Hold Your Head High

By J. D'ror Chankin-Gould
Claremont College

The eleventh of May 2004. I am standing on the Pomona College campus, chatting with my friend Miriam. My back is to the road so that the knit kippah I am wearing is visible to all passersby. A black car pulls up to the curb and stops beside us. The driver rolls down his window, leans out to face us, and yells "kikes." The packed car is filled with laughter as the driver makes a sharp turn and speeds away. Miriam is shaking; she takes my hand. We are momentarily frozen.

Academics and journalists, both Jewish and Gentile, tell us that anti-Semitism has changed. It's subtle. It's covert. It's not about Judaism, it's about Israel. My experience tells me that they are wrong. This March at the Claremont Colleges, a professor's car was discovered with broken glass, slashed tires and paintings of a swastika and the words "Kike Whore." The latest police reports suggest that the crime was in fact a hoax perpetrated by the professor herself. I choose to leave the investigating to the professionals. But here's what's more interesting: campus-wide reaction.

With every expectation that the incident was in fact a hate-crime, the people around me, administrators, faculty, and students alike, neglected to label the incident anti-Semitic. They neglected to use the word Jewish. The Claremont Colleges community reacted to hate in full force. Rallies and teach-ins were organized and classes were cancelled. As President of Hillel, I forced my way into a number of venues, making sure that the voice of the Jewish Community would be heard. And yet, the only time speakers used the term "anti-Semitic" was when a Jew him/herself brought it up. Why is that? Because people didn't know what "kike" means? Yes, that's part of the answer. But is that it? No. Even when anti-Semitism smacks people on their heads, they refuse to see it. They choose to ignore it.

So point number one is this: anti-Semitism still exists and it is often neither covert nor subtle. It often has nothing to do with Israel. It has to do with hatred of me and of my people because of our religion, because of our ethnicity, because of our race. My good friend and I teach eighth and ninth graders once weekly at the local synagogue in Pomona. We were asked to teach our teenagers skills they would need to function as Jewish adults. We chose to start by talking about anti-Semitism. My students listed their own experiences: swastikas etched on desks, jokes about Hitler burning Jews in ovens, hurtful evangelism, taunts of "f*** the Jews!" Nothing surprising, abnormal, or shocking. And so, having voiced their experiences, I asked them to list strategies for combating anti-Semitism. The results were incredible: every solution under the sun and I've used almost every one.

Chief among their strategies for combating anti-Semitism was turning to the Jewish community. Other ideas included confronting jokes head on, walking away, starting a fight, educating the intolerant, making allies with other oppressed groups and telling a teacher. In Claremont, after my Jewish community felt attacked, we came together. Jewish students who had been feeling isolated and scared got together and vented. Out of that came communal action: a strong letter from Jewish students condemning the incident and admonishing those who ignored the anti-Semitism. We stood together and it felt darn good.

There's one more piece of this puzzle I'd like to share. I said at the beginning of this article that I was called a "kike" when a driver saw my kippah. I have not always worn a kippah; in fact, it’s fairly new for me. Part of that choice has to do with my faith and my desire for a daily reminder of the moral compass that is my tradition, but much of it has to do with a conscious decision to openly identify as a Jew. One of the most beautiful outcomes of the hatred our campus faced this year, was that kippot, khamsas (a Sephardic medallion of a hand) and Stars of David came flying out of their drawers. Jews chose to respond to anti-Semitism by proudly displaying their identities. As dark as hatred may be, when I walk around my campus and am witness to the increased number of kippot, necklaces with Jewish symbols, and Hebrew t-shirts, I beam with pride. I am proud to belong to a People which responds to such intense hatred with integrity, dignity, courage and hope.

[Posted 8/15/04]