Hi. I've kind of been a mess these past few weeks (in that I'm doing more social things and I'm still adjusting to being in class until 6:30 two nights a week, NOT that I'm in any kind of dangerous head space) so this post is going to be about thoughts that have been stewing for a few weeks, maybe even months? Maybe even my whole life, who's to say.
So the first outdated piece of the puzzle comes from a few weeks back when I had a French breakthrough. The final installment in our first round of presentations, in which we had to present our passion, was a topic right up my alley: a discussion of the history of Asian immigration to the U.S. and a discussion of contemporary Asian-American culture. (I am very interested in immigration and, more specifically, the Venn diagram of identity presented to immigrants and their children.) Anyway, not the point. An "often-wrong-never-in-doubt" type in my class (I guess in an effort to show how aware he was of current events in France?) broke our discussion of Asian-American acceptance in the U.S. to ask our professor about antisemitism in France, which quickly devolved into chaos by means of a few powerfully mal-chosen mots. He has a tendency to confuse dissimilar things, like when he confounded Arabs and Muslims. This time he called antisemitism racism, and then tried to save himself be shouting at us that he has Jewish blood. And, by some veritable miracle, my bubbling fury at the Nazi era classification was funneled into patient, coherent, thoughtful French...it's several weeks later and I can still hardly believe it happened.
"No, your blood is the same as her blood is the same as her blood. In Eastern Europe they may use the word race to describe a part of your heritage that you don't otherwise have a word for, because it no longer functions as your religion, but it's incredibly offensive, and loaded, to call Judaism a race. Because it's not." (because race is a social construction, but even working from that point, Judaism wouldn't be a race) It was a bizarre moment, both because I suddenly had the ability to express my fury in French and because I couldn't believe that someone would take offense to something as scientifically empirical as the fact that Jews are not a race. "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT I AM!" he shouted irrationally in English...fair. But also, I can. Because you can call yourself anything you want, but that doesn't make it true.
For kristallnacht a few weekends back I spent Sunday afternoon at the Shoah museum here with a mixed group and a free guided tour which I would have happily paid for. He was excellent, particularly in that he was clearly impassioned by his work. I'll skip the first 2.5 hours to when the American couple left. They were the only anglophones on the tour (besides me) and they gave me a very clear sense of what it means to be an American tourist. They were New Yorkers with a certain audacity, not that they thought the world belonged to them, but they seemed to have a sense that they only had to ask, which is so markedly different from the social isolationism of France that I can't even get in to it. Anyway, they were VERY interested in our French guide's perspective on current anti-semitism in France, which he was willing to give in private but reluctant to give in front of the group, primarily because it's not at all the purview of a holocaust historian and (as he revealed to the group after the New Yorkers left) because there is such an irreconcilable difference between the Anglophone and Continental concepts of religious freedom and religious tolerance.
In the U.S. it's all about being free to openly practice whatever religion you choose. In France it's about having the freedom to practice whatever religion you choose without it being anyone else's business. The French census doe not ask about your religion. It is illegal for employers, real estate agents, schools to demand this information. Religion, like so much else in France, is private. And, if you want to wave your Jewish/Muslim/Protestant flag, that's on you.
The guide had dozens of anecdotes from WWII about the ineffectiveness of German antisemitic propaganda on French citizens. There were elementary school boys who made fake yellow stars for themselves so their Jewish friend wouldn't stand out. Then and now, it's not about Judaism. There's no problem there. The problem is with zealous observance of any kind, displays of faith if you will. Which is still a problem, it's just a different one than the NYT conceives.
And this has all kind of been reeling through my mind as Noel approaches. It's beautiful here, lots of tinsel and boughs of ivy dusted with snow, Christmas markets with wooden stalls, understated but merry. And I love this time of year: any reason for people to consciously be kinder to each other is just fine by me. But, I also feel transplanted back to third grade. Let me explain. It is VERY difficult for an 8 year old who waits all year for Santa to understand that somebody doesn't celebrate Christmas, and even once they wrap their head around that bombshell, it's inconceivable that this poor Jew wouldn't be devastated. And I would just respond the same way I did in middle school when people asked incredulously how I could have lived without eating a bacon cheeseburger: "It's never been a part of my life, so I don't miss it. It's no big thing." And then they console themselves by saying Well, at least she has Hanukkah, and I think at some point I gave up trying to explain the lack of importance of the festival of lights.
So here I am, in Paris, without any Jewish friends and I suspect there are several people in my class who, whether they realize it or not, have never met a Jew before. And I'm happy to spread awareness on 80 year old misconceptions about race, or about the laws of kashrut, or about the holidays...but something about it feels off. It's not true, but it feels like I'm the Last Jew standing, and there's something in recounting these vibrant through-lines of my life for the cultural education of others that feels a little too much like recalling a lost civilization, which especially in Europe hits a bit close to home. And the good news is that it's not true. The bad news is that that's not necessarily the way I'm living, and I'm not sure what to do with that just yet. But, Hanukkah is just around the corner, and since according to my classmates it's an important moment, maybe there's another miracle, or even a moment of clarity, just around the corner.
