Culture clashes


I don’t mean to undermine the efforts to spread the awareness that Jews exist in all colors.

But, the way that that is being propagated lately makes me a little uncomfortable.

When you look at the posters of “diverse” Jews in America, you always see a “black” face, an “Asian” face, and a “Middle-Eastern” face. To the trained eye,  it looks like this: There is an African-American, who either is born Jewish or converted (there is no way of telling, really. From my experience, both are equally likely with African-American looking people). There is usually also that Ethiopian face (which, needless to say, is usually someone born Jewish). The “Asian” face is usually an Asian girl, who was probably adopted by “white” Jewish parents. (Sorry for the stereo-typing, but I haven’t met an exception to this one yet.) The Middle-Eastern looking person could be a Yeminite Jew, or a Arabic-Jew with slightly tan skin. Occasionally, you also see a mixed-race child (although if there is, that tends to be an Asian-White child, like me).

I look at this and think…. Well, it’s great that there are advertising this…. But, we are not all the same. In fact, we have such a different history from one another. To lump us all together like this seems a little problematic because that shows me more than anything else that we are “the Other” Jewish population. I almost hear a voice saying, The Black ones, Asian ones, Middle Eastern ones (to a lesser extent) are all “weird” but we are going to bite our tongues and say, “we must embrace all the diverse Jews among us.”

Let’s get real for a second:

The existence of biracial and multiracial Jews (born Jewish or with a Jewish parent) is a pretty new (by which I mean about a half-century old) phenomenon which has a lot to do with the increased ease of movement between varying regions and countries, banning of anti-miscegenation (interracial marriage) laws (for more on this, look here), and the increased acceptance of such children in the general Jewish community. At least in the US. The Caribbean islands is one of the most interesting and earliest sites (to the best of my knowledge) that gave rise to this phenomenon that still continues till today.

The existence of black American Jews has its own rich history (details of which I don’t know yet) which goes back to as far as the mid-nineteenth-century in the US and also has links to the Black Pride Movement.

The Ethiopians Jews and Middle Eastern Jews, as a collective, have been Jews for ever. That they get lumped together with “us” newer-phenomenon Jews seems to point to the real reason all of this bothers me.

So many of those visuals that try to tout “diversity” in the Jewish communities seem to focus on the “Wow! You are a Jew?” factor that comes from the “general” (which is the “white”) Jewish population and does not seem to take into account “our” perspectives or even basic histories–the perspective of the ones who are being lumped together to compose the “mosaic” or “diverse face of Judaism today.” Honestly, when I see those visual images (and may I add that anything advertising something Jewish still uses the dark curly-haired white-skinned 20-something girl most often), I feel like I am being used to show to the rest of the (non-Jewish) American world, that “yes! We too, are ‘diverse’ like the rest of America!” (Assimilation complete!) Cynical? Perhaps.

This is a post I hesitated to post because I don’t want to shoot the positive movement of trying to diversify people’s ideas of who a Jew is. At the same time, I felt compelled to upload this because, really, it’s quite irritating that “diverse” is being used to only mean “non-white” and I think that use really needs to stop. Otherwise, real normalization can’t happen and we “diverse” Jews will always remain on the margin.

What alternatives remain then? I have ideas, but not now. To be continued…. Maybe….

I am one of those deeply saddened by what has happened in Mumbai recently, and particularly to the Chabad shluchim.

I am particularly saddened because I have met and have been helped by many shluchim in my travels.

I have seen and heard of Chabad shluchim breaking up old native communities in “far-flung” places, but I have also been helped by them in others.

What it comes down to though, is that while Chabad launches a huge outreach program, and many of the shluchim share deep-held ideologies and religious convictions (obviously), they are all individual families. As in, I do not feel the same towards all the shluchim. They are those I like and deeply respect and those that I do not.

The shluchim in Mumbai, I never got a chance to know directly. They seemed to have been very nice and special people. I am really glad that their son, Moshe, was saved and is being taken care of by his maternal grandparents. There were many episodes I heard of both of them which I found heart-warming and repsectable. I think it is a shame that I never got a chance to get to know them. However, in the speeches about them, there was a recurring trope that I could not miss and found disturbing.

A note: What is about to follow has nothing to do with the shulchim that passed away. I will repeat, the following, which means, this post itself, has nothing to do with them, but is only prompted by what has happened in the aftermath: In speeches that I have heard (or read), I noticed a trend that betrays just how exactly the “Jewish” community (of the US at least, if not the majority of the English-speaking traditional world of it) feels about “India” and “those backward countries.”

The first came on a Friday night in my regular shul where someone got up and talked about just how special, welcoming, and nice those shluchim were. In the speech, I noticed, the person made a comment about how difficult it must have been for the shulchim to build the terrific center that they did. The wording used was that, “Imagine the difficulty to build a modern building in India, where they are 200-years behind.” …Excuse me, “200-years behind”? Why not simply say “uncivilized”? Isn’t that what you meant?

I heard another speech made about them which used a phrase–turning into something of a set one–to describe what going to India meant to them: They left their “comfortable Western home” to arrive at “dirty,” “crowded,” and “difficult” India. Oh, “dirty”? Right, the street corner that this speech was being made, in the middle of what some people would call “filthy” and “dangerous” New York, doesn’t measure up to it, I am sure. My stomach turned.

Another thing that bothered me was that, in all of these speeches, save for one, India kept being described as “such a difficult place to be a Jew.” The shulchim kept being described as providing “a home away from home” for all the traveling and “wandering” Jews.  Well, aren’t you forgetting about the Indian-Jews? The native Jewish population: Bnai Israel? From what I hear, one of the important services the shliach provided was the service to the local Jewish population, whose existence most (though not all) of the speech-makers seemed to totally forget about. I mean, Jews are not only Ashkenazi. They don’t only exist in Western Europe, North America, and Israel. Jews do not only live in “comfortable” “civilized” “western” homes. They also come from India too.

In fact, this reminds me how when I went to Israel for the first time to Israel on Birthright, how so many of the college kids I went with (I was also a college kid then) thought that majority of the places we stayed in were too dirty. I thought that they were spoiled brats. They only seemed to think that things were up to their standards when we were staying in a five-star business hotel being served by Israeli-Arabs who were being managed by Israeli-Jews and knew how to smile at us pleasantly and serve us nicely. I felt like there was no point staying in a place like that if I was visiting Israel for the sake of visiting Israel–not to have some business dealings. I also hated the fact that I was on the bus with hundreds of American Jews who could only marvel at how “inconvenient” and “dirty” (read, “backwards” and “uncivilized”) Israel was.

Majority of the people making speeches had traveled through India and that’s how they had made their acquaintance with the Chabad shluchim, whom, sadly, they will never see again in this world. If what they took back from their trip was just how “hot, muggy, dirty, and noisy” Mumbai (or are they saying India as a whole?) was, except for the oh, occasionally “beautiful” and “historically significant” sights, they seriously need to rethink their frame of mind. India is not simply a tourist spot (or some exotic Disneyland) existing to serve your needs as a traveller. It is another region where people live in. They perhaps have totally different ways of seeing things and coping with things than the casual (and unobservant) traveler/observer could ever imagine. To not know what that way of life and perspective on life is, to be completely ignorant of it and instead, to come down on them as being “uncivilized,” how self-centered, what an embarrassment. What a shame.

As a multi-racial individual, I often encounter the expectation that I should be or must be “liberal.” This, at times, has made me want to run the other way, and just to prove people wrong, be “conservative.”

Luckily, though, I have worked very hard not to let social pressures like that decide my very personal opinions on several issues. As a result, I like to think that I have managed to remain “liberal,” “conservative,” and “middle,” depending on the issue (as I think it should be).

Now, I am a religiously observant Jew, but also strongly identify as being multi-racial and multi-cultural. I am not in to denying my Japanese self, nor depriving myself of Japanese food, or other yummy “ethnic” foods. I am very in to being Japanese, Jewish, and a citizen of the terristial beings.

In the American Jewish community, there has been some movement to try to diversify people’s idea of who is a Jew. As in, you could look many ways–not just white, but also Arab, Asian, African, black, mixed of course, etc. There are organizations devoted to doing this through outreach, education, meetings, and retreats. Great.

Many of the organizations that work the hardest at this claim to be religiously pluralistic as well. After all, they are claiming that the American Jewish community should be strengthening themselves through inclusiveness, not exclusiveness. So, what point is there in them being exclusivist. Right?

Well, in fact, often they schedule events on Shabbat that no traditionally religious Jew could attend. They in fact, trample on the basics of traditional halakha in their events, I believe, out of ignorance. But, when all the activities are inherently optional, but only the so-called “religious activities” on the program are labeled as “OPTIONAL,” you got to start thinking, what is it that they are trying to do? Are they are trying to pass on their nebulous “cultural Judaism” to their ethnically and culturally “diverse” children, with no knowledge or sense of connection to Judaism? What “culture” are the children going to carry with them then? I thought Israeli society showed us plain and simple that there is no “Jewish culture” where there is no connection or observance of some religious Jewish practice?

I am not saying that they should all be religiously observant. What I am saying though is that I think that they assume that because we are “ethnically diverse” we will be “liberal” in other ways, such as in religious observances as well. To try to claim and pass down “cultural” Judaism in a ethnically as well as culturally “diverse” Jewish context has its own very serious problems, although I won’t get into it in depth here.

To say the least, it is disappointing to see such religious disregard coming from organizations specifically aimed at bringing “diverse” Jews together, and to telling the world that we exist, in numbers much larger than some might assume.

There was one organization that is for “Jews of Colors” and did manage to bring religious pluralism in practice as well. Unfortunately, I am unsure of what has happened to it….

Americans often compare Judaism to Christianity. The over-used word, Judeo-Christian tradition, kind of makes me wince.

Christianity and Judaism are really not so similar. Paritcularly, Protestant Christianity (which “Christianity” has come to usually mean in American English) has very little resemblance to Judaism.

The religoin that is the closest to Judaism is Islam, then Catholicism, then comes Protestant Christianity.

Islam has a holy language (Arabic) like Judaism (Hebrew) that cannot be replaced by translations. (Catholicism)

Islam has women cover their hair like Judaism used to mandate and still does for married women.

Islam has food prohibitions like Judaism.

Islam has a sense of holy places like Judaism. (Okay, that’s one thing the Christians also share in.)

The term “Judeo-Christian tradition” was an academic term that was referring to very specific things, but then seemed to have gotten coopted by well-meaning Americans who wanted to have a sense of alliance with the rest of the American population. But, really, that’s a misuse of the term. I have also heard the newer term, the “Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition,” which tends to be more accurate although not always. These terms are not there to make things sound fluffy and nice. They are supposed to actually describe something substantial. Or so I thought.

It is always very strange when I am in company of others who don’t know that I didn’t convert.  Especially when the conversation revolves around the Jewish community and people who look different.

Yes, I have experienced a lot of unpleasentness, exoticism, favors, etc. because of my “different” looks (than the average Ashkenazi Jew), but I don’t share the experience of having had to shed an identity or a part of myself or having to go through any Judaism classes because of my choice to “become a Jew.”

I always feel ill at ease when this is not clear. I feel that I am deceiving the conversation partner, especially when this person had “chosen” Judaism. When it is someone who is “born” Jewish and looks stereo-typically Ashkenazi and wrongly assumes that I chose to be Jewish, I am insulted and indignent that the presence of people like me–those of us who are “born” Jewish, but don’t have stereo-typical appearences–are not known more widely.

So when the conversation revolves around being a “different” kind of Jew with someone who converted, I end up fishing for an opportunity to come out as non-convert. Because we often share many experiences in common, it’s quite a strange thing. I also feel like it can be somewhat obnoxious–although, this comes from having been in strange situations where the conversation was being led astray because I didn’t come out clear from the beginning.  Weird.

The main story that the article recounts, that is.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/02/magazine/02jewishness-t.html?ex=1362027600&en=4436eb92db0cbe74&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

I have more to say, but I will leave that for another time.

This is one of the things that I despise the most.

In Japan, a popular liberal opinion is: Religion has only served as sources of serious conflict. Therefore, people would be much better off without religion.

While I totally disagree with this opinion, I do agree that religion is easily manipulated and used for various political tools, which has given it a bad name in recent history.

In the past couple of months, I have been witnessing exactly how denominationalism is being used and manipulated to destroy a tiny tiny religious/cultural community.

Since the community being destroyed and has serious “health problems” is the one I call my home community, this is quite a painful sight.

During my eleven years of being away from it, I had constantly referred to it as my “home” community. I proudly told people where I was from and that the community was there. I was not a singular anomaly, but there was a community behind me. That’s about to become history: Sure, I grew up in this community, but in the historical one. I have very little to do with the present one. The only things the present one and past one have in common is its name and maybe the building (at least for a little bit).

While I was being nurtured with leadership skills and Jewish knowledge in college, I constantly thought of how I could bring these skills back to my “home” community. I thought about this with great excitement, especially as my return neared in the last year.

Strange things were starting to happen to “my” community and I had caught wind of it many years ago, during one of my short visits back home. Knowing about this, I wanted to help even more. I didn’t want my “home” community to be so divided. Some of the issues really needed working out, while some of them just needed to be overlooked for a little bit.

What I didn’t notice was that this was a lot like a cat-fight. I got caught in the middle and got badly scratched and hurt. The pain is wrenching because as a child of the community (and one of the few who actually has remained so) I feel like I am seeing my parents fight and about to get a divorce over “irreconcilable differences” when in fact, there is a lot more going on. Plus, in this case, there are as many camps as the number of community members, but the most involved people only see two sides.

What I have decided to do? Stay out of it. I am keeping my involvement to the minimal, particularly since some people really seem to want that. While this is the most painful thing for me, I suspect it is also the best solution at the moment.

 

In observing many Jewish male and (previously or on the way to converting) non-Jewish female couples, I notice that there is often a lot of patriarchal ugliness going on.

 

The Jewish spouse (or spouse-to-be) finds it so important that their spouse or spouse-to-be Jewish after having established the relationship. The case seems worse when the man gets religious after the two are together. Why is it worse then? Because they are new to the religious thing and the first thing they worry about is “Me.” “Ooopsies, I am (going to be) married to a non-Jew. Gotta change that!!”

 

I think the “patriarchal ugliness” tends to happen because Judaism at first glance seems to allow for a guy to boss around “his” woman. Systematically, it actually does. Judaism is a patriarchal religion and there is no doubting that. On the hand, it is my opinion that if you were to eliminate all the “patriarchal elements” from it, it would be so drastically different from its traditional form that it would be difficult to recognize it as Judaism (which has happened in some communities).

 

What the newly religious selfish guy does not realize is that, if you listened to many rabbis and what the folk Jewish tradition says, you will quickly notice that the consistent message is that “The one who has the legal authority (=the man) must to be benevolent.” That is, you can’t be a jerk to your wife because you are the guy. Quite to the contrary; because you have the authority, you have to make sure you don’t abuse the power that you have.

 

This is what I take away from the sermon that was given to us on our wedding day.

This is the gist of what Misha was told under the chuppa: “If your wife wants ice cream at 2a.m., even if you don’t feel like it, you have to go and get it. The love that you should show your wife should be as unconditional as Jacob showed to God (that had something to do with that weeks Torah portion).” This was the sermon given to us at the moment I was “being purchased” by Misha as a wife.

 

Religious law is meant to make you a better person. Not a big jerk who bosses around his wife (whether she is Jewish or not). The men who don’t force their wives/fiancées/girlfriends to convert win my respect. I have seen couples where the women converted, but when it was not by coercion, it took a long time. Sometimes the option included a baby-conversion.

 

With those couples where the woman was not forced into conversion, the woman had an opinion and a sense of self-hood and the man had the strength to respect that. The couple seemed to remain mutually respectful and loving towards each other. It is a two-way street after all.

You kind of have to be rich to be Jewishly observant. That is, if you live in Japan or the US.

Or, at least, there are those who make that true.

Think about it:

It’s a luxury to be able to take off from the middle of Friday and almost the entirety of Saturday. Every week.

It’s a luxury to be able to pay for those absurdly expensive High Holiday tickets that are used to pay for security, the extra rabbi(s)/cantor(s), extra room(s), and funds for the coming year.

It’s a luxury to be able to pay for that extra expensive meat (if you eat meat).

Many hekshered items are often high-end instead of being the discounted brands.

In Los Angeles and in Tokyo, the synagogue(s) are in the most expensive area(s) of town. In Tokyo, that means the most expensive area in the whole of Japan.

There is a delicate balance of how much you can actually afford and how much you are willing to afford in order to live an observant life. But, since you have no idea what expenses people might have in their lives, that is not for anyone to judge. At the same time, it takes honesty and self-awareness to know how much you actually can and want to spend on “mere religious” education and practices.

My grandmother, who came from a German Jewish family who was proudly Reform, left Jewish practice because of the gaudiness she saw in the synagogue. People were there to flaunt their new dresses and suits rather than to pray.

My grandfather, who came from a Eastern European immigrant family who was traditional (today they are called Orthodox) left Jewish practice because he couldn’t afford to get a secular education (which would allow him to make something of himself and escape poverty) while being Jewishly observant.

The world has changed a lot since then. But, you will not feel it’s transformations if you keep adjusting your standards to the “new times,” scrutinizing more and more of each person and institution’s practices.

Back in the days, when I was still a free radical, easily flying amongst other free radicals, I met a guy who was quite hot, playful, intelligent, and… well, hot.  I met him in shul, we were talking over seudat shlishit, and there were sparks flying between us. 

 

But, he was a good religious boy, so he was not going to date anyone just for play or fun.  So, he started screening me: I understand that you are halachically Jewish, no problem there.  You are culturally more Japanese.  No problem there either—Jews come in all kinds of stripes and colors, including the Japanese kind.  But how pure is your belief?  Do you really believe in Judaism?  Or, do you just “happen to be” Jewish? 

 

Hmmmm… said my rather rebellious brain.  “I don’t like this.” 

 

The red-headed hot boy wanted to know, whether my beliefs in fact were more Buddhist-influenced than Jewish-influenced.  What a tricky question. 

 

First of all, the starting assumption needs some more tweaking—Japan is not a “Buddhist country,” the way American is a “Protestant” or to be more specific, “Puritan country.”  This is problem number one. 

 

Problem number two:  I don’t really buy any pre-packaged religious ideas or concepts about things.  But I also don’t believe whole-heartedly in a purely ‘scientific’ worldview of things.  Articulating my theology at any given point is a rather involved process (as I expect it to be for many many people) and cannot be easily categorized into “Jewish” or “Buddhist.”

 

Problem number three:  I didn’t like being measured about “how Jewish” I was.  I was also feeling this subtle pressure to be “completely Jewish” to ‘pass’ as a possible girlfriend (=possible future wife) candidate. 

 

So, I shot back with a test for him.  I emphasized my secularity over my religiousity a bit, and inflated the “Buddhist-influence” on my beliefs more than probably was accurate even for then. 

 

The result?  Well, Misha’s got red-hued hair, but does not have flaming red-hair.  That blazing red-hair looked really exotic and delicious.  Alas.  

 

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