One of the most popular excuses for racism that I have encountered is “It’s not racism . . . its experience”. Another popular excuse is “I’m not racist against them . . . they’re racist against me!” I’ve experienced both of these from members of my own family. I found, since Leah’s departure, a need to avoid jumping into that territory. My negative experience is not with the Jewish community. It’s with Leah’s family. And they are NOT “the Jewish community”. They are simple scum. Leah is simple scum. And their racism against me is THEIR OWN. I am entitled to hate them for that, but that is nothing more than a community of one mentally ill woman and her four mentally ill parents.
Do I have issues with Judaism? Yes, of course I do. There are a number of things about the faith and the culture that do not appeal to me. Guess what? It’s not the only religion in the world. I found in Hinduism a religion that better matches my beliefs. I don’t look down at people for whom this faith “works”: that’s great for them! Most of the Jews I have known, similarly, don’t look down at me because their faith doesn’t work for me. The fact that Leah’s parents looked down at me is a character flaw in them. It is not a flaw in Judaism.
Leah’s parents’ hatred of me started with the fact that I am not Jewish. For that horrid crime on my part, the first time I met them they wouldn’t even make eye contact. I’m sure Leah denies this ever happened. After they started behaving halfway civilized towards me, this attitude still remained. Over dinner, they would speak at great length about their culture, yet showed no interest whatsoever in my culture. Leah’s step-mother even made some snarky “we’re better than you” remarks about my culture. I was polite, even if they clearly had no clue about the rules of hospitality. Their house was filled with items showing a great pride in their religion and their culture. Her parents crossed a line, however: being proud of your own faith and culture doesn’t oblige looking down at others. When I first met Leah, she shared this outlook. She openly declared, for example, that if she ever moved in with me, she would impose kosher diet rules on my household, even though we are not Jewish.
After she left, I was home one day and I was channel-surfing. I came across an episode of “People’s Court”. The plaintiff in the case was a Jewish couple. They were trying to defraud some poor drycleaners, and the judge uncovered this. I remember feeling an instant dislike to the Jewish couple. The man had a smug look on his face and sported his yarmulke. I try to attribute this to bad acting. The issue at hand was a wig, which the woman wore because of a requirement that she cover her hair. When the judge uncovered their attempt at defrauding the court of the value of the wig, they left the court and refused to talk about anything. They would not show any remorse, despite the fact that their scam had been uncovered. Again, I suspect this was just bad acting. I cannot deny, though, that part of my dislike was due to how I had been treated at the hands of a family that shared that cultural pride. I realized, in myself, that I am capable of a similar racism.
“Experience” does not justify anything, unless I can say that this “experience” is with a critical mass of Jewish people. And guess what? It isn’t. Rather, my “experience” with most Jews shows that Leah’s family’s behavior is an exception to the rule. And my hatred – and yes, I have every right to hatred – must be pointed to them and only them. Being the victim of racism does not insulate you from showing the same racism. This was something that Leah and her parents don’t understand, but that I do. I owe them no apology, and I will continue to hate them. But it will be ONLY them.
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