lives (with the rest of our families) in the United States and the border’s closed. Even if it were open, it’s not a safe time to travel, due to the pandemic. But, my son and I really miss her and, in our recent cooking foray, we realized that she has a lot of filo dough skills!

If you’re like us, you may be reminiscing about birthday parties or neighbourhood block parties, a backyard barbeque with friends, or even a big family get together at a picnic shelter. It seems like a really crucial part of our Jewish identities is wrapped up in food and feeding others and making them feel welcome. It’s modeled first in Abraham and Sarah’s tent, as they welcome strangers, wash their feet and feed them, but most of us have friends and family who continue to show us how to do the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests.

Back in March, when our family realized that we would be home schooling for some time to come, we moved around the dining room furniture. We fit in two side tables as desks for the kids. We shifted the dining room table so that the four of us have ample room. It was the first time in my married life (22 years) that we didn’t have extra chairs at the table, “just in case” we had guests.

This definite lack of company sometimes feels sad and lonely. I’m not the only person struggling with this. However, some of the COVID-19 research seems to indicate that the virus isn’t spread via socially distanced street protests (with masks) but rather, at parties. That’s it – when we gather to eat and drink, when we forget to social distance or when we mingle with others for extended periods, we have a greater risk of getting sick.

Where does this leave us? A much less commonly known part of Jewish tradition is that of “giving people space.” Whether it’s the time that married couples spend apart each month, among those who observe the family purity laws, or the notions around tzinut (modesty) or treating your body with respect (as a temple, in fact), these aren’t the most commonly observed Jewish mitzvot these days. The notion of “space” as part of Jewish time is not very popular. However, this is precisely what I thought about as I took a long walk with my twins and one of our dogs.

It was hot. My kids know to hold hands when crossing a street and to stick close to me, but, on summer days in Winnipeg, we may stretch out a bit on the sidewalk. There’s one kid trying to catch a bug on the grassy boulevard, while another one wanders along beside me, chatting about dinosaurs. Our Gordon Setter mix, attached by a sturdy leash, doesn’t let that stop her when she sees a squirrel or bunny, and my arm shoots out across the walkway. You can imagine it – we take up room.

Our streets are wide. Most Winnipeggers aren’t wearing masks to take a walk because it’s rarely necessary to be anywhere near others unless they are relatives. When I see someone coming, I call everyone together. We gather closer to social distance from whomever is passing.

On this morning, the first adults who passed us, strangers who went by one at a time, made no effort to social distance, they didn’t greet or acknowledge us. I herded all four of us to the side, quickly. It is somehow always my job each time to create social distance. (I’ll note here that these adults were in the 60-and-up category. None of them was a young adult, the age group blamed in the media for being lax when it comes to taking care during a pandemic.)

By the time a third person came by, I was wary, already organizing kids and dog to swerve into someone’s front walk way. To my surprise, this person saw what I was doing. She smiled and walked in an arc onto the grass to give us room. I thanked her, we chatted briefly. We all smiled. I was so grateful.

Then something struck me. True hospitality is anticipating someone’s needs and graciously trying to meet those needs. Hospitality doesn’t have to be about feeding others or welcoming them in. Yes, we need to feed those who are less fortunate but, probably, we don’t need to insist on cooking for other gatherings personally in order to provide everybody food and drink.

Also, welcoming and greeting others, treating them graciously, doesn’t require bringing anyone into our houses (or, in Abraham’s case, a tent). It might mean ceding the sidewalk, smiling and saying hello to others as you pass – at a distance. It might include trimming your hedge so that there’s room on that sidewalk for a wheelchair or stroller to pass.

These are Jewish concepts: in protecting a life, treating bodies respectfully and giving others the right amount of space, we practise a kind of hospitality. This means caring about others and anticipating their needs.

So, please, when you see that mom with several kids, a person using a wheelchair, someone carrying a heavy load or someone pushing a double stroller on the sidewalk, give way and step aside. It’s the right – and the kind, hospitable – thing to do.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba 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.

 

Canada fails to get seat

There is no way to determine definitively why Canada failed to secure a temporary seat on the United Nations Security Council last week.

Since the UN was created after the Second World War, Canada had generally been elected to one of the temporary seats once per decade. This ended in 2010, when Canada lost its bid, and last Wednesday’s vote represents the second decade of Canadian absence from the prestigious council.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau contended that the successful countries – Ireland and Norway – had been campaigning longer. Also significant may have been the fact that Canada’s contributions to foreign aid and UN peacekeeping efforts have declined in recent years. Not to be dismissed also is the perception of Canada as an ally of Israel.

Since 2006, under Conservative and Liberal governments, Canada has voted against or abstained from the annual litany of 16 recurring anti-Israel resolutions at the UN General Assembly. That trend was broken last winter, when Canada unexpectedly endorsed a resolution condemning Israel.

Jewish and other pro-Israel Canadians have viewed Canada’s pro-Israel UN votes since 2006 as a principled position in the face of a global dogpiling – the votes are routinely passed with numbers like 160 to six, with Israel, the United States and American-aligned South Pacific micro-nations in the minority. No other country is singled out with such multiple routine censures.

Canada’s abrupt reversal of this stand last year was seen by some as an effort to distance Canada from Israel in advance of last week’s vote, particularly among the nearly 60 Arab and Muslim countries in the General Assembly.

While Trudeau made the case that Canada’s principled voice was necessary for the world in this challenging time, Opposition voices, like Conservative (and former Liberal) MP Leona Alleslev, argued that the government had betrayed its principles and, as a result, undermined its own argument for putting a Canadian representative on the Security Council.

The point is fair. To base our country’s campaign for the seat (at least partly) on the idea that we are a principled voice on the world stage and then do a 180 puts the whole venture into a weird light. For those countries who dislike our history of pro-Israel votes, the last-minute reversal must have seemed too little too late. For those (admittedly few) who admired our chutzpah, the recent vote must have been a disappointment, if not a betrayal. It’s almost a wonder that we got as many votes as we did.

The complex skin we’re in

As a young adult, I was often criticized for being too blunt. I didn’t always behave the way that my family wished I would. I would call people out when they were being inappropriate. This got me into trouble. And, to be honest, that didn’t always bother me enough to stop doing it.

Others made me feel embarrassed – because my job, throughout my teen years, was to behave properly, say the right things and “act like a lady.” In Virginia, this was necessary. My mother served the Jewish community as a director of education and, later, as a temple administrator, and her children’s behaviour was sometimes a reflection on her.

Though my mom was in charge of a $6 million renovation the year before she retired, she was often slighted in her professional life because of her gender, which affected me, too. My body and behaviour were policed, for example. I was told that I shouldn’t be running by the temple in my leggings (running clothing), as “people” looked at me. What was meant by that?

I looked like my mom, and my (in today’s view, entirely appropriate) exercise clothes caused men to look at me – and, therefore, were an embarrassment. Even as a Reform Jewish professional, my mom was a woman. That was problematic. As her daughter, my body and presence could be embarrassing, too.

Being Jewish in Virginia meant there weren’t many Jewish kids in my public school classes. Even weirder, it was being the daughter of a Jewish professional in what was then a small Jewish community that made me understand what it felt like to feel “othered.” People looked at me differently.

It also made me see those who were always treated “differently” – like people of colour. I saw how much harder things were for them. This isn’t ancient history. I graduated from high school in 1991.

After I finished university, I went into a special inner-city accelerated teacher’s program. This allowed new graduate students earning their master’s in education a chance to do their student teaching by replacing teachers who “needed training” in the Washington, D.C., public schools. This program supported an ailing inner-city school system where the (largely African-American) teachers worked longer to earn their retirement pension than anywhere else. These tired and burnt-out high school teachers lacked opportunities for continuing education and basic classroom supplies. They often just needed a break. Most of the students’ families struggled financially and, yes, most of the kids that I taught were African-American or from immigrant families.

In those classrooms, I saw how privileged I’d been in the suburbs. The D.C. public schools were underfunded and in terrible disrepair. Imagine magnificent historic buildings with high ceilings and real slate chalkboards – but it rained inside, the copiers were broken and there were no class sets of books to assign.

When there were fires, the fire trucks didn’t show up. In Anacostia High School, the African-American principal put out the fires himself. These communities weren’t offered basic city services. Instead, there were frequent arrests, for things like “driving while black,” as my friends put it.

I’ve been sad, angry and frustrated about this racial injustice for a long time. I’ve witnessed it – and Jewish tradition tells us to speak out, to pursue justice and to try to fix the world’s wrongs.

Yet, just as Judaism teaches us what it means to be set apart, or even discriminated against, ostracized and singled out, our (mostly male, white, privileged) culture has pushed us to behave according to its norms.

“Being a lady” often meant not embarrassing our families by calling out people who said racist or inappropriate things. It meant that I shouldn’t run by, entirely covered up, because my female body might be a distraction.

Being ladylike? It’s learning that how one looks is distracting, offends others, is reason enough to stay home, or feel ashamed. It’s struggling between speaking out and keeping quiet, so as not to pick a fight.

Sometimes, I’ve just chosen to keep my mouth shut, because it’s not worth the fight, it’s not ladylike, or “Honey, now’s not the time.” But it was wrong to stay quiet when I heard people making others “less” or demeaning them. It’s wrong to say nothing as someone uses degrading language, tells racist stories or implies that someone “deserved what he got” essentially by being a black person or an indigenous person in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Growing up as a Jewish person in a non-Jewish area, and as a female, gave me some insights into this discrimination, but, if I behaved the “right way,” or didn’t act “too Jewish,” (?!) I could pass where I grew up and where I live now, in Winnipeg.

In the Talmud, in Shabbat 95a, there’s a discussion about how to properly sprinkle the floor of a room on Shabbat. It’s a way of cooling a hot space, but it isn’t allowed by the rabbis on Shabbat if the floor is dirt because a dirt floor could be changed by water remolding it. If the floor were stone, it might provide cooling and still be allowed. One sage concludes that a wise woman would know how to do this and avoid breaking Shabbat rules.

The rabbis gave credit to smart women for knowing how to follow the rules and make a change for the better.

This pandemic year has been about colossal change. It might also be time to ditch the “ladylike” models in favour of those talmudic wise women, who make change happen, “cool things down” during a hot summer and find ways to do it while mostly abiding by the rules.

The rules themselves, whether talmudic or modern, are still largely made by men. It’s time to recognize that the “others” – Jews and members of other minority faiths, women, those in the LGBTQ+ community, people of colour and everyone who still faces discrimination and racism – deserve the equality and justice we are all due.

It’s time. In fact, it’s long overdue. Our history as Jewish people, as Canadians and North Americans, requires us to own this injustice and fix it. It’s time to change ingrained, prejudiced habits and speak out.

Jewish tradition teaches that we’re all made in the Divine Image, in every colour and gender. Now we must step up, say so and act as if we mean it.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba 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.

 

Racism is a Jewish issue

On June 4, New Brunswick resident Chantel Moore, originally from the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation near Tofino, B.C., was shot to death by a police officer sent to her home to check on her well-being. On May 27, Regis Korchinski-Paquet, an indigenous-black woman, fell 24 floors from her apartment during a police incident in Toronto.

In the United States, George Floyd died on May 25, after being pinned to the ground with a knee pressed into his neck for more than eight minutes by a police officer in Minneapolis. Breonna Taylor was killed March 13 in her bed in Louisville, Ky., in what amounts to a home invasion by police. Ahmaud Arbery was chased by three armed white neighbours and murdered on Feb. 23, while he was jogging in Georgia.

The challenge in compiling a list of names of black Americans and indigenous and racialized Canadians killed by police or lynched by vigilantes is choosing which from a horrifically long list of victims’ names to include. And the structural conditions that have led to this particular moment of upheaval are not new. Similar demonstrations have occurred after particularly egregious incidents, like the killing of Michael Brown by police in Ferguson, Mo., in 2014; Trayvon Martin, who was murdered in 2012 by a cop-wannabe; and the beating of Rodney King by police in Los Angeles in 1991. Again, the list of just the most familiar incidents could fill pages. And they are not limited to the United States.

Could this time be different? One thing that some Black Lives Matter proponents are noting is the apparently unprecedented engagement of non-black allies in this moment. Is this because we all have more time on our hands right now? Or have we reached a tipping point, when the lofty language of equality has finally penetrated deep into the mainstream of North American society?

There are parallel streams happening, from the issue of police violence to the broader matter of societal behaviour toward racialized people. These are exacerbated by the unpardonable conduct of the U.S. president. When Trayvon Martin was killed, then-president Barack Obama noted that, if he had a son, he would look like Trayvon. The current president tweets threats of violence and has police forcibly clear peaceful demonstrators so he can have a photo taken in front of a church he has never entered. In a country aflame, the president’s comportment is incendiary and perilous.

This is a time for our community, the Jewish community, to consider our complacency and complicity in upholding racist systems. It is, as American historian and author Ibram X. Kendi implores, not enough to be not racist. We must be actively anti-racist. We must stand in solidarity with those who are suffering and recognize that the pain of racism is also the pain of antisemitism.

The solidarity and support we crave when we are threatened is the solidarity and support we must give other communities when they are in need. Give your time to an anti-racism organization. Donate your money to support black-owned businesses and organizations working to support the black community. Pray for the healing that is so badly needed in our society. March for equality and justice (in a safe manner). Stand up when you see injustice or hear a “casually” racist remark. Sign your name to a petition asking decision-makers to step up and rein in the militarization of policing and the funding that gets diverted from community into the over-policing of racialized communities.

Interrogate Canada’s colonial history and the lived realities of indigenous communities. Ask our educators to explore with their students global histories and the untold stories of millions, including richer views of Jewish history and the experiences and contributions of Jews who are not of European descent. Read a work of fiction by a black or indigenous author. Learn about how black culture forms the bedrock of North American culture and from where those art forms come. Explore the history of the black community here in Vancouver and how the early Jewish community, along with other minorities, together have called Strathcona home.

Absorb the teachings of Abraham Joshua Heschel, who referenced the calls of the Hebrew prophets in the struggle for civil rights in the 1960s and who marched alongside Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., for justice. If you’re already doing all of these things, share your knowledge and example with your family, your synagogue and the organizations and schools you support.

Some Jewish observers have expressed reservations about the Black Lives Matter movement, at least partly because the umbrella organization endorses the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement against Israel. This is an unfortunate and misguided move on their part, especially since BDS harms Palestinians in addition to Israelis. But the issue of black people – and people of colour in Canada and elsewhere – being murdered by police or lynched by racists must take precedence now. We can argue over Israel and Palestine later.

If one feels the need to prioritize Jewish or Israeli concerns at this moment, then let’s prioritize the safety of black Jews and Jews of colour. The vast majority of Jews are morally affected by what is happening in our society and black Jews are immediately and personally impacted both by what is happening in the world and by what is happening in our community around this issue.

Let us not pretend that this is not a “Jewish issue.” Rather, let us live by what is referred to as one of the “eternal religious obligations” of Judaism: “Justice, justice you shall pursue.”

Rabbinic planting advice

My family plants a garden every summer. We live in a city and don’t have lots of room. Since our house is more than 100 years old, we created small raised beds, filled with compost and soil, to avoid growing veggies in what is potentially contaminated soil.

Although my husband and I have gardened together for years, when our twins were younger, we developed a haphazard technique. Before twins, we might have studied companion plants, figuring out what would grow best and where, but all that disappeared after two babies came on scene. Since then, every year, right around their birthday on June 1, we’d throw a planting party with some friends. First, we had the birthday ice cream cake and, then, we’d dig together. Within an hour, the entire garden was planted.

Sometimes, a retired history professor was in charge of bean planting. Our actor friend, who also worked as a mother’s helper for us when the kids were small, was in charge of squash. It was sometimes a surprise to see what the garden produced. We left it all to chance – what grows and what fails would be a surprise.

This year, no parties, of course. With two kids home from elementary school in mid-March, we started seeding. We planted lettuce, radish and spinach outdoors. We followed the advice of Winnipeg’s mayor, who suggested people “plant an extra row” for the food bank, as so many are out of work. We planted sprouting potato peelings as one of our home-school science projects, and filled every extra pot with potato plants.

In the Babylonian Talmud, in Tractate Shabbat, starting page 84b, the rabbis discuss how to plant a garden. What is an acceptable plan for a garden bed, which avoids the prohibition of sowing diverse kinds of seeds together, they ask? The rabbis engage in a level of landscaping planning that my gardens have never seen. In the Vilna edition, there are even illustrations and sketches provided.

This year in our garden, for the first time in awhile, we know where everything is and who planted what. I don’t have to call any of our friends to find out which variety of squash seeds they used and if they will be close enough to the others to pollinate properly!

What struck me though was that, unlike past years, we had time to spread out and enjoy the gardening experience. Yes, we’ve had virtual meetings for school and work, but the summer unfurls before us with practically nothing on the calendar – no traveling, no festivals, no big obligations. We’re still waiting to hear, but suspect there will be no summer camp or swim lessons at the lake either. Staying home is where it’s at.

Long, unplanned stretches of weekend time and summer evenings spool out ahead. We can stream services or watch a Jewish music concert from home, play on the porch or water the garden. True, we may not be able to travel to see grandparents or have big Shabbat dinners. We do miss our friends and family. However, we’ll have leisurely morning dog walks to explore new places and greet neighbours, long afternoons to help our kids learn to bike, fly kites, or just scooter up and down the block.

This scary coronavirus is stressful, don’t get me wrong. We’ve already felt its serious effects on relatives in New York and New Jersey. It continues to affect us in many ways and, even if summer’s a reprieve, the danger hasn’t passed. Yet, in the virus’s shadow, we’ve been offered a moment to adjust and experience an entirely different pace, and it’s a surprising gift on its own.

Yes, our garden is more orderly this year than it has been in at least 10 years, but it’s nothing as tidy or thoughtful as the rabbis’ landscaping guides. I suspect, if the rabbis were to see our garden beds, they would be upset. We squish way too many varieties of tomatoes, beans, peas, lettuces, cucumbers, herbs and more into these small spaces.

At the same time, our pandemic-enforced break may offer us the chance for longer conversations, more time off to enjoy family and Shabbat, and more learning, too. I can’t pretend the rabbis’ advice made us plant more tidy rows of beans, carrots or nasturtiums, but the pandemic likely gave me the time and space to read their advice, and actually think about it.

We’ve eaten two salads full of microgreens and herbs, straight from the garden, and I got to share with you what I’ve learned about 1,500-year-old planting advice. That’s not a bad start to the season. It’s also a reminder: get out in the sunshine! (With sunscreen and social distancing, of course.) Summer lies ahead – with newfound time to enjoy it.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba 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.