Politics, identity, and raising a Jew Baby

I don’t usually get into political issues, but this time something in the news is directly related to how I think, and a parenting issue I have been struggling with.

The arrest of Harvard Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. has been all over the local news here in Massachusetts. My NPR affiliate posted a Facebook link to the latest update – that all charges have been dropped – and a few people responded by saying that the situation was blown out of proportion, that Prof. Gates over-reacted, that he should be grateful for the neighbor who was watching out for his home, essentially that Gates should just “get over it”.

On the one hand, I see their point, and in a different world, I might also be wondering why we all can’t just get along. But this isn’t a perfect world, and whether or not I agree with Prof. Gates’ reaction, I understand it, and I don’t fault him for it. Remember my post after the Holocaust Museum shooting? Now, the situation isn’t a perfect analogy, because I was responding to an intentional attack against an institution directly related to the persecution of my people and culture, but the underlying idea behind my reaction was the same. The news of the shooting brought my minority status to the forefront of my mind, and I reacted to the woman behind the counter as a Jew, not as your average White American, which is who she undoubtedly thought I was. Not only is Prof. Gates an African-American man who will never be mistaken for an average White American, but he has also made a life’s work of exploring and understanding the experience of Africans and African-Americans. He wasn’t responding to the police as a generic American, or as a respected and accomplished Harvard Professor. He was responding as a black man who spends a lot of time thinking about the experiences of black men, and I would guess that he was also scared. Having the police show up on your door step and ask you to step outside of your house is scary for anyone, but especially for a black man in the United States. Even in the Republic of Cambridge.

The point of all of this, as I said before, is that whether or not I agree with his reaction, I certainly understand it, and I can’t say that I would respond differently. Either way, I hope the world would not judge me based on my behavior when I feel scared or threatened.

The arrest of Prof. Gates got me thinking about an issue that has been rattling around in my brain for awhile now. Just as Gates undoubtedly sees the world as a black man (and an American, and a scholar, and a professor, etc.), I see the world from the perspective of a mother, a woman, a Jew, and a social worker, among other things. Jew and social worker – that can be a dangerous combination. Let’s start with the social worker part – I can’t tell you how many perfectly good books, tv shows, movies, and country songs (yes, I believe there are perfectly good country songs) have been ruined by my professional training and experience. I read child developmental books and websites that refer to Mommies and Daddies and I think about gay and lesbian couples, single parents and grandparents. Napoleon Dynamite killed me – I spent the whole movie wondering why there wasn’t a social worker visiting the home. Every time I hear the song “All Because Two People Fell in Love” by Brad Paisley (a country song about how the world is made a better place by the achievements of children who were born because two people fell in love), all I can think about is how many children are born to loveless pairings, arranged marriages, or are the products of rape or sexual assault. And House episodes – don’t get me started. I love the show (What health professional doesn’t? What more could we want than to be so good at our job that we can tell our patients exactly what we think of them, all while saving their lives?), but I don’t care if it is Lupus or MS or Wilson’s Disease, why are those family members sitting alone in the hallway while Dr. House and his team are temporarily killing their loved one for exactly 33 seconds in order to save him?? Where is the damned social worker? It’s a blessing and a curse, but mostly a curse, and one I can’t turn off. Fortunately, I have learned to generally keep my mouth shut, as I don’t need to further confirm people’s already lingering suspicions that I am a freak.

And then there is the Jew in me. Just the other day I was in a music class with Choochie, and the leader of the group read a book about Grandma going to the store for cheese and black forest ham. Eeek! Off goes the Jew-alert! No, I wasn’t offended (Don’t get me wrong – bacon is DELICIOUS. I just don’t eat it.), but I was aware. All of a sudden I was re-reading the other Moms’ nametags, trying to figure out who else was Jewish – a task made decidedly more difficult without last names. Sarah? Could be. Roxanne? Likely not. Miriam? Almost definitely. Then I’m thinking about how nice it would be if there was a children’s book about grandma going to the store for brisket and bagels or cheese and lactaid. And yes, there are plenty of Jewishly-themed children’s books about Shabbat or Chanukah or Pesach, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’d like to see a general children’s book that isn’t about being Jewish, but it’s about being a kid with a grandmother, and yet it’s one that Choochie will be able to relate to when she relates to things in ways other than shoving them into her mouth.

Which sent my brain off onto yet another tangent – how will I explain to Choochie why we don’t eat bacon or cheeseburgers or lobster? As I have mentioned before, Josh and I have a… unique approach to kashrut. We don’t keep kosher in a way that would matter to anyone who cares, but it’s just enough to make us annoying to friends and family who are kind enough to feed us. We do it because it matters to us that we’re Jewish, and not eating or mixing certain foods is yet another way that we make choices based on our values. No, I don’t actually think G-d cares if I eat a bacon cheeseburger or not, nor do I think that passing up a tasty lobster makes me a better person or a better Jew. It’s just another way in which I insert my Jewish values and identity into my daily life, and that matters to me. It matters to us, and hopefully someday it will matter to Choochie. But how does one explain that to a three year old?  (Perhaps I should cross that bridge when I come to it…)

All of this is just a slice of the big pie that I am struggling with – what does it mean to raise a child with a minority identity in a majority culture? Yes, with her blond hair and blue eyes, she will be able to pass, just as her father and I often have (until we say our names!), just as Professor Gates can’t, regardless of whether or not he opens his mouth. But I don’t want her to have to pass, or to want to pass. As a white woman, she will be lucky enough to reap the benefits of white privilege, but she will also grow up in a world where the benign among us assume that she eats ham for Easter and has a Christmas tree and the anti-Semites would prefer that she didn’t exist at all, or at least not in her current form. I hope that as her mother, I can teach her to find her way of responding in a thoughtful, appropriate, and empowering manner. As Prof. Gates has shown us, it isn’t always easy.