This week we introduce Issue #18: Friday Night Lights
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It is more than just a mere coincidence that Alef’s 18th issue highlights the celebration of Shabbat. In Judaism, the number 18 has significant meaning. Based on the system of gematria (assigning numerical value to letters), the Hebrew letters of the word “chai,” meaning “life,” are quantified by 18. Chai, in turn, is an all-encompassing word that the Torah reveres.
Yet, as citizens of a modern society, it is rare to find a moment to just appreciate a weighted word for what it’s worth. Quicker than email replies or text messages, our minds are continuously scrutinizing and scurrying from one point in life to the next. Our work, families, and every external piece of our daily routines keeps us locked in an endless cycle of movement that makes it hard for us to just stop to take heed of our world.
So, in celebration of life, we look toward Shabbat. Not only is Shabbat a traditional day of rest, it is also a joyous occasion that reminds us of the simple goodness of our own lives. Whether you participate in a rich, cultural tradition of Judaism in Israel, or find yourself at home, alone with a deli-made challah, Shabbat is unique in its message of peace: It tells us that recognition of rest doesn’t detract from a fullness of life–it enhances it. Shabbat also gives us a designated time every week to be thankful for something as simple and abounding as life itself.
With all of this in mind we present Issue 18: Friday Night Lights, where we will share the sentiments of this sanctified day through stories from people who have found unique and personal ways to relate to Shabbat, even if that means developing some very non-traditional approaches. We hope that these stories serve as an inspiration to you to try to find some time in your own life to collect yourself, discover a sense of calm, and then carry on.
We should also add that if you are a Birthright Israel alumnus interested in transforming Shabbat into a new or revived tradition for yourself, please consider signing up to host a NEXT Shabbat meal through Birthright Israel NEXT.
- Alef
Friday Night Lights Posts
The Best Year
Photo by Jordan Chark, licensed under Creative Commons.
Extra special thanks to guest editor Katherine Bruce for her work on this issue.
By Ruby Marez
I started writing this intro after a particularly horrific experience. I had just broken up with a Hispanic guy after he told me he didn’t want to join me and my Israeli friends on a trip to Coney Island because he didn’t want to “go to the beach and hang out with Shylock and Company.” My jaw had never dropped harder to the floor. Not knowing he secretly harbored resentment and prejudice towards Jews I was stunned, horrified, and in a panic. Without a second of hesitation I told him off and dumped him right there for perpetuating anti-Semitic stereotypes, callously dismissing and putting down my friends, and mostly for disrespecting himself.
You might think this situation would send me running back into the muscular arms of my “chosen men.” While it may seem “easier” to marry someone Jewish to avoid a situation like this again, that is not the reality. No matter who I am with, if he harbors any prejudice towards any group of people, I am immediately disgusted.
When I asked my dad about marrying a non-Jewish Puerto Rican woman, he said that for him it was a non-issue, that she did everything she could to learn about Judaism to pass it on to her kids. My Puerto Rican mother, who became the leader of Shabbat in our household, says she was not intimidated by my father’s differences but rather intrigued. She embraced them and together they made their own special blend of culture and faith. In our house we had fusion food before it was a chi-chi, overpriced concept. Latkes with rice and beans was my lifestyle (and it was delicious). This taught me the simple (and slightly corny) lesson of “don’t hate, celebrate.”
My monologue comes from that lesson along with my struggle to accept who I am and where I came from. I wouldn’t call myself an ethnic Jew because it sounds redundant…I would say I’m a multi-cultural Jew. A tapestry of several shapes and colors; a mixed salad with many different flavors. I am a Jew of European and Sephardic descent and Hispanic, and 1/8th African and from the mid-west, and a woman, and a brunette, and a wise-ass, and an actor, and a writer, and a comedian and at times, a lil’ crazy. I’m a friggin’ United Colors of Benetton ad-campaign.
As Agueda Ramirez, my best friend and fellow actor/writing partner said to me, “You’re a party mix. You’re not just potato chips. You’re a Dorito with a pretzel stick with a peanut, with whatever else is in party mix. Some people don’t like mixing their chips with their party mix. And that’s okay. You just keep being party mix.”
I-am-party mix. Dig in.
Read more posts from issue #16: Diverse Jews
Ruby Marez is currently living in New York City and pursuing her self designed Masters from Antioch University-McGregor in acting and writing. Come see her writing and acting skills in her upcoming sketch show, “Internet Stalkers: We’re Not Creepy!” at The Magnet Theater. Ruby is one member of the duo improv team RuBin, They host and perform a duos-only improv show on the last Monday of every month at The Creek in Long Island City. Ruby also performs musical improv with Los Banditos Del Canto (The Bandits of Song) all over the city. Become our fan on facebook!
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.
By Violeta Flemenbaum
“Borei pri, ya lo comi” which translates to “Borei pri, I ate it”, and so we begin to eat our Shabbat dinner. My husband always says this at the end of Ha-motzi. While some people may find this strange, we don’t! After all, Ari and I grew up with Spanish as our first language. He’s the son of Ashkenazi Jews from Colombia and I’m the daughter of Catholics from Mexico.
It seemed only natural that we gravitated toward each other and eventually married. We had so much in common: being made fun of at school for being Hispanic (Ari went to orthodox Jewish schools while I attended Catholic schools) and we both grew up in households where Spanish along with heavily accented English was spoken. I was already on the path to conversion when I met Ari but that’s a story for another day. Eventually we married and are the proud parents of 3 amazing children.
Our Latino upbringing infused a respect for G-d and family that my friends who are not the children of immigrants have a hard time understanding. For example, if either of our parents invites us to dinner at the last minute, we are obligated to join them despite any other plans that we have already made. Latino parents, regardless of what religion they practice, always stress the commandment “Honor thy mother and thy father.” They practically beat it into their children’s mentality. When it comes to G-d, you are expected to follow the rules. When I converted, I had no problem with kashrut or mikvah because in my heart I felt it was the right thing to do.
When Ari and I started our own family, the first thing on our list was to find a name for our son that worked well in Hebrew, Spanish, and English so we named him Gabriel. Next came Natalie (I know, I know but I just couldn’t pass up this exquisite name). We call her Tali the majority of the time. Then came our precious Daniela.
If you come to our house around any mealtime, you’re likely to find us having lox and bagels with huevos rancheros, or brisket with a side of tortillas. For Shavuot I like to make “pastel de tres leches” (three milks cake) which is a common dessert in Latin countries. You’re also likely to hear Fortuna and the New Orleans Klezmer All-stars on our CD player. Our kids are well aware of their rich cultural heritage and they will proudly exclaim that they are “Hebrew-Spanish.” Is our family Jewishness a little different than what you’d might expect? Sure, but we wouldn’t have it any other way! L’Chaim and Salud from our familia to yours.
Photos by cbertel and grongar, licensed under Creative Commons.
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