Alef: The NEXT Conversation
Six-Word (Jewish) Memoirs
Smith Magazine has teamed up with Reboot (the people who brought you the National Day of Unplugging and Sukkah City) to bring you “Six Words on Jewish life.” Submit your six-word memoir (www.smithmag.net/jewish) by January 4th for a shot at being included in the book and a guarantee at being on the website.
Not sure where to start? We’re so glad you asked. Some of the staff at NEXT have teamed up to provide you a list of their own six-word memoirs:
Ruvym ~ Russian family, still fears nonexistent KGB
Terissa ~ Single?! You should meet my son!
Emily ~ Once Kosher-style Texan loves pulled pork.
The Secrets of Shiksa Appeal: A Book Review
By Erica Brooke Fajge
If you’re a young, single, Jewish female, have I got the book for you: Secrets of Shiksa Appeal: Eight Steps to Attract Your Shul-Mate by Avi Roseman, a New York native/Washington D.C. resident/IT consultant/singles columnist/yenta who makes this book a pleasure to read.
A friend of mine met the author, herself, at Club Getaway in Connecticut (the Jewish weekend, of course) and then told me about the book. Soon, I had a copy sent to me, and I was getting my reading on!
The thesis of the book is that, according to Roseman, young Jewish women should “shiksafy” themselves (a.k.a. act more like those gentile girls who buy Christmas gifts every year) in order to attract quality Jewish guys, as they often are drawn to shiksas. The book dispenses a lot of advice, some of which I agree with and some of which I disagree with – always a given. I have to admit, though, just a couple of weeks after finishing the book, I am beginning to agree with the author’s ideas more and more.
Throughout Shiksa, advice is given regarding dressing for a date, playing “hard to get,” meeting Jewish men, dealing with online dating vs. speed-dating, etc., defining a relationship, hooking up, and more.
Shiksa is quite a quick read, mostly due to its use of humor. Roseman, known throughout the book as “Ms. Avi,” tells it the way it is. You’ll find yourself nodding your head and saying, “Yes! Exactly!” many times while reading this book.
For example, I loved her description of “socially awkward guys” at Jewish events trying to pick up women. I am an avid lover of Jewish events, as many of my friends know, yet I have to agree this can be true (although there are definitely a number of exceptions, of course). She is right, though, when she says there are definitely some good looking, intelligent, ambitious, etc. Jewish guys there you’d want to meet, but that “they probably think the sun shines out of their asses.”
In many chapters “Ms. Avi” will mention a phone number that she has given out before: 867-5309 (no, not her real number). Sound familiar? If you’re younger than, maybe, 24, you’ll probably have no idea what I’m talking about, but it’s a reference to that fabulous 80s tune we all know and love.
I have to admit that I agree with her view on letting a guy do the pursuing; if not, how do you know if he’s really into you?
I love how she categorizes the different types of Jewish guys out there you’ll meet including the “Kosher Player” and how she advises to always let the guy pay on the first date and not even to bother with “the reach” – you know, when you pretend to reach for your wallet and offer to pay, even though you’re thinking, “If he takes me up on it, I will never go out with him again.”
What did I disagree with? Well, Roseman’s theme throughout the book is that we, Jewish girls, need to act more like shiksas in order to attract quality Jewish men. While I do agree that Jewish guys can sometimes get intimidated by the “Jewish mother,” I don’t think that Jewish females are that different from non-Jewish females. Yes, we probably are under more pressure to get married and procreate, but the author seems to think that Jewish girls are always more “desperate” than their non-Jewish counterparts. I have to admit; I’m sure there are also just as many desperate shiksas out there throwing themselves at guys as we speak (and also many non-desperate, independent girls, both Jewish and not).
And while I do agree with a lot of the old-fashioned advice in general, I think it is totally okay for us, women, to contact a guy on JDate or any online dating site – something Roseman does not mention at all in the online dating chapter. There could be some great guys you’d be missing out on if you always waited for them to find you. Sometimes you do have to put yourself out there a little more – in my opinion.
I could probably go on and on forever; there is just so much good stuff in here. Whether you agree with the advice or not, one thing is for sure: Secrets of Shiksa Appeal: Eight Steps to Attract Your Shul-Mate is entertaining and is a “shul” winner!
Erica is a Birthright Israel Alumna and a guest book reviewer. Interested in reviewing a new Jewish book for Alef? Contact alef@birthrightisraelnext.org for more info.
Black Jew Syndrome
Originally published to Alef on 7/9/2010
By Ariel Joseph, Esq.
Being an American of mixed-heritage, I have always found dating Jewish women to be a somewhat…complicated endeavor. Sure, my mother was of Jewish heritage, as was her mother, but neither of them married Jewish men. Consequently, in addition to being Jewish, I am Irish, Czech, German, African, Indian, and Carib. Although most people can tell that I’m multi-racial, I am most often categorized as “Black,” at least until people learn that I am part Jewish, at which point I become a “Black Jew.”
I have learned that I am a culturally confusing package for most women, but for Jewish women in particular I seem to create a disruption in their schemas that make our relationships short lived. After much personal analysis and discussion with friends, family, and mentors, including Jewish community leaders, I have come to the conclusion that this is due to a cultural condition that I call “Black Jew Syndrome” (or BJS).
BJS can be broken down into three distinct stages: (1) The Infatuation, (2) the Internal Conflict, and (3) the Reconciliation. Before I investigate BJS in more detail, it is worth noting that I have always been attracted to members of the tribe; indeed, one out of every three women I have dated has been Jewish, so I have significant experience with this issue.
Stage One: Infatuation:
The Infatuation stage is marked by a strong interest/attraction, not unlike that shared by most new couples. What makes it distinct from other new relationships is the fetishization of the Black Jew for his “otherness.” Whereas in “regular” intra-racial relationships both partners engage in physical intimacy for the purposes of attraction, fun, and potential procreation, if an interracial element is added, sex changes.
I have dated women from many races and cultures, and the majority of time I would categorize sex with them as being “normal.” With Jewish women, however, the tone I hear in the bedroom changes. The fact that I’m Black seems to overwhelm other aspects of who I am and I have often times felt objectified. This isn’t always a bad thing, yet the Infatuation stage, unfortunately, almost always leads to stage two.
Stage Two: Internal Conflict:
After the initial obsession begins to wear off, the reality that she’s dating a “Black guy” begins to affect the average Jewish woman’s perception of the relationship. While she will usually continue to date her darker skinned companion at this stage in the relationship, dates in public begin to dwindle in number and any talk of meeting the family is usually put off.
I have witnessed this occur multiple times in my life. In fact, I once confronted a girlfriend with my concerns about the Internal Conflict when she began showing symptoms of it, and was surprised by the earnestness of her response.
“I can date you,” she said. “I just don’t think I can be in a serious relationship with you.”
“Why not?” I asked. “I mean, don’t you like me? Aren’t you happy being with me?”
“Of course I’m happy with you,” she replied. “I’m thinking about marriage, though, and I know my family wouldn’t be happy if I married a Black guy”.
“But my mom’s Jewish…” I told her. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Maybe with my parents, but my grandmother would keel over if she knew we were together. She wants 100% pure-blood Jewish great-grandchildren, and I’m sure my parents want 100% Jewish grandchildren themselves”.
The fact that I was both Jewish and Black created a genuine conflict in her. She enjoyed dating, sex, our conversations, and was happy with me as a person. Yet BJS took over and began causing her inner turmoil. She liked me, yet my race made it difficult for her to truly see me as a long-term prospect. I was fun to be with, but she had problems seeing me as boyfriend material.
Stage Three: Reconciliation:
The final stage of BJS manifests itself through an acknowledgement on the Jewish woman’s part that she needs to move on and find a guy that she can feel comfortable taking home to her parents and grandparents. If you are a Jewish woman or have dated Jewish women, you know exactly how intrusive Jewish parents and grandparents can be about who their descendants are involved with. Admittedly, Jewish people have a (somewhat) legitimate desire to see their offspring continue the Jewish bloodline. However, in my experience, it is their desire for Jewish offspring that is the primary cause of BJS. Jewish women I’ve dated usually arrive at an understanding, or Reconciliation, regarding their feelings toward me as a Black Jew based, in large part, upon what their parents or grandparents desire. Unfortunately, due to fear of disappointing their parents, this Reconciliation almost always ends with our relationship ending.
The Reconciliation stage does not seem to be an easy place to be for the Jewish women I’ve dated, and I don’t hold a grudge against them for choosing their families over a guy they’ve known for two or three months. That said, it is frustrating and demoralizing to be devalued due to the color of your skin. Perhaps when the “Greatest Generation” is gone and the “Boomers” become the oldest people in America, we will begin to see more tolerance from more Jewish matriarchs and patriarchs. For now, I just hope to find a woman who doesn’t give a fuck about the melanin in my skin, even if her family does.
Photo by Charles Williams, licensed under Creative Commons.
Dating Jewish Men
This post originally appeared on Alef on February 10, 2010.
Emily and Sarah are twenty-something Jewish women living in New York City. In spite of the odds, their love of Judaism has not translated into a love of Jewish men.
…
Growing up, did your families impose expectations that you should marry Jewish?
Sarah: I think my parents always wanted me to marry a good person. The focus was never on the person’s religion. My father was Catholic when he married my mom (he later converted to Judaism), so it would have been hypocritical for them to pressure me into a Jewish marriage.
Emily: My mom wasn’t Jewish when she met my dad, so my parents were in sort of an opposite situation. She converted before they were married and my brothers and I were raised secularly so there was no discussion at all of religion playing a part in who I decided to be with.
Have your respective family situations affected your dating histories?
Sarah: I haven’t been in a serious relationship with any Jewish guys. In college, I dated a tall, skinny redhead from the suburbs of Milwaukee – definitely not Jewish. Later on, I dated another tall, skinny redhead (I guess I have a “type”) from rural Minnesota – also not Jewish. I thought we might end up staying together for a long time, and he was fine with the fact that I wanted to have a Jewish family. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I always wondered if I could raise a Jewish family if my partner wasn’t Jewish. But since my mom did, I thought I could too.
I did date two Jewish guys casually in between relationships, but it never got serious.
Now, I’m single…
What’s your number?
Sarah: …
Just kidding…[smiles; scratches chin; looks away] Right…So Emily, what about you?
Emily: I’ve only been in two serious relationships in my life. I suppose I know what I don’t want when I see it and tend to shut it down as soon as I know it wont work.
My two brief experiences with Jewish men, incidentally, both ended badly. One of them dumped me after a couple weeks of casual dating to immediately begin pursuing my roommate, the other led me to believe he wanted an emotional relationship when all he wanted was a physical one.
My first serious boyfriend was Albanian, Eastern Orthodox, and knew very little about Judaism. Even though the relationship lasted almost two years, we always knew that the difference in religion was going to have a detrimental effect on us. He was happy to celebrate Chanukah and Passover with me, but his ideological issues with some aspects of Judaism gave him cause to debate me on several occasions.
My second real relationship is only just beginning, and although he has one Jewish grandparent, he too was raised with little knowledge of the religion.
Does his Jewish ancestry make you feel any different about him?
Emily: I think what’s more important to me is that he isn’t tied to a religious philosophy that I fundamentally disagree with.
How, if at all, do you want Judaism to play a role in your current relationship?
Emily: I hope that he understands and appreciates it as a part of who I am. We already share the same set of values, regardless of our religious upbringings, so that’s not an issue. I want him to be willing to celebrate with me when I am moved to celebrate.
Sarah: If I fall in love and marry someone who isn’t Jewish, this is how I would want it to be too.
Sarah, so why do you think you’ve mostly dated non-Jewish guys?
Sarah: I really don’t know why I’ve dated mostly non-Jews–they just happen to have been people I’ve been drawn to. As I get older, I’m starting to think it’s more important for me to intentionally date Jewish guys, since I want to marry a Jewish man eventually.
This is a challenging situation. It feels wrong not to date someone I like just because he isn’t Jewish. But I’m also at the age when, any day, I could meet the person I eventually end up marrying.
Have you ever put yourself in a situation where you could be intentionally meeting or dating a Jewish guy?
Sarah: I’m cringing at this question, because the answer is “no.” Outside of work, few of my friends are Jewish, so I’m rarely in a situation where I meet Jewish guys.
I don’t really want to join a synagogue. I’m not interested in meat-market mixers. Should I join J-Date? That doesn’t sound all that appealing either…I think I’ve been hoping that I’ll randomly meet a Jewish guy someday. I live in New York City, so there’s a good chance it could happen.
So who do you want to end up with?
Sarah: I want to marry someone Jewish, have a Jewish household and Jewish children. I’m not at all religious, but I love being Jewish. It would seem tragic to me for my children to not be a part of such a rich tradition.
Emily, what about you? Who do you want to end up with and why?
Emily: One thing you said [Sarah] really resonated with me: I’m not at all religious, but I love being Jewish. I once found myself excitedly describing Shabbat to my current boyfriend as if I were a five-year-old on Christmas morning. At the same time, and after lots of consideration, I’ve decided that I don’t need to be married to a Jewish person to live the kind of Jewish life that I want for myself.
Being the product of a mixed marriage myself, I know that it can be difficult to impart some of the traditions on your children when both parents are not Jewish, but I also found that, being in that situation, I was able to find and choose Judaism for myself.
Sarah: I liked what you said about how having parents from different backgrounds led you to “find and choose Judaism for yourself.” I wonder if the same thing happened to me as a result of growing up in a mixed household. They say that children of intermarriage generally aren’t raised with a strong sense of Jewish identity, but you and I seem to be exceptions to that rule.
Emily: If only there were a formula!
Photo by CarbonNYC, licensed under Creative Commons. Heart photo by easyrab, also licensed under Creative Commons.
Type A Dating
By Lila Miller
We all have a type. Some like tall, dark and handsome, some go for jocks, and others fall for blondes in skinny jeans. And me? Well, my friends would probably describe my type as: “dorky Jewish boy.” But a year ago when I found myself newly single and moving to DC, I decided to throw all notions of type out the window. And that, my friends, is how I ended up on a date with Ricardo.
As I threw out preconceived ideas about the sort of guy I was looking for, I hurled myself into a circuit of parties and after-work happy hours. So, how did Ricardo and I meet? At a bar, of course. He made fun of me for wearing sneakers (I had just gotten out of a foot cast a week earlier), and then promptly bought me a drink to apologize.
Our first date was dinner at a cute, hole-in-wall Thai restaurant. We sat down, ordered a bottle of wine, and as I lifted my glass of chardonnay, he asked, “What’s on your ring?”
My name, written in Hebrew, I explained.
“Oh, so you’re Jewish?”
Ricardo grew up Catholic in Puerto Rico and had little knowledge of Judaism. He was very curious though and proceeded to good-naturedly quiz me for a solid twenty minutes as we waited for our food to arrive.
“What do Jews think of Jesus? Why don’t you believe he’s the Messiah? What are those hats the men wear?”
Typical first-date conversation, it was not, and I found myself slightly amused at the thought that I was talking more about Judaism on a date with a Catholic than I ever had when dating a Jewish guy. Conversation moved to more mundane matters for a few minutes, and then our food arrived.
He ordered shrimp pad thai. I got pad see ew with tofu.
“Want to try some?” he offered.
“Umm, no thanks.”
“What, you don’t like shrimp?”
I hesitated briefly and then explained that I keep Kosher, so I don’t eat shrimp. Another barrage of questions followed. I did my best to explain Jewish dietary laws in a logical manner, but when we started getting into why I’ll eat cheese with fish but not chicken, I knew we had reached the limits of what logic could defend. A few minutes later I excused myself to go to the restroom and was happy that when I got back he didn’t try and offer me some of his crab rangoon.
Despite the slightly awkward start, it was actually a great date. The conversation flowed easily as we chatted about jobs, music, and our favorite things to do in DC. Ricardo was sweet, good-looking, incredibly smart, and the sexy accent certainly didn’t hurt either.
In the months that followed, I had many more interesting dates, with Ricardo and others, Jewish and non-Jewish, dorky and somewhat less dorky. Sometimes Judaism dominated the conversation, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes I found myself debating Israeli politics or talking about plans for Passover and other times being Jewish didn’t come up at all. Despite the wide variety of experiences, I’m still not sure what the right balance is, or even what I want it to be, but there is one thing I know for sure – old habits die hard. I again find myself dating a “dorky Jewish boy,” and at the moment, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Photo by Andreas H. Lunde, licensed under Creative Commons.
Read more posts from Issue #22: Couples.
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