“I FEEL LIKE THOSE DESERT NOMADS, ALWAYS IN-BETWEEN”:

AN ANALYSIS OF CONTEMPORARY JEWISH IDENTITY

by

Nicole S. Fox
May 6, 2008

A thesis submitted to the

Faculty/Graduate School of
the State University of New York at Buffalo
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the
degree of

Master of Arts

Department of Global Gender Studies

 UMI Number: 1453626

Copyright 2008 by
Fox, Nicole S.

All rights reserved.

UMI Microform 1453626

Copyright 2008 by ProQuest Information and Learning Company.
All rights reserved. This microform edition is protected against
unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code.

ProQuest Information and Learning Company

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P.O. Box 1346
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Copyright by
Nicole S. Fox

2008

ii
 Dedication and Acknowledgments

I would like to dedicate this work to my grandmother, Jane B. Schuldberg who

continues to be an inspiration and a source of strength for me. I would like to thank my

parents, Jean Schuldberg and Tom Fox, who are the stable foundation of my world and

who motivate me to be a stronger scholar, activist, and feminist through their own

admirable work. My siblings, Joey F., Joey A., and Louise, I thank for their

unconditional love and laughter. I would also like to thank my community of friends and

my extended family for their undaunting support. Dr. Gwynn Thomas and Piya Pangsapa

have been exceptional mentors beyond compare. I thank them for their guidance and

expertise, but most of all their modeling of such professionalism and humanity. Most of

all, I would like to thank the participants of this study for embracing the project and

sharing their stories so that others may benefit from their experiences to develop a more

compassionate world.

iii
 TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION iii

ABSTRACT vi

CHAPTER ONE: Introduction, Methodology and Positionality 1

CHAPTER TWO: “I Will Never Be White Enough For Them”: Anti-Semitism, Jewish
Ethnicity and the Construction Of Jewish Whiteness 28

CHAPTER THREE: "Their History is Part of Me": Third Generation Jews and
Intergenerational Transmission of Memory, Trauma and History 44

CHAPTER FOUR: "Israel is a Big Part of My Jewishness": Zionist Nationalism,

Contradictions and Voices of Dissent 62

CHAPTER FIVE: Bearing Witness: Concluding Interpretations 79

WORKS CITED 87

iv
 List of Charts and Tables

Table 1: Demographic Index of Survey Participants 27

v
 Abstract

This project emerges out of the rich data derived from ethnographic interviews

conducted with 20 American Jews during 2007. It is an effort to locate the compromises

and conflicted understandings in which Jews articulate their own experiences, memories

and identities. It is also an effort to understand identity through multiple lenses such as

ethnicity, historical and generational memory, and national identities. Furthermore, I

aim to explore how epistemology and discourse from previous generations affect the

understandings and meanings of identity in this specific sample, as many participants

were well versed in Jewish studies, critical whiteness studies, and women’s studies. This

study analyzes Jewish identity in the specific context of third generation Holocaust

survivors (the grandchildren of Holocaust survivors).

In analyzing this identity I seek to illuminate the diversity of this identity by

understanding how gender, relationship to Israel, and intergenerational transmission of

trauma structures an understanding of the self, Jewish identity and the larger international

community. This identity is formed by some shared experiences, often with anti-

Semitism, shared cultures and histories (both real and imagined), and collective

memories of the Holocaust and other historical events. At the same time, power

structures of nationalism, gender, class, and ethnicity mark differences between the

participants and show the diversity and heterogeneity of this identity. This complex

argument relies on theories of identity, nationalism, memory, and gender. There are three

central facets of American Jewish identity that I will be analyzing in this project: the

social and historical construction of Jewish whiteness; intergenerational transmission of

memory, trauma and history; and American Zionist nationalism.

 Chapter One

Introduction, Methodology and Positionality

American Jews live in a multi-cultural world, where cultures now circulate and
mix freely, and this new freedom allows them to redefine and reclaim their
Jewishness. These Jews like to remix music, cultures and codes. While they
don’t belong to a temple, they, like other tribes may connect through culture,
family, food, humor or arguing or just plain guilt. Their parents may have
outsourced their Jewish education, so these Jews went to Hebrew school, but
many got their Jewish education from Hollywood. This generation wants fewer
sermons and more conversations… they may define Kosher differently and their
version of the Talmud1 is the Internet... They may be pro-choice, as in they
choose to tell someone they are Jewish. They rarely experience anti-Semitism
and when they do they may not always speak up. These Jews may not be sure
how they feel about Israel. For their parents, Israel was clearly heroic… when
speaking to those who are not Jewish, they may defend it but internally, they
may be unsure. They can believe in Israel and not agree in all its politics…
They are part of a whole generation of portable identities and professions and
they have many names for themselves.
---The Tribe (2006)

The above quote is from the 2006 short film titled The Tribe that explores aspects

of American Jewish identity through on-camera interview clips. The film questions

American Jews about the many names they have for themselves (Cultural Jew, Buddhist

Jew, Super Jew…) and the ways in which they feel connected to the larger Jewish

community and culture. The film plays on the term the “tribe,” referencing the ways that

some Jews refer to themselves as part of a larger “tribe” of people. This idea holds the

underlying assumption that all Jews are members of a larger community of people with

shared histories, religious customs and beliefs, foods and/or cultural cues. The word the

“tribe” also suggests an additional image and assumption of marking difference,

particularly in its common usage with reference to African and Native American tribes.

1
The Talmud is the doctrine of rabbinic discussions pertaining to Jewish law, customs,
history and traditions.
1
 This project grew out of a desire to articulate the diverse experiences and identity

formation of young American Jews and involved in-depth conversational interviews with

twenty young American Jews. Several participants throughout their interviews evoked

both these notions of tribe in their own testimonies regarding an imagined unity through a

shared community and/or history. Although some participants may make an argument

for the unification and similarity of all Jews, this project works to disrupt the idea of a

unification of all Jews. I do not envision Jews as a singular “tribe of people” that is

solely marked by difference from the larger world community or similarities within their

own “tribe.” I did find similarities in responses to certain facets of American Jewish

identity that surprised me (such as how the Holocaust has affected participants’ relations

to Judaism and/or Jewish identity). At the same time, I found profound differences in

responses within the same sample of people on other facets of Jewish identity (such as

Israeli nationalism). All participants identified as Jewish with one or more Jewish parent,

but what it meant to claim this identity varied from participant to participant.

This quote from the film The Tribe also mirrored many of the issues and

complexities expressed by this sample. For instance, describing young American Jews as

“be[ing] pro-choice, as in they choose to tell someone they are Jewish,” reflects the

experiences of many of the participants who spoke of carefully choosing when to disclose

their identity as Jews. The quote above also implies the interesting historical place this

generation occupies with their “portable identities and professions” and the fast-growing

dependence and interaction with technology (with the reference of using the Internet as

the Talmud).

2
 Lastly, this quote demonstrates the ways that competing truths can function in

identity politics (a term further explored in this chapter) without privileging one truth

over another as being “more right” or truthful than another. Participants in this study had

conflicting and often contradictory views regarding Israeli nationalism. They “believed

in Israel” but disagreed with some of its politics, they believed in free speech but did not

know how to critique Israel without being anti-Semitic, and they believed in resilience

and Jewish pride but were haunted by the atrocities of the past and current conflicts.

There is no monolithic narrative of the American Jew growing up today in a mix

of Matisyahu2 and Madonna3, kosher tofu and vegan bacon, and Jdate4 and interfaith

councils. American Jewish identity is packed with contradictions, complexities and

negotiations. This project emerges out of the rich data derived from ethnographic

interviews conducted with 20 American Jews during 2007. It is an effort to locate the

compromises and conflicted understandings in which Jews articulate their own

experiences, memories and identities. It is also an effort to understand identity through

multiple lenses (none of which are “neutral”) such as ethnicity, historical and

generational memory, and national identities. Furthermore, I aim to explore how

epistemology and discourse from previous generations affect the understandings and

meanings of identity in this specific sample, as many participants were well versed in

Jewish studies, critical whiteness studies, and women’s studies.

2
Chassidic Jewish reggae and hip hop artist who became incredibly popular among Jews
and non-Jews alike in 2002.
3
Madonna first started singing the Kabbalah's praises in 1998, making it trendy
among other pop culture icons, such as Britney Spears.
4
Online Jewish dating network.
3
This study analyzes Jewish identity in the specific context of third generation Holocaust

survivors (the grandchildren of Holocaust survivors). In analyzing this identity I seek to

illuminate the diversity of this identity by understanding how gender, relationship to

Israel, and intergenerational transmission of trauma structures an understanding of the

self, Jewish identity and the larger international community. This identity is formed by

some shared experiences, often with anti-Semitism, shared cultures and histories (both

real and imagined), and collective memories of the Holocaust and other historical events.

At the same time, power structures of nationalism, gender, class, and ethnicity mark

differences between the participants and show the diversity and heterogeneity of this

identity. Furthermore, the arguments for a unified identity or for a sense of diversity

serve purposes for national and international politics and positions within Jewish

community. This complex argument relies on theories of identity, nationalism, memory,

and gender. There are three central facets of American Jewish identity that I will be

analyzing in this project: the social and historical construction of Jewish whiteness;

intergenerational transmission of memory, trauma and history; and American Zionist

nationalism.

Some of the central questions surrounding this project are:

1. How does anti-Semitism function in contemporary society? How does anti-

Semitism function in policing the boundaries of whiteness? How is anti-Semitism

and whiteness gendered? How do Jews understand their own identity in relation

to the power hierarchy of whiteness? Where do they locate themselves in this

hierarchy and how does this change with location, context, space and time?

4
 2. What are some of the generational changes that occur after genocide, particularly

in the context of the grandchildren of Holocaust survivors? How do communities

heal and change? What does this process look like and feel like for the third

generation? How is the intergenerational transmission of trauma gendered? How

does the transformation of fear to pride after genocide serve other nationalist,

cultural and community purposes?

3. How has Zionist nationalism shaped Jewish identity? Why is it thought of as

central to Jewish people? How is this political? How is it gendered? How does it

interact with both Jewish memory and Jewish whiteness?

These questions are located in a larger body of scholarly work on Jewish identity,

Jewish history and Jewish memory. While the previous work of innovative scholars

made possible the questions in this study, there is currently little work that connects all

three of these aspects of Jewish identity through the testimonials and articulation of

American Jews themselves, particularly in the third generation. The unique place that

this generation occupies in history in terms of:

1. Their relation (both in time and discursive location) to the Holocaust

2. This generation’s experiences as “white Jews” (or “part white”) somewhat

because of the U.S.-Israel lobby and also because of the Affirmative

Action programs offered to Jews after WWII.

3. This generation of young American Jews has experienced Israel as a fairly

stable nation (in relation to the past), to some extent because of the

political and economic union of the U.S. and Israel.

5
These aspects that make this particular generation distinctive in Jewish identity will be

critical to understanding their process of identity formation through the lenses of

ethnicity, historical and generational memory, and nationalism. I will be locating these

three lenses of Jewish identity within the broader body of literature on identity politics.

Identity Politics and the Many Facets of Jewish Identity

Identity politics are based in a genuine interest in identity based movements,

ideologies and politics, and a belief in the general significance of identity to memory and

history. I use the work of Linda Alcoff, who sees identities as having the ability to

involve a set of interests and ideas that value both the individual and public and can be a

source of agency and social change. Identity can be best understood through meaningful

engagement with personal narratives and memories. Alcoff states that an account of

identity must recognize:

both that identity makes an epistemic difference and that

identity is the product of a complex mediation involving
individual agency in which its meaning is produced rather
than merely perceived or experienced. In other words,
identity is not merely that which is given to an individual or
group, but is also a way of inhabiting, interpreting, and
working through, both collectively and individually, an
objective social location and group history. (42)

This definition of identity includes the many ways that identity plays out in everyday life.

This project examines identity on three different levels: ethnic identity,

generational and historical identity, and national identity. It is important to see these

three facets as all being important to understanding Jewish identity. They all affect both

the production of knowledge and history by and about Jews and are a “product of a

complex mediation involving individual agency” (42). In acknowledging the ways in

6
which identity affects meaning, agency and epistemology it is imperative to look at

multiple facets of identity (such as ethnic, historical and national).

In addition, the ways that identity constructs epistemology and discourses also

shape the experience, meaning and agency of all these participants. For example, when

participants spoke about their ethnic identity in relation to whiteness they referenced

many of the critical whiteness studies scholars explored below, engaging with the

discourse in explaining their own experience. When they spoke of anti-Semitism it was

through the knowledge of the past. By disclosing that their experience with anti-

Semitism was “not that bad” even though they experienced discrimination, name-calling

and violence, they viewed their own experience through the lens of the generations before

them. When discussing their relation to Israel they spoke of that relation through the

discourse of nationalism. To an extent, the (non-neutral) lenses (ethnicity, historical &

generational and national) through which identity is seen in this study is always shaped

by the discourse and epistemology of the previous generations, both reproducing itself

and changing with each generation producing new experiences, meanings and

epistemologies.

Critical Whiteness Studies and Anti-Semitism

There is much research on the history of how Jews “became” white folks in

America and what that indicates regarding race in America5. For the most part these

studies have been historically based, mapping out the affirmative action programs for

Jews post-WWII. Karin Brodkin’s groundbreaking How Jews Became White Folks and

What that Says about Race In America traces the process of Jews becoming white in the
5
Brodkin
7
eyes of mainstream America and American Jews’ socio-economic upward mobility.

Matthew Frye Jacobson’s book Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants

and the Alchemy of Race (year), argues that, “race resides not in nature but in the

contingencies of power and culture” (3). Jacobson does a broader case study of the

historical and social construction of race with a chapter focused on Jews entitled,

“Looking Jewish, Seeing Jewish.” In 2006, Eric Goldstein published The Price of

Whiteness: Jews, Race and American Identity in which he not only analyzed the multi-

dimensional ways Jews “became white” but also the many prices that they paid for this

newfound whiteness. Goldstein situates his analysis of Jewish whiteness within an

analysis of Jewish values and traditions, such as social justice, arguing that in becoming

white, Jews left behind other Ethnic minorities. These three studies mark different

approaches of studying Jews and the social construction of whiteness in a much larger

body of work on the subject.

Cornel West has done invaluable work on black-Jewish relations, particularly

through his open and honest (and published) dialogues with progressive Rabbi and

scholar, Rabbi Michael Lerner (West). In this work, West reflects that “There was no

golden age in which blacks and Jews were free of tension and friction. Yet there was a

better age when the common histories of oppression and degradation of both groups

served as a spring board for empathy and genuine principled alliances” (177). The

“better age” that West references was the time when Jews and African Americans worked

for common causes during the civil rights movement. Participants in this study

referenced this time period when they discussed their own reasons for focusing on a

particular social justice cause. Multi-ethnic participants also discussed how the “two

8
sides” of their identity blended together because of these concerns for social causes,

family and honor (“Kaleb”). Melanie Kaye/Kantrowitz is currently one of the leading

scholars on work on multi-ethnic Jews. Her important work on Jews of color and the

conditionality of Jewish whiteness is best seen in her new book The Color of Jews.

There are also numerous scholars who provided a multitude of theoretical

frameworks and insights from critical whiteness studies/white privilege studies and

women’s studies, particularly groundbreaker Peggy McIntosh. McIntosh’s work on

privilege is one of the most-cited on the subject, particularly her pioneering article

“Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack [of Privilege]” 6. This article lists the many ways that

white privilege manifests in material invisible ways, such as the color of band-aids or

“nude” underwear. This article was referenced by and appeared to have been read deeply

by several participants.

Although several participants identified with the many unearned and invisible

privileges they earned on a daily basis, the force of anti-Semitism prevented them from

identifying completely as “White”. Multi-ethnic Jews did not have this same privilege,

but when discussing their “Jewish side”, few thought of it as white because of anti-

Semitism. Several participants responded to the question of “have you ever experienced

any form of anti-Semitism?” with a quick reply of “no, not much” or “nothing too

extreme,” with a continuation of several detailed accounts of overt anti-Semitism. These

stories function in demonstrating how the experience of participant’s parents and

grandparents shape their own understanding of anti-Semitism. They also are essential in

6
For more information and essays on white privilege studies see the anthology by P.
Rothenberg titled White Privilege: Essential Readings on the Other Side of Racism.
9
dismantling any notions that anti-Semitism in the 21st century has ceased to exist, as this

is clearly not the case.

Although many of the participants were keenly tuned into worldwide anti-

Semitism, like the examples Ron Rosenbaum compiles in his recent book (such as

blaming the Jews for 9/11, the murder of Danny Pearl and caricatures of Jews in

international journals), most shared childhood stories of less overt (although still obvious)

anti-Semitism. This is different from the “new anti-Semitism” that some Jewish scholars,

such as Phyllis Chesler refer to. This “new anti-Semitism” is the anti-Semitism that

erupted after the September 11th U.S terrorist attacks; it usually refers to anti-Semitism

and anti-Zionism interchangeably as coming from Muslims constructing an “us” against

“them” confrontation. Chesler’s argument is similar to those who term pro-peace Jews7

as “self hating Jews” (a topic discussed in depth in chapter four on page 74). Chesler’s

and other scholar’s work on “the New Anti-Semitism” in located within a specific post 9-

11 historical context, in which Jews were blamed for 9-11, the Iraq war and other U.S.

failures and tragedies. I agree that these are all examples of anti-Semitism; however,

Chesler and other pro-Israel nationalists link anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism or anti-

Israel sentiments as interchangeable. This proves to be very problematic for this project

specifically and for Jews in a larger context, as it leaves Jews little room to be critical of

Israel without being deemed “anti-Semitic”. The anti-Semitism I am discussing and

7
In this thesis, the term “pro-peace” describes the American Jews who are critical of
Israeli occupation and violence. “Pro-peace” Jews are sometimes placed in opposition to
“pro-Israel” Jews, not defined with intentions to create a binary, but merely to show the
difference in thought. Many “pro-peace” Jews were still in favor of the Jewish State of
Israel, but are not in favor of war or occupation. This is why the title of “pro-peace” is
more accurate than ”anti-Israel,” which is what they are sometimes called for not
supporting the occupation.

10
referencing in this project, the hatred or contempt for Jews, expressed through

stereotyping, prejudice, or acts of violence, is not a “new” form of anti-Semitism. It has

been around for hundreds of thousands of years. However, anti-Semitism’s

manifestations and expressions may have altered in contemporary society. There are

respectful and educated ways of critiquing the state of Israel and Zionist political thought

without being anti-Semitic.

This powerful force of anti-Semitism structures Jews in a unique position in the

hierarchy of ethnic identity and whiteness. In asking if participants thought of

themselves as “white folks” or their Jewish side (those who were multi-ethnic) as

“white,” participants responded by describing a complicated place of both privilege and

persecution. Most of the participants were extremely well informed in critical white

studies and the history of how Jews became white folks. They were able to articulate

what it meant to be white and how being white had “little to do with skin color” and more

to do with assimilation (a point both Brodkin and Kaye/Kantrowitz bring up in the

scholarship referenced above). One of the most powerful ways that whiteness manifests

in American culture are the ways in which it can render itself invisible, appearing natural,

neutral and typical (this is what McIntosh works to dismantle). This is certainly not the

reality of race, as whiteness is heavily gendered (i.e. masculine) and has several classed

aspects to it as well (Stoler). Markers of Jewishness are often markers on the Jewish

female body such as Jewish hair and noses. Other cultural markers of Jewishness are

often manifested in gendered activities (and stereotypes) such the overbearing Jewish

mother, Jewish cooking and Jewish holidays. Jewish holidays for some transitioned from

11
the public to the private realm due to anti-Semitism or intergenerational transmission of

trauma, shifting the space and environment of some Jewish rituals, holidays and Seders.

Holocaust Narratives and The Second Generation

There is a plethora of research surrounding the Holocaust, particularly Holocaust

narratives of WWII and Nazi Germany. These historical accounts have all been highly

gendered, if not in their attempt at gender neutrality, then in the domination of male

authors and characters in these narratives. The great majority of this work is produced

out of psychology, history and social work disciplines with a large absence within

sociology and women’s studies. As Diane Wolf notes, “contemporary sociological

research is marked by a profound silence in relation to the Holocaust” (3), leading her to

compose one of the first sociological anthologies pertaining to the Holocaust. The

intergenerational transmission of trauma is also gendered in the ways that narratives are

shared, especially between grandmothers and granddaughters.

A great majority of the most famous and widely read (with an exception of the

Diary of Anne Frank) Holocaust narratives are male in both their authorship and

character/story development. This could partly be because of the ways that the sharing

and telling of narratives can reflect gendered norms and assumptions. Male narratives

may take the form of more public disclosure such as speaking engagements, publications

or male lead characters while female narratives may take the form of oral histories, art

and family sharing. Some of these well-known narratives include Elie Wiesel’s Night,

Primo Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz, and Art Spiegelman’s two-part graphic novel Maus:

A Survivors Tale. The presence and publicity of male narratives could also be because

12
female holocaust survivors sometimes felt less inclined to share their stories of the camps

if they were sexually assaulted due to the stigma and shame surrounding sexual violence.

Several years after the emergence of these more classic Holocaust narratives,

female narratives surfaced, such as Judith Magyar Isaacson’s Seed of Sarah, which

describes some of the gendered experiences of the camps and the constant fear of sexual

assault and rape by Nazi officers. As the second generation grows older, becoming

professional writers and reflecting on their parents’ experiences, several testimonials

have arisen from survivors’ daughters. These range from Bernice Eisenstein’s graphic

novel I Was a Child of Holocaust Survivors, that describes the difficulty of growing up

with survivor parents; to Ann Kirschner’s Sala’s Gift, a story about a mother who

survived the Nazi work camps but did not tell her daughter until fifty years after she

escaped. These narratives shape the ways that we (including the participants in this

study) understand the experiences of genocide and the trauma that lingers after the

genocide ends, when communities begin to rebuild.

In striving to understand how generations recover and continue to thrive and build

communities and social networks after genocide this study hopes to have further

implications for studying genocide. I look at how different generations reconcile and

forgive, understand and respond, and transmit information and memories to their children

and grandchildren. Although the world pledged, “Never again” after the Holocaust,

unfortunately, this has not proven to be true. Understanding how generations live on, and

possibly heal, provides vital insight for future generations who will be living with similar

trauma, such as those who survived the Bosnian or Rwandan genocides.

13
 There is significant amount of research on the intergenerational transmission of

trauma and memory from Holocaust survivors to their children; however, little is written

about the third generation. Clinical psychologists such as Aaron Hass provide insight

into the experience of the children of Holocaust survivors as they come of age with

parents who experienced such horror and torture. Mindy Weisel’s edited book,

Daughters of Absence, provides a collection by women artists, writers and filmmakers.

The book focuses on how daughters of Holocaust survivors were “buds growing from

nearly dead branches…but we are the daughters of the future and we turned to our artistic

and creative expressions” (1). These studies provide a framework for my project in

interviewing the third generation.

This groundbreaking research on the second generation began when they were in

their early 20s8, the age of the participants in this study. There are a handful of studies

that assess multiple generations within single families (grandmother, mother,

granddaughter). Two such studies are the work of Lea Auch Alteras, who evaluates three

generations of Jewish women; and Dan Bar-On, who also analyzes three generations of

survivors. Unlike this study, Alteras and Bar-On did not look at multiple perspectives

(i.e. nationalism, ethnicity, generational location) and participants all from the same

generation. However, Dr. Mark Yoslow’s dissertation is a quantitative study that

analyzed the ways that the third generation interpreted their parents’ trauma, fear and

memory and found that participants developed strength from their grandparents’

experiences in the Holocaust. In spite of all this research, none of these studies have

8
This research has continued with this generation as they have started their own families
and communities. Some of the most interesting work on the second generation and the
transmission of trauma and memory have been conducted by second-generation clinical
psychologist Aaron Hass.
14
focused on qualitative ethnographic interviews with the third generation individually and

the ways in which they have disrupted their parents’ fear and turned the trauma, fear and

history into a sense of Jewish pride.

Gendered Nationalism and Israeli Nationalism

Finally, this study looks at the ways young Jewish Americans identify with

Zionist nationalism and the state of Israel within a political historical framework of

Zionist and nationalist theory. Nationalism is and has always been gendered in that

women have long been thought of as the biological and cultural reproducers of the

Nation-state. Yuval-Davis argues that women’s obligations to their own “national and

ethnic collectives … as well as states they reside in or are citizens of” can overpower

their own control over their bodies and reproductive rights (Yuval-Davis 26). Zillah

Eisenstein also supports this notion and states that, “People live and experience their

identity through their bodies; the physical and psychic knowing of their sex, gender and

race. Women are the ‘boundary subjects’ defining this process [of nationalism]” (44).

Eisenstein, like Yuval-Davis, illuminates some of the ways that nationalism is gendered

both through gender socialization and gendered social norms. Women are central in

keeping this hierarchical structure upheld through their child rearing and professional

practices. This is evident in analyzing American Zionist nationalism, the militarized and

masculinized representation of Israel, and its bond with the U.S. military and economic

trade.

The Maurice and Marilyn Cohen Center for Modern Jewish Studies at Brandeis

University, Talgit Birthright Israel in conjunction with Hillel, and Brandeis University

15
and the American Jewish Committee, all produce several quantitative studies a year

regarding young American Jews and their connection to Israel. They are usually quite

specific. For example, one study evaluated the factors contributing to American Jews

alliance to Israel during the 2005 Lebanon War while another assessed how traveling to

Israel impacted young Jews’ relationship with the country. I have yet to find a qualitative

study in which participants describe their own feelings regarding Israel.

Several participants in this study have participated in the Talgit Birthright9 trip to

Israel that is an effort to allow all young American Jews to travel to Israel to connect to

the land, people and history, and to encourage Jewish marriages and ultimately the

reproduction of Jewish citizens both in Israel and America. In an effort to study what ties

American Jews so emotionally to Israeli land, a land in which some have never been to or

have any family residing there, this study hopes to shed some light on the thoughts,

experiences and ideas American Jews have about Israel in order to further any possibility

for peace. American Jews have a large role in Israeli politics and the peace process,

resulting from the role the U.S. has taken as a major ally of Israel. This may have

resulted in whitening Jews by aligning American Jews with Christian conservatives for

one of the first times in U.S. history (Lerner)10. It is critical to analyze all three of these

facets of Jewish identity in order understand the multiple dimensional identities of these

9
Talgit Birthright is an organization that aims to send all Jewish young people (ages18-
26 years) to Israel. The trip is free of charge and provides multiple tour options such as an
outdoor adventure trip, language intensive, Orthodox, or Holocaust remembrance
experience. The organization has sent thousands of young people to Israel every summer
and winter break.
10
Because the Israel lobby is made up of both high powered conservative Jewish and
Christian men, this union can be thought of as a process that whitens Jews through their
Christian conservative allies, the economic stance of the union or the political
powerhouse of this allegiance.
16
participants and the ways in which nationalism, gender, history, epistemology and power

have shaped their narratives both individually and collectively.

Structure of the Project

The project is divided into three parts and a conclusion. The second chapter (part

one) consists of an introduction to anti-Semitism in the 21st century and participants’

experiences with anti-Semitism, structuring a theoretical and contextual foundation for

examining Jewish whiteness as anti-Semitism functions to assert what Jews are not (not

part of white mainstream or native-born, Anglo-Saxon America). This study elucidates

the ways that privilege, power and persecution function in identity politics. In

mainstream American culture race is thought to be black and white. However, in reality

nothing (especially race and ethnicity) functions in those strict binaries. Understanding

race in America and the construction of Jewish whiteness is key in evaluating how ethnic

groups negotiate that power and the complex cultural and ethical losses that come with

some aspects of privilege, oppression, and assimilation. The Holocaust continues to be

an example of one of the ways in which Jews are not white and the intergenerational

transmission of trauma and memory from their grandparents and parents occupy

participants’ minds when analyzing their own relationship to whiteness.

The third chapter (part two) evaluates the intergenerational transmission of

trauma, memory and history to third generation Holocaust survivors. The participants’

responses to questions were similar to those of second-generation Holocaust survivors

that were conducted three decades earlier. Participants discussed the ways that the

Holocaust changed their parents’ techniques and, in turn, altered their own childhood.

17
They also responded differently than their parents by stating unanimously that anti-

Semitism did not make them fearful of being Jewish but strengthened their connection to

Judaism and being Jewish. This trauma has for some been a large motivating factor in the

creation of the state of Israel and the development of American Zionist nationalist

support for Israel, economically, physically and emotionally.

The fourth chapter (and third part) aims to understand the connection that young

American Jews have with the State of Israel. This is one of the most complex aspects of

American Jewish identity in that no single indicator could predict a person’s response to

their connection to Israel: not their political alliances, religious affiliation, ethnic identity,

childhood, community or experiences with the country itself. Most participants I

interviewed had traveled to Israel either with their family or friends or on a Birthright

trip.

Although these three facets of Jewish identity may seem difficult to connect, they

are all closely interrelated. They are not only inextricably linked in their interwoven

histories and experiences11 but also linked through the ways they are all three different

lenses to which to see the same identity. In analyzing identity one must study multiple

facets of the same identity to greater understand the multi-dimensions and layers of the

identity politics of a specific group. All of three facets of identity are shaped by gender,

11
For example, because of the ways that Jews were not seen as white they were killed in
the Holocaust, creating the intergenerational transmission of trauma explored in chapter
three. The Israel lobby (a strong force in Jewish nationalism) has been a central power in
whitening Jews by aligning them with Christian conservatives on Israeli politics. The
Israel lobby has drawn on the persecution of the past to justify occupation, policies and
the need for a Jewish state (Novick). The intergenerational transmission of trauma from
the Holocaust has been central to these Israeli politics, creating for some a sense of pride
in Israel after the destruction of Jewish people in WWII. All of these facets of Jewish
identity are gendered, classed and raced, interconnecting one to another.

18
history and epistemology and thus, only analyzing one angle would miss entire

dimensions of the individual and community. By conducting in-depth interviews with

multiple participants on the many facets of Jewish identity I was able to produce a more

multi-dimensional perspective of American Jewish identity.

Methodology

This study is located within the disciplines of sociology, gender studies and

Jewish studies. It aims at connecting multiple aspects of American Jewish identity in the

21st century (whiteness and ethnic identity, intergenerational trauma and memory and

Zionist nationalism), not previously completed in one study with this particular

generation (Jews born between 1979-1989). By using ethnographic research methods, I

was able to conduct a more in-depth analysis of the participants than quantitative data

would have allowed for.

Ethnography is form of research that seeks to ask questions to better understand

the social and cultural practices and ideologies and identities of a specific group of

people. Feminist ethnographic research has two central parts to it. The first is to “study

the lived experiences, daily activities and social context of everyday life from the

perspectives of those being studied to gain an understanding of their life world” (Buch &

Staller 187). The second part is “using the self as much as possible…this means that

rather than making sense of everyday activities through common sense institutions,

ethnographers view even mundane, common actions and beliefs as unusual and worthy of

extended analysis ” (Buch & Staller 188). This perspective of analyzing data shaped the

ways in which I was able to interpret participants’ stories, memories and responses in a

19
way quantitative data would not have permitted. Because the central purpose of

ethnography is to understand how individuals within a culture or subculture (Hesse-Biber

& Leavy) understand themselves in a larger social context, this study’s interviews allow

for insight into the minds of twenty young American Jews.

Within ethnographic research methods there lies an underlying assumption that

“social research … always has political consequences” (Hammersley & Akinson 15).

Although this study may not have direct explicit political consequences such as policy or

program recommendations, identity formation, and therefore its research, are never

neutral. While this projectdoes not offer policy or institutionalized recommendations for

American society, this project does have less direct consequences of challenging the

ways in which we think of the multiple facets of individual and community identity.

Identity politics are inherently political, serving certain national, community or individual

purposes resulting in both positive and negative effects. In interviewing people about

their history, memory, and emotions around their identity, I am directly engaging with

them and the larger academic community on a specific political level. The generation,

geographic location, gender and socio-economic class of this sample shapes the politics

of analysis. I too, am not absent from this ethnographic process, as my positionality to

the research and to the participants shape some of the larger questions and driving forces

of this project.

Positionality

For the most part, I was an insider interviewing members of my own ethnic

community. As a progressive cultural Jew, I could relate to and understand most of the

20
participants’ opinions, memories and ideas. There were times when a participant would

tell a story about their parents and it sounded like my own. I grew up in a household

where German products were not allowed inside the walls of our home; when participants

described in detail how their parents would not eat German food or drive BMWs or Fords

(because of Henry Ford’s anti-Semitism), I felt a sense of ease. For the first time I

realized I was not as unusual as I had thought for having these family experiences and

regulations. Some phrases that their grandparents had told them, such as “make sure to

choose your friends like they would hide you in a Holocaust,” were things I heard

growing up.

My mother can be at times a textbook second generation Holocaust survivor in

terms of being extremely involved in Holocaust literature, remembrance projects and

social gatherings and also experiencing incredible fear that history could repeat itself and

her children would not be protected. I related to participants’ stories of their parents’

fears, obsessions or fixations on the Holocaust and their overprotection of their children

at times as a response of their parents (the participants’ grandparents) experiences and

memories. Given my own cultural upbringing, participants mostly seemed to feel a sense

of ease during the interview and were willing to share their childhood stories and

memories with me. I admired the participants I interviewed, their commitments to social

justice that predominate their world views, and the ways they grapple with their own

American Jewish identity.

I could also relate to some participants’ stories of anti-Semitism and how it works

in ways to force the community together by also excluding them from white mainstream

culture. This became painfully evident as I embarked on the journey of this project as I

21
experienced anti-Semitism within my own graduate student cohort; many questioned the

importance of speaking to third generation Holocaust survivors about their memories and

identities. One such comment was, “Don’t you think the Jews are controlling genocide

studies? Why be another one studying genocide?” Another responded that, “all

Holocaust narratives sound the same, once you read one, you don’t need to read another.”

This seemed to imply that if one were to read one narrative, then one would understand

the experience of millions.

There were times, however, when I felt like an outsider. I did not grow up in a

Jewish community with Jewish summer camp, Hebrew classes and some religious Jewish

rituals. I did not pick up on some culturally Jewish cues and some participants were

surprised when I did not know certain Hebrew and/or Yiddish sayings and openly

commented about that. Then again, a few participants described their own

insider/outsider position in their Jewish communities for choosing interfaith marriages,

being too progressive, having only a Jewish father or speaking out about problems within

the Jewish community. My insider position was re-affirmed as many participants shared

my same dual positionality as insider/outsider.

The Sample

I began this study with four participants that I had known from larger social

networks, one each from Northern California, Southern California, New York City, and

Western New York. The remaining sixteen participants came from snowball sampling

and from people I met while traveling to Israel in August 2007. After their interview,

participants would tell me about their family friends, teammates or neighbors whom I

22
“have to interview because they would have such good things to say for your [my]

project.” Participants were willing, and at times excited, to talk about their experiences,

perspectives and ideas. This response may speak to the lack of public space for Jews to

discuss their identity and connections to Israel. After one interview, I received a kind

email from a participant saying how much she enjoyed talking and how it got her “wheels

spinning” about Jewish identity and Israel. It was a pleasure talking with people and I

was happily surprised at the honesty and openness in discussing personal stories and

memories with a stranger. For ten California and New York participants, we never met

face-to-face as I interviewed via telephone.

Because ethnographic methods are so time-intensive, in both the interview

process and the transcription, this process reduces the possible sample size dramatically

from what quantitative methodological projects allow for. This particular sample was

diverse in political orientation, ethnicity and professions, the vast majority were middle to

upper middle class. All participants were in college or had already completed a four-year

degree, with many pursuing higher education leaving this sample with more job

opportunities than the average American. Snowball sampling to a certain extent allowed

the bearing witness process to feel more natural and honest, because for those participants

that I did not know, we were only a few degrees of separation from one another.

However, snowball sampling also attracted like individuals in a sense (particularly in

terms of class) because individuals tend to form social circles and networks with those

they are similar to.

The sample consisted of eight participants currently residing in California, two in

Massachusetts and ten in New York. There were nine men and eleven women ranging

23
from the age of 18-28. Seven participants identified as multi-Ethnic Jews: one as Puerto

Rican Jew, one as Japanese Jew, two South American Jews, one African American Jew

and two Middle Eastern Jews (with families from the Ukraine, Syria and Iraq). All

participants were born in the U.S. with the exception of three; two participants were born

in South America and one participant was born in the Ukraine and fled with his family

(several of whom were Holocaust survivors) because of violent anti-Semitism. These

three participants moved to the U.S. when they were young children and have continued

to reside in the States. Because not all participants have direct relations to the Holocaust,

participant’s feelings regarding that genocide differ. However, I believe that this event

shaped and continues to shape Jewish identity and politics, regardless of the individual

loss that one may have experienced.

Twelve participants had relatives (both distant and close) who died in or survived

the Holocaust. Many of these participants’ grandparents were survivors who immigrated

to the United States after their entire families had been killed in the Holocaust. One

participant’s great aunt had been a survivor of Dr. Mengele’s medical experiments. Two

participants had Jewish grandfathers who fought in World War II for the United States

army in Germany and two had four grandparents who were survivors.

Nine participants identified as Reform, four as Traditional/Conservative, and

fourteen as a cultural/ethnic Jews. Three were raised Orthodox and several expressed

Zionist beliefs throughout the interview (with participants identifying with more than one

category). The participants grew up in diverse parts of the U.S. including California,

New York, Illinois, Montana, Colorado, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. Three were

raised in their early childhood outside the U. S., two in Argentina and one in the Ukraine.

24
Two participants had Israeli parents whose parents had immigrated to Israel for survival

during WWII or post-WWII when Israel became an official nation in 1948. Several

participants had family members still living in Israel. All participants had some college

education, many with post bachelor education including graduate school (4), medical

school (1), completion of a credential program (1), and law school (2). I interviewed

five undergraduates and the remaining were working full time in jobs including a high

school teacher, an aerospace engineer, and an investment banker.

I conducted one 30-75 minute interview with each of the 20 participants, equaling

around 20 total interview hours. These interviews occurred in the place of most

convenience for the participants, usually in their home, office or a mutual meeting place.

As briefly mentioned above, half of the interviews (10) were conducted over the phone

due to the distance. These phone calls limited the interview in some ways, as I could not

pick up on the participant’s body language or other cues gained from speaking with them

in their own environment. This may have helped or hindered participant’s ability to trust

and share with me as some may have felt less nervous speaking on the phone while others

may have felt less trusting by not speaking to me in person.

Below is a chart with participant information. This is to be used as a tool to

clarify the demographics and basic assumptions or perspectives of participants. This is

not to simplify complex issues such as identifying with Israeli nationalism or being able

to articulate criticism of those politics. For someone to qualify as having a “yes” under

Israeli nationalism they must have expressed some emotional, political or spiritual

connection to Israeli nationalism when asked to describe their relationship with the State

of Israel. To qualify as having a “yes” under “criticize” participants must have described

25
an openness and acceptance of a possibility of criticism of Israel that was not anti-

Semitic. Each participant has been given a pseudonym. Beginning with the first section

(chapter two), “Anti-Semitism, Jewish Ethnicity and Construction of Jewish Whiteness,”

the stories of the participants illuminate the larger contradictions and complexities in

Jewish identity, as framed by the current literature and discourse.

26
Table 1: Demographic Index of Survey Participants

Pseudonym Ethnic Identity Survivors in the Male/ Location Israeli Criticize?

family or close Female nationalism?
family friends?
“Aiya” Ashkenazi Yes F NY No Yes
“Ben” South American Yes M NY Yes Yes
“Carmen” South American Yes F NY Yes Yes
“Delilah” Ashkenazi Yes F NY Yes Maybe
“Eli” Ashkenazi GF fought WWII M NY Y very No
“Fina” Ashkenazi Yes M NY Yes very Yes
“Gabi” Puerto Rican No M CA N Yes
“Hannah” Ashkenazi No F CA Yes Yes
“Isaiah” Ashkenazi No M CA Yes Yes
“Janet” Ashkenazi No F CA No Yes
“Kaleb” Japanese Yes M CA No Yes
“Leah” Ashkenazi Yes F CA Yes Yes
“Mike” Israeli-American Yes M CA Yes Yes but
unsure
“Naomi” Israeli-American Yes F CA Yes Yes
“Ora” Ashkenazi GF fought WWII F MA Yes Yes
“Paz” African No F NY Yes Not
American sure/No
“Rebecca” Ashkenazi No F NY Yes No
“Sam” Ukrainian Yes ALL GP M NY Yes Yes
“Tamar” Ashkenazi Yes ALL GP F NY Yes Yes
conditional
“Uri” Ashkenazi Yes M MA Yes Yes

27
 Chapter Two

“I will never be white enough for them”:

Anti-Semitism, Jewish Ethnicity and the Construction of Jewish Whiteness

In this chapter, I situate participants’ experiences with anti-Semitism and their

articulation of the construction of Jewish whiteness within the larger context of critical

whiteness literature, theory and history. Most of the participants’ responses reflected

much of the current research on Jews and whiteness and the complex role that they

occupy both historically and currently in ethnic privilege and power. Additionally, I will

be providing an analysis of how whiteness is constructed through gender, class and

religion and how such notions shape and complicate the social construction of

contemporary Jewish whiteness. This analysis is organized into five sub-themes within

the larger discussion of anti-Semitism, Jewish ethnicity and the construction of Jewish

whiteness. They are: whiteness as privileging, whiteness as the prevention from

persecution, memory and generational transmission of whiteness, gendered features of

whiteness and assimilation as the key to whiteness.

The construction of Jewish whiteness is one of multiple complexities and

contradictions. Some of those complexities are the instability of the category of Jews as

white in the U.S., in that it can change in various locations, functioning sometimes as a

privilege and other times as a marking of Other. It can provide white-looking Jews with

a sense of security, experiencing both the privileges of American whiteness and a sense

of safety from the persecution experience in Europe and parts of the Middle East. These

experiences and narratives expressed by U.S. Jews are uniquely American; as James

28
Baldwin states, “no one was white before he/she came to America. It took generations,

and a vast amount of coercion, before this became a white country” (Baldwin 1).

Because whiteness is a social construction, like gender, taking years of coercion and

socialization to perfect (both on the micro and macro societal levels), Jews occupy an

uneasy position of a group that falls into an uncomfortable space outside the binaries of

black and white. The interviews support the current literature on Jews and whiteness and

also demonstrate the ways in which the presence and persistence of anti-Semitism

supports and reinforces the boundaries of what it means to white.

Additionally, whiteness is never neutral. Whiteness is gendered, classed and

raced. The many markers of Jewishness that participants referred to were markers on the

Jewish woman’s body such as their mother’s noses or women’s curly brown hair. When

Jews were allowed to receive certain house mortgages and loans after WWII it was

Jewish men that were allowed this privilege, allowing them to experience the upward

mobility that shaped their transition into white folks (Brodkin 49)12. This economic

mobility is thought to be one of the critical ways in which Jews began to be seen as white

by some parts of American society. It is also uniquely American, as this dialogue of

whiteness within the larger melting pot of America would not occur in Israel, Argentina

or Spain.

The Presence of Anti-Semitism

12
Brodkin provided the research on the affirmative action programs that provided socio-
economic upward mobility to Jewish men; however, she does not analyze this through a
gendered lens.
29
 Although anti-Semitism does not function as distinctly on the institutional level13

as it once did, it continues to function on the personally mediated level, affecting personal

interactions, scape-goating, preconceived notions, stereotyping and sometimes violence

(Jones). The anti-Semitism that participants shared with me were more often subtle acts

of anti-Semitism, contrasted with their ancestor’s experiences in the Holocaust or in parts

of Eastern Europe where they experienced institutionalized anti-Semitism and many fled

for their lives. For example, one participant’s grandmother told her of how when she (her

grandmother) was a young adult and traveling, she would have to call hotels prior to her

stay to ensure Jews were allowed to stay there.

The American Jews from this sample found anti-Semitism as a source of ethnic

pride because of “all that Jews have endured and still survived” (“Isaiah”). Many of them

have had several experiences of direct anti-Semitism from being called “kike” or a “dirty

Jew,” hearing people concerned about how the “Jews own all the banks” and “control all

of Hollywood,” to getting coins thrown at them during high school games and in

childhood fights hearing “Hitler should have made more lamp shades out of you!”14

Many participants, when asked if they ever experienced any form of anti-

Semitism, answered with a disclaimer “nothing too extreme” and then continued with

selected childhood or adolescent stories of overhearing people say that “Jews are cheap”

or “dirty.” Some participants remembered being confronted at school by Christian

students who said, “your people killed Jesus” (“Ben”). Participants never said this made

them scared to be Jewish or deny their Jewish identity. They did reference being cautious

13
Jones describes the institutional level as including racism (and in this case anti-
Semitism) manifesting in structural barriers, inaction in face of need, and theories of
biological determinism (see Jones 2000).
14
All quotations from interviews.
30
because of the anti-Semitic subtext in American culture, but they did not place anti-

Semitism in the center as a source of assimilation or denial of Jewish identity. Several of

the participants related that they were careful as to when to disclose their Jewish identity,

but did not locate anti-Semitism as a locus for fear. Anti-Semitism functioned in marking

these participants as an outsider or Other, but this exclusion from mainstream white

America did not seem to cause extreme anxiety or panic in any participants. One way

anti-Semitism was experienced was a denial of Jews as mainstream whites and this denial

situated Jewish cultural and religious difference as “not white”.

Most participants stated during their interviews that they believed anti-Semitism

today had a much different face than their parents and grandparent’s generation. One

participant reflected on how different it was for her parents and grandparents in the 1950s

when Judaism was connected to communism “and that was part of the reason they were

not religious” (“Leah”). Participants also acknowledged that they were far more

assimilated than their parents, which is also supported by the American Jewish

Committee (AJC) research on this generation that says they are more relaxed in terms of

interfaith marriage (American Jewish Committee). One participant whose parents are

Israeli states, “I guess he [his father] identifies with how Jews are different and how they

are not like everybody else and there are people who hate us or who have ill intent. I

guess I realize they [his parents] think about it [anti-Semitism] more than me. They

aren’t necessarily more fearful but they feel less assimilated as white than I do. I feel a

little more assimilated” (“Mike”)

Whiteness as Privileging

31
 Most Ashkenazi15 participants said they identified as white and acknowledged the

everyday privileges of whiteness; many were familiar with and reflected on Peggy

McIntosh’s article on the “knapsack of white privilege”. McIntosh points out the many

ways in which whiteness has become invisible and unnoticed in everyday instances such

as seeing mostly whites in television, movie and newspapers (except for the sections on

crime or poverty) to the color of band-aids and women’s foundation make-up (as always

being white). In this sample, participants felt that although they experience some of these

everyday privileges, their whiteness was still conditional in that, in certain situations,

they would not be considered white. In the following situation the participant engages

with McIntosh’s work, seeing her own whiteness through McIntosh’s analysis of

whiteness as an invisible privilege. These ideas are expressed in the following

participant’s explanation:

I would definitely identify as white. I mean in terms of

how other people see me and all the privilege and invisible
privilege that goes with that. I know that. I get that. I have
read that. Then I also feel like I look pretty Jewish… I
would say they [Ashkenazi Jews] are both white folks and
not… we have very different histories and histories of
oppression than what would be considered mainstream
whites. (“Leah”)

Another participant said:

It is hard, because part of me identifies as white because

obviously I am white. But then another part of me, because
I have a strong Jewish identity, believes that Jews are not
white. It has changed over the last generations. Jews have
only been “white” for a short period of time. I think that
Jews can be persecuted again very easily and very quickly.
15
Ashkenazi Jews are Jews whose descendents were from Eastern Europe and who spoke
Yiddish, which is a combination of Hebrew and German. They often times have lighter
skin and hair than Sephardic Jews whose descendents were from Spain, Portugal,
Northern Africa and the Middle East. They speak (or spoke) Ladino, which is a
combination of Spanish and Hebrew.
32
 There is still so much anti-Semitism and fear of Jews
controlling the government and now they are controlling
Hollywood and the banks, and Jews this and Jews that. So
I think it is really easy for Jews to become not white again
(“Janet”).

Karin Brodkin explained what “Janet” alludes to in saying “Jews have only been

‘white’ for a short period of time.” Brodkin states the way Jews became white folks after

WWII was due to public “affirmative action” programs that allowed Jewish men, not

women, to purchase houses and receive mortgages, leading to a process of socio-

economic upward mobility (49). Brodkin questioned, “Did money whiten Jews? Or did

being incorporated into an expanded version of whiteness open up the economic doors to

middle-class status? Clearly, both tendencies were at work” (43).

As noted above by Brodkin, Jews experienced a transition in America after WWII

of becoming white due to the affirmative action programs that increased their economic

upward mobility. This was beneficial to some aspects of Jewish life, but not all, as Eric

Goldstein argues that:

Jews’ transition from “racial” minority to part of the white

mainstream was slow and freighted with difficulty, not only
because native-born whites had a particularly difficult time
seeing Jews as part of a unified, homogenous white
population, but also because whiteness sat uneasily with
many aspect of Jewish identity (1).

Some of what sat uneasy with some Jews, as Goldstein expresses is that with upward

mobility, Jews had to abandon in some senses other ethnic minorities, which translated to

some as reiterating and enforcing racist ideology and heuristics. Jews’ upward economic

mobility clashed not only within their own enclaves and with those they left behind but

also with some native-born whites who in their anti-Semitic ideology did not want be

categorized with Jews.

33
 Jews’ socio-economic mobility, especially in recent decades, has shifted in

another direction that Brodkin does not address: upper class conservative Jews have

aligned themselves with conservative Protestant Christians for the first time in history in

the American Israel Lobby. This has created a divide within the Jewish community as

described by some participants. When asked about his perspective on Jews and whiteness

another participant states:

With myself, when people ask me about my identity I tell

them I am Jewish and Japanese. It is in the fact that I
firmly believe that Judaism is an ethnicity that I say this.
These beliefs of Jews as an ethnic group stem from a
history of persecution and degradation upon Jewish people.
In general, the civil rights movement, people tend to forget
that Jews, along with African Americans and Asians and
many non-Protestant whites were subjected to
discrimination. That discrimination was on an ethnic and
cultural level. Even the racist stuff in that movie Borat,
there is that one scene with the Southern college students in
the RV and they made that verbal list where they said “we
have to put the blacks back in slavery and take the power
from the Jews” they are already separating the Jews by
ethnicity. For me, I would say that I am not part white, I
am definitely not part white. I am Jewish (“Kaleb”).

Whiteness Meaning the Prevention from Persecution

A central theme in participants’ explanation of whiteness is that being white

means not being persecuted; in that context, Jews are not considered white because of the

persecution they continue to face. For “Kaleb” in the quote above, anti-Semitism

functions similar to racism, making Jews “not white”. This underlying theme of

whiteness and its connection to the prevention of persecution leads to the paradoxical role

that American Jews hold in today’s society: that of someone who benefits from the daily

effects of white privilege yet experiences harsh material anti-Semitic moments and

34
memories. The benefits of white privilege are conditional as they can be taken away at

any moment; as two participants said, “history repeats itself” (“Eli” and "Kaleb”). What

these participants speak to is a complex notion of ethnic identity that is framed both

within a paradigm of whiteness and social mobility, but is deeply interwoven with the

genocides of the past that make whiteness and “tenuous” whiteness both privileging and

unstable (“Eli”). Even when an individual feels as if they have “made it” as a white

American (Podhoretz as cited in Thandeka), there will still be someone on TV or in the

workplace who makes an anti-Semitic comment that puts that individual “ in their place”

(“Fina”).

This tension of whiteness both by some U.S. native-born whites and Jews is

evident in several participants’ descriptions of their own ethnic identity. With the vast

majority of participants identifying as “culturally Jewish,” several knew they looked and

passed as white but did not feel included or a desire to be included in native-born

whiteness. This was made explicit when several participants said they are “kind of” part

of native-born white America but “are definitely different from Protestant Anglo whites”

(“Carmen”). This felt particularly true for the grandchild of Holocaust children, whose

grandparents and great-grandparents almost lost their lives for being Jewish, “it [being

Jewish] was much more of not a religion but a way of life to such an extent that they

almost lost their lives to it [Judaism]” (“Tamar”).

As noted by the participant above, whiteness is not only classed and gendered but

also has a specific religious connotation. Several participants responded that they indeed

identify as white but specifically noted it was “different type of whiteness from Protestant

Anglo Whites” (“Carmen”, “Gabi”, “Hannah”, “Kaleb”). This is also evident in White

35
pride and KKK discourse, as the symbolic image for these groups is the infamous

imaging of a burning cross in the lawns of those they hated. Although Jews were

included in this list of enemies16, some white-looking Jews experienced the privilege of

being able to hide their Jewish identity when they desired. This is a unique aspect of

participants’ identities that was important to them, as many mentioned this throughout

their interviews. This idea of passing leads to another split within what can be thought of

as the “white community.” Jewish ethnicity creates a spilt not within the binary ideology

of white and non-white but also within the larger white community. Passing captures the

shifting identities of these participants.

Several Jews spoke of their decision to disclose or not disclose their Jewishness.

One participant states, “I keep my mouth shut about my being Jewish, more to keep the

peace than anything else.” This decision to not disclose his “Jewishness” was a common

response from participants. A similar response from a participant was:

No one can tell that I am Jewish and I never went around

telling people I am Jewish unless I was really close to them
so the anti-Semitism that I encountered was joking anti-
Semitism like calling people “stupid Jew.” Sometimes
when I am in a new group of people and they do not know I
am Jewish they will crack anti-Jewish jokes and stuff. That
is good for me because then I keep my mouth shut and I
know who to be friends with or not. That is what happened
at work, I heard people talking and then did not disclose I
was Jewish. My parents told me not to tell people I was
Jewish. (“Sam”)

These two quotes from participants demonstrate the second part of Goldstein’s argument,

that some parts of white America was (and still is) uncomfortable with Jews becoming

16
For example Catholics also experienced a great deal of violence from the KKK. Irish
Catholics in the U.S. also share some similarities between American Jews in the process
of “becoming white” in America.
36
part of mainstream white America. By sharing anti-Semitic jokes17 or creating

communities where disclosure of “Jewishness” would disrupt the “peace,” some parts of

white America is asserting that Jews may pass into this category but are to remain on the

outskirts, for they are not the authentic white Americans. However, some Jews’ power to

choose when and where to disclose their “true” identity is a privilege most ethnic

minorities do not experience.

This persistence of anti-Semitism leads to some Jews seeing their whiteness and

assimilation as a source of safety from persecution. A member of the second generation

from Aaron Hass’ ethnographic work states that:

My parents avoided Judaism. They were frightened. On

the one hand they tried to assimilate … yet they also had a
need to hold onto their ethnic Judaism. (Hass 39)

Some participants experienced their parents being “frightened” by anti-Semitism, leading

them to be much more cautious parents who practiced the Holidays with the blinds

closed, never wore Jewish stars around their neck and chose to not disclose their Jewish

identity to just anyone. This practice was especially common among the children of

Holocaust survivors, as several participants in this study mentioned.

17
This is not to assert that only white Americans express anti-Semitic beliefs, ideologies
or feelings. However, even within a context of anti-Semitic jokes being shared by people
of color, individuals are continuing to enforce boundaries of who belong in what
category, even as anti-Semitism by some groups may be a response to Jewish racism.
37
Memory and Generational Transmission of Whiteness

One participant spoke of how her mother couldn’t understand why she was dating

an African American man because her grandchildren would be Black and Jewish, making

them more oppressed. Her mother had married a gentile in an effort to make her child

whiter and avoid having a Jewish last name. She said,

She [her mother] could not understand why I would choose

for my children to be more oppressed when she worked so
hard to have me not look Jewish and to look white.
(“Hannah”)

These quotes describe the complex relation between Jews and whiteness throughout the

generations. The second generation speaks of their parents’ attempt to assimilate while

the third generation shares a similar experience with her mother’s “hard work” to

assimilate her children. These articulations mark the many ways in which several

generations of Jews try to demonstrate themselves as a “stable member of white society,”

working to “obscure, downplay or tailor their racial self-understanding to conform to the

needs of the larger culture” (Goldstein 3). Much of this was to obtain the benefits of

white privilege, especially the privilege of feeling safe from persecution. This of course

only works successfully for Ashkenazi Jews or lighter-skinned Sephardic and multi-

Ethnic Jews who could pass as white due to their white looking features.

Gendered Features of Whiteness

To pass as “white” when an individual identifies as ethnically Jewish speaks to

the physical markers that signify “Jewishness”. Several female participants mentioned

markers such “Jewish hair” (also known as the “Jewfro”), particularly the marking of

Jewish women’s hair. This was expressed with participants’ acknowledgement of their

38
own “Jewish hair” and the ways in which they have tried to “manage” their own Jewish

hair through the use of straightening products. One participant commented about how

when she traveled to Israel on the Talgit Birthright trip, she had “never seen so many

straightening and lightening products to control the Jew hair” as among the other

participants (“Janet”). When female participants of the study spoke of how they felt like

they didn’t look Jewish, this was often because they felt like they did not have “Jewish

looking hair”. Some female participants also spoke of the marking of the Jewish nose

that they either liked or disliked.

These physical attributes are not necessarily gender-specific (men and women

alike have thickly textured and wavy hair or different noses). However, these markers

did function as an awareness of not being part of the larger mainstream group or

dominant beauty ideals. Women’s hair, in particular, marked how close (or far away) an

individual was from normative hair (i.e. beauty standards). Jewish women were the ones

who commented on these markers on other Jewish women or themselves. Altering the

body as mentioned above is not the only way that Jewish women have attempted to

conform to mainstream beauty ideals. Jewish women were also the majority of the first

patients to receive cosmetic surgery during and after WWII to “fix” their noses making

them look more white (Haiken). This trend intersects with larger cultural issues: women

today are still the majority of cosmetic surgery patients in an effort to assimilate to beauty

standards not attainable even by those who ethnically or culturally identify as “white”.

39
Assimilation as the Key to Whiteness

Assimilation was a conscious effort by Jews during the last part of the nineteenth

century and the first half of the twentieth century to become part of white America,

sometimes at the expense of being allies with more oppressed groups such as African

Americans (Goldstein). This process of trying to become white was not a simplistic one

for Jews for it “involved a complex emotional process in which conflicting desire for

acceptance and distinctiveness often found no easy balance” (Goldstein 3). Participants

were aware of this move by Jews to assimilate into white culture and some found that

assimilation was the line in which Jews became white. One participant states, “I do think

we [Jews] fall into the white category because we are highly assimilated into it because

we have been living in that culture for awhile. I think the assimilation point is the line

between us becoming white” (Uri).

Part of assimilation for some participants meant the many ways in which Jews no

longer stood out as Jews because they no longer lived in Jewish enclaves. Some

participants described their experiences as not looking Jewish which allowed her to pass

easily into mainstream white America. She states:

In terms of looking white, yes sometimes but some really

consider Jews to be a race and in that sense, no they are not
white. Time has affected that, fifty years ago we never
would have been thought of as white but now Jews are
much more integrated into society, particularly white
society so now, yes we are white folks in a sense.
Definitely for people who don’t fit the Jewish stereotype,
like me, I don’t have dark brown curly hair, so someone
who doesn’t know I am Jewish might not know. (“Tamar”)

40
The participant above tries to articulate whether she considers herself white. Melanie

Kaye/Kantrowitz suggested that asking if Jews are white folks is the wrong question to be

asking. This is the wrong question because it makes three assumptions:

First assumption, [that] there is an answer for all Jews.

Second, the answer is either yes or no: Jews were either
white or they were of color. Third, whichever category one
chose to file Jews into was a political decision: Jews were
either down with the people of color, innocent and
victimized or lumped in with whites, guilty and
victimizing. (2)

Above, Kaye/Kantrowitz addresses the problem of how Jews do not fit into the binaries

of black or white, especially as many non-white looking Jews never pass as white. In

making these assumptions, Jews are thought of as a monolithic group with a singular

answer. This perpetuates a categorization of Jews as either “with” or “against” the

oppressors, when in reality Jews (as a diverse, complex, group of multiple communities

of individuals) are both18.

Kaye/Kantrowitz complicates these binaries further with the question: what

happens when you are considered white in one country (or state) but not another? She

states, “the Jew who looks white on New York City’s Upper West or Lower East Side

may be responded to in Maine or Idaho as a person of color” (10). This is a question

particularly aimed at Jews who pass as white in parts of NYC, but her argument is that

whiteness is not a fixed category. It is something that is socially constructed and must be

constantly reproduced in order to keep its power. This peculiar experience of not

looking Jewish and still identifying deeply with Jewish culture was something several

participants expressed to me, both Ashkenazi Jews and multi-Ethnic Jews.

18
Kaye/Kantrowitz’s quote also structures all whites as oppressors which is also
problematic.
41
 One participant who described herself as “not looking Jewish,” concluded with a

complicated question regarding the instability of whiteness as a category:

The real question is once they find out [I’m Jewish], am I

still white? Is it more of a projection of whiteness than
anything else?

After this participant passed into white mainstream America by not having any Jewish

identifiable features like “dark brown curly hair,” she questioned me: if she disclosed the

unexpected, that she is indeed not part of the authentic native-born white mainstream,

does she still count as part of this community? After the disclosure, whether her physical

attributes reveal it or not, passing is not enough; she is a Jew and for some she would not

ever be “white enough.” Because Jews have “made it” in American capitalism and

occupy many positions of power, their whiteness still functions to provide them with

opportunity and privilege. Kaye/Kantrowitz asks a similar question as the participant

above. She states “besides, what happens when you speak your (Jewish-sounding) name

or when your (less-white-looking) parent or child or lover meets you at work? What

happens to your whiteness when you enter a Jewish space … ? In the United States,

whiteness is a badge of normality, sameness and protection; and Jewish space is exactly

the opposite: a place of separateness, vulnerability” (10). Kaye/Kantrowitz leaves us

with an important heuristic of whiteness: that it is never something consistent, tangible or

dependable for contemporary American Jews. Whiteness is a system that functions to

oppress, privilege, mark, gender, class and draw boundaries for Jews (sometimes all at

the same time). The only assumption that can be accurately made regarding Jews and the

social construction of whiteness is that no young American Jew experiences whiteness in

the same way because it always intersects with gender, class, race, history, generations

42
and memory. It is important for the Jewish community to stay open to dialogues about

whiteness and consider embracing their identity as non-whites in an effort to destabilize

“whiteness” as a category.

43
 Chapter Three

“Their history is part of me”: Third Generation Jews

and Intergenerational Transmission of Memory, Trauma and History

In the last chapter we saw how ethnicity, whiteness and anti-Semitism structures

Jewish identity. In this chapter, I explore how these identities are formed in

conversations about how issues of the past and remembrance are all mediated in the

Jewish community. This chapter analyzes the intergenerational transmission of trauma,

the process by which trauma, memory, and history are consciously and subconsciously

passed on to future generations, from the second generation (children of Holocaust

survivors) to their children (the third generation). The areas include the memories, trauma

and history that were transmitted through stories, holidays, family gatherings, silences

and narratives.

The Holocaust had profound effects on the second generation such as (but not

limited to) difficulty connecting to their parents, having incredibly high expectations

placed on them, and having parents who did not trust the world or organized groups

(Hass). This in turn shaped the ways that the second generation raised their children.

Some replicated some of the patterns, traumas, and parenting styles of their parents and

some vowed to do things differently. There is much literature on Jewish memory and

Holocaust survivors; however, men have authored a great majority of these Holocaust

narratives, with main characters also being men. This could be because of the gendered

experience of storytelling for this generation: men may have been more inclined to share

their narratives publicly in speeches, publications, and more documented forms, while

44
women may have felt more comfortable telling their stories around family. This may

also be in part from the sexual violence that women experienced during the Holocaust in

the camps, ghettos and in hiding. As this generation ages and the international

community experiences more distance from the Holocaust, narratives have been more

freely told and honored.

In analyzing third generation’s experiences of the intergenerational trauma I will

be situating my own work within the work of Aaron Hass, a clinical psychologist who

interviewed the children of Holocaust survivors in the late 1980s. While reading Hass’

work I began to see similar themes emerge from the third generation. Researchers on

memory, particularly Jewish memory, have categorized three main types of memory:

collective memory, absent memory, and collective-absent memory, a term I coined for

this particular study. I will begin by placing my research within the current literature and

definitions of memory and then continue by exploring my own findings on the third

generation in relation to the previous generations.

The Lumping of Anti-Semitism and the Holocaust as One

Some respondents lumped anti-Semitism and the Holocaust together when

describing fears, stories or emotions regarding trauma and memory. I believe this is in

large part because the Holocaust represents the power of anti-Semitism and how anti-

Semitic jokes, acts and ideologies culminated in the death of 6 million people19. They are

not interchangeable in the fact that not every anti-Semitic comment means an individual

is a Nazi or someone who will commit violence on Jewish people. However, to some

19
Some believe this number is higher but most records state that 11 million were
murdered, six million Jews and five million “undesirables”.
45
Jews they might as well be, because anti-Semitism strikes a chord so deep that memories

and histories of the Holocaust and hatred to Jews emerge throughout their mind. This is

why in some quotations, like in some Jewish memories and minds, there is a blurring

between the Holocaust and the use of the term “anti-Semitism.”

When analyzing the ways in which the Holocaust and other aspects of anti-

Semitism has affected young Jewish American’s connection to their Jewish identity, all

twenty respondents replied within the first few sentences that it strengthened their ties to

Judaism, their Jewish identity and/or to Jewish history. This was a much different

reaction than their parents gave nearly three decades earlier. I explore some of the

possible reasons for this change and how this new narrative of Jewish strength and pride,

resulting from collective, absent and collective-absent memories, may serve larger

political or community purposes.

Collective, Absent and Collective-Absent Memory

Henri Bulawko, during a conference on Memory and History in France, stated

that collective memory is “shaped by the multiple stories that constitute our heritage”

(quoted in Fine 127). This process of receiving transmitted trauma, history and ideas

from past generations becomes collective memory. Most of the time, memory comes in

fragments of recollection for which a person may not have been physically present.

Collective memory is present not only in the transmission of trauma, but also in the

transmission of pride and strength.

This blurring of memory, ideas and trauma of an ancestor’s past and your own

past is what is thought of as collective memory. Collective memory is the driving force

46
behind heritage remembrance, in that a person’s heritage becomes part of his or her own

memory. As Wolf states, “we remember and forget as members of a particular group and

in particular locations, and through these processes, identities are formed and reformed”

(5). This can become complex when individuals begin remembering and “knowing”

events that occurred before they were born.

This is best described by Schiffman, who recalls the images that are evoked when

she stayed in a hotel with an old tiled shower with showerhead that “hung lifelessly for

the wall” (84). She states,

. . . I saw them, crowds of skeletal women with sunken faces, crammed in a tiled
room, holding hands . . . waiting . .. . this is the way a mind works . . . the image
arose without invitations and assaulted me. I’m a post-Holocaust Jew [third
generation], and that makes my unconscious only a few degrees of separation
away from the image of the Holocaust . . . the past rises up to the surface, even for
those of us who were never there. It pollutes the present . . . reminds us to
remember” (84-85).

Collective memory can serve as a “reminder” for some, of what came before and what

could come again. Second generation survivors have discussed in depth how they

continue to “remember an event not lived through. Haunted by history they feel obliged

to accept the burden of collective memory that has been passed to them and to assume the

task of sustaining it” (Hass 157).

Absent memory, on the other hand, refers to what is handed down or, more

importantly, not handed down. Absent memory is a memory with holes and gaps. The

deprivation of memory (what is not said, not known and absent) can create guilt and/or

shame. There is also the possibility in which the transmission of absent memory creates

an opportunity for receivers to bridge the gaps with what they know, recall or imagine.

Singer, a Jewish artist, spoke about how she tries to express the fragmentation of memory

47
and history. She states, “Memory like history, is selective. What is denied and forgotten

is as significant as what is remembered” (116). Some participants discussed how they

never asked their parents or grandparents what happened because of the cues they

received. One participant learned the social cues about how to act when learning about

the Holocaust. Even at age eight, she could pick up on the social hint that this was a

serious and important topic (“Janet”).

I found that the majority of the participants in this study had a combination of

both types of memory, thereby creating what I term a “collective-absent memory” that

was transmitted by their parents and grandparents and continued to exist within their own

identities. When I asked participants when they first learned about anti-Semitism or the

Holocaust, they often answered, “it feels like I have always known” (“Delilah”, “Janet”,

"Kaleb”, “Leah”, “Naomi”, “Ora”). This was sometimes followed by a story depicting

when they began to piece together the enormity of anti-Semitism or the Holocaust.

However, the memory of the events or trauma was so strong that they would relate, “I

can’t say when there was any point where I didn’t know that I can remember” (“Naomi”).

Some even made comparisons to everyday learning:

It’s like how your parents teach you how to brush your
teeth in the morning, your parents teach you how to be
Jewish and that means talking about those things [anti-
Semitism]… knowing them. (“Mike”)

One participant related, “it feels like something I have always known, I don’t ever

remember not knowing… it’s like I can’t remember when I learned algebra, you know?”

(“Fina”). The transmission of memory and history is not explicit or always intentional, it

is subconscious, like breathing or brushing your teeth. Many made distinctions between

the ways that Jewish memory has impacted them in profound ways.

48
Three Pillars of Third Generation Memory

One participant related, “I don’t think anti-Semitism has affected me as directly as

Jewish memory and Jewish suffering” (“Janet”). As I read Hass’ book on second-

generation survivors, I found that much of his material echoed the interviews I conducted

with third generations. In organizing this data, I began pairing quotes from Hass’ work to

quotes from the participants in my study, illuminating similar themes and reactions. I

found that second generation American Jews transmitted knowledge, trauma and ideas

regarding Jewish identity to their children in various ways through story telling,

literature, holiday rituals and through what they did not share or tell. Third generation

American Jews were able to:

1. Describe the reactions, feelings and ideas about their parents (second

generation) in similar statements as Hass’ study participants described

about themselves (the second generation) thirty years ago. That is, the

third generation American Jews were able to receive and process

transmitted memory, trauma and knowledge from their parents.

2. Identify, share and articulate similar feelings that second generation Jews

have stated in previous literature, meaning either:

a. circumstances could be similar and/or

b. that second generation has transmitted memory and ideologies

about Jewish memory and history in such a way to produce similar

feelings.

3. Take the fear and trauma their parents had transmitted, disrupt it and

transform it into strong sense of Jewish pride. All participants commented

49
 that anti-Semitism made them stronger about their convictions in being

Jewish.

The Mirrors of Memory

By pairing the participant’s responses to Hass’ work in the late 1980s a second-

generation survivor, the similarities between the two are best illuminated. For example, a

second generation stated to Hass almost three decades ago:

I feel people in power are abusers of power. I don’t expect

kindness and am generally pessimistic. I have a real self-
centered view of the world. I need to get what I can for
myself because I fear it can be taken away at any time
(Hass 39).

In 2007, almost thirty years later, a participant shares a story about his grandfather:

My grandfather used to tell me, “You know you are Jewish

because they will always come knocking on your door, you
are not safe.” He would have bacon and eggs every
morning; he did not follow any Jewish rules at all. But, he
would tell me he knew he was still Jewish because one day
they could come knocking on his door and get him. (“Eli”)

This same participant states his own perspective on Jewish identity and anti-Semitism:

It [anti-Semitism/the Holocaust] makes you feel like

everything is tenuous and the whole world can be turned
upside down in just a few years. It doesn’t matter what
place you hold in the society, everything can change,
especially if you are Jewish. Like everything could be
taken away from you, your property, your house, your
family, everything you worked for. All your degrees, they
wouldn’t mean anything, they could strip them away from
you. You will never be white enough for them. (“Eli”)

These three quotes demonstrate the ways in which trauma and memory have been

transmitted across multiple generations through story telling, emotions and observations

of family memories. The first quote is taken from a member of the second generation

50
three decades ago who shares his/her feeling about the ways in which second generation

Jews have a “self-centered view of the world” because of the trauma their parents have

experienced (Hass 39). The second quote is from a participant’s description of his

grandfather’s feelings, describing the ways in which his grandfather told him even if he

broke all the Jewish rules by “eating bacon” every morning, his grandfather would say he

still knew he was Jewish because “they [anti-Semites] could come knocking on his door

and get him” (“Eli”). The third quote is the same participant sharing his own feelings of

how “tenuous” life can be when you are Jewish. The second and third quote mirrors the

first, describing how fragile life is as a Jew, knowing it can be turned upside down in a

moment. These two Jews (quote one and three) are of two different generations and of

two different families thirty years apart, yet they mirror one another’s response. The

second and third responses by the same participant also show how memory and trauma

can be transmitted through multiple generations, evoking verbal responses that express

the same anxieties about Jewish identity. For example, this participant expressed the

unease and fear his grandfather felt about being Jewish and then moments later expressed

his own concern. For this third generation participant, “it doesn’t matter what place you

hold in the society, everything can change, especially if you are Jewish” (“Eli”). This

makes some Jews of both generations want to stay within community circles that are

familiar to them.

A second-generation member in Hass’ study states:

I learned the world is a scary place. It is best to live in a

world that is very small and [is] like you, not to trust
anyone who wasn’t Jewish. (Hass 36)

A participant I spoke with states:

51
 My father he would not visit Germany, because of the
Holocaust. He would not buy German products, or drive a
BMW or a Mercedes and he was strict upon that fact. He
was connected to a more close knit Jewish community too.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy for him to jump outside that
culture and it wasn’t safe for him to make friends outside
the Jewish community when he was a kid. (“Delilah”)

In these two quotations, the participant described the ways her father felt unsafe outside

the Jewish community, as also found in Hass’ participants (whose participants are the age

the described father of “Delilah”). The second generation transmitted these ideas to the

next generation in such a way that they could accurately articulate how their parents (and

previous generations) felt “safe” only in Jewish communities.

However, even with the transmission of trauma and memory, third generation

participants did not articulate this same fear, many mentioned how their parents did not

allow German products, foods or cars in their homes or lives. This surprised many

progressive Jews whose family had stressed openness to diverse cultures and customs,

yet did not feel this philosophy extended to Germany. This is best illustrated by two

participant’s stories of their fathers:

I do remember when the Berlin wall fell and I couldn’t

truly comprehend what was happening and my Dad was
explaining it to me and he said “we don’t really want to
unify Germany, you know, they have caused us so much
problems in the past” and I think that was my first
experience at realizing what Germany meant to my Dad. I
don’t know how evident it was but I knew they wouldn’t
buy a BMW. (“Leah”)

Another participant shared a similar story about her father:

I remember my Dad growing up making derogatory

comments about Germans. It was such a deeply felt
concern and worry that it made him clump a whole group
of people together. I was always so bewildered by that, and
it was something that I was able to piece together as I

52
 learned more and grew. I think there still a lot of public
fear about Germany as a whole and I think especially the
baby boomers’ generation and the generation prior to that
feel that more deeply than present generations. (“Janet”)

Several participants shared stories similar to these. The participants, as described above

in their own words, were often taken aback by their parents’ generalizations about

Germany, given their previous investments in working against stereotypes. However, as

best said by the second quotation, it was such a “deeply felt concern that it made him

clump a whole group of people together” (“Janet”). This was something that was

strongly felt by the second generation and understood by the third but not as strongly felt

by the third; some participants even traveled to Berlin. However, many spoke of not

purchasing German cars or products because it was such a forbidden act when they were

children that they did not want to upset their parents. For their parents not purchasing

German products or traveling to Germany was a way of staying within the safety of their

own community and silently protesting the atrocities that happened in Germany.

As I spoke to Mark Yoslow, a second-generation Holocaust survivor, about his

research on third generation Holocaust survivors, he told me he was presenting his

research at International Auroras Forgiveness conference for clinical psychologists

where he was been invited to speak about forgiveness and the Holocaust. He said,

“Guess where it is located?” I said, “I don’t know, I do women’s studies, I am not

familiar with that conference.” He repeated, “Guess!” I said, “I really have no idea.

California maybe? I really don’t know, sorry.” He sternly responded, “Germany, of all

places. I am going to present this research on third generation Holocaust survivors in

FREIBURG GERMANY OF ALL PLACES. I just can’t believe it” (Personal

Communication, April 20, 2007).

53
 This conversation illustrates the fear and association of persecution to Germany is

still present in the minds of most American Jews across generations. However, this

conversation would not have occurred with the same intensity with a third generation

survivor. As mentioned in chapter two, the third generation did speak of a common theme

in several interviews that Jews were not considered white during the Holocaust, leading

to the extermination. This came up when the conversation turned to “if history repeats

itself,” meaning if the Holocaust, slavery of Jews or persecution were to happen again.

These three responses20 demonstrate the two types of transmissions of memory: that of

the parent to the child, in which the child understands and is able to articulate those

feelings, ideas and rationales of the previous generation; and the transmission of memory

from parent to child when the parent’s memory, feelings, ideas and rationales become

part of the child’s collective memory.

Parenting and Relating Styles

Second-generation survivor Dan Bar-On writes of the peculiar situation he was in

as a child of the second generation, stuck between both hope and fear. He states, “It was

the legacy we received from our parents—Jewish survivors, escapees and immigrants

from Europe. We had to navigate our way to adulthood between these two poles [of hope

and fear], trying to overcome the fear while providing hope for our own children” (1).

The third generation allows for a new perspective on the second generation. Second

generations are:

20
That is, 1) Describe the reactions, feelings and ideas about their parents in similar
statements that Hass’ study described about themselves 30 years ago, 2) Identify and
share similar feelings as the second generation and 3) Take the fear and pride their
parents had transmitted and transform it into a sense of Jewish pride.
54
 Not merely passive or active responders to their parents’ fate and
normalization but mature persons in their own right, parents of
their own children…. They wanted their children to enjoy their
grandparents, a privilege they had missed and they wanted their
children to grow up free from the constraints they had experienced
as children (Bar-On 32).

The third generation sometimes has a healing influence on families, with their

“spontaneous questions [that] open blocked communication between their parents and

grandparents” (Bar-On 1). Some survivors speak of the ease they feel when talking with

their grandchildren, an ease they did not feel they had with their own children. This is

evident in several survivors’ testimonies and narratives.21 Several female participants

reflected on these connections occurring during the food preparation for Holidays.

Second generation survivors shared in interviews how different their parents were

because of the Holocaust, often times more distant, reserved or over-bearing than some of

their friends’ parents who were not survivors. Third generation participants shared

similar thoughts of their parents’ parenting. On participant states:

I think it [the Holocaust] has made them much more

paranoid than they should be but then I don’t know how
much of that is because they grew up in Russia, in the
Ukraine which was so much different than here, much
more anti-Semitic. But definitely I think they are much
more paranoid and wouldn’t let me do all the things my
friends were doing. When I would cross the street they
would watch me, anything you name it, I couldn’t do it. I
couldn’t do anything. It was ridiculous. I think this
paranoia made me more cautious than if I wouldn’t have
had it. (“Sam”)

This participant shared his frustration with the restraints his parents made when he was a

child. After the interview, I laughed with him because I too, was not allowed to cross the
21
One Holocaust survivor I spoke to (who shared her story with a class I was teaching)
shared how it wasn’t until her granddaughter’s family tree project that she began to share
stories of the concentration camps, stories she had not shared with her sons previous to
this project. Bar-On shares similar stories in his participants’ narratives.
55
street or bike anywhere without my parents following close behind in their car. His

parents used to have nightmares of the Nazis returning to take him. My mother, too, had

those dreams.

Another participant shared how the Holocaust changed her grandparents and her

mother and the ways they parented:

My mom always talks about how that [the Holocaust]

changed her and my grandparents were so traumatized and
even though they were really fun people that was really
engrained in them, all the horrors that they saw. My
grandparents couldn’t understand my mom complaining
about a test or something minor like that so when I would
complain my mother would say to me “if my mother heard
you complaining about that she would slap you.” What they
think is important is different than mine because of what
they experienced. It was so different, on a different scale.
You know they told me to pick my friends like they would
hide me in a Holocaust. (“Tamar”)

The comment that her grandmother made regarding how she should choose her friends

“like they would hide” her in a Holocaust was a common phrase participants shared that

their grandparents told them as words of advice (“Tamar”). This shaped the ways in

which the third generation valued and thought about friendship. Friends were people that

you could trust to hide your Jewishness and keep you safe if another Holocaust came. I

remember when I was younger waiting years before I confided in friends that I was

Jewish. This fear, however, did not stop the third generation from feeling a sense of

pride in who they were and what their people had endured.

Legacy and Jewish Pride:

Hass states that, “Survivors grappled with the issue of legacy… the second

56
generation can exert more regulation over the transmission process than did their parents

whose impulses, nightmares and anger often intruded involuntarily, spasmodically”

(156). There was this question of “How do I balance my desire for my daughter to know

and my hope that she develop as a fearless … individual?” (158). Hass continued that the

narrative of the Holocaust “must not simply engender a traumatic or vigilant response. I

hope it will motivate her to contribute in her own way to the renewed vitality of our

people. Being Jewish must be an affirmative experience. The potential joys of Judaism

… must predominate over past and present travails” (158). This is best shown in the

many different ways that second generations tried to teach their children about Jewish

history and suffering. Participants remembered reading novels, various literature, both

participating and watching performance art, engaging in rituals and Jewish holidays of

remembrance, and talking with their parents about anti-Semitism both as a child and as a

parent. One participant recently spoke with his parents about this. He said:

I was actually talking about this with my parents recently,

how hard it is to explain to a kid the ramifications of these
comments and have to tell a kid that “there are people in
this world that will hate you and in some circumstances kill
you because you are Jewish.” It is very hard to bring that
up to a kid.

The one theme that appeared in every interview was the theme of Jewish pride. This

crossed over different sectors (reform, conservative, cultural), age, background, location

and profession. The most common answer to the question, “how does anti-Semitism

affect your own Jewish identity?” was “it makes it stronger.” In fact, this answer was so

strong for the third generation that every participant states it somewhere in their answer,

the majority within the first two sentences. For example one participant states in

answering this question:

57
 For me, I think it has made me stronger in my convictions
about being Jewish. When someone does something that is
anti-Semitic my convictions become stronger in a way
because the pure hatred could make you not want to claim
Judaism but Jews still step up to the plate and claim
themselves as Jews and protect your identity and the honor
of your people and your family and your friends.

Another participant said:

I think my generation is much more aware of what has

happened in the past and kind of wanting to make sure it
doesn’t happen again and always kind of looking over your
shoulder to make sure it is not going to happen again. In
general, in terms of my own identity, I can look back and
see that, I can track my general lineage a couple thousand
years and I think of all the persecution that we as people
have gone through and I think “Wow, I am still here and
still identify as being Jewish” and I think that in some ways
my Jewish identity is stronger in the face of anti-Semitism.

Another participant related:

For me, I feel proud that we have come so far, and that we
are still fighting, especially in Israel and being such a
presence, such a strong presence for such a small
population of the world. Of course it hurts me that others
would feel negatively about that [Judaism] but especially
since I am pretty removed from the situation [in Israel] but
it has also given me a very deep sense of pride. I have
never not wanted to be Jewish, maybe in elementary school
I wanted the presents of Christmas, but I never didn’t want
to be Jewish.

What changed in the third generation that gave them such a deep sense of Jewish

pride? They are further removed from the European genocide and have a sense of

physical safety that the second generation did not and could not have. This sense of pride

58
is not because anti-Semitism does not exist today, as seen in mass media and the

narratives and stories of these participants explored in chapter two.22

Intentional Pride, Intentional Memory

In 1981 in Israel and again in 1983 in Washington DC, an enormous number of

Holocaust survivors and their families gathered for remembrance, education and

commemoration. Twenty thousand people came together to vow the legacy oath for

second generations that among many other things promised to “teach our children to

preserve forever that uprooted Jewish spirit which could not be destroyed” (Wiesel).

Many made the pledge to remember, a central theme in Holocaust museums and

memorials23.

Hass’ book concluded with what second-generation survivors hoped for the

future. Many did not have children or had small children at the time, almost thirty years

ago; this was about the time when the majority of participants in this current study were

about to be born or were still in diapers. He states that, “ Several respondents were intent

on instilling a distinctive Jewish pride in their children” (Hass 161). This distinct and

adamant sense of Jewish pride installed and transmitted to third generation survivors was

22
Anti-Semitism is alive and well today in a different form than the Holocaust, or the
communism panic of the 1950s when Jews were associated with communalism or the
hatred during the civil rights movement in the 1960s. It is a subtle tone in politics, slang,
media and discourse.
23
Outside Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem, Israel an engraving reads:
“Has the like of this happen in your days or in the days of your father’s? Tell your
children about it and let them tell theirs, and their children the next generation!”
59
intentional and deliberate. The second generation was successful in disrupting Jewish

fear and creating a sense of strong Jewish pride, an enormous task24.

This sense of pride served purposes of advancing forward the national narrative of

the State of Israel and bettering Jewish communities. One of the central defenses for the

need for a Jewish state is the Holocaust and the death of a third of the European Jewry.

Several participants stated that the Jewish people needed a place to go in case there was

another Holocaust (explored more in the following chapter). This has also been seen in

more recent Israeli Nationalist discourse.

This also served purposes within communities of Jews; as the third generation

was able to find pride rather than fear in their own identity, they were able to have

strength and courage to do more, say more and act more. These participants felt

confident as Jews, even if it meant experiencing an aspect of tenuousness at the same

time. They felt confident traveling to Germany and making friends and connections

outside the Jewish community. The sense of pride also gave way to a type or re-working

and re-imagining of history and narratives that allowed for a new sense of honor in the

history and memories of the previous generations.

Levinas states that, “it is not memory itself which is essential but the reading and

interpretation of the facts of memory. The work of memory consists not at all of

plunging into the past, but of renewing the past through new experiences and new

circumstances” (Fine 125). This is exactly what generations of Jews have been doing in

their collective-absent memories: re-shaping, renewing and re-telling Jewish history and

24
I do not know if this was particularly an American Jewish phenomenon because I only
interviewed American Jews. It is reasonable to assume America’s multi-cultural
environment and the sense of pride that is found in other ethnic minorities would have
contributed to American Jews’ sense of pride in their own history and communities.
60
trauma to future generations in a way to disrupt assimilation and fear to create a

passionate loyal sense of Jewish pride. This is evident in the ways in which the second

generation worked to create memories of strength in their children even if this was done

through holidays and Seders spent behind closed blinds.

The third generation American Jews were able to conceptualize so eloquently the

balance of remembering, knowing and understanding as a source of Jewish pride,

strength and compassion. Perhaps because they are further removed from the genocide,

they could feel safe and distanced in a way the second generation was not and could not

be. The transmission of memory, trauma, and strength to future generations will continue

to shape Jewish identity in strong and creative ways and simultaneously haunt the psyche,

leaving some third generation Jews a feeling like they “always knew” of a history they

were not alive to experience.

61
 Chapter Four

“Israel is a Big Part of My Jewishness”:

Zionist Nationalism, Contradictions and Voices of Dissent

In 1948, a few years after the concentration camps were liberated at the end of

WWII, the State of Israel was established in Palestine. Holocaust survivors and Jews

from all over the world moved to the new State, the only Jewish state in the world.

American Israeli nationalism has dramatically shaped American Jewish identity. This is

a unique form of nationalism as it constructs an emotional tie to a land that American

Jews do not live on (or for some, even visit). American Jews have had a complex

relationship with Israel as both a source of pride (combating the stereotype that Jews are

weak and feeble) and an uneasy sense of injustice (as the State of Israel meant the

occupation and dislocation of most, if not all, Palestinians).

Israeli nationalism’s effect on American Jewish identity is twofold, having both

positive and negative effects on the community. Israel provides a positive community

identity for some Jews with nationalist discourse offering a safe “imagined community”

(Anderson) to call home. Simultaneously, this aspect of Israeli nationalism can be

constricting and restricting about what it means to be a Jew, often leading to a policing of

Jewish identity by other Jews. Israeli nationalism can provide a positive community for

participants through the ways that the community can organize around Zionist principals

or beliefs. This includes creating schools, clubs, organizations, vacations and adventures

and community groups based on an Israeli Zionist foundation. Many participants

reflected on how these were locations where they met other Jews, connected to their own

62
history and felt a sense of belonging. These relationships and networks are often felt as

part of a larger community with Israel, getting those involved more concerned with

Israeli people, politics, news and history. This connection functions in creating an

“imagined” community with Israel based on a perception of shared beliefs, customs,

culture and religion.

This feeling of belonging to the “imagined community” means seeing Israel as a

possible home for all Jews, a safe haven against the anti-Semitism of the world. Israel

then becomes a defender (both symbolically and physically) of Jewish identity. This

perspective also combats a larger issue of confronting the stereotype of the “weak Jew.”

One participant mentioned that the size and strength of the Israeli Defense Force and

military structure made it so “no one could call Jews weak again!” (“Eli”), especially as

they proved to make “something out of nothing”, referring to the transformation of

Palestine to Israel (“Eli”).

Israeli nationalism may function in a positive way for some Jews to network and

connect with their Jewish identity, for others Israeli nationalism functions to limit and

restrict the possibilities of what it means to be Jewish. Because Jewish identity can seem,

especially in the last forty years, to be inextricably linked to Israel, those Jews who do not

identify with Israel or disagree with its policies, politics or history can be left in an

uneasy place of not fitting with the dominant discourse. Some of these Jews who openly

oppose Israel’s occupation and policies towards Arab Palestinians experience the

possibility of being labeled an “anti-Semitic Jew,” a terrifying name for any Jew. This is

one way that Israeli nationalism functions in maintaining a strict boundary around what it

means to be a Jew so when someone steps outside of that boundary it is easily noticed

63
and policed. Israeli nationalism is an ideology, emotion and experience that can both

bring Jewish people together and pull them apart.

The hyper-militarized state of Israel noted by “Eli” that serves as a source of pride

for some is a source of confliction for others who see Israel’s army not as “defensive” but

“militarized”. This proves to be problematic for anti-war and feminist Jews who believe

in other ways of establishing culture, state power and nationalism that do not involve

violence and occupation. Because the creation of Israel meant the displacement of

hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, Israel sits uneasily on the conscience of some

American Jews.

Before exploring participants’ responses to this twofold experience of Israeli

nationalism, this chapter will begin by briefly laying out foundational ideas about both

nationalism and Zionism and how the two concepts are linked. Framed through a lens of

nationalist and Zionist theory, their responses and motivations for or against a Jewish

state can better be understood, particularly the strong emotional connections to the land.

The strong emotional connection is manifested in notions of finding “home” in Israel, a

central theme in several participants’ responses.

The final portion of this chapter analyzes the way that progressive anti-war Jews

are constructed as anti-Semitic Jews. Further, I examine if any pro-Israel Jews can

imagine a critique of Israel that is understood as not anti-Semitic. Labeling progressive

Jews as anti-Semitic or self-hating Jews has severe consequences not only for the Jewish

community, but also for the larger academic and social activist networks and discourse

(Butler). It narrows the possibilities of what it means to be Jewish and privileges one

group over another, marginalizing communities of people, scholarship and public space.

64
By investigating nationalist theory, the marginalizing of a particular group of people can

be better understood as part of larger political and nationalist goals, motivations and

purposes.

Nationalism and Zionism

Nationalism can be thought as a “masterful effort of narrative construction…

[that] tells the story by articulating diverse but presumably linked elements…[and]

propose[s] the grammar of the nation” (Layoun 93). The narrative of American Jews

differs from most nationalist narratives in that many American Jews often follow a dual

loyalty to both the U.S. and Israel. Their narrative was constructed upon two lands,

thought of as intimately connected and aligned in politics. American Zionist Nationalism

is more of an “imagined community” in which they will “never know their fellow-

members, meet them or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of

their communities” (Anderson 6). This is especially true for many American Jews who

feel an alliance or nationalism to Israel, yet have never been to the land nor have family

residing in Israel. The on- and off-again “love affair” American Jews have with Israel is

a complex one that is mixed with historic notions of Zion (Auerbauch 1), a response to

contemporary anti-Semitism, a sense of unity and alliance to all Jews, and, finally, a

sense that Israel will always be a “home” for American Jews.

Although Zionism is different from nationalism in particular ways, it can be

thought of as a type of nationalism specific to Jewish people. Zionism is thought to be

the political ideology that the Jewish people’s homeland resides in Israel25 and that

25
However, early Zionist voices in the 1800s suggested other locations for the Jewish
State, such as Uganda and Argentina.
65
having a designated homeland with territories and boundaries will solve the “Jewish

question.”26 The ideology and concept of Zionism dates back to ancient Jewish traditions

and beliefs27 of returning to Jerusalem. Some of these ideas of nationalism that are

embedded in history can be seen in several traditional Jewish concepts that aim to define

Zionism. Difficult to translate, the first is ahavat tziyon, which is the unconditional love

and yearning for Zion, the Jewish homeland, and the connection of all Jewish people to

the land of Israel. According to Zionist Jews, they have lived in exile for the majority of

the last 2,000 years; notions of home (discussed more in depth below) and re-uniting in a

return to Zion are central to these ideas (Friesal 296).

The second concept, klal Yisrael, is the idea that there exists a mutual

responsibility for all Jews to one another. It is an “expression of Jewish people hood …

[as] consciousness” (Friesal 297). Participants, when asked about their alliance to Israel,

express this idea. One participant who did not feel much connection to Israel states, “I

would say I have a sense of loyalty [to Israel] only because I have a sense of loyalty to

Jews in general and there are a lot of Jews in Israel” (“Gabi”). In the previous quote the

concept of klal Yisrael is evident in the loyalty to “Jews in general” translating to the

state of Israel, as the participant later states how difficult it would be if Israel and the U.S.

ever got into a political conflict because the participant would not know whom to side

26
“The Jewish Question” references the question of emancipation for Jews, originally in
context of Jewish emancipation in Germany during the nineteenth century. Karl Marx
wrote an essay titled, “On the Jewish Question” in 1844 criticizing Bruno Bauer on his
solution and discussion of Jewish emancipation (for more on this see Marx pp. 26-52).
During the Shoah, Nazi Germany coined the term to describe the genocide of the Jews as
the “final solution” to the “Jewish Question”. I will be referencing the “Jewish Question”
as the question of where and how Jews can find freedom from anti-Semitism.
27
For example, Jews for centuries faced East towards Jerusalem when saying the daily
prayers such as the prayer of Shemone Essre (Laqueur).
66
with. It seems that this is a loyalty not as much to the political state of Israel but to the

Jewish community that is now there.

Although the term Zionism did not hold meaning in the public arena until the first

Zionist Congress in 1897, the idea of returning to Zion to escape persecution is not new

to the Jewish people. It was not until the publication of Theodor Herzl’s pamphlet Der

Judenstaat (translating to “The Jewish State: An Attempt at a Modern Solution of the

Jewish Question)28 that modern Zionism became a renowned political movement. I

believe this is when it began to be thought of as an “imagined community”. This shifted

from religious discourse to a call for a nation-state and meant the physical moving of

Jewish people (and dislocation of others). Zionism began to be known as an ideology

that brought together all Jews and would in its end produce a nation of people that were

unified through their identity as Jews.

Herzl29 believed that creating a new Jewish state would result in the gain of

respect from gentiles, thus ending anti-Semitism. During the mid to late 1800s there was

a large European Jewish movement toward assimilation in order to escape anti-Semitism.

Herzl himself even sought a “proud mass Jewish conversion to Christianity” (Korberg

160). In creating a Jewish state, Jews would regain all they had lost in Europe, both in

terms of political and personal losses (Korberg 161). Here, Israel stood for a state-

sanctioned safe haven for Jews escaping persecution at the hands of a state-sponsored

28
There were several Jewish scholars, writers and leaders that predated Herzl’s book
containing Zionist ideas such as A.D. Gordan, Rabbi Hirsch Kalischer, Leo Pinsker and
Moses Hess. For more information on early Zionist history see Walter Laqeur’s The
History of Zionism, New York, 2003.
29
Although Herzl represents a great deal of early Zionist thought it is vital to note that
Russian Zionists were also present and strong during this same period. Their approaches
to Zionism differed greatly from Herzl’s ideals. They disagreed with Herzl’s assurance
that a Jewish state must be an “immediate solution” and felt that the Jewish state should
be the final stage in Zionism, not the first stage (Korberg 170).
67
dictatorship. This is a different form of anti-Semitism than this current group of

participants experienced in their own lifetime.

When asked if the creation of Israel was a solution to anti-Semitism, participants

had mixed reactions. Some felt during the first years it did serve to be a solution in the

sense it was a place to seek refuge from anti-Semitism, especially in the early years after

the Holocaust. However, many noted that the creation of the State of Israel with its

occupation of the Palestinian people has created many more problems and given the

public “another reason to hate the Jews” (“Aiya”).

Many Jews, including several in the sample, believe the creation of Israel30 has

prevented the dying out of the Jewish people. For some, a Zionist state functions in the

survival of not only the Israeli Jew, but also the American Jewish identity by preventing

the disappearance by assimilation.31 For many Jews in America by “embracing Israel,

[they] found a rather easy way to remain Jewish” (Auerbauch 51). This embracing of

Israel is encouraged through the many efforts of Jewish organizations to connect young

Jews physically to Israel. This has been felt by many as positive aspect of American

Jewish identity, as young Jews travel to Israel in large groups, networking with other

young Jews. In Israel, they meet Israeli Jews, spend money (supporting the Israeli

economy) and come back feeling more connected to the State of Israel, resulting in an

30
However, it is important to note that the creation of the Jewish state of Israel displaced
hundreds of thousands of Palestinians and continues to be a site of violence, armed
conflict, occupation and rape for both Palestinians and Israelis. The mass colonization of
Palestine was the means by which the Israeli state was founded. This connects with the
nationalist ideologies of racial homogeneity. The Israelis have received much support
from the United States and Europe that has decreased the amount of violence and terror
they experience on a daily basis. Palestinians, however, have had no such support.
31
Prior to the publication of Herzl’s book there was a large movement and political
discussions within the Jewish community on assimilation as possible solution to anti-
Semitism. For more information on Herzl’s transformation from assimilation to Zionism
see Theodor Herzl: From Assimilation to Zionism by Jacques Kornberg.
68
increased awareness surrounding Israeli news and politics. Some American Jews even

express a desire to find a home in Israel. Some families, organizations and synagogues in

hopes that young American Jews will marry and start families with other Jews support

this move to Israel.

Finding Home in Israel

Notions of home are central to Jewish identity because of the Jewish Diaspora.

The Diaspora of Jews has made notions of home central to memory, history and culture.

Most Jewish holidays function as a historical remembrance to the suffering and triumphs

of the Jewish people. This is why Benedict Anderson’s idea of an “imagined

community” (6) is so effective in describing the union of American Jews to Israel. Israel

provides an imagined homeland for the Disaporic Jewish community with a shared

history, language, and culture.32 This idea of home was made into law, known as “the

Law of Return,” on July 5, 1950 when the Israeli parliament stated, “Every Jew has the

right to come to this country as an Oleh (immigrant)” (Ribner 105).

Many participants were aware of this law (however, not the race, class and

gendered aspects of it33) and referenced it. For example one participant states, “I think it

32
For example, when I recently visited Israel this past summer of 2007 several Israeli
Jews said to me “welcome home,” when they discovered my “American-ness.” One
Israeli described passionately to me how, because of a recognized Jewish homeland, Jews
for the first time in thousands of years are no longer refugees.
33
This law has been raced, classed and gendered by the ways that certain Jews are
encouraged to immigrate more than others. For example Eastern European and American
Jews (financially stable ones that is) are encouraged to come and settle to Israel and have
many children (encouraged through pro-natal laws and policies). However, when poor
Ethiopian Jews began immigrating in the mid 1980s, they were forced to “convert” to
Judaism before being allowed to settle and be considered Israeli citizens. This was
incredibly offensive to Ethiopian Jews, as many had lost their family members to anti-
Semitic violence.
69
is very important to have this safe place and I don’t think it is the best solution to separate

yourself in one state but I think it is important if history repeats itself” (“Ben”). Another

states, “it is kind of like having a home away from home, somewhere I could always go

to and I am always welcomed there” (“Uri”). Another states similar feelings regarding

the notion of home:

I could identify with the Israelis not in the sense that as a

people but the Nation and everything and feeling that you
always have a home and people would safe. You have this
group of people that you know would take care of you if
you need and protect you. (“Paz”)

This was central is many participants’ reaction to their connection to Israel: a desire to

have a place they felt was “safe”34 for Jews in case “history repeats itself.” This is a direct

reaction to the anti-Semitism experienced in America and the anti-Semitism their

ancestors experienced.

One participant shared how traveling to Israel changed the way she felt about the

country:

My thoughts have changed since I have been there because

I have never thought of myself needing a homeland until I
went to Israel. I do support the existence of Israel so that
we can have a homeland because so many countries would
not take us in or would only take in a certain amount of us.
(“Ora”)

Another participant had a similar comment, stating, “Israel feels like a second home and I

feel like if all else fails I have a place to go” (“Fina”). These participants are describing

an interesting type of nationalism, one that functions as a form of safety net that they can

depend on “if all else fails.” This nationalism feels positive and safe for many

34
This is ironic in a sense because Israel has been at war for a majority of its existence.
70
participants, a feeling that is encouraged and shared among their own Zionist

communities and networks.

One of the most interesting aspects of American Zionist nationalism is that there

is no single indicator as to how participants will connect to Israel. For example, in

studies conducted on how young American Jews feel about Israel’s invasion of Lebanon

in 2006, political orientation and family location (whether they had family in Israel) were

the single biggest indicators on how they would respond in surveys about Israeli politics

(Saxe). There are no such indicators as to predict a participant’s emotional nationalist

connection to Israel. Several participants who were politically liberal and/or against war

and occupation struggled with their alliance to a country whose actions, like those of the

U.S., did not match their political beliefs.

Progressive American Jews often occupy an even further complicated nationalism

in that many of them believe in the existence of a Jewish state but do not believe in

Israel’s current occupation of Palestinian territory, military efforts or alliance with U.S.

war policies. When they voice their criticism, progressive American Jews break

allegiance to a carefully crafted understanding of loyalty between the U.S. and Israel and

risk being called an “anti-Semitic Jew” or “self-hating Jew,” one of the worst labels for

any Jew (Rich).

Progressive Jews as the “New Wave of Anti-Semitism”

On January 31, 2007, The New York Times published an article responding to the

American Jewish Committee’s (AJC) recent publication by Alvin Rosenfeld titled,

“Progressive Jewish Thought and The New Anti-Semitism.” Rosenfeld’s publication and

71
the AJC’s stance on aligning progressive Jews as the “new anti-Semitism” works by

attempting to dismantle progressive Jewish35 critiques of Israeli occupation by deeming

them anti-Semitic Jews. This critique is nothing new, for it has been used for decades to

police American Jewish identity36. Participants were for the most part aware of this

critique of progressive Jews and many disagreed with the argument. However, several

could not articulate what a critique of Israel would sound like or be like if it was not anti-

Semitic. Some referenced Jewish feminist theories and the ways that they have struggled

in articulating this divide within Jewish communities. This is one way that American

Israeli nationalism can be limiting, constricting and almost violent for progressive Jewish

thinkers, scholars and activists.

Judith Butler wrote of the manipulation of the term anti-Semitism in an effort to

create an homogenous American Jewish identity:

Given how heinous any identification with anti-Semitism

is, especially for progressive Jews who wage their
criticisms as Jews, it follows that those who might object to
Israeli policy … find themselves in a situation of either
muting critical speech or braving the unbearable stigma of
anti-Semitism by virtue of speaking publicly about their
views. (xvii)

Butler spoke of the effectiveness of the use of anti-Semitism to an extent in silencing

Jews because the threat of being labeled an “anti-Semitic Jew” is one of the worst labels

35
Progressive Jews include Adrienne Rich, Richard Cohen, Tony Kushner, Tony Judt and
several other academics, activists, Holocaust survivors and their children and countless
others.
36
For example the New Jewish Agenda, a progressive Jewish organization founded in the
early 1980s, was critical of the first Lebanon invasion and for this they were called “anti-
Semitic Jews” (Nepon). Jewish feminist activist Clare Kinberg remembers speaking at a
public meeting with the Israeli consulate at the St. Louis Jewish Community Center in
1980. She asked the audience, “Do you think Jewish settlement on the West Bank might
make it harder for Jews and Palestinians to eventually reach a negotiated agreement?”
Kinberg remembers, “for this question, I was spit on and physically chased from the
room” (quoted by Rich 161).
72
for any Jew. Being called an anti-Semitic Jew is a “psychologizing pseudo-diagnostic

label” for someone who critiques Israel (Rich 161). This is what Adrienne Rich termed

the “toxic spirit of anti-Semitism” (161) in which every question of Israel’s politics is

reduced to being a question of anti-Semitism (Rich). This simplistic and monolithic

belief concerning anti-Semitism does complex destruction to a real oppression that

happens to real material bodies.

Anti-Semitism, the hatred, hostility and/or discrimination of Jews, should be a

concern to progressive and conservative Jews alike. However, the difficulty in conjuring

up what is anti-Semitic is difficult at times, as anti-Israel critiques can become anti-

Semitic. The real difficulty emerges in the difference that American Jews feel, if any,

between being anti-Israel and anti-Jewish. This is a line that some participants felt they

were able to walk successfully, while some felt it could not be walked at all. Like

participants’ responses to their emotional and nationalist connections to Israel, political

orientation was not a necessary indicator on how a participant would respond to the

question on their opinion on progressive Jews as the new form of anti-Semitism, as many

were aware of The New York Times article.

For example, a politically conservative Jew who identified as a Zionist and

volunteered for the Israel Defense Force states without even a pause, “There are so many

people who hate Jews, that Jews don’t need to hate each other” (“Fina”). Another

conservative Zionist states that the only way to criticize Israel without being anti-Semitic

is to “give suggestions to Israel about ways they could make their economy better”

(“Eli”). This participant continued that the “Palestinian identity is very shallow … and

they have a very violent culture” (“Eli”). He related that he knew several, what he

73
termed, “self-hating Jews” who did not align themselves with their “homeland.” These

two participants, although they provided very similar reactions to other questions and

identify within the same political affiliation, marked the contrast within the Jewish

community regarding critiques of Israel. This contrast was between one participant

feeling like Jews can disagree about their beliefs on Israel without hating one another,

while “Eli” felt the only critique that Jews could make about Israel without being anti-

Semitic was about the Israeli economy.

Politically moderate Jews, for the most part, describe how they feel that some

criticism is appropriate and beneficial for the Jewish state, yet few were able to articulate

how these critiques could be made without being anti-Semitic. One participant states:

Because Israel is such a secular state I think you can

criticize its government and its military apart from the
Jewish aspect of it. You can criticize it and its government
but it is a Jewish state and it was founded on it and it is
very difficult but I think it can be done successfully. I grew
up in a very Zionist family and I went to Zionist camp so it
is hard for me to imagine how they criticize Israel but I can
try to imagine where they are coming [from], especially
because they did not grow up how I grew up. They,
meaning progressive Jews that critique Israel. You can be
Jewish without loving Israel I think. I just think for some
people it is a big part of their Jewish identity. (“Tamar”)

Here the participant is agreeing there is space for criticism, but cannot conceptualize what

this criticism would look or sound like because of her Zionist background. This

participant believed it was possible to be Jewish and not “love Israel” but I could tell

through her body language and articulation that she had a difficult time conceptualizing

how one could be Jewish and not love Israel. A few other participants shared a similar

stance.

Progressive Jews expressed their own struggles with believing in the existence of

74
a Jewish state, but not believing in the violence that has been at the foundation of the

creation of Israel. One participant who lost family in the Holocaust discusses the idea of

progressive Jews as the new form of anti-Semitism:

[This] destroys the possibility for dialogue and learning and

that it needs to stop. It just needs to be cut out, people need
to open their hearts and open their minds and understand
that people can have different perspective and it is not
going to kill off our race. We are not going anywhere, we
are not going to die. It is this hyper-threat that Jews tend to
feel that is post-Holocaust mentality that is legitimate in
one sense but needs to be let go in another sense so we can
move forward. (“Janet”)

She attributed much of this critique to what she calls “post-Holocaust mentality” that

works to make Jews feel they are the only victims in the violence in Israel and the need to

defend the Jewish state against all critiques. Another participant states, “The whole idea

of conservative people calling progressive people anti-Semitic is kind of ridiculous

because of them criticizing Israel because that is really putting their Jewish identity on

trial because they don’t agree with Israel” (“Hannah”).

I did not interview any participants that had been termed “self-hating Jews” or

“anti-Semitic Jews.” However, there were a few participants who, if they were in a pro-

Israel environment, may qualify for the label. Peace activists and progressive Jewish

academics have written several accounts on this label and its damaging effects. The

damaging effects of this use of anti-Semitism has is two-fold. First, it assumes that the

Jewish people and their identity can be simplified to only the State of Israel and that

Jewish people, all over the world, hold the same homogenous beliefs regarding Zionism

and Israel. As Adrienne Rich states, “beyond the loss of millions of minds in the death

camps, I wonder if there has been anything more impoverishing to Jewish ethical and

75
intellectual culture in the second half of the twentieth century than the idea of Jewish

sameness, Jewish unanimity, marching under one tribal banner” (Rich 159).

The second damaging affect of this use of the term “anti-Semitic Jew” and “self-

hating Jew” is that it functions to:

control political behavior by imposing unbearable,

stigmatized modes of identification…. Fearing the
identification, they fail to speak out…. The threat of being
called “anti-Semitic” seeks to control, at the level of
subject, what one is willing to say out loud…. More
dramatically these are threats that decide the defining limits
of the public sphere though setting limits on the speakable.
(Butler 127).

This places a boundary on who gets to lay claim as a Jew in America. But what Butler

fails to acknowledge in this description is how the threat of anti-Semitism works to limit

the public sphere in both spoken words and discourse. When speech and discourse are

limited, so is civic action. When Jews are afraid to critique the state of Israel, this limits

any participatory engagement they might have to support its just existence or just

policies. If Jews are not allowed to criticize Israel’s politics or existence, this leaves all

the criticism to non-Jews. A former political prisoner once said to a class I was teaching,

“there comes a point when silence becomes injustice, when it becomes violence”. This

silence is being forced upon progressive Jews with the threat of being labeled anti-

Semitic. When that silence concerns civil liberties, violence and occupation, we have at

best what appears to be indifference to injustice and violence.

Israel is a Place Where Six Million People Understand Who I Am

One participant I interviewed said he had little connection to Israel in terms of

nationalism. When I went on to ask him to categorize what little relationship he did have

76
with Israel, he interrupted to say that, “Israel is a place where six million people

understand who I am” (“Sam”). It took me awhile to try and conceptualize what he

meant by this. Although he had traveled to Israel once, for a short while, he felt that the

few Israelis he did meet understood him to such an extent that without much thought he

answered that Israel is a country full of people who understood him. I began by

analyzing what his experience in Israel was like for him to respond this way and realized

I was looking at the wrong spectrum of this comment. My question should had led me to

analyze what was the experience within the U.S. for Jews, this one in particular, to seek

refuge and find such a strong connection in Israel.

I believe this connects to the earlier discussions in chapter two on anti-Semitism

and the ways that it functions to create a space in between Jews and those expressing

anti-Semitic sentiments. The anti-Semitism that participants experienced, from the

intergenerational transmission of trauma from their parents and grandparents to the daily

reminders that many in America still think of Jews as “dirty”, “stupid” and “controlling,”

has worked to feed an already powerful American Zionist nationalism. A step towards

peace in Israel and dismantling some of the occupation that America supports financially

and politically must begin with dismantling racism and anti-Semitism within the U.S.

American Jews occupy many places on an awfully large continuum when it comes to

critiques on Israel. For some, as seen in participant interviews, any critique of Israel can

be seen as an attack on Jewish people; while others, not represented in this sample but

seen in academia, see the occupation by Israelis as comparable to the Holocaust and

previous genocides.

This discussion of Israel, Zionist nationalism and the inherent contradictions

77
within those connections are vital to understanding how this generation views themselves

in relation to Israel and Jewish history and memory. Because so many Jews feel varying

degrees of connection to the State of Israel, whether that connection is political, national,

historical ancestral, spiritual or familial, mapping out these relations and the many

contradictions within these is fundamental in conceptualizing contemporary American

Jewish identity and the heterogeneity of the communities.

78
 Chapter Five

Bearing Witness: Concluding Interpretations

Some of us even believed that they survived [the concentration camps] in order
to become witnesses … For in my tradition, as a Jew, I believe that whatever
we receive we must share. When we endure an experience, the experience
cannot stay with me alone. It must be opened, it must become an offering, it
must be deepened and given and shared … But information must be
transformed into knowledge, knowledge into sensitivity and sensitivity into
commitment … How can we therefore speak, unless we believe that our words
have meaning, that our words will help others to prevent my past from
becoming another person's — another peoples' — future … What is a witness if
not someone who has a tale to tell and lives only with one haunting desire: to
tell it. Without memory, there is no culture. Without memory, there would be no
civilization, no society, no future.
--Elie Wiesel “A God Who Remembers”

In the above quote, Elie Wiesel, one of the best-known Holocaust survivors,

illuminates the ways that experience should be transmitted like an “offering” to those

who did not share our experiences. He infers that those words and memories have the

potential to change the future. A witness, according to Wiesel, is someone who has “one

haunting desire”: to share their memories. He asserts that memory is essential to culture,

to life, to the very existence of civilization, for if there is no memory there is “no future”.

In the Torah, the command “to remember” is used over 150 times (Wolf). Jewish

tradition, both culturally and religiously, is inextricably linked to memory. Most Jewish

holidays are a chance to bear witness to a collective remembering of a history of both

persecution and strength. For post-Holocaust Jews, bearing witness to the narratives of

the ways that Jews have reconfigured their lives, identities and nationalities after

devastation is central to understanding their own identities today. Sharing their

experiences with anti-Semitism and racism, and the ways that they situate themselves in

the complicated and always changing hierarchal power structures of privilege and

oppression, was also important to them as they welcomed the opportunity to discuss these

79
issues. For the participants, bearing witness to their communities, their families and

national discourse about the state of Israel also shaped how they connected to Isreal and

to Judaism.

This project was deeply invested in bearing witness to cultural and collective

memories on several levels. The articulation of young American Jews’ sense of self

centered around their own experience of bearing witness to their parents and

grandparents’ testimonies. Some of these were more traditional testimonies, particularly

those of Holocaust survivors, like watching video testimonies or listening to audio

recordings. This was in a large part due to Steven Spielberg’s effort to document over

50,000 testimonies for the Shoah foundation through video recording in 199437. Some of

this witnessing took place in less direct forms, through storytelling, literature, holidays,

everyday fears and hopes, and investments in social causes and events. These were

situations of feeling marginalized for their critiques of Israel, not feeling comfortable in

all white groups, or experiencing privileges as they passed as “white”.

As Wolf notes, “testimonials have proven an effective vehicle for Holocaust

survivors to make their pasts public and to transmit a particular slice of Jewish history …

[testimonials] tell the story of oppression as a necessary and political act … because they

reveal injustices. Thus, giving testimony constitutes a form of remembering that goes

beyond the individual, inscribing memory in history” (156). In this process of bearing

witness to testimonies, the witness is transformed into a political actor, contracted to re-

telling and re-interpreting the narratives, shaping their own understanding of history and

identity. Wiesel also mentions this transformation of a witness into a political vehicle
37
In many cases second generation survivors heard their parents’ story for the first time in
these videos. Some participants’ parents volunteered for this project (my mother did as
well).
80
when he states “information must be transformed into knowledge, knowledge into

sensitivity and sensitivity into commitment” (“A God Who Remembers). The

transformation of memory into political action can function in a myriad of different ways

from state formation and nationalism to individual and generational feelings of pride and

strength.

This project mapped out two, sometimes competing, narratives of Jewish identity:

those reactions and interpretations that are mostly homogenous and those that are entirely

heterogeneous. These responses were situated in a particular historical and generational

context for several reasons. Participants were generationally located as grandchildren of

Holocaust survivors. Because of this, they were relatively far away in terms of time from

the genocide and were often thought of as healers to their family and their grandparents,

who often struggled raising their own children. They also experienced the State of Israel

in relatively stable existence for their entire lifetime, and in their most recent years,

witnessed an incredible amount of support from American political leaders that

contributed to this stability. The alliance with Israel united Christian conservatives and

Jewish political leaders for one of the first times in history, whitening Jews in some ways.

The participants also for the most part experienced the benefits of Jews socio-economic

mobility since WWII and the 1950s communism scare. This in some ways allowed some

Jews to experience some of the everyday privileges of whiteness.

Chapter Two explores this issue of whiteness in depth, when many Jews

discussed the multiple complexities and conditionality of Jewish whiteness. Most

responses were in agreement that Jewish whiteness was “different from Anglo-Saxon

whiteness” but some could not always articulate why and how. Several were aware of

81
the social and political history of how Jews came to be seen as white folks in America

and experienced both overt and indirect anti-Semitism today making some of them feel

“not as white.” These experiences led some participants to engage in certain political and

social causes and provided some with insights on the power structures that support all

prejudices, including racism, classism, sexism and anti-Semitism. Several participants

referenced the markings of Jewishness; all of these mentioned were on the bodies of

Jewish women. This is not to say that Jewishness is never marked on a Jewish man’s

body, but it does speak to the ways in which these markers are gendered.

In Chapter Three, respondents unanimously replied that anti-Semitism made them

stronger in their convictions to their own Jewish identity, a response very different from

that of their parents and grandparents. This sense of Jewish pride crossed political, socio-

economic, ethnic, age and gender boundaries. Because of the second generation’s

deliberate effort to instill a sense of pride in their children, the third generation disrupted

the fear that was transmitted to them and turned it into pride and strength. This is evident

when all participants answered that anti-Semitism does not make them fearful to be a Jew

in a world of anti-Semitism, but proud and compelled to continue the traditions of

remembering. This pride serves political, social and cultural purposes. It has enabled

the Jewish culture to flourish and survive in face of unimaginable circumstances, a

survival strategy that is not particularly limited to the Jewish community. It has also

unified the Jewish people in feeling a shared history of persecution and survival while

also providing them with something to find deep pride in. The sense of shared

persecution and the reality of the Holocaust and its destruction have also facilitated to

some extent the creation of the State of Israel and successfully encouraged the strong

82
Israeli nationalism that can be seen as inextricably linked to American Jewish identity.

This link of Zionist nationalism to American Jewish identity is highly

heterogeneous in this sample. There could not have been a greater contrast in responses

from Chapter Three to Chapter Four, as no single response, feeling or idea was consistent

among all participants in their responses to Zionist nationalism and their connections to

the State of Israel. Most felt some connection to the State of Israel, if not to its politics or

history, then to the notion that they “have an alliance to Jews everywhere, so of course

that includes Israel because there is a large population of Jewish people there” (“Gabi”).

There was not a single formula (community, upbringing, experiences in Israel, college

circle of friends, and/or political alliance) that predicted a participant’s answer to how

and if she/he felt connected to the State of Israel. Several participants traveled to Israel

on the Talgit Birthright program, connecting them to the state in a way that lasted long

after they returned home.

Participants’ responses were equally diverse regarding criticism for Israel. Many

had a difficult time articulating how one can be critical of Israel without being anti-

Semitic. This was such a complex idea for many participants that contradictions arose

within their own articulations on how one can be critical of Israel. When asking

participants if progressive Jews were the “new wave of anti-Semitism,” most answered

no, with some hesitation regarding progressive Jews’ public criticism. A few participants

felt progressive Jews should be silenced as they felt their criticism was “bad for Jews, the

U.S. and Israel.”

The Jewish communities can most likely never reconcile these dramatic

differences between one another. The difference of opinion, however, is not what needs

83
to be reconciled but rather the silencing, or attempt to silence, one group of Jews by

another. This is of concern because it confines public discourse and a places a border

around what can and cannot be said about an entire State. This, in turn, limits civic

engagement and public action that is most often mobilized in an effort to stop injustice,

one of the key values that Jewish participants state was important to their identity as

Jews. Therefore, the policing of Jewish identity through the threat of saying that

progressive Jews are not real Jews but self-loathing Jews is an attempt to limit public

speech, civic action and Jewish political identity founded upon principles of Tikkun

Olam38. Many participants, when asked about what they believed were key Jewish

values, responded quickly with “social justice” or the ideas of Tikkun Olam. These

principles facilitated some in their efforts to join anti-racism coalitions, genocide

prevention campaigns or Holocaust remembrance projects. There were similarities

between some participants in the ways that they interpreted the Tikkun Olam principle

and transformed that interpretation into action. This was not unanimous for all

participants.

The most important aspect of this project was not the conceptualization of the

diversity of this generation, but rather the process of providing an opportunity for

American Jews to testify openly. That is why the effort to silence progressive American

Jews, or previous attempts to silence Holocaust survivors, proves so problematic and

contradictory to common understandings of Jewish identity: it disrupts the process of

bearing witness to testimonials. Bearing witness to the articulation of a person’s life and

understanding of their own identity is not only central to Jewish history, the sociology of

38
Translating to Jews’ desire to “heal or repair the world” and known in progressive
Jewish circles to refer to the draw some Jews have to social justice issues and causes.
84
memory and identity politics, but vital in the commitment to ending the repetition of past

historical atrocities and violence.39

Implications for Further Research

Bearing witness on all of these multiple levels (myself bearing witness,

participants bearing witness to experience and testimonials of the previous generation)

was a central methodological approach that allowed me to analyze these three aspects of

American Jewish identity (ethnicity, memory and history, and nationalism). The idea of

bearing witness in this project is founded in Alcoff’s theory that identity is always

multidimensional, meaning that in order to gain insight into an identity, different aspects

or lenses must be studied simultaneously. Although these lenses are never neutral, as

aspects of these identities serve greater political and community purposes, they are

essential in understanding the heuristics of young American Jews and how race, class and

gender shape their identity and sense of self.

Because my study was limited to 20 participants in selected states and regions,

this study could be replicated on a larger scale and could possibly expand to include the

second generation, mapping out the differences in responses and experiences. In doing

future research on collective and cultural identities, “bearing witness” to individual’s

testimonials is crucial in understanding a community’s sense of solidarity, collectivity

and individuality. I think these particular lenses that I used for this analysis would be

vital in understanding other communities that have experienced genocide and political

violence. For example, this could extend to Native American communities that have

39
This is seen in Latin American and American Indian testimonials as well and is not
limited to American Jewish history or memory.
85
experienced genocide and violence, Rwandan, Cambodian and Bosnian genocide

survivors, or young African Americans whose ancestors were kidnapped and enslaved

during the transatlantic slave trade.

By broadening the scope of research into case studies such as those mentioned

above, new knowledge can be developed about the responses to trauma and their value to

social justice issues of peace and equity. Responses to genocide, political violence and

racism/anti-Semitism can be understandably hardening. In an effort to feel safe, people

who have experienced traumatic and torturous experiences can turn to limiting and

isolating ideologies, sometimes resulting in excluding practices of nationalism.

However, if this hardening response can be interrupted by a process of sharing

testimonials, then bearing witness can serve as a vehicle for social change and social

transformation. Bearing witness elicits and gives voice to multiple viewpoints and

perspectives in order to disrupt a notion of a singular voice per genocide, event or

community. Research that is heavily involved in the practices of bearing witness to

testimonials can serve to broaden and bring to light (in all of the above situations) new

resources and solutions to violence in a dedicated effort to ensure that violence and

trauma are not met with more violence and trauma. Testimonials serve as an innovative

vehicle to voice, understand, and document identity formation, resiliency and resistance

in spite of violence, for the sake of the survivors and the generations to come.

86
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