Thursday, May 17 at 7-10 PM
Hub San Francisco in the SF Chronicle Building, 925 Mission St.
Cost $5
RSVP at nif.org/lovehate

Share your story. Leave the boxing gloves at home.

“Love, Hate, and the Jewish State” is a civil dialogue for Jews in our 20s and 30s to share our personal experiences about Israel and social justice. We are creating a space where authentic discourse and diverse opinions are welcome – about love and hate, and everything in between. You get to own and author the content of the discussion. We will just provide exercises to help you talk, listen, ask questions, and create meaningful interactions around Israel and social justice.

Brought to you by New Israel Fund’s New Generations. Co-sponsored by A Wider Bridge, Berkeley Hillel, Congregation Beth Israel Judea, Congregation Beth Sholom, Bureau of Jewish Education, CalGrads, East Bay Moishe House, Hazon, Jewish Community Relations Council, Jewlicious, J Street and J Street U, Keshet, Pursue, Rabbis For Human Rights-North America, San Francisco Hillel, San Francisco Moishe House, Congregation Sha’ar Zahav, The Kitchen, Urban Adamah, USF program in Jewish Studies and Social Justice, World Zionist Organization, and Zeek.

Crossposted from Pursue. Jewschool is a co sponsor of Inside the Activists’ Studio. 

On Sunday, May 20, Pursuers in NYC will gather for Inside the Activists’ Studio: Finding Your Voice in a Global Movement. The event will feature an incredible array of local Jewish change-makers speaking on a panel, presenting workshops, or performing. As a sneak peek, we chatted with workshop presenter Emily Saltzman, who will co lead a workshop with Erin Markman (click to read her interview). 

What inspires you to work on issues of allyship (being an ally)? 

 Mutual learning and meaningful connection inspire me to do this work.  Learning from and reflecting on personal relationships is one of the main ways that I have seen myself grow over the years. I find human connection to be incredibly powerful, so I hope to work toward removing barriers that would prevent that connection from occurring. For me, true allyship is an integral part of organizing for folks who hold privileged identities and should not be taken lightly. I do this work because one of the effects of oppression is that it dehumanizes us. It prevents us from connecting to each other in meaningful ways or it can stop us from connecting at all. Many of us have heard of stories where folks–typically white–work in mixed-race spaces in hopes of delving into their own experience in their privileged identity. This can most certainly be helpful and challenge folks to think deeply about the spaces that they occupy, although many times it falls on the folks of subjugated identities to educate the others. It is for exactly this reason that folks with privileged identities need to also have space to process their experience, socialized ideas and internalized superiority. There are feelings, values, thoughts and hurtful language that needs to be processed and challenged prior to and alongside all-identity organizing. While these spaces can be incredibly helpful and transformative, they can become problematic if not done alongside organizing in spaces where a variety of identities are present.

Allyship is taking a stand–both internally and externally–where we can use our privileged identity (or identities) to elevate an issue that is often silenced. Developing an ally identity allows us to challenge ourselves internally while also providing space to challenge other members of our privileged identity group externally. A large part of ally identity development is knowing when to step back and simply be present, which can be quite a challenge. The allyship development process is constantly evolving and non-linear in nature, which can also cause us to want to “give up” or “check out.” We need to take the necessary measures to support our development and connect with folks that can nourish this process while simultaneously holding us accountable.

How does your Jewish identity relate to what you do?

Growing up in the suburbs of Minneapolis, I was not connected to a Jewish community, and I didn’t learn how to integrate Jewish values into my social justice work until moving to New York City. I felt drawn to issues of social justice, equality and equity from a young age, but I did not have strong Jewish leaders that modeled this work for me. My family was one of a handful of Jewish families in my suburb, and I was often treated as an anomaly by friends and teachers. While I did not experience overt anti-Semitism until college, I did feel isolated and alone at times. I was commonly used as the “token Jewish person” in class to discuss the young adult classics like Number the Stars and The Devil’s Arithmetic. At the time I felt special and excited that my classmates and teachers wanted to discuss a section of Jewish history but, looking back, the support was empty and fleeting once the reading unit was over.

I mention this all to say that seeing the world through a Jewish lens has greatly affected my career and organizing path. To be seen as an “other”–overtly and covertly–allows one to begin noticing the social hierarchy. Fortunately I was never harassed to the point of violence, but these formative experiences stayed with me into adulthood.

When I moved to New York, I was bombarded with so many different illustrations of Jews and Judaism that it was difficult to tease out what felt right for me. Participating in AVODAH allowed me to see the connection between Judaism and social justice for the first time. My experience in AVODAH was unique in that I took part in very few Jewish learning opportunities prior to becoming a Corps member, so nearly everything we discussed in AVODAH was new to me. I was so intrigued–and thrilled–that there were younger Jews like me who had figured out a way to integrate Jewish culture, values and traditions into social justice work. After leaving AVODAH, I continued to pursue social justice ventures through my graduate program and noticed that so many of the folks I met were also queer-identified Jews. The active queer and trans community of Jewish organizers continues to support my journey. The resiliency and creativity that stems from this intersection inspires me both personally and spiritually to do this work.

What are you most excited about at Inside the Activists’ Studio?

I am thrilled to be part of such an energizing and exciting event! I have been disconnected from Jewish-based organizing for a while and I’m very much looking forward to learning from my peers and re-awakening this piece of myself. Oh, and I’m also looking forward to the delicious treats from Adamah!

Why should folks come to your IAS workshop?

Folks should join Erin and I if they are feeling stuck in their current ally identity journey, want to think deeply about how they wish to take a stand (internally and externally), are interested in learning from others’ experiences, are looking to form connections with folks doing similar work, and are interested in developing an accountable space to support this dialogue.

In addition to her own distinguished career, Achinoam Nini (aka Noa) has a history of working on behalf of peace and reconciliation. Notably, she has partnered with Israeli-Arab singer Mira Awad, a Christian and resident of Haifa, on a concert tour and as the country’s entrants 2009 entrants into the Eurovision contest.  This  creative collaboration brought them wide attention around the world, mostly of the positive sort.

On Yom Hazikaron, the acclaimed international Israeli musical artist performed for a gathering of Combatants for Peace, an organization of former fighters and their families on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  This recent performance brought on attention of a much uglier, vile sort from extremist corners in Israeli and North American Jewish corners.

Calling her “Garbage” and “Rat” and far worse.  They’ve taken to facebook calling for a boycott of Noa’s performances, and Noa has responded.

We’ve come to expect anti-Semitism from the left outside the Jewish world.  Such xenophobic outbursts within of the Jewish world, however, are an unfortunate growing  trend from extreme right-wing corners.  Soccer hooligans ransack Arab shops in malls and traumatize women who stand up to their racism. This is in Israel proper within the Green line. Now a call to boycott Noa.

I’m appalled when those who blindly hate Jews and Israel accuse us all of the very racism and facism by which our people were victimized. There are nevertheless dangerous and equally appalling trends emerging in our midst. People who dismiss the ‘rightward turn‘ that Israeli has taken not just in its politics but in its social sector do so at the peril of the enterprise of the Jewish State.  Something is happening to Israeli youth, demonstrated by multiple incidents, and more generally to tolerance.

Every society must hold to account those who beat grandmothers in shopping malls and innocent people in the streets. Its basic civil law and human rights.  Israel is supposed to serve this purpose for the Jews, and its morality and ability to do so (and many other things) is diminished when its foremost cultural ambassadors working to heal conflict are openly insulted in this fashion.

This book’s simple yet ingenious innovation is a layout common to every English-Hebrew siddur: the right facing page is the Israeli narrative and the left facing page is the Palestinian side, each describing the same events. As Sari Nusseibeh’s back cover blurb says, it’s a “pioneering effort not only in the context of Israeli-Palestinian politics, but in the writing of history.”

I don’t recommend trying to read both narratives at once, since parallel chapters are real, full histories with footnotes, photos and stories. Trying to do so will give you a headache. But for the first time, opening a chapter to, say, the Balfour Declaration immediately makes both sides’ claims and reactions easy to find. No skipping around, flipping to the next chapter, or trying to keep it all in your head.

This book makes the chasms between narratives poignantly clear. For example, page 168 is in the middle of the chapter about the 1950s-1960s. The Israeli page features a photo of Adolf Eichmann on trial in Jerusalem; the Palestinian page features a photo of a Palestinian refugee woman embracing a relative through a border fence. The Israeli chapter is titled “The State of Israel: The First Decades” and faces “Years of Homelessness and Despair.”As one reads about the bombshell effect Eichmann’s trial had on Israeli Jewish identity, you can’t help but glance at the other page describing the systematic dispossession of Palestinian property under absentee laws. (Like I warned, a headache in the making if you read the whole thing this way.)

The chapters cover roughly 20 year periods starting in 1917, often with whole chapters dedicated to seminal events like the 1947 and 1967 wars. Sadly, the history stops with the Taba peace talks in 2001, effectively the end of the peace process. The authors recommend that this experiment is a first and should be rewritten in a decade, acknowledging especially that narratives evolve. And kudos to the writers for calling out the symmetry of narratives does not erase the asymmetry of power, another facet that often dogs these educational efforts.

Those of us versed in both narratives may be quite familiar with the different traumas important to both sides. But to see them so vividly and loyally portrayed side by side reminds me of how important efforts like this remain. For avid consumers of Middle East histories, this is an innovative quick reference guide. And for those entirely new to this issue, I highly recommend any book that is simple, clear and fair to both sides — for which this approach is uniquely, brilliantly qualified.

Lastly, the book is a touching tribute to the work of Israeli historian Prof. Dan Bar-On, who co-founded PRIME and this its central project with Palestinian historian Prof. Sami Adwan but died in 2008 before seeing its completion. The final chapter features testimonials from many of the 24 contributing Israeli and Palestinian teachers. Their personal stories working with each other and their hopes and challenges of teaching young people about the “other” are themselves proof of overcoming challenges and creating new hope.

Jewschool founder Mobius aka Dan Sieradski is part of the panel at this very interesting event at the 14th Street Y on “The Future of  Jewish Culture.”  A full press kit is here.  A quick look at the panel shows it covers not only various sectors but geographies and aims to address a significant amount of ground in an evening:

“After a decade of flourishing Jewish creativity, major Jewish cultural enterprises are being forced to scale
back operations or close entirely. Using recent funding cuts as a springboard to examine the most pressing
issues facing new Jewish arts and culture, “Now What?” addresses:

• New perspectives on American Jewish identity
• Waning support for quality Jewish art and culture
• Strategies for cultivating Jewish art and culture in the future”

May 15, 2012  7pm,  14th Street Y, 344 East 14th Street (between 1st and 2nd Ave.), New York, NY 10003

If you’re in the area and are interested, sign up here.  Naturally, this is a subject that deserves and requires significantly more time than a single evening. The need to advocate for, plan and implement a national Jewish Cultural Policy could be the  focus of a week long conference with representatives from major communal institutions and umbrella organizations, local presenting arms and various elements from artists and performers to independent organizations.   It could also be a great panel to recreate at the General Assembly because the message points need to be heard by people who hold the purse strings and those who put the money in that purse

Michael Dorf has attempted similar efforts at International Jewish Presenters Association Schmooze conferences which tried to create a Jewish SXSW on the heels of the annual APAP Conference.  FJC did a bit of planning and even implementation with its New Jewish Culture Network.  All of these have been significant achievements but none go far enough.  We need buy-in from establishment organizations and entities, these efforts fall short.

As someone who runs a Jewish cultural initiative, I’m very interested in this and am excited that its taking place.  I’d be interested to know who’s attending and if any funders or folks from the institutional community will be within earshot.  And of course, as a non-New Yorker, I’m glad to see there’s three other regional centers represented on the panel.

Cultural folks- what are your thoughts?

On Sunday, May 20, Pursue NYC, together with New Israel Fund-New Generations and the Young Leaders of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS), presents Inside the Activists’ Studio: Finding Your Voice in a Global Movement. The event will feature an incredible array of local Jewish change-makers speaking on a panel, presenting workshops, or performing. As a sneak peek, Pursue chatted with workshop presenter Erin Markman. 

What inspires you to work on issues of allyship (being an ally)?

The pursuit of liberation and love! That might manage to sound both grandiose and trite, but I really, deeply, mean it. I want to work toward a world where we all strive to be allies to one another, recognizing the systemic oppressions that circumscribe our lives and the interpersonal oppressions we perpetuate, and working collaboratively to undo both. That’s what’s going to make our movements work. It’s what’s going to move us forward together.

I want to do my best every day to hold myself accountable in the domains in which I have institutional privilege—being white, or able-bodied, or cisgender, for example. I want to hold myself accountable for assumptions, for microaggressions, for the false histories I’ve been taught, for the “-isms” I enact, for the oppressions that live inside me. I want to hold myself accountable to speak up, to challenge systems, policies, and practices that perpetuate oppression, especially when that act of challenging feels frightening. And I want as many relationships as I can get that make allyship explicit. I want relationships with people who expect allyship from me, who feel they can hold me accountable when they want to, who feel they can call me out in the moment or send me an email after the fact. I want to be told when I’ve hurt someone unintentionally. I want to be told when someone feels I’m missing, or misunderstanding, or misrepresenting an idea because of my privilege. I want that kind of accountability not as an academic exercise but as a lived component of interpersonal relationships. And I want to be given permission to hold others accountable as well. I want that accountability because I think it’s necessary to move us all toward where we want to go.

I want this with the urgency and rage and pain that oppressive systems elicit, but I’m trying hard not to let my desire to be an ally be driven by guilt (though I certainly still grapple with guilt). I want it to be about love. Because I don’t think I can love fully without consistently being in the process of undoing and relearning, of fighting against policies and practices of oppression and also fighting what I’ve internalized. Pursuing an ally identity is always messy and often painful and never-ending, but it is also a process full of love. It’s how I’ve loved my friends the best, and it’s how they love me best as well.

Systems of oppression, including the ones that bestow privilege on us, contribute to a world that robs us all of our humanity. The act of fighting against those systems which benefit oneself is, in my mind, in the service of pursuing mutual liberation. Audre Lorde makes the point beautifully:

“I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own. And I am not free as long as one person of Color remains chained. Nor is any one of you.”

How does your Jewish identity relate to what you do?

My Jewish identity is something that I’m still in the process of building and shaping and probably always will be! Allyship informs that process a lot. I love working with my Jewish friends to cultivate a Jewish identity that is rooted in anti-oppressive thinking and action and in which allyship plays a central role. For example, I’ve loved using a haggadah at our Seders that we’ve worked together to modify—building in discussions of racism, LGBTQ identities, and liberation struggles around the world. For me, that’s how my Jewish identity grows, and it often feels very joyful and playful. But there are real challenges as well. I’ve seen Jewish identity arise in very complicated ways in conversations about white privilege, for example. I’m working to cultivate a Jewish identity that pushes me to examine my white privilege and how I can take action to be a white Jewish ally. I want a Jewish identity that pushes me to be an ally to Palestinians. I want a Jewish identity that pushes me to address Islamophobia in the U.S. I want a Jewish identity that pushes me to stand up against all oppressions, and to ask others to do the same, all while authentically challenging anti-Semitism as it arises. I’m not there yet, but all of this work is about process!

What are you most excited about at Inside the Activists’ Studio?

I’m most excited about learning and building community. I love intentional spaces where we all come together to build and share. I’m very appreciative that the space has been organized—I know how hard that is—and I’m really looking forward to being a part of it.

Why should folks come to your workshop?   

Folks should come to challenge themselves to think deeply and broadly about what it means to be an ally and why allyship matters to our movements, our relationships, and our internal selves. And they should come to challenge me, too! Our workshop is designed to be a site of group learning, in which we as facilitators are also learning, and I’m really looking forward to that. So I hope that people come to learn with me, bringing their experiences and sharing their stories. I anticipate it will be challenging and dynamic and will allow people to bring their full selves to the space.

Rabbis for Human Rights continues their efforts to persuade Efi Stenzler, JNF’s World Chairman, and Russell Robinson, CEO of JNF-USA, to stop planting on legally disputed land in Al-Arakib. Click here to send these two officials an email, see further details below the fold.

Despite hearing from hundreds of people, KKL-JNF resumed plowing disputed land in Al-Arakib on Monday.

We need to keep the pressure up! Join us in writing to Jewish National Fund in Israel and the United States. Tell them to stop planting on legally disputed land in Al-Arakib and to end their involvement in forestation on the remains of demolished Bedouin villages and disputed Bedouin land.

Residents of Al-Arakib have documents and other evidence of their traditional rights to their land dating to the times of the Ottoman Empire and the British Mandate, prior to the establishment of the state of Israel.  Yet the Israeli government refuses to recognize their land claims. The State has demolished the village dozens of times in the last year and a half, leveling homes, livestock pens, and hundreds of fruit and olive trees, all to make way for Jewish National Fund forests. The government remains embroiled in protracted legal disputes with the residents about their ownership of the land.

Earlier this year, the leadership of KKL-JNF promised our colleagues at Rabbis for Human Rights in Israel that they would not plant on four plots of land in Al-Arakib that are involved in ongoing legal disputes. KKL-JNF also issued a public statement saying that it “does not plant even a single tree on land that is in legal dispute in court.” Russell Robinson, CEO of JNF-USA reiterated this position to Rabbi Jill Jacobs, Executive Director of Rabbis for Human Rights-North America, in a conversation they had just last week. But now it seems as though the Jewish National Fund is changing its tune.

Just over a week ago, KKL-JNF equipment arrived in Al-Arakib and began preparing one of the disputed plots of land for planting. Yesterday, KKL-JNF returned again and plowed more land for planting in this disputed plot. KKL-JNF has spent the last month working on other plots of land in Al-Arakib that are due to be adjudicated in Israel’s High Court in December 2012.

Take action now!

Crossposted from Pursue. Jewschool is a co sponsor of Inside the Activists’ Studio. 

On Sunday, May 20, Pursue NYC, together with New Israel Fund-New Generations and the Young Leaders of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS), presents Inside the Activists’ Studio: Finding Your Voice in a Global Movement. The event will feature an incredible array of local Jewish change-makers speaking on a panel, presenting workshops, or performing. As a sneak peek, Pursue chatted with workshop presenter Sarah From of Do Your Best Work about how she found her own voice: 

What inspired you to work on issues of personal ecology with activists?

Over a decade of work in nonprofits, I saw how lack of sleep, email overload, unmindful leadership, and inadequate personal organization could hinder the work. As I began to experiment with different strategies and tools to manage my own workload, I became more interested in the bigger picture. That is, how does the way we work for social change reflect the values we are fighting for? And what’s the cost if we’re changing our communities and the world but running ourselves into the ground in the process?  The work I do now is to help social change leaders and organizations identify new ways of working that promote sustainability, productivity, and alignment with purpose and values.

How does your Jewish identity relate to what you do?

Four years ago, I was working on criminal justice reform and on the verge of burnout when I attended a Selah leadership retreat. There, I learned how personal sustainability could be rooted in Jewish tradition. The big “a-ha” for me was that as a Jew, I am obligated to work for justice and I am obligated to rest. Too many Jewish social justice activists take the first obligation seriously and ignore the second.

What are you most excited about for Inside the Activists’ Studio?

I’m excited to provide space for activists to identify new and more sustainable ways of working. I love helping people who are both incredibly passionate and incredibly overwhelmed to find more spaciousness in their work and non-work lives.

Why should folks come to your IAS workshop?   

Our movements are only as vibrant as the quality of the energy we are able to bring to them. By attending to your own sustainability, you can better use your time, energy and attention in service to the world you want to create.