Dear Pasty-Skinned Jews, Remember You Only Pass as White
From one Jew to another: A reminder to those in our community who’ve forgotten
I grew up in a community that lives by the adage, “Never forget.” Never forget the 6 million who perished in the Holocaust of World War II. Never forget the thousands who perished in centuries of pogroms. Never forget and, often, never forgive.
Because of this history, fraught with targeted hate and carnage, the majority of us have historically kept ourselves isolated from the wider community. Who can blame us for being insular?
However, while the majority have historically kept to our own communities, there have always been Jews who’ve attempted integration and assimilation. This group of us has co-existed for millennia with our insular brethren because alongside the reluctance to venture beyond the shtetl was a more powerful urge to explore, question, and experience — to be a part of something larger. This group of us has nearly mastered assimilation and we’ve never come as close to achieving it as we have today in the United States.
I’m a member of this group, although it is clearer to me than ever that the prize of assimilation comes at a cost. Most Jews in America look white and that whiteness lends us privilege. Some of us are third and fourth-generation Americans and, like our ancestors, we’ve let our nationality define us ahead of our shared history. We are suffering ethnic amnesia.
For a culture of “never forget,” there seems to be a lot of amnesia going around…
For a people who live by the “never forget” axiom, I find it acutely ironic that this brand of amnesia and self-delusion is precisely what led so many of us to refrain from leaving Europe in the 1930s. We stayed, ignoring all the age-old signs of antisemitism, trapping ourselves in the clutches of Nazi Germany and paying the price.
The facts speak for themselves: The ADL reported record levels of global antisemitic activity in 2020. 2,024 reported antisemitic incidents in the United States marked the third-highest on record. Although incidents were down by 10% from 2019, I think it’s important to note that in 2019, assaults had increased by 56% from 2019, and antisemitic incidents averaged 6 per day.
What’s the lesson here? Antisemitism, like other forms of bigotry and hate, is on the rise in America. No big surprise, right? Certainly, our BIPOC neighbors aren’t surprised, but the Jewish community continues to operate in relative denial.
History is repeating itself in America today, as we — descendants of Holocaust survivors — have easily forgotten a history still extant in living memory, of how we ignored the signs. Again, we favor a national identity over our Jewish identity. We hide so thoroughly behind our white skin that we forget our Jewishness and our history of persecution. We forget, and in forgetting, cast off the values the old axiom intended to impart.
When I hear the words “never forget,” I understand them to mean more than simply remembering historical facts. To me, these words beg us to remember the lessons history should have taught us in the first place. “Never forget” should mean holding fast to our universal values of humanity, of standing up for what is right despite what the majority thinks, and despite whatever vitriol and violence may be thrown at us.
But I’ve had too many conversations with fellow Jews over the last few years that leave me with a bad taste in my mouth as they blindly condemn the Black Lives Matter movement and bigotedly equate protests with mob violence. I’m told I can’t equate Black or BIPOC suffering with Jewish suffering.
It’s true the narrative is different. But it’s also true that we’ve all — and still are — suffering the lashings of hate.
When I point out that as Jews, we should each be standing right there next to our fellow BIPOC citizens in absolute solidarity, I’m slammed with accusations of being a “snowflake” or “condoning rape and murder.” Apparently, “never forget” has been redefined with a much narrower scope. And, it gets worse.
Jewish “White” privilege is tissue-paper thin
Too many Jews think and speak like White people now, and the moment we’re confronted with our privilege and the true annals of history, we go silent. We’re happy to enjoy the privileges lent to us by the shade of our skin, to join in the Whites’ chorus of systemic racism until it affects us.
Maybe this is news to those of you who’ve not only had the privilege of your skin, but the privilege of living in tolerant areas of the country and the privilege of turning a blind eye. But it’s definitely old news to me.
These behaviors and sentiments are also completely counter to the beliefs and values Judaism teaches: to love your neighbor as yourself, to stand strong (and equally) with them, and to do everything in our power to convert enemies to friends.
This attitude and the accompanying opinions of many American Jews I’ve conversed with show me we’re a community that much too often hides behind generations of White privilege. I’m here to remind us all: That privilege is tissue-paper thin.
Let me tell you a little bit of my own Jewish American experience.
My insanely pale skin has given me the privilege of passing as White. That privilege ends when someone learns my name and it ends again when they learn I’m a Jew.
Most Jews in American enjoy the same privileges my own fair skin affords me. Most likely, we won’t get pulled over by cops for no reason and if we call 9–1–1 for a wellness check. We probably won’t get gunned down in our own homes.
But, when I was eight years old, I moved to the Deep South from New York City. Race, ethnicity, and creed did not bombard my juvenile worldview. Honestly, it didn’t even enter my worldview. What’s that? It’s privilege.
I lost that privilege quickly. When my family moved to southern Georgia, I became acutely aware of the racial tensions between White and Black children in my new neighborhood. At first, I didn’t understand it. I’d never experienced anything like this before. And, at first, the children took me on face value: the White children accepted me but didn’t like that I had no qualms playing with the Black children, too. I was hastily labeled a weirdo.
The diatribe between the children made naïve, young me uncomfortable. Behind the White children’s backs, I reached out to the Black children anyway, but they saw me as White and simply couldn’t understand the game they thought I was playing. I understood neither the Black children’s perplexity nor the White children’s acerbity.
Somehow, the children all discovered my “secret.” I didn’t even know it was supposed to be one. What was the big secret? I was an imposter. I wasn’t White. I was a Jew Girl. And this was enough for an historic alliance to be forged.
Black and White children joined forces that day to chase the Jew Girl into the woods, to ambush her in a clearing between the alligator-infested swamp and the backyard tree line. It was all in good fun that they threw stones at her head and stabbed her with sharpened sticks, and slapped her with bare hands until she fell, face-first, into the dirt.
But hallelujah! An alliance had been forged like none the world has seen since before the heavens were separated from the earth. There’s nothing like a common enemy to beget uncommon friendships.
I don’t remember how I escaped the mob of children on my street, but I do remember running until my lungs burned, with the horde close at my heels, armed with stones and spears and hate.
After that, I didn’t go out to play anymore. After that, I was race conscious. And I knew I wasn’t White.
So, if you’re like me, a pasty-skinned Jew, think twice, thrice, a hundred times before you start parroting the White man’s script and dreaming the White man’s dreams in America. They aren’t ours. In the end, you’re only spitting vitriol, stones, and hatred at yourself.