Generation "J": Who are we?

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Table of Contents

About Us

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Jewish Student Advocates

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Mishenichnas _______

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I Wrote This on Shabbat

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Values of Yosef Bruin

Ha’Am has been the official student-run Jewish newsmagazine at UCLA since 1972. We are a hybrid, online and print publication that aims to inform both the UCLA student body and the larger Los Angeles community of Jewish happenings and opinions on campus.

Our team strives to uphold Jewish values and to instill within our ranks journalistic integrity of the highest order. Together, we engage and grapple with our tradition in the hopes of enriching our diverse experiences. However, before and after all of that, we are a family.

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Holocaust Survivor Q&A

10 Whose Tribe is it Anyway?

11 A Predator’s Choice 12 Not Your Typical Persian 13 Not Your Typical Jew

For more articles, pictures and videos please visit Ha’Am’s website at haam.org. Get in contact with us on Facebook, Twitter or e-mail. If you are interested in Jewish Life, are sincere and are hardworking, then we are looking for you. We need staff members of every kind, including talented writers, editors, designers, photographers, illustrators, social media experts, business and marketing representatives, creative thinkers, and skilled debaters. No matter your expertise, no matter your major, you will be an invaluable member of our family.

(Please note that individual opinions expressed by the authors do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of Ha’Am as a whole.)

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HA’AM NEWS is published and copyrighted by the ASUCLA Communications Board. All rights are reserved. Reprinting of any material in this publication without the written permission of the Communications Board is strictly prohibited. The ASUCLA Communications Board fully supports the University of California’s policy on non-discrimination. The student media reserve the right to reject or modify advertising whose content discriminates on the basis of ancestry, color, national origin, race, religion, disability, age, sex or sexual orientation. The ASUCLA Communications Board has a media grievance procedure for resolving complaints against any of its publications. For a copy of the complete procedure, contact the publications office at 118 Kerckhoff Hall @ 310-825-9898

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Ha’Am 2018 Staff

A Letter from the Editor

Editor-in-Chief: Asher Naghi

Dear Readers,

Managing Editors: Noah Wallace Jacob Schaperow Design Team: Margalit Zimand (Lead) Edwin Korouri Melody Lopez Cover Art: Allison Hernandez Social Media: Kate Burt Videographer: Joey Levin Business Team: Josh Kaplan Raphael Nacache Staff: Grayson Peters Alyssa Bonchick Devorah Norton Ellie Friedman Jacob Schaperow Josh Kaplan Melody Hashemieh Michael Dayan Ronnie Cohen Sam Schmuel Yosef Nemanpour Yaakov Tarko Zev Hurwitz

As Pesach approaches, we, as a people, recall the generation that left Egypt. Our hope is that the study of our nation’s history will help us better understand who we are as the unique Generation “J.” However, it is not through a simple study of the past that we better understand ourselves; instead, as Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks notes, it is through the development of a shared memory. The 12th century sage Rambam formulated the requirement that “in every generation one is required to view oneself as if he is leaving Egypt” — “Bechol Dor Va’Dor Chayav Adam Liros Es Atzmo Kilu Yatzah Ata Mi’Mitzrayim.” In other words, every year, we must place ourselves in the shoes of our ancestors, which we accomplish through the two Passover Seders.

How, you might ask, do the passover Seders make us feel as if we ourselves are leaving Egypt? Recent studies using Virtual Reality demonstrate that humans retain 90 percent of what they do or say as opposed to about 10 percent of what they read. The sages intuitively understood the power of experiential learning: They demanded that we perform rituals to trigger curiosity and subsequent questions from children at the table, that we raise the bone of a lamb to commemorate the Passover offering, that we eat Charoset the bitter Marror, that we lean sideways to demonstrate our status as freemen.

In some communities, Seder participants even walk out of the house with sacks over their shoulders to commemorate the act of exodus.

Our duty to develop a national identity applies not only to Passover but to the entire year. We hope that our shared memory shines through in this edition of Ha’Am. Within these pages, we delve into the story of Harry Davids, a Holocaust survivor, and explore atypical Jewish identities. These articles, and many more, demonstrate what makes our generation — Generation “J” — unique.

Warm regards, Asher Naghi Editor in Chief

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Jewish Student Advocates Must Own Issues of “The Other”

Photo Credit: Robb Klein

By Zev Hurwitz Jewish students at University of California campuses have always been good at organizing for issues pertaining to the collegiate Jewish experience.

For instance, in 2014, UC administrators announced that the system would be shortening the 2014-15 academic year’s winter break to allow fall quarter to begin after Rosh Hashanah. Jewish students, suddenly found themselves the targets of systemwide frustration. In one case, a Jewish sorority member at UC Santa Barbara was verbally abused and ostracized by her sisters for “causing” the shortened break.

Shortly thereafter, Jewish UC campus activists mobilized to combat the new wave of anti-Semitism and the unfair calendar change.

Countless BDS resolutions have flown in and out of UC campus governance chambers with robust Jewish mobilization to oppose the bills.

Where there is an “Apartheid Wall,” there is a pro-Israel group, made up largely of Jewish students, not too far away.

Because of the heavy leftward tilt that campus politics tend to have, Jews often find themselves with similar ideologies to their peers on domestic policy issues. The major difference is when the conversation focuses on Israel. While Israel advo-

cacy is critically needed to combat de-legitimization and misinformation, the focus on “Jewish” issues has helped drive a wedge between Jewish students and their progressive peers. The divisions have not only kept Jewish students out of certain progressive circles on UC campuses but have made it harder for Jews to count on or be counted upon by other allies.

A quick inquiry on America’s favorite search engine shows that “Progressive Except for Palestine” (PEP) — a derogatory and misleading reference to Jews (usually) who are liberal on most issues, save for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict — started seeing regular use around 2013. While there is most certainly a liberal argument for supporting Israel (not to mention, a pro-Israel argument for peace which can be construed as “liberal”), a major problem materializes when support for Israel becomes a litmus test for a person’s true value as a progressive.

This, paired with the Model Minority Myth that Jews universally bring privilege to campuses, poses the problem that we cannot be taken seriously in minority and progressive circles.

This exclusion is a real shame, not only because it keeps our voices out of the conversation on import-

ant campus issues but also because of the spillover effect into generalizations about the “PEP” Jewish community. Too often are “Jewish” and “pro-Israel” used synonymously in advocacy circles, and the association suggests loss of credibility in fighting for meaningful campus change.

There may be too much of a silo-effect for Jewish advocacy. Only mobilizing against Divestment or Jewish-specific issues validates perceptions that Jewish students don’t really care about progressive issues.

Jewish students can’t change external perceptions or misunderstandings overnight. But we can take on bigger roles in advocating for seemingly non-controversial — at least among students — issues.

Not only will this demonstrate the Jewish community’s potential as an ally in advocacy, but it will be an important first step in bridging existing divides.

Take the upcoming vote on a tuition increase — at press time, the UC Board of Regents was set to vote on an increase to 2018-2019 tuition for out-of-state students at their meeting this month and one for California residents next year.

The increase would mark the second in two years and universally make it more challenging to obtain a quality

public education in this state. Jewish students can, and should, be at the forefront of a major, systemwide issue, advocating on behalf of all students.

Those who mistakenly believe Jews only to be self-serving advocates are wrongly conflating disagreement on a single issue with ignorance for the others. The Israel-issues litmus test, which demands adherence to each of a given list of policy positions, limits dialogue and the free exchange of ideas when it rejects someone for daring to support nearly everything else on the list.

The experiences of the Jewish people is the experience of the “other.” Demonstrations for the recognition of the Armenian Genocide, against police brutality and in favor of a pathway to citizenship for DACA recipients all mirror different pieces of the Jewish experience. Support for these issues, in the abstract, should be a priority for progressive Jewish students — especially at a time where Divestment resolutions are not an active concern. While those issues have broader external implications, UC students should also be concerned about policies that threaten the accessibility, inclusion and affordability of a UC education.

The tuition increase vote poses an opportunity for Jewish students to lead our peers in advocacy and be at the forefront of a critical issue. Prior to last year’s hike, tuition levels had been stagnant for six years — unprecedented in the modern era. This was due, in part, to sustained lobbying efforts by dedicated student leaders.

“PEPs” deserve to be part of progressive conversations, despite having different views on Israel, but stepping up on other issues should not be a means to an end, namely acceptance in the community. Jewish students should strive to take on roles in systemwide leadership with no ulterior motive beyond wanting to affect change. Participation in not-explicitly-Jewish advocacy campaigns is driven by adherence to Jewish values. If this sort of advocacy ultimately demonstrates Jewish students’ value in progressive circles, it will be secondary to the value that fighting for justice has in itself.

The powers that be are never far from trying to enact new ways of abusing public university students.

But that just means that we are never too far away from an opportunity to fight for what is right.

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“Mishenichnas ____, Marbim B’simcha”

By Melody Hashemieh Happiness: a feeling many people are never done searching for and find hard to hold onto. Wouldn’t you agree? People find pleasure in all kinds of activities, whether it be watching cat videos online, buying a new car or even simply eating ice cream. Real internal happiness, however, the everlasting good vibes you’re struggling to find, won’t be found in the pleasure brought on by “things.”

With a date randomly picked from a lottery ages ago in ancient Persia, “Purim,” the day Haman’s decree for the killing of Jews would have been implemented, the horrible day at the end of the road we call life, was brought right before our eyes. However, through G-d’s hidden but always on-time-to-rescue hand, the evil Haman was defeated, and the Jewish people were saved.

In light of this miracle, the entire Jewish month of Adar was established as “the month of happiness,” dedicated to attaining a state of happiness and celebration.

While we have been given an obvious reason from our past, as just mentioned, to be joyous, how is it that we can consciously immerse ourselves with bliss everyday for an entire month? Even when things happen that we would think would put us on an ultimate high, it’s hard to hold on to the same heart-filling energy we had upon experiencing these things. If this is true, is it even possible to feel the same kind of joy from a miracle our ancestors experienced for an entire month!?

That’s what got me thinking. The intended happiness we’re supposed to feel during Adar is probably not the same kind that would come from anything physical. While a month feels short and maybe many of us can report being generally happy for a whole month if asked, happiness must be derived from a

different source if it is to provide inner bliss, regardless of the many shifting factors in our lives.

I tried to dig deeper, to understand why Adar particularly, of all the other months, is the month we attribute to happiness? In Nisan, we celebrate being freed from Egypt with Passover. In Sivan, we celebrate being given the Torah with Shavuot.

Thankfully, we are not lacking months that include miraculous holidays to celebrate G-d’s role in our lives, so what is it that makes Adar stand out as the month of happiness?

I read an article that a Facebook friend posted about a young woman, Holly Butcher, who was in her last moments, losing her battle with cancer. She wrote a letter before passing, which her father later published, describing what it’s like knowing that time is ticking by and that your day of passing is near. “It is fragile, precious and unpredictable, and each day is a gift, not a given right.” The words gave me chills, with stabs in the heart and an even greater slap to the face. With similar life lectures given by my parents, grandparents and teachers, such insights were not foreign. However, this was the first time I was able to believe and empathize with the message.

Coming from a young 27-yearold, who like many of us may have implicitly thought that we are somehow invincible, imagining myself in her situation completely stunned and shattered me as I read every word and felt the emotion she described from behind my laptop.

From reading about her imagining herself “growing old, wrinkled and grey — most likely caused by the beautiful family (lots of kiddies) I planned on building with the love of my life” to “I love my life. I am happy … I owe that to my loved ones,”

the ache in my gut began to deepen.

Her advice on what to spend less time dwelling on and what to spend more time doing, like donating blood, made a deep impression on me.

She was quick to assure, however, that her intentions in writing this note about not wanting to leave the life she loves, was not to instill a fear of death but, instead, to hopefully turn a new leaf by starting a real conversation that many people don’t want to be a part of: By empathizing with her and seeing the world from her perspective, our eyes open to the greatest source of endless happiness — a gratitude, for well, just living.

The pieces of the puzzle were coming together in my mind. No, we didn’t receive the Torah, our manual to life, during Adar. Nor were we freed from Egypt, nor did we win a great battle over an enemy army. We “simply” had our lives returned to us. (Not that they were ever really ours, we were quickly made to realize.) When Haman issued his decree, the idea that life can be taken for granted came crashing down. The day our death was decreed we became Holly Butcher.

Having to comprehend and swallow the idea that the end of our days was near forced us to see the world for what it truly was.

Now imagine, if after her shift in perspective, someone told Hol-

ly Butcher that she would be able to continue living life as she had.

Would she not promise herself and know that she owed it to herself to spend each day of that month just being happy no matter what? Would she not dedicate the month to not letting anything stand in the way of inner bliss, inner gratitude for being able to continue to live life? She would not just dedicate a month to being grateful — this happiness would become her new way of life.

Holly would never let a moment of anguish from something silly (which ends up being most things we worry about) soak up an ounce of her energy.

During the month of Adar, we are channeling an inner bliss that won’t come from our car, from our job or from our family, no matter how much we love all those things.

The intended month-long happiness can only come from maintaining a state of gratitude — the gratitude that the Jews had when G-d stepped in and gave them their lives back on Purim and the gratitude we have for G-d giving us life back every single day. Appreciation for simply being given another day that we know is not guaranteed and starting our morning with a thankful heart can be tapped into through the prayer, “Modeh Ani.” Literally it translates to “I give thanks,” and it is recited each morning before we even get out of bed. How beautiful

and crucial is it to note that the first words we are meant to start each morning with are words of gratitude. It’s common to ask, what is it that we are thankful for so early in the morning? (The day hasn’t even started. I’m still half asleep!) That’s the point. The prayer is about starting the new day on a positive note and with a thankful heart just for being alive. “King living and eternal, for You have returned within me my soul with compassion; abundant is Your faithfulness,” the prayer continues. Verbally expressing such a statement loud and clear is the secret recipe to happy days. Just try it, and watch yourself blossom.

The search for ‘happiness’ is no longer a mystery — it’s a pretty comforting idea. Adar is only a month long, but in reality, if more people knew this secret to finding the kind of happiness we want to have, we would already be celebrating the way we wait until Adar to do.

In the words of Holly Butcher, “Get out there and take a freaking big breath of that fresh [Aussie] air deep in your lungs, look at how blue the sky is and how green the trees are; It is so beautiful. Think how lucky you are to be able to do just that – breathe.”

Photo in Public Domain

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I Wrote This On Shabbat

Photos in Public Domain

By Ronnie Cohen Even as a child, lighting candles on Shabbat with my grandmother and mother as a ritual held a meaningful place in my heart. While my family never strictly adhered to every single rule of Shabbat, we observed it through the importance with which we regarded it and through the effort we put into recognizing it each week. Growing up in Israel where Shabbat is a seamless part of life taught me its value, but it also led me to take for granted how easy it was to observe Shabbat. I had, after all, always been supported by my environment and family to keep Shabbat alive in both spirit and tradition.

Things changed very quickly when I moved to college. I spent all of last year living in the dorms, isolated from other Jews. If there were any on the Hill, they were practically invisible, and I was far too reserved to dare venturing to Hillel by myself, despite my parents’ nagging. I stopped lighting candles on Shabbat because of the “no fire” policy (and was only rewarded for my compliance with multiple false fire alarms at 5 a.m. or earlier throughout the year). I felt it was pointless

to recite Kabbalat Shabbat on my own and eventually Shabbat became practically nonexistent.

Yom Kippur that year was the first I had spent fasting alone. I underestimated how difficult it would be. It wasn’t long before I could no longer bear my roommate’s unsuccessful (but very kind) attempts at suppressing the crunch of each snack. I was bored out of my mind and so existentially deprived that by noon, I didn’t care that if I left the dorm I wouldn’t be able to return because of the electric locks.

I spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly, searching in vain for anyone wearing a fancy suit and tennis shoes, hoping I could follow them to wherever the Jews are. That was the point when I knew I would do everything in my power to make sure the following year would be different.

And I succeeded a little too well.

The experience of moving into the Westwood Bayit has exceeded my expectations. Bayitniks — a term that refers to those who live in the Bayit — are such a lovely, diverse bunch, and frankly, I find them inspiring. They’ve connected

me to Hillel, JAM and all the other incredible Jewish organizations and groups on campus. I rediscovered Judaism and my connection to its values and traditions, but it was more than just that. Up until that point Judaism has always seemed very personal and solely introspective. For the first time, I began to experience and consider Judaism as a community and a unifier. I started regularly attending Shabbat dinners and participating in events and gatherings, like JewQ, JAM challah bakes and Jewish Learning Fellowship (JLF). These days, I find that I eat absurd amounts of challah, and I’m weirdly okay with that.

I find it admirable every time I see even those who don’t consider themselves to be particularly religious, drop whatever it is they’re doing to help complete a minyan, simply because they’re needed. It’s emblematic of who we are as a people.

And it’s funny, I don’t think at any point I felt any pressure or assertion from my surroundings to become “more religious” but having gained a better insight into the values behind the traditions, customs

and laws, I find myself wanting to live up to them. I’m mostly talking about Shabbat. However, I’ve come to learn that Shabbat isn’t so much kept as it is earned. Unfortunately, I’ve been doing a rather terrible job at earning it.

Every Saturday I wake up telling myself in vain, that ‘today is the first Shabbat of the rest of my life.’ It’s obnoxiously difficult to give up Saturday as a catch up day for everything that hadn’t been achieved throughout the week. I’d really like to blame it on the workload and crushing pressure toward academic excellence brought on by the competitive atmosphere generated by a productivity-oriented capitalist society. In truth, that’s probably not it.

I used to think “earning Shabbat” was a matter of time management. I’ve come to realize it has a lot more to do with priorities. I’ve been spending so many many hours at Hillel and JAM and so many late hours hanging out with Bayitniks, that work and productivity have been forcefully crunched into the short intervals in between. Yes, including on Shabbat.

I mean, of course, it’s not just

that. I’ve been juggling school work with my job, an internship, an extensive research thesis, Ha’Am and my unhealthy obsession with DC Comics, (just to name a few). You know how it is. We’re all busy. With my growing desire to keep Shabbat, I’ve had to evaluate which activity would be most worthy of sacrifice.

Having already boxed up the comics for less stressful times and with school, work and internships holding non-negotiable importance, the most obvious thing to cut back on is my involvement in the Jewish community.

I find it ironic that the same community that’s inspired me to keep Shabbat is the same community I would, to some extent, need to distance myself from in order to do so. I’ve been going back and forth trying to decide what’s more important. As you may have guessed, in the moment, I usually choose the former. However, while I have yet to earn Shabbat, I’m grateful for the way it has forced me to examine my own values and priorities more deeply. Who knows? Maybe that’s the first step.

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The Values of Yosef Bruin

By Joey Levin

Part of being a Jew means embracing certain values.

The sage Hillel famously said that the entire Torah can be summed up in a single phrase: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor.” Judaism emphasizes that every life is valuable and that every person is made in God’s image. Tikkun Olam, or repairing the world, holds a central place in Judaism, and we, as Jews, are supposed to be an Ohr La’Goyim, a light unto the nations. Being raised Jewish instilled in me all these values. But it wasn’t only my Jewish upbringing that taught me these values — it was my Bruin upbringing as well.

I am a Bruin born and bred. I grew up going to UCLA Basketball games and hearing about the UCLA greats, like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Bill Walton and, of course, John Wooden. I have pictures of myself as a little kid with John Wooden and Joe Bruin on the court at Pauley. My room was painted blue and yellow and mentions of USC were always followed by boos and hisses. But I didn’t truly realize what it meant to be a Bruin until I was admitted to UCLA and given the honor of joining the Bruin family.

When I arrived at UCLA for orientation, I was excited to be welcomed as a Bruin. The “formal” ceremony that takes place during orientation is known as Bruintization.

During the ritual, new Bruins dip their hands into the inverted fountain for the only time until they graduate and recite the True Bruin Pledge. Adherents to the pledge agree to be good studnets, to uphold the True Bruin Values of respect, accountability, integrity, service and excellence. To be Bruintized is to enter into a covenant, agreeing to stand by the Bruin Values and refrain from touching the fountain again until graduation. (If you do touch it, you will

have to stay an extra quarter.) This ceremony binds all Bruins together and inducts them officially into the community.

If you walk around UCLA’s campus or look at its website, you will inevitably encounter a reference to UCLA as “the optimists.”

Being an optimist means always looking for good in the world and striving to increase it. These are both inherently Jewish ideas. Just like optimists, Jews aim to increase goodness in the world through Tikkun Olam and Tzedakah. Through actions such as thanking God every morning for our basic needs, Jews focus on looking for what is good in the world. So many Jews and Bruins throughout history have embraced this view of optimism and made an impact on the world.

I want to focus on one Bruin who radically changed the world and stood by these values. Jackie Robinson, famous for breaking the color barrier in baseball, attended UCLA in 1939 and was

the only athlete in UCLA ever to win varsity letters in four sports: baseball, track, football and basketball. Jackie Robinson spent his life trying to make the world a more inclusive place, not just in the world of baseball but everywhere. His number, 42, is now retired across the entire MLB and at UCLA in honor of the contributions he made to this world.

Now for some fun: I’m now going to look into some Gematria, starting with Jackie Robinson’s number 42. Gematria uses numerical values for every Hebrew letter and finds words that total to the same value to find significance. A word that adds up to 42 is Gadlah, to increase. Jackie Robinson increased justice and equality in the world. Like Jackie Robinson, we, as Bruins, have a duty to make an impact on the world and increase whatever it is we have to offer. Another phrase that has interesting Gematria is “blue and gold,” the UCLA colors. Blue in Hebrew is Cachol, which is 64, and

Gold is Zahav, which is 14, meaning that “blue and gold” is 78. When you make it Cachol v’Lavan you get the same number as “dream,” Chalom and “knowledge,” Yedah. These numerical codes represent an important part of what being at UCLA is about: Yes, to gain knowledge — but more importantly, we strive for our dreams and we strive to be optimists. We are here to apply our knowledge and to make this world match the world of our dreams, thereby making the world a better place — and this is just what we, as Jews, strive to do.

The Gematria of “Yosef ” is 156, which is twice “blue and gold,” meaning that UCLA and Yosef are one and the same. This is also supported by the fact that UCLA’s mascot is Joseph Bruin. Another famous Jew with this same name: Rabbi Joseph Soloveichik, whose middle name was Dov translates to the bear. This means that his name was also Joe Bruin.

As I near the end of my

The Bruin Bear stands at the heart of UCLA’s campus in Bruin Plaza. (Photo Credit: Neeta Lind)

time at UCLA, I have come to appreciate what being a Bruin is truly about. While reciving an education and degree is vital, it isn’t only about that. It is about learning how to be a better person and strive for your dreams; it is about making the world a better place. But the journey doesn’t end with graduation. When I finish my last classes here, and I am no longer a student, I will jump into the Inverted Fountain, buy my UCLA Alumni license plate frame and get season tickets for basketball. In other words, I will join the global Bruin family. And I hope that I will be able to uphold the good name of UCLA throughout my life, raising my kids as Bruins just as I was and instilling in them the values of the Bruins.

Being a Bruin is about more than just the diploma I receive for graduating . It is about living by these values and striving to make the world better around us.

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Q&A

Interview with Holocaust Survivor H

By Alyssa Bonchick

I had the privilege of sitting down with Harry Davids, a Holocaust survivor. In our conversation, we discussed his life story, his worldview and his relentless optimism.

Responses have been edited mildly for clarity.

Can you tell me a little about yourself and what your community life were like growing up?

Well, I cannot tell you what my life was like growing up before I was taken to Africa because I have no recollection of it. I have no memories of anything that happened to me before. What I know is based on the research that’s in this binder, so everything is documented... that is my memory. If you want to know what it was like growing up in [South] Africa, I can tell you a little about that. I had a normal life there. Just like I probably would’ve had a normal life if I had come to the United States instead. I went to school, did the usual things, played sports and all that kind of stuff.

Did you ever experience any anti-Semitism over there?

In South Africa, in my first year or two at school, there was a little bit of anti-Semitism but not much and after that it went away — it stopped.

How did you cope emotionally with your experience?

Well, it’s really a question of how I coped after I was told about it because at the age of six while I was in Africa, the people that I believed were my parents asked me to come in their bedroom and shut the door. This was my first year at school, and they had something to ask me. They then shocked me by asking me If I was aware that they were not my real parents, that they were really my uncle and my aunt.

I did not recollect that when I was four and a half years old, a year and a half earlier, my uncle had to bring me to [South] Africa because my real parents and other family members had been killed in the big war. I was shocked. I had no recollection of that at all, and it did affect me psychologically. I had difficulty falling asleep for the next four years, for example. But, eventually, I

got over it. I was also very curious, and I was moved more by curiosity than anything else because I wanted to know more. So that conversation took place about 69 years ago now. Ever since then, whenever I have the chance, I try and get information about what happened not just to myself, but to my family and others.

How did you search for and find the information about what happened to your family?

Well, my new father was able to tell me a few things, but not much... they didn’t want to tell me much, I was too young. I tried to drag out a few tidbits of information from him as the years went by. But then, later [in my life], I met up with other people who had been there and started reading articles when they came out. I was able to make contact with other survivors in the country, but there were not that many. My biggest breaks came when I came to the United States and the internet emerged, but that was decades later.

Without the internet, I would not have been able to move as fast. One thing I did have before that, at age 21 and still living in Africa [was a dossier]... my uncle, who became my new father, turned over to me a dossier containing a lot of paperwork he had needed to win the custody battle for me in the Netherlands. [He had the paperwork because] you can’t just go into somebody’s home and say ‘this is my nephew, thank you for taking care of him, have a nice life, bye, I am taking him with me.’ You can’t do that. You have to be able to prove who you are, who the child is, how the two of you are related and prove that his parents are not still alive.

So, the [dossier contained] information about where we lived, documented proof about what happened to my parents, [and other] things like that. That dossier provided very valuable information to me. But most of the information that I really wanted, I could only get with the Internet. [The internet enabled me to] get names, and contact information, where I could even contact the people that I really had to contact. Sometimes I would get stuff in writing, perhaps through emails and faxes from people overseas, disproving things that I thought

were true and turned out to be false. So, all this took a long time.

When did you move to the United States?

I moved to the United States in June of 1979. I moved to San Diego with family members, and I was 37 years old.

Do you think the Holocaust strengthened or weakened your faith in the Jewish religion?

Well in my case, that is probably is not the right question, because I didn’t know what faith meant before the war. So, I think the fact that I knew what happened to me during the Holocaust, I think [the Holocaust] probably [did] not [strengthen my faith]. Whatever faith I had probably was not because of or even despite the Holocaust. Faith is an independent thing for me.

Did you form friendships during your experience?

No. My rescuing family was in the doghouse with their neighbors. Their neighbors had all found out that I was Jewish, and they probably didn’t want their children to befriend me at that time.

Why do you think it is so important to share your experiences?

It is important that people are aware of the things that happened. To alert people of the dangers of what happens when you have bigotry and racism of that kind, that they can lead to other things. Also, to point out that there are things you can do that, even if they don’t affect you [initially], over time they can affect you because people have to clean up the mess afterwards. And that is usually going to be the bystanders that clean up the mess.

My job is to encourage people to be up-standers, not bystanders... to prevent the mess in the first place rather than [ignore it until it’s too late]. It also serves as a warning to other minority groups: It could happen to them just as easily as it could to us and that they need to learn about this kind of history so that they are in-

A

Harry Davids

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formed. [I want them to be able to] see what is going on to the states, I decided to do a master’s program in the around them and take steps to prevent themselves from states at an old age. I got my master’s degree when I becoming victims before it is too late. was 60. It is never too late to get an education! However, it is a good idea to get it earlier if you can. But I have What do you want the participants of the Bearing been a life-long student.

Witness program to remember most about your experience?

Have you met anyone that has not believed your Good question. Well, I like the term Bearing Witness story? because in a sense, you are now a witness as well.

I don’t know if anyone may not believe my story. They Even though I was not a direct witness in the sense would have a hard job with me in any case because that I [do not] recall the events personally, I have all the they cannot challenge my memory. I don’t have one, I paperwork to prove [that I was there.] So, people like have never claimed to have one. They would have to yourself, you are now all witnesses yourself. [You are] challenge all the documentary evidence. If there are bearing witness of what has happened, and you can any who don’t believe, they are welcome to come have pass that message on to others to ensure that there will a look at it. They will have a hard job [denying my stobe enough up-standers in the future when bad events ry]. I would probably be a Holocaust denier’s nightmare start happening again. Also, [you can] alert people in because they would have to challenge each piece of trouble of what is going on so they will not become vic- evidence. They would have to say “this is fake,” “that is tims themselves. fake,” and so on. In fact, they would have to say everything is fake in order to make their case.

When and why did you begin to speak out about the Holocaust?

Why did you choose to take part in Bearing WitWell, you can’t speak out about the Holocaust because ness? it already happened. I can use the Holocaust as a Because my job is to educate people, and this is an edteaching tool to warn people, and that I have been doucational program [for college students]. I am particularing since I retired. Before that, I didn’t even have all the ly interested in speaking to students because you are at information that I wanted, and I was working very hard, the stage of your life where you really study the history, long hours. So, I couldn’t really get involved in Holoat least at school and at the age where you really start caust education until after I retired about 10 years ago. thinking for yourselves. You can ask the right questions.

So, I think that students of either high school or college Did you go to college? age are the best people I should be speaking to.

I went to college in [South] Africa. Actually, when I came

Portrait of a family of Dutch rescuers and the Jewish child they were hiding. Pictured are the family of Berend Philip Bakker and Jeltje Bakker-Woudsma. Harry Leo Davids, the subject of this article, is sitting in the front row on the far right. (Photo Credit: United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of Sytske Huisman-Bakker)

10

Whose Tribe is it Anyway?

A visit in the Black Hebrews community in Dimona, Israel. The photo is taken in the community vegetarian dining hall. (Photo Credit: Dror Eiger)

By Grayson Peters Throughout history, and even today, outspoken racists and anti-Semites have claimed to be part of the 10 Lost Tribes of Israel. Many have portrayed themselves as members of the true Chosen People, some declaring that the Jews are demonic impostors. What began as an egotistical theory used by British racists to justify imperialism has today evolved into fringe ideologies characterized by malicious Judeophobia and racial supremacism.

In 1840, British historian John Wilson published a collection of his lectures entitled “Our Israelitish Origin,” in which he claimed that the British people were descended directly from the ancient Hebrews.

Wilson argued that humanity was divided into three “Grand Races” — the “Calmuc-Tartars” (Asians), “Caucasians,” and “Negroes.” Wilson claimed that the Caucasian race was objectively superior to the other two. According to Wilson, the warlike Calmuc-Tartars were “wanting in masterly wisdom,” morality and intellect, and the childlike Negroes were deficient in “reasoning power and mechanical ingenuity.”

Clearly, Wilson was racist, although his pseudoscientific conjectures about racial hierarchies predated the advent of scientific racism following Darwin’s 1859 publication of “On the Origin of Species.” Wilson primarily justified the alleged superiority of the Caucasian race on shaky theological arguments and the assertion that the Caucasians were of Hebrew stock. This Biblically-inspired racial ideology was known as “British Israelism.”

In Wilson’s worldview, the three Grand Races were primarily defined

by their respective descent from Noah’s three sons: Japheth, Ham and Shem. The Calmuc-Tartars (Asians) were descended from Japheth, the Negroes from the cursed Ham and the Caucasians from Shem. These tenets of British Israelism, widely accepted by Europeans before and after Wilson’s publication, would be cited as justification for European colonialism during the 19th century.

Although the text of Noah’s curse of Ham never mentions his skin color, the curse of Ham became associated with dark skin and Africa; European states used the curse to justify the paternal imperialism of “sinful” Africans, who were said to be literally blackened by their cursed heritage. British colonialism in “Japhetic” Asia, on the other hand, was justified by a purposeful misreading of Genesis 9:27: “God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem, and Canaan shall be his servant.” Imperial advocates claimed that the reference to the “tents of Shem” prophesied the dominance of the Semitic/Caucasian race and the “enlargement” of European empire in Asia. Curiously, however, Wilson espoused praise for the Jewish people, who he regarded as “an improved specimen of this [Semitic] race,” highly intellectual (although small-brained), and “beautifully proportioned.” The modern-day legacy of Wilson’s racist British Israelism is far less tolerant of Jews.

According to the Anti-Defamation League, the contemporary Christian Identity Movement is a virulently racist and anti-Semitic ideology that claims whites of European descent are descended from

the 10 Lost Tribes of Israel, and that Jews are descended from Cain, secretly the child of Eve and the Serpent of Eden. As such, Christian Identity members believe that the Jewish people are descended from the Devil and are literally demonic. Non-whites are characterized as “mud people” and are claimed to have arisen without divine inspiration, before Adam and Eve. As a result, the Christian Identity Movement trades the paternalistic racism of Wilson’s three Grand Races for a much more explicitly hateful worldview that denies the basic humanity of non-whites and Jews.

In 1983, a radical white nationalist and Christian Identity group known as The Order formed in Washington state. The group explicitly sought an armed revolution against the United States government —which they characterized as the “ZOG” (Zionist-Occupied Government) — and the creation of a white ethnostate called the Northwest Territorial Imperative.

The Order assassinated liberal Jewish radio host Alan Berg, bombed a synagogue and tried to finance their racial revolution through a string of bank and car robberies.

In December 1984, the FBI raided and dismantled The Order. Those who were eventually convicted became martyrs for today’s white nationalists. The Fellowship of God’s Covenant People — a church in Union, Kentucky — provides an infamous and enduring example of the Christian Identity Movement.

The church’s website fallaciously asserts that the Jews are a multi-racial group that impersonates the true Israelites, commits ritual mur-

der of Christian children, faked the Holocaust and controls world governments and finance. Jews are referred to as “wicked,” “mongrels” and “parasites.”

The Christian Identity Movement is unique because it claims true Jewishness while simultaneously vilifying Jews. Christian Identitarianism justifies anti-Semitism in both racial and religious terms. To the movement, Jews are not merely a distinct racial group opposed to the interests of whites, or misguided followers of an outdated religion; the Christian Identity ideology states that Jews are an inherently evil race descended from Satan and devoid of humanity.

Ironically, these white nationalist views are paralleled by extremist members of the Black Hebrew Israelites, who according to the Southern Poverty Law Center, claim that they are the true descendants of Israel and that Jews are Satanic impostors. Extremist Black Hebrew Israelites, such as members of the Israelite Church of God in Jesus Christ, harass white people and Jews on streets, promote anti-Semitic rhetoric, and allege the racial superiority of non-whites. This doctrine of racial superiority is, parallel to Christian Identity arguments, justified by theologically dubious claims of Hebrew heritage and Chosen People status.

Why is it that both black and white racial supremacists have sought to claim the history and identity of the Jewish people, while espousing hate against Jews? For Wilson and other proponents of British Israelism in the 19th century, claims to Israelite heritage were an easy way to feel more connected

to Biblical stories and Christianity.

Their beliefs also provided convenient justification for colonialist behavior and paternalistic rule over those seen as racially inferior.

Both modern Christian Identitarians and extremist Black Hebrew Israelites have seized upon the Jewish history of suffering and powerlessness as a means of political expression. White nationalist Christian Identitarians feel victimized by demographic changes, increasing secularism, and the reality of a multicultural America. Black Hebrew Israelites have historically embraced the history of Jewish oppression and disenfranchisement in parallel to the racism and segregation they have faced in American society. Both contemporary movements choose to claim the name and victimhood of the Jews as a way to reaffirm their group identity under external pressure.

The common thread, however, between all three instances of coopting Jewish identity — British Israelism, Christian Identity and Black Hebrew Israelites — is the misguided and selfish desire to claim the label of the Chosen People. These racial supremacists fundamentally misconstrue the nature of the Chosen People. According to the Torah, the Jews are chosen by God not to be superior to others but to carry a unique moral and spiritual responsibility to be a “Light Unto the Nations.” Those who would lay claim to Jewishness to justify racism betray their fundamental ignorance about the identity they seek to steal.

Waking Lions: A Predator’s Choice

11

Ayelet Gundar-Goshen, author of Walking Lions, which was named to the New York Times 100 Notable books of 2017 list, speaks at an event in UCLA’s Fowler Museum on Feb. 22. (Photo courtesy of Nazarian Center for Israel Studies)

By Devorah Norton Israeli writer Ayelet Gundar-Goshen, acclaimed author of the novel Waking Lions, named one of New York Times’ 100 Notable Books of 2017, spoke UCLA’s Fowler Museum Feb. 22. She participated in a dialogue about the background of her book and the events that inspired her to write it.

UCLA writing professor David Kipen moderated the dialogue, which was sponsored by the Nazarian Center for Israel Studies in conjunction with Writers Bloc and various UCLA Departments, including the Department of Comparative Literature, the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Cultures and the UCLA Center for Near Eastern Studies.

Gundar-Goshen is not only an author. She also works both as a screenwriter and a licensed, practicing psychologist in Israel. Gundar-Goshen’s work as a psychologist played a part in her motivations writing the book. Waking Lions is about an Israeli doctor who hits someone while speeding home one night. He always considered himself a good man, but when he realizes the man he hit is an African migrant who won’t be missed, he makes a life-changing decision to flee instead

of facing his actions. This decision changes everything because the migrant’s wife witnessed the hit and run. Therefore, she finds him the next day to blackmail him. However, she doesn’t want money, and her unique “price” forever changes life as he knows it. To make matters worse, his wife is the detective assigned to investigate the migrant’s death. The novel is full of suspense, symbolism and moral quandaries.

Gundar-Goshen’s goal is to make the reader look deep inside themselves; it makes you wonder what you would do in the similar situation. It’s easy to say you would stay and help, instead of hit-and-run, but in the absence of witnesses or cameras, would you really confess to a crime that would ruin the rest of your life and forever change the lives of your children?

Gundar-Goshen revealed the book was inspired by a true story of an Israeli doctor who hit an Indian beggar in the Himalayas and decided to flee, fearing the authorities and the loss of material comforts he had grown accustomed to. Gundar-Goshen was pregnant as she wrote parts of the novel, and the story’s moral dilemmas made her wonder what would she do to be

able to come home to her children at night. If she were in a foreign country and hit someone that the authorities wouldn’t notice — would she let them die so her children could grow up with a mother?

Another major question that most people are too afraid to ask themselves is, does the fact that, in both of these scenarios, the person who was hit was poor, matter? If the doctor hit another doctor, instead of a migrant or a beggar, would that change anything? Do human beings place more value on the lives of some than the lives of others? How can education, nationality or ethnicity determine the value of one’s life?

In the original story, it is said that the man left a few hundred dollar bills on the body of the Indian beggar. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but fear of prison lead him to choose himself and his family over the life of another. For Gundar-Goshen, the scariest part of hearing this story, and the reason she ended up writing a novel based on it, is the Israeli doctor was a completely normal person. Gundar-Goshen said, when the man was described, he felt like the mirror image of her: he was a law-abiding, tax-paying, parent, doctor and

friend with hobbies and interests just like anyone else. Nothing about his life made him seem like the “type” of person who would do such a terrible thing. This is a terrifying revelation because it shows that anyone is capable of such atrocities. But is he really a bad guy for wanting to make it home? As she wrote the novel, Gundar-Goshen wondered, is she a bad person for understanding his motivations? Would she truly be able to turn herself in at the expense of her children’s childhoods?

The book is not just about a car accident, it’s about a moral dilemma. Do we know who we are? At what point does the line between right and wrong start to blur? She uses an African migrant in the book to make a statement about the refugee crisis. Most of her grandparents fled to modern-day Israel before the Holocaust. As the descendant of refugees, Gundar-Goshen expressed the irony of Israel’s current stance on refugees. After the war, we said never again, but how does that translate to helping other nations in need?

Furthermore, the name of the book is inspired by Israel’s newfound status as a developed, educated, and almost privileged nation.

She explores the topic of white supremacy and spoke in detail of the idea that Israelis commonly view themselves as victims. They forget that after being victims for so long, they’ve managed to rise above, and at this point in time, can sometimes be the predators. The title Waking Lion refers to the notion that people may not even realize a latent predator sleeps inside them. A person has no idea what they are capable of until they are faced with a choice like this one. Another question Gundar-Goshen asks is, after being a victim for so long, what does one do with power? On one hand, understanding what it’s like to be on the other side should lead to more empathy, but often, it leads people to be more aggressive, so they can protect themselves.

Ultimately, Gundar-Goshen’s novel is well-written, suspenseful and thought-provoking. She taps into important ethical debates and forces the reader to engage in important introspection. I understand why the book was translated into 13 languages and I am excited for the day when her next novel is translated to English.

12

Diversity In

Not Your Typical Persian

By Michael Dayan “You are not a not a typical Persian.” “You are not a typical Orthodox Jew.” “You are not a typical transfer.” These comments always irk me. However, when one questions my Persian identity, I tend to take it more personally. Perhaps it is because my Persian roots are inescapable. I chose to be religious, I chose to be a transfer student, but I never chose to be Persian. I love my Persian identity, but I inherited it at birth. While I take issue with the other “not your typical” remarks as well, the comments that aim to detach me from my Persian identity hurt me the most.

Interestingly, these remarks come from two differing fronts: my Persian friends on the one hand and my non-Persian friends on the other.

My non-Persian friends tend to have the idea that Persians are of a lower caliber. Perhaps this stems from the wrong, yet still hurtful, stereotypes of Persians that portray us as cheap, incompetent, unsophisticated Middle-Easterners. Luckily, my lighter skin tone, red hair and extroverted personality were

enough to save me from being bullied about my nationality ­— however, my other Persian friends were not so lucky. I used to feel a great sense of pride when I was told I did not “look or act” Persian. It made me feel cool, It made me feel normal and worst of all, it finally made me distinct from my very own family.

Sure, I sometimes had to endure the pennies hurled my way, but I was doing better off than most of my Persian friends. It was as if hearing, “you are not a typical Persian” helped me escape the stigma attached to being Persian.

However, as time went on, I realized that the remarks about me being a “unique Persian” were demeaning. I was viewed as an exception to my own identity and that always stung. As years went on, I began embracing my Persian identity and soon after, most of my non-Persian friends began to embrace it as well. I had friends asking me to come over for Shabbats every week, complimenting Persian cuisine and enjoying the Persian culture my family exuded. Being a Mizrahi Jew became hip and the paradigm shift-

ed. It was now the Ashkenazi Jews who were portrayed as bland and cultureless.

And then there are the comments from the second side — from my Persian friends. “You are not a not a typical Persian, you’re basically a Sephid [a white].” That’s what one of my Persian friends told me just a few months ago after he saw a picture of me surfing on Instagram. I hesitantly smiled. Hesitantly, because I was uncomfortable with the idea of my identity being bargained with in exchange for an active hobby that I have. Smiled because I’ve heard this remark too often. It appeared that as soon as I began embracing my Persian roots and displaying my Mizrahi pride, my identity was being devalued and I was being written off as a “white boy.”

I was mocked for being an active member of the campus community at Santa Monica College, and I was mocked for being an active transfer student at UCLA. I remember walking in on two or three conversations about how Sephid I was for joining the men’s rowing team at UCLA.

Although these remarks were more jests and were not meant to be personal attacks, it bothered me that my identity was being written of by my own people. I found it ironic that Persian students who could not even speak Farsi were attacking me, a Persian who does speak fluent Farsi at home and even had the opportunity to visit Iran and further explore my Persian heritage.

My Persian friends always give off the impression that anything that is part of American culture and is not done to further my career is deemed “Sephid.”

Often times I wonder, what is a typical Persian? Is it someone who plays off the negative stereotypes of being cheap and unsophisticated? It can’t be because the Persians I know (and as a member of the Persian community, I know many) are the most generous and hospitable people in existence and live some of the most sophisticated and lavish lives imaginable. Additionally, Persians dominate the STEM fields in Los Angeles and are powerhouses in the business and real estate worlds. Is a typical Persian unassimilated and

A family gathers for Norooz, the Persian and Central Asian New Year, celebrated on the first day of Spring. Often, the celebrations last for several days. (Photo Credit: Robert Wilson)

apathetic to his surroundings, strictly focusing on marking the milestones needed to advance his career?

This doesn’t seem right either, as many Persians I know are philanthropic and active members of their surrounding communities. UCLA is a prime example of how Persian students are, indeed, highly involved with their surrounding environments and play prominent roles on campus. Persians do assimilate and embrace American culture — and there is nothing wrong with that.

Just as with every other nationality, every individual Persian is different.

It is never okay cheapen another’s identity. No non-Persian has the right to tell me how Persian I am, nor even does any Persian have that right. My identity need never be bargained for, nor does it have to fit any standard. There is no one-sizefits-all. No one can tell me that I am not a typical Persian.

On the contrary, it seems that I am a typical Persian. I love to be hospitable and generous to my friends. I love to eat Ghormeh Sabzi and Tahdigh. I love challenging myself in academics so that one day I will be able to give back to this amazing country we live in. I love playing Tachteh while drinking some Doogh. I love hanging out with my Persian family during Shabbat dinners. However, I also love going surfing and eating my midnight grilled cheese. I also love being an active member of my UCLA community. I love writing music and learning to play the guitar. I love waking up at 4 a.m. to go rowing. I also love attending every Israel conference that exists. I love spending Shabbat with my Ashkenaz friends, as well (though I’m pretty sure I’ll never end up eating Gefilte fish). And yes, I am a typical Persian, because a typical Persian is nuanced. A typical Persian knows how to chase his or her dreams and get what they want and deserve.

A typical Persian knows how to strive, how to excel and how to earn self-satisfication.

I am Michael Dayan, and I am a typical Persian.

Our Nation

13

Not Your Typical Jew

By Devorah Norton I attended an Orthodox Jewish school in Los Angeles for most of my life, yet, when I walked in a room, no matter how Tznius (modest) I am, people automatically assume I am not Jewish.

I remember one weekend, when I was a middle school, I walked into Pizza Station, an LA favorite located in the heart of the Pico/Robertson Jewish Community, one weekend.

The restaurant was down the block from the school I had attended since I was five years old, one of the owners was my P.E. teacher in elementary school, and they even catered my school’s weekly pizza lunch. I had been eating there for as long as I could remember and spent countless hours of my life in that little store. That particular day, I ordered a slice with their one-of-a-kind soy meat as my topping.

As I turned around to find a seat, a secularly-dressed woman had the audacity to ask me, “are you even Jewish? How did you find this place?” Now, I don’t know what her Jewish background was, and am not sure if this was her first time at Pizza Station. All I know is, I was in my home turf, dressed modestly, eating kosher food, a block away from my Orthodox school, and still, a stranger deemed it appropriate to question my religious background.

On another occasion, I was at a friend’s house for Shabbat dinner where I was the only girl at the table dressed in Shabbat clothes that meet Orthodox modesty standards.

Yet, when I mentioned a commentary I remembered learning about in school in response to the dinner conversation, a British man burst out, “Oh! I didn’t think you were Jewish.”

In the Orthodox World, Tznuah (modesty), doesn’t just refer to a way of dressing but also a way of acting and speaking. In both of these scenarios, I was portraying Jewish ideals in both my dress and speech, yet it was racial background that led to rude and alienating comments.

As somebody raised in the Orthodox world, I understand why others are curious when they meet me. I am part black, which is not

something you see everyday in the Orthodox community. Growing up in the Orthodox communities of Los Angeles, most people instinctively thought I must be Persian or some other form of Middle Eastern because that was easier to grasp than an Orthodox, black Jew. To a certain extent, I understand. When I meet an Asian or Mexican Jew, I too am curious about their background.

I think I would be curious if I met myself.

I am not your typical Jew. I am not your typical anything.

I have a very mixed heritage that has shaped me to be anything but typical. But I am Jewish through and through. Despite my mixed ancestry, I don’t feel anything except Jewish. I am not your typical Orthodox Jew. I’m religious but unfortunately not observant. Yet, I am not your typical unobservant Jew either. I learn. I try. I strive to be better. In that way, maybe I am typical. We, as a people, never stop striving to be better.

Life is nothing if not a learning curve. We get caught up labeling and judging others, but not everyone is meant to fit neatly into a box. While some parts of life don’t have a “typical” demographic, others do.

I was not your typical Birthright participant.

Though I attended with a diverse group of people, ultimately most of the participants were learning about Israel for the first time. I was the only one on my bus who walked off the plane with stories and images of ancient Israel in my mind and went on a whirlwind adventure that finally allowed me to experience the land I had learned about in Chumash class since childhood.

I am not your typical learner. I learn through

experience. I am not your typical seminary-goer. Despite my Orthodox background, I graduated from a public high school and didn’t go to seminary until the summer after my freshman year of college. I attended again over winter break.

At the end of the day, I am not your typical Jew because being Jewish is between me and Hashem (God), and it is not up for debate.

Countless alienating experiences pushed me away from the Jewish people in my youth. I got sick of sitting at Shabbat tables and being blatantly questioned and forced to defend my Jewish background despite being more Judaically knowledgeable than many of the adults questioning me. I spent years studying Jewish law daily, and

since about a year after I left Jewish day school, I have maintained a chavrusa (Jewish learning partner) and/or attended Jewish classes multiple times a week.

I can recall countless stories of rude encounters, and as an young, impressionable teenager, it genuinely pushed me away from Judaism.

However, as I have grown older, I have learned that some people just don’t know better and often have no idea how rude they’re being. Therefore, I try to be understanding unless they’re blatantly disrespectful.

All in all, a child should never have to defend their status when they visit a friend’s home or a family establishment and, ultimately, the message is: people no longer fit into “types”

and boxes as neatly as they once did. History is complicated, aesthetics are changing and alienating our youth is not doing anyone any good .

Israel has more people with my complexion than fair-skinned Jews with blonde hair and blue eyes, yet no one questions their appearance.

With our origins tracing back to the Middle East, we are, historically, a darker people! What does a “Jew” look like anyway? There is no longer a “typical” looking Jew and, as a community, we would do well in remembering that before passing judgment. I am not your typical Jew ­­— and neither are you — and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Illustration by Melody Lopez

14

Facebook Data Provides Insight on Campus Jewish Programming Engagement

By Jacob Schaperow

tion, with the numbers in parentheses corresponding to events happening

According to the Forward’s specifically during Weeks Jewish College Guide, UCLA Hillel 4-5, when they are different from reports 3,500 Jewish students on the number of events for the first campus. With sign-ins for every half of the quarter, overall. For exShabbat dinner, it is no secret that ample, Chabad hosted five events Hillel keeps tabs on who is comduring Weeks 1-5, but only two ing to which events. While data events during Weeks 4-5. from Hillel and other Jewish cam The events were divided into pus organizations would be inter“social”, “religious,” and “volunesting to analyze, and we would teer” categories. Shabbat dinners, welcome any data submissions challah baking, meals, and Israel from event organizers for furevents were categorized as social; ther research, Ha’Am decided to Jewish learning and prayer events conduct an independent assessas religious, and fundraising and ment of event attendance, using political activism were included publicly available Facebook event in volunteer. The following results RSVPs. show the relationships between

UCLA Jewish students have host organization, event type, and a lot of options. There were 34 the number of people invited, or different Jewish events adverresponding “interested” or “gotised on Facebook during Weeks ing” on Facebook. Also, we com4-5 of winter quarter 2018 pared Facebook RSVPs to actual alone. Resources for Jewish Bruattendance for a few events and ins are tremendous, with Hillel, looked at male-female ratios of Chabad, and JAM (Jewish Aware- invitees. Note that the Harvard ness Movement) hosting events Institute of Politics reported that throughout the school year. The nearly 90 percent of college stuJewish Learning Initiative on dents use Facebook (Harvard, Campus (JLIC) partners with Hil- 2015). lel to put on Shabbat, holiday, and Jewish learning events, and Base Many people are invited to Westwood, a new Hillel program, events, but few respond: invites students for Shabbat din- Overall, many more people ners and mid-week conversations are invited to events than reply about Judaism in an apartment “going” or “interested” on Facesetting. book. For the average Facebook

We collected Facebook RSVP event, 168 people were invited, 14 responded “interested” and data for 41 events from the first 11 responded “going.” Figure 1 half of winter quarter. We only logged a few events during Weeks shows the mean number of people who RSVP-ed to events hosted 1-3, but we logged nearly all events taking place during Weeks by Chabad, Hillel, JLIC, and JAM. 4-5. Table 1 shows the number of Hillel and Chabad invited more than 200 people to their events events hosted by each organizaon average, while JAM and JLIC inTable 1. Number of events by host and category during Weeks 1-5 of winter quarter 2018.

vited closer to 100 people. However, percent engagement, defined as the fraction of people who RSVP-ed “going” or “interested” to a FB event out of the total number of people invited, hovered around 20 percent for each host organization. For all 41 events logged during the winter 2018 quarter, the average engagement was 19 percent.

presumably the event hosts. After that, the number of people RSVPing “going” increases by one for every 20 people invited.

In 2016, Hillel International surveyed 13,000 undergraduates on 79 campuses in 2016 as part of Hillel’s “Drive to Excellence Strategic Implementation Plan” (Hillel, 2016; 2014). One of the plan’s goals is to have 90 percent

to Facebook event invites. Of the 1,680 people invited to Jewish UCLA Facebook events during the winter 2018 quarter, only 177 responded “going” to at least one event, and 365 people responded “going” or “interested” to at least one event.

Another Hillel “Drive to Excellence” goal is to have 20 percent of students participating in

Figure 1. Mean number of RSVPs vs. host organization. The number of invited people reflects the total number of invited people, including those who have already positively RSVP-ed, and is the sum of “invited,” “interested,” and “going” on Facebook.

While relatively few people responded to Facebook event invites, overall, there was positive correlation between the number of people invited to an event and the number of people RSVP-ing “going,” perhaps a rather obvious result. Even with no people invited to Facebook events, 2.5 people RSVP as “going,” on average,

of college students “known to their local Hillel.” Our Facebook RSVP data give an idea of where campus Jewish organizations are in terms of student engagement, currently.

“high-impact activities.” The 2016 survey revealed that 38 percent of survey respondents participated in Hillel activities “frequently” (at least six times). 18 percent reported 4-5 activities, 24 percent 1-3 activities and 21 percent

The total number of unique reported no participation. While individuals invited to Jewish proit is not the same as actual atgramming via Facebook events tendance data, we found that of during Weeks 1-5 of winter quar1,350 unique individuals invited ter 2018 was about 1,680. Comto Jewish events on Facebook paring this to the Hillel-estimated during Weeks 4-5, 50 percent 3,500 Jewish students on campus were invited to only one event, 13 implies that Jewish organizapercent to two events, 9 percent tions are reaching approximately to three events, 6 percent to four 48 percent of Jewish students, with the caveat that some of the 1,680 invitees may not be Jewish students. Few people respond

Table 2. Median male-female (MF) ratios for Jewish campus events, separated by host organization. perhaps because the program is brand-new this quarter, have struggled to draw much interest on social media. Again, inferring actual attendance from this graph would be very problematic. For instance, despite relatively few Facebook RSVPs, JLIC’s Nooshe Facebook RSVPs do not seem Joon and JAM’s Wednesday night to predict actual attendance: Challah Bake Socials regularly

Anyone who uses Facebook draw crowds of at least 30-40 people, anecdotally. can tell you that Facebook event RSVPs are not necessarily good Male-female ratios are Table 3. Median male-female (MF) ratios for Jewish campus events, separated by category. The last row includes an “overall” category, summarizing all events. indicators of how many people skewed will come to events. Facebook RSVPs are impersonal; it can

When looking through the seem like there is less risk of Facebook data, it became clear hard feelings between the guest that there was a discrepancy beand the host than if the invitatween men and women in terms tion were issued verbatim. Also, of RSVPs. Even though there were Facebook RSVPs are public; some approximately an even number people may not want to broadcast of men and women overall, men their plans to the world when replied “going” or “interested” to they RSVP to a public event.

Facebook events more often, on average, than women, with a me Figure 2 shows RSVPs for data from the 2016 Hillel Interna- portant to you that people come, dian of 1.4 men replying “going” Hunt, Elle. I’ve put my event on Faceeach of the 41 events, as well as tional survey, which counted 38 and that you are watching the book. Now how do I make sure peoactual attendance data for several for every women replying “going” percent male respondents vs. 61 RSVPs. Also, post on the event ple actually come? April 14, 2017.The events. Though the sample size is over all 41 events. percent female respondents (an wall so that it does not get overGuardian. https://www.theguardian. small, there is clearly a discrepMF ratio of 0.6), out of a sample run with “can’t make it” respons Tables 2 and 3 summarize com/culture/2017/apr/14/ive-putancy between the number of peo- these results for different host or- of 13,000 undergraduates (Hillel, es. She writes that other people my-event-on-facebook-now-how-do-iple RSVP-ing and the number of may be less likely to come if they make-sure-people-actually-come ganizations and event categories. 2016). actual attendees. Sometimes the While men are more likely than think that other people are not Hillel. (2016). Measuring Excellence: How to get people to attend number of actual attendees was coming.

Summary of Student Outcomes Findwomen to RSVP, in general, Hillel ings. Hillel International. https://hilmuch higher than the number of events and volunteering events your event?

Also, bizarrely, it is helpful lelinternational.app.box.com/s/jylbzzpeople who responded “going,” tend to skew female, with more

One of this study’s findings to have people RSVP for Facebook rfzbfpj5enhfenau83qtazpqvd and sometimes it was a bit lower. women invited to these events is that inviting more people is events even if they are not going While this highlights the uncerHillel. (2014). The Drive to Excellence: than men, and also more women correlated with more RSVPs (Figbecause it makes the events seem The 2014-2019 Hillel International tainty of predicting actual event responding “going” or “interesture 2). While we did not look into more popular and because Face- Strategic Implementation Plan. Hillel attendance from Facebook RSVPs, ed.” On the other hand, religious the effects of social media stratbook’s algorithms will make the International. http://www.hillel.org/ there is still much interesting events and JAM and JLIC events docs/default-source/default-docuegy on event attendance, this is event more prominent in users’ information to be gleaned from drew the most Facebook RSVPs ment-library/hillel-sip-2014.pdf?slikely an important factor. newsfeeds if more people have RSVP data. from men. For Hillel events, a fvrsn=0 RSVPed (Lorenz, 2017).

For Facebook events, Elle Lorenz, Taylor. Say no to no: There’s an

Hillel events tend to engage male-female (MF) ratio of 0.8 for Hunt of the Guardian (Hunt, invitees suggests that Hillel is Algorithmic Reason You Should Reply more students than events hosted 2017) recommends treating the ‘Yes’ to Every Facebook Event. Nov. 16, by other organizations, with two reaching more women than men, References 2017. The Daily Beast. https://www. and an MF ratio of 1.4 for JLIC in- event like a marketing campaign. of its Shabbat dinners garnering thedailybeast.com/theres-an-algorithHarvard. (2015). How Millenials Use vitees suggests that JLIC is reach- This means updating the page more than 70 “goings” and “inmic-reason-you-should-reply-yes-to-evSocial Media. Harvard IOP. http://iop. regularly to remind invitees that ing more men than women.

The teresteds”on Facebook. However, ery-facebook-event harvard.edu/iop-now/how-millenniit’s happening and that it is imlow Hillel MF ratios agree with Hillel’s Base Westwood events, als-use-social-media

events, and 23 percent to more than four events. Evidently, there are about 300 people who are frequently invited to Jewish Facebook events at UCLA. One student even received 25 event invitations over a two-week period.

Figure 2. Engagement for a collection of 41 Jewish events in Weeks 1-5 of the winter 2018 quarter. Green bars show the number of people replying “going” on Facebook, orange bars show the number of “interested” people, and the black lines divide the chart into sections by host organization. Black diamonds show actual numbers of attendees based on counts at the events.

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