Alef: The NEXT Conversation
It’s Like Riding a Bike
by Jake W-M
When did bike-riding as an adult become a “thing?” One moment I was riding around the suburban Connecticut neighborhood where I grew up, the next moment I was old enough to drive, and my bike was rust. Now that I’m in my late 20s, it’s a “thing.” I don’t necessarily mean a thing as in a trend (though it’s clearly trendy in some spheres). I had to get a bike, a helmet, get a lock–because how is it ever going to fit in my tiny Brooklyn apartment–and learn to ride in traffic–to work! Let’s not forget that I was not even a particularly athletic kid to start. Energy and endurance are at a premium now.
And what’s so Jewish about biking? This is a Jewy blog, isn’t it?
I’ve always considered myself environmentally conscious, but only recently an activist. One of the most fundamental values of Judaism is Tikkun Olam, or fixing the world. This means different things to different people. “Environmentalism” is possibly just the most literal translation. The best part about fixing the planet is that it really means helping people. We can’t let the planet go down the tubes because we need a place for our kids to live (there are countless articles about Jewish continuity that never seem to mention this; wonder why). Getting out of my car onto a bike is one simple way to minimize how much damage I do to the world while I’m here.
A year ago I began working for Hazon, a Jewish environmental organization and home of the aptly named “People of the Bike.” One of our flagship programs is our New York Ride and Retreat, a two-day retreat over Shabbat in upstate New York followed by two days of cycling into Manhattan, now in its eleventh year. Participants raise money to benefit innovative Jewish environmental projects. As staff, I was told I would have the privilege of cycling alongside riders and crew (the crucial support team for the riders) of all different ages, backgrounds, and levels of experience. I had a few short months to get a bike, start training, and begin fundraising. I was excited but incredibly nervous. I wasn’t up on my bike lingo, my body wasn’t exactly a well-oiled machine, and the thought of riding with traffic left me concerned to say the least. My only goals at the time were to survive this ride, not embarrass myself, and ultimately to begin commuting to work by bike. Needless to say, Hazon got me there.
The group ride was incredibly powerful. The two-day retreat that precedes the ride builds the community and sets the tone. Buzz words like pluralism and inclusiveness get thrown around, but I saw and stood by 300 people of every type of Jewish observance level and background eat a meal together without starting a fight. Diversity truly felt more than tolerated, but appreciated and encouraged.
I felt the same once we hit the road. I rode with the group going the shortest distance. There were beginners, families, and what seemed the largest age spread. There was no judgement, only smiles and encouragement. We cheered each other on, stopped for breaks together, walked when the hills were too steep, and made sure no one had to ride alone. At some level, it was a demonstration. We represent the Jewish community, we care about the environment, we care what Judaism has to say about healthy and sustainable living, and we’re going to be very public about it. The times I’ve felt united with a large group of Jews about anything are few and far between. This was for sure one of them.
At the end of our 36 mile route for day one, I wish I had picked a longer route. More importantly, I felt like I had the tools I needed to make biking a part of my daily routine. My commute is just a fraction of the mileage of the New York Ride route, and I now do it a few days a week. The benefits keep surprising me. The days I ride to work usually my most productive–by the time I arrive, I’ve already accomplished something. I feel like I’m in the best health of my life. When I need to run an errand, my mind jumps to the time and distance of riding before I think about the bus or the subway. More importantly, I feel less destructive and less passive as a member of my eco-system. I’m living a healthier lifestyle and using a highly sustainable form of transportation.
I still take the subway, I still ride buses, and I’ve been known to rent a car. There’s no pretending that I’ve got this completely figured out, but I’ve made some critical changes that have turned out to be pretty simple. Riding my bike makes me feel like a better person and a better Jew. Really, it’s just like riding a bike, only it’s even better with a bit of cavanah, or intention. If I can do it, anyone–really, anyone–can do it.
Photo care of Hazon.
Jake W-M is an Alef regular. Read his posts on Indie Minyanim, Jewish Communal Workspace, and being Jewish-Italian for the Holidays. Email alef@birthrightisraelnext.org to learn how to join the regulars.
The Poetry of a Chalk Memorial
by Rachel Cahn
In 1911, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory exemplified the terrible working experience of the average European immigrant in New York. The company employed hundreds of young women and subjected them to sweatshop labor conditions: long work days, no breaks, locked doors, and meager wages. While the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union was leading the charge for labor reform, the Triangle Shirtwaist Company vehemently opposed the union, firing any employee who spoke out in its favor. They ignored the need for better fire escapes, ventilation, and unlocked doors. On March 25, 1911, a fire broke out on the 8th floor and ripped through the building. In less than twenty-five minutes, employees, almost all women, either burned or jumped to their deaths to escape the flames.
The tragedy at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory spurred major change in the labor movement of the twentieth century. Literally burned into our civic memory, the unnecessary death of 146 young Jewish and Italian immigrant workers remains one of the most tragic accidents in American labor history.
—
My day started much earlier than usual. At 8:30am I met “Chalk Man” in front of the Eldridge Synagogue on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. I was to follow Chalk Man as he participated in a memorial project dedicated to the victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire. The project, “Chalk,” was started in 2004 by Ruth Sergel, a local artist. The name of each person who lost their life in the fire is written in chalk outside the apartment (tenement) in which they lived. The project is “very decentralized and mysterious,” says Chalk Man, who has been participating for a few years. People who wish to participate contact Ruth via email, she sends names, ages, and addresses of victims, and what to do from there is up to the individual.
Chalk Man has his own ritual. He leaves his apartment before people start heading to work and begins chalking the names assigned to him. He tells me he wants people to see the names, not him writing them. For Chalk Man, it is not about the act of writing, but the reaction of the people viewing: people walking out their front doors in the morning, coming out of subway stations, crossing the street to get a cup of coffee, and looking down to see the names of real people who lived there before them – people who shared their neighborhood one hundred years ago. If the building where the person lived no longer stands, participants chalk anyway. It is a reminder that while New York City is forever changing, its history is what propels it into the future.
Later, I visited the site of the fire and watched the memorial parade. People wore the names of victims on sashes, held banners representing which union party they were from, and some even danced. Many sang and give speeches on a stage set up at the intersection of Washington Place and Greene Street. Though moving, the scene felt rehearsed after so many years. I appreciated the dedication of the event, but something about seeing “Joseph Wilson, age 22, lived here where 84 Chrystie stood, and died March 25, 1911 in the Triangle Factory Fire,” written in stark white chalk on the cold pavement, the author nowhere to be found, resonated much louder in my head and heart.
I found the whole experience quite poetic. It was so cold outside and the task of chalking the names is laborious, hard work. It took 30 minutes to complete each chalking; longer than it took to subdue the fire itself. I have seen many memorials dedicated to people whose lives have been lost, but none with such perfect irony.
Learn more about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire.
Photos by Beth Stebner.
Why Gay Pride Matters to Alef
By Richard Skeen
Alef editorial meetings are usually lively and opinionated (would you expect anything different?), but in a recent meeting where we decided to extend our Gay Pride issue an extra week, the difference in our views struck me as a story within a story. The debate was around how much of our audience – young Jewish adults – cared enough about Gay Pride stories to sustain another week. While traffic and participation suggested the theme resonated with many, some from our team argued that Gay Jewish identity was no different than any other Jewish identity, and shouldn’t get an extra week. How central, in the context of Jewish identity, is Gay Pride?
Today is the Gay Pride parade in lower Manhattan, my old neighborhood. While dropping kids off at Summer camp precludes me from actively participating, this day always brings me back to fond memories of my first New York home. I lived just off Gay Street (named after the Captain, not the identity, but still…), two blocks from the Stonewall Tavern (the birthplace of the American Gay rights movement – think Paul Revere, but riding in leather chaps) in the heart of Greenwich Village. My neighborhood, like the fashion magazine world I worked in, was bursting with LGBT folks drawn to the lack of prejudice and the vibrant scene of the Village. And while I was a floundering heterosexual, I was a huge beneficiary of living amongst my Gay neighbors: from top flight gyms and restaurants to colorful and clever stoops and doorways, the wide array of boutique shops to a happy-vibe on the sidewalks, the huge Gay presence created a kind of utopia and richer life for all of us.
While the various Jewish denominations take different views on same-sex marriage and the kind of love permissible under Halacha (Jewish law), our people have a better track record than most when it comes to Gay rights. Certainly among young Jewish adults, full acceptance of, and support for gay rights is common. Israel’s gay-rights record is well ahead of the curve, and Tel Aviv is among the top Gay vacation spots in the world. But is that good enough?
In a recent essay about the importance of including the LGBT community completely into the Jewish community, philanthropist Lynn Schusterman argues that despite much progress, we are still behind where we should be in providing an inclusive environment for all Jews: “In an era when all Jews are Jews by choice, our community and, in turn, our nation benefits from every source of Jewish vitality and strength, including the creativity and vibrancy of LGBT Jews.”
Though still new, Alef has explored many kinds of Jewish identity, and the issues confronted with being Jewish in a world that is pluralistic and complicated. We have learned a lot, been inspired and come to realize the huge value in the vast diversity of the contemporary Jewish experience. We recognize that many issues are nuanced and complex, but we are sure that the Jewish community is richer for having participation from the LGBT community, and hope that all of Kol Yisrael will work to grow that participation. We think this is important, and we hope you do too.
…
Photo by sgt fun, licensed under Creative Commons.
…
Read more posts from the Gay Pride issue.
Follow Us
2009. Alef: The NEXT Conversation All rights reserved.
Home |
About |
Contact Us
Recent Comments