In an effort to show how incredibly disgusting food like McDonald's is, an author bought a Happy Meal, placed it on a shelf for a year, and has reported that like the plastic toys included, the burger and fries have shown NO SIGNS OF DECAY.

Ladies and gentleman, if there was some sort of rabbinical seal for "Least Kosher/Most Disgusting Food on the Planet", I'd have to guess this would be the clear winner. 

This week, Lipa Schmeltzer gave us far more than his standard misspelled and gramatically incoherent tweets. Through the God that is Twitter, he provided us with news that he has recently published a Passover Hagadah, linking to a yidenglish "exclusive" interview with a reporter from VIN news, who not only announced  to his viewers that he waited an hour for his VIP interviewee, but reported the wrong date for the release of Lipa's next album, stating a date for the album drop that in no way resembled the actual one.

 

 

 

 

Follow that link and what do you get...Lipa's thoughts on his recent haggada, including images of what happened in Egypt during those wretched ten plagues. Did you know that Egyptians and their Jewish slaves drank out of the same water glass using colored flexi-straws!? - Neither did we. Did you know that the four sons were Hassidic? Or all children of Lipa's? Fascinating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before parting, leaving readers begging for more, Lipa leaves us with one last video in which after comparing himself to a spicy tuna roll he informs us how much he spent to make each Haggadah, how pricy yet luxurious the art of lamination is, and how much work goes into giving folks a Haggadah that's multi-lingual, translating Passover Seders into English and the ever-loving dead language of Yiddish. He also tells us how many he ordered from his Israeli distributor, how he made his family reinact a Seder in mid-January, and how he avoids phlegm by resisting the temptation to drink kosher virgin strawberry daquiris topped with reddi-whip.

Antony Lerman of The Guardian talks about Yiddish not being dead; makes a bunch of statements about Hasidim, Zionism, and karaoke machines.  While it's great of Lerman to discuss this wild and crazy Yiddish resurgence, it's that dry, surrealist British humor in the comments that makes this article worth the time:

 

 

When I was fourteen, my best friend and I wrote a zine called Spit on Boys and made the mistake of bringing copies to our high school. In a matter of hours, we had accidentally handed our precious alternative world over to the mainstream for them to do what they would with it. And it wasn't pretty.

They didn't understand. They took key phrases and concepts and ran with them, twisting meanings, cutting edges, mincing the deepest of thoughts. We had a secret gift, we were in on the inside scoop, until everyone else got a hold of it and turned it into something less authentic, a dumbed-down version of everything we loved.

But what if worlds shouldn't always be so precious and insular? Marisa Meltzer writes in the preface of her new book, Girl Power: The Nineties Revolution In Music (Faber & Faber), "Riot grrrl didn't stay within the confines of one scene, which allowed the concept of girl power to grow into something much larger and, I think, more interesting." She surprises me even further when, on the next page, she writes about getting tickets for the Spice Girls reunion show.

My first thought was "hmmm", but Meltzer had earned her old school riot grrrl cred, no doubt. She also writes about cutting her hair short and listening to Heavens to Betsy when she was in high school: both rights of passage for teen riot grrrls.  She talks in her book about how the term "girl power" is anathema to many feminists who believe these words have been co-opted by the mainstream media and as a result, lost its meaning, but she argues that, to her, the words "reflect both a feminist message and a changing feminism."

This book is essentially an investigation of what to make of these conflicting meanings, and what's next to come in the world of music and feminism.

 

I met you at your Sassy book party and spoke to you briefly. You told me that you were working on, or about to work on Girl Power. When did you have the idea to write the book, and how soon after did you start writing?

I worked on [the two books] more or less back-to-back. In the summer of 2006, Sleater-Kinney broke up and the Pussycat Dolls were topping the charts and it felt like so much that I had held dear-and that had shaped me in my teen years-was fading away. I got the Girl Power book deal about a month before the Sassy book [How Sassy Changed My Life, Faber & Faber, 2007] was released, so as I was doing publicity and a book tour for [the Sassy book], I was also researching this one.

 

When did riot grrrl first enter your life? What was your first experience with it?

I saw pictures of riot grrrls in places like Sassy or Spin before I had ever even heard the music. I was probably about fifteen and had a really visceral reaction. I didn't know that was what I had been looking for, but I immediately knew that was something I wanted in my life.

What were you listening to/into culturally before you heard about riot grrrl?

I was definitely into, you know, indie music. Whatever we were calling it in the '90s. I got really into the Smiths in junior high. When I first discovered riot grrrl I was probably listening to a lot of Pavement, Sonic Youth, and Superchunk. I definitely went to the first three Lollapaloozas.

So [in your book], you are commenting on topics very sensitive to all parties involved I would think. What have people's reactions been like so far? People involved in the book and readers.

I honestly haven't heard much from people I interviewed. I did read Tobi Vail's review of the book and was flattered that she took the time. I think it's probably always really odd to read about yourself.

The reactions from readers have been simply amazing. I have heard from a lot of girls who were too young to really even remember the '90s who seem to be feeling so inspired and excited by the riot grrrl/'90s woman ethos. I have been invited to join at least one girl gang. I love it.

 In the book, you talk about how feminist archivist Lizzie Ehrenhalt was young during the riot grrrl movement but then she discovered it and felt really inspired by it, only by the time she got to it, she kind of felt like she had missed out. What is out there right now for newcomers to riot grrrl? What would you recommend ladies read, get into, where they can go, etc.?

Lizzie is brilliant. I met her at a conference when she did a paper on matriarchy in Jem and the Holograms. I think one of the best parts about riot grrrl was that it left a massive paper trail: zines, recordings, letters. Kathleen Hanna's donation to NYU will be great for people who are looking for more. I would say to go or volunteer at a rock camp, start a band, start a feminist fashion blog, put on a festival, buy a Vivian Girls album, read Kathleen Hanna's blog. There's so much. The core message of riot grrrl was to ultimately Do It Yourself and there are so many ways to interpret that.

I was going to ask you about the Kathleen Hanna archive at NYU. Hopefully that inspires [more] things like [it] to pop up all over the place. Something that really stuck out to me in your book was reading about Avril Lavigne's aversion to feminism. That was pretty horrifying!

I love that part, too.

I was really shocked to read it, like jaw-droppingly, how is this possible shocked. She didn't even know what the word meant, and then decided based on her little knowledge of it, it didn't sound good.  Yet she was marketed as a rebel. Do you think girls can take feminist and positive messages away from someone like that even if she isn't feminist herself?

Sadly there are probably more Avrils in this world than Christina Aguileras....By which I mean, Avril was packaged as this rebel and doesn't know or care about feminism-rejects it-and Aguilera is this secret feminist even though she's packaged as this classic pop diva.  I mean, Aguilera is working with Le Tigre on a song for her new album. That is so exciting  .But sure, girls can find kernels of feminism in all kinds of places. Maybe Avril will strike a nerve, snd her songs are certainly catchy!  But, you know, I have a lot of issues with her. 

In your book, you point out that the term riot grrrl has two different meanings. There is the original meaning which promotes girl strength, and then the meaning bands like Good Charlotte used, which is more like angry woman/rebel without a cause. How do you think one turns into the other? Like how do things like that even get so lost in translation? And is it inevitable for that to happen with any kind of indie concept once it goes mainstream?

It's sort of similar to how you can buy riot grrrl plastic Halloween costumes. It's very easy for underground movements to get twisted and chewed up and spit out (I think I'm mixing metaphors!) by the mainstream. Google them. You will laugh really hard.  I think it's probably inevitable that indie concepts like that will be reappropriated. I don't think it's always terrible. A mass audience can be a good thing.

It can be a great thing [for sure], but I find the message often gets lost along the way, which is the unfortunate part.

For example, there have been plenty of people in the organic food movement for decades, and now Michael Pollan has interpreted it and been in the Times, on Oprah.  I'm sure there are some hardcore types who have issues with his message not being strong enough, but, to me, the overall good is way more important. With riot grrrl, the mainstream just got it all wrong, and part of that, I think, was their unwillingness to work with the mainstream. Of course, I can see the resistance.

I think so too, for sure. You can't leave things like that in the hands of the mainstream.

The way they were portrayed was really awful and it was a time when we were all less media savvy and had much different expectations of privacy.

In the book, you make the point that sexual ownership championed by riot grrrls morphed into consumerism. Once this kind of sexual ownership, that started out as liberating, becomes mainstream, how does it change? What do you think it means/does for the ladies that first come to know about it in the mainstream?

Riot grrrl was combining its more provocative elements with information on things like rape, self-defense, and sexual abuse. There was context, in other words. But when the mainstream got its hands on it, that context was taken away and you just had sexy babydoll dresses or body glitter left. That said, it's always hard to negotiate youth burgeoning adolescent sexuality, whether you hang out at punk shows or the mall.

 I thought it was really interesting that (you wrote about how) Sharon Cheslow learned about punk from the obvious Creem, but also from Seventeen Magazine. These sources have something in common in the way that they are both bringing awareness to punk music, even if it's coming from different angles/the motive is different. Do you think they are both equally important in their own way? Why or why not? Do you think the Seventeens of the world help the Creems (of the world) exist, or more so hurt their message?

I'm not sure that magazines that are a little more mass help support the ones that are more niche. The way punk or riot grrrl or Mormon emo bands or any underground movement gets covered in mainstream media can be a bit broad and humorous and weird for those involved. I am a firm believer in teen magazines, though; I read about Bikini Kill in Sassy just like Sharon Cheslow read about the Sex Pistols in Seventeen. 

On another note, sites like Feministing and bands like the Spice Girls are both essentially promoting "girl power". Do you think mainstream culture/readers interpret these things in the same way? Like, do you think people who don't know about the undergroundness of riot grrrl take these avenues to mean the same thing? How can you briefly/tangibly explain the difference between the two?

On some very base level, riot grrrl and the Spice Girls both want the same thing when they say girl power: they want girls to revel in their girlhood and feel joyous and confident in the world. Riot grrrl did this by trying to change the boy-dominated punk paradigm, encouraging girls to band together and to speak openly. The Spice Girls didn't give their young fans much to take home besides Spice merchandise.

Just out of curiosity, did you ever apply or think about applying to write a 33 1/3 book about Sleater-Kinney or any other riot grrrl band? Did you ever play in a band yourself?

No, I haven't. I wrote a piece for Slate on Sleater-Kinney's breakup, though. I was in a band in college called The Skirts. We were very short-lived but we did once play with Bikini Kill.

 

Jesse Sposato is a founding editor of Sadie Magazine.

No word yet on popular dishes like narwhal casserole, moose milk ice cream, or boar sausage, but it seems like things are going to get a little tough for Israeli residents with a taste for the "exotic": 

"Knesset members are intensifying their objection to the proposed ordinance presented to the Knesset on Monday, which sets customs rates, exemptions and merchandise tax. As reported on Thursday, the ordinance includes unique items, and especially non kosher ones.

Among the items listed in the ordinance are pig meat, meat from horses, donkeys, rabbits, hares, whales, dolphins, seals, walruses, reptiles, crabs, oysters, octopuses, and even snails. Authorization of the tax rates for the list items is none other than Knesset Finance Committee Chairman Moshe Gafni (United Torah Judaism), a detail that has raised quite a stir within the legislature."

(Via)

If you really want to get the feel for what's hot in the streets of Williamsburg, you don't need The Sartorialist, Sea of Shoes, or The Cobra Snake: Jewcy has our finger on the pulse of what "the kids" are wearing this Purim. 

Want to rebrand your country's image?  Just get a couple of good looking 20-somethings, throw in a couple of double entendres, and hope that sex will help change people's perception of the country.  Hey, it's working for the folks at Size Doesn't Matter.

This seems like a grand idea and all, but haven't we seen this sort of thing before?

 

 

As I read through the collection of ideas  -- big and small, new and not-so-new -- that make up this project, I’m struck by how many of them are attempted game changers.

Even the ideas that aren't big, huge, transformative are still presented with the scent of hope that somehow they will revolutionize Jewish life. We've proposed models to reinvent Jewish media, Jewish outreach, Jewish education, and pretty much any thing else Jewish. We've proposed -- as Patrick Aleph did with idea #2 -- to tear down the old and start anew. We've proposed -- as Ami Eden did with idea #1 -- to pool our collective resources in a broad new initiative, and we've proposed -- as Ari Wallach did with idea #6 -- to update old behaviors in tech-assisted new ways.

Most of these ideas are sexy. They're bold and visible, impacting mostly on the front-end of Jewish life. They're just the kinds of ideas that can seduce philanthropists, score seed money, and yield yet another Jewish venture. Few of them address the underlying weaknesses of or seek to reinforce the existing Jewish structures, because most of them are offered up on the premise that existing Jewish structures are inherently flawed.

Yet from everything I've seen, in the new Jewish ventures and the established Jewish institutions, there is more that can be done within the system than outside of it. Day after day, as I read Daniel Sieradski's precursor to this project, I kept having the same thought, "This would be a wonderful project for the synagogue I work for to undertake." The irony is that so many of his ideas are born from the Jewish DIY movement and so many of them are geared to building a Jewish life outside the synagogue.

Why this false dichotomy?

To be fair, I'm painting with a broad brush. I know Daniel, know that he'd be thrilled to see a synagogue commit sufficient resources over a sustained period to see these ideas to fruition. Almost all of the contributors to this project are trying to work within the existing system, even if only out of practical necessity.

Yet there remains this implacable notion that institutional Judaism is a staid place where only the biggest checkbooks get any real say, where the inertia of the old ways and sociopolitical orthodoxies overwhelms any real innovation. It is true that big funders can have an outsized influence, and that organizations sometimes outgrow their mission. Old methods are sometimes too slow to evolve.

But that's hardly the entire picture. Institutional Judaism is also a place where resources are available, funders are willing to bankroll merited ideas, and practically everyone is ready to jump on any idea that works.

And it should be said, there are lots of ideas that work, including many listed here. I have my job as director of communications at The Temple in Atlanta because of a commitment to exploring those ideas, and I'm lucky to see young families and young leaders pour into the community every day.

I'm less interested in changing the game than I am in playing it at the highest level of competence. The question, for me, is what are the weaknesses? What are the structural points that need reinforcing? How can I build a sustainable game plan for the institutions that will outlive me and my involvement?

So here's my big idea: Stop having big ideas. Instead let's all get together and do what Ami Eden and Ari Wallach suggested. Let's pool our resources and build the strongest technical back-end we can for the organized Jewish world.

Time and again I'm struck by how under-resourced the back-end is, even at large Jewish institutions. Our user databases are static and full of holes in the data, making it near impossible to target our outreach and communications. So we rely on an outdated broadcast model and wonder why we have a hard time reaching people. That's just one example.

In Idea #8, Rebecca Guber  proposed a residency program for Jewish artists. What if Jewish philanthropists came together to endow a communications and technology residency program, placing Jewish communications and technology professionals at synagogues across the country? (I keep focusing on synagogues, because I firmly believe they're the one place where all Jews can come together regardless of their background, politics, or bank account.)

I guarantee you there are sexier ideas out there. This isn't always fun work. In fact, it's often a dreary slog. Funders will likely get more immediate bang for their buck elsewhere, but in the long run they'll get more bullets for their guns by investing in the back-end.

(Bradford R. Pilcher is the director of communications at The Temple in Atlanta. The synagogue, founded in 1867, was listed by Newsweek magazine as one of America's 25 most vibrant congregations. Pilcher's work has included stints at Jewsweek.com, American Jewish Life magazine, and Jewish Funds for Justice. Visit The Fundermentalist  to read "Idea #8: jewish Artists Residency" and stay tuned to ejewishphilanthropy for Idea #10. You can also visit 28days28ideas.com for the full list of ideas as they progress.)

Rabbi Capers C. Funnye, Jr. The news this week has been saturated with issues of race, otherness, and problems of identity in a society that's most comfortable drawing boundaries and lines. On Sunday, the New York Times ran a story on Rabbi Capers C. Funnye, Jr., the first African-American member of the Chicago Board of Rabbis. On Tuesday, Senator Barack Obama gave a landmark speech on race relations that took the country by storm. We asked documentary filmmaker Lacey Schwartz to weigh in on these two stories by sharing her own parallel experiences as a Black, Jewish woman who is working to incorporate and make sense of her dual identities. Here's what she had to say:

Like any typical upper-middle class Jewish girl growing up in the Eighties, my life revolved around the Bar Mitzvah party circuit, Gap clothing stores, second base, and Madonna. Something was off, though: From a young age, I encountered people who pointed out that I looked different from my white parents because of my darker skin, tightly curled hair and thicker features. From a little boy in nursery school who made me show him my gums because he claimed they determined my race, to my classmates in high school who would verbally accost me in the halls with “What are you?”—an inquiry that they demanded more than asked—questions about my identity were abundant. “Jewish?” I would tentatively respond, afraid of how they might react to my denial of what they saw as my obvious blackness.

My family never seemed to notice or acknowledge the fact that I looked different from them. One overt example of this came at the age of sixteen, when my grandfather strongly encouraged me to break up with my bi-racial boyfriend. Without irony or malice, Grandpa expressed his fear of how people might treat me for being in an interracial relationship. Because of experiences like these, I deeply related when Barack Obama described in a speech earlier this week how he would cringe when his white grandmother uttered racial stereotypes, and yet he could not disown her.

Lacey Schwartz: black, white, jewish? yes, yes, and yes. When I applied to college I left the race/ethnicity box blank and attached a photograph instead. Based on that, I was admitted as a student who was of “Black/Not of Hispanic Origin.” It wasn't until the end of my freshman year that I learned the truth: My biological father was an African-American man who my mother had had an affair with while married to my father. It was quite a shock, but I cherish my university experience as the time and place where my identification with being African-American and my connection to the Black community first began.

Years later, in an attempt to merge my Black identity with my Jewish upbringing, I attended Yom Kippur services at a Black synagogue in Brooklyn. I was skeptical at first: “A group of Black Jews worshipping together?” I thought. On entering the small brownstone converted into a synagogue, I was amazed to find that the entire congregation was Black! I was even more surprised to find the songs, prayers, and Shofar blasts were identical to what I learned growing up. I couldn't help but wonder how someone with two Black parents could possibly be Jewish, but after years of being questioned by strangers about my own identity, I hid my ignorance and didn't ask the questions I so desperately wanted answered.

As featured in last weekend’s NY Times, Rabbi Capers Funnye Jr. embodies both the heart and soul of this community of people. He was one of the first Black rabbis who I came upon in researching other Black Jews, and he has been one of the most inspiring people I have met along the journey. His work, along with others like him, is making the Jewish community more accepting of all Jews and changing the way we all expect Jewish people to look.

For much of my adult life, I have maintained separate cultural identities. Only in the last couple of years, as part of a personal documentary, have I set out to learn what it means to be both Black and Jewish. In recognizing the uniqueness of my situation, I have come to discover that Black Jews are members of a small, but significant minority within a minority: A group of people whose roots are as diverse and dynamic as any other ethnic group or subculture, and who represent the immense complexity of America itself.

This article first appeared on March 21, 2008 and has been republished as part of the series JEWCYEST WEEK EVER.

During the month of February, six very different media outlets, with six different readerships (plus a major Jewish organization for good measure...and so no one gets hurt) have partnered to create aplatform and a mini-blog appropriately titled 28 Days, 28 Ideas to share some of the best ideas that we have heard from ourown segments of the Jewish bubble.

The rat pack includes:  JTA & The Fundermentalist, the Forward and its Sisterhood Blog, eJewish Philanthropy, Jewcy, Jewschool, the Jewish Federations of North America and 31 Days, 31 Ideas,a project of Daniel Sieradski.

Each of the partners in the collaboration have lined up entries fora specific day of the week (Jewcy has Tuesdays - woohoo!).  As a group, we will give you one idea per day for the 28 days of February.

The goal is to produce some great new ideas for helping out theJews, and introducing each other to our respective readerships becausesomething tells us that your average Jewish Federation follower mightnot be a regular Jewcy reader, and vice versa.  Moreover, if we get these ideas out, maybe someone will run with them (we're too busy - yo!).

To kick this party off right, we have Patrick Aleph (aka Patrick A) from Atlanta, GA.  Patrick is the lead singer for the punk rock band CAN!!CAN and founder of PunkTorah.com.  Through his work, music, and freelance writing, Patrick uses technology and pop culture to bring Jewish spirituality to people who are disconnected from traditional Jewish life.  Rock.

 

I attend Jewish outreach events at least once a week, and frankly the majority of them are pointless. If we don't fix that, the future of Judaism is at stake.

There are two forms of Jewish outreach: social and religious. For a long time, Jewish outreach was based around the idea of getting Jews in a room together so they could feel a sense of social-cultural connection. It's the "lonely Jew" syndrome. Tired of being the only person on your block without a Christmas tree? Go to a Hillel event! Wish you could find a job that would respect High Holidays? Go to a Young Jewish Professionals networking party.

But in today's society, that model is not relevant. Jews do not suffer the open anti-semitism of the past. In fact, recent studies show that Jews are loved now, more than ever, and that the majority of Americans either view Judaism in a positive or "very positive" way.

Then there's religious outreach. Synagogues and organizations like Chabad are interested in making Jews live according to their movement's sense of Jewish spirituality. And for the most part, it doesn't work. Synagogues focus on ritual, law and life cycle leaves a lot of people "out to dry". Also, as interfaith marriages and the overall movement away from theism grows stronger, the Jewish community seeks out spiritual alternatives.

Both of these approaches don't work because their motives and techniques are outdated. Luckily, there is a solution to the problem: the internet and social networking.

By moving Jewish organizations entirely virtual, we are able to reach a wider audience. Marginalized people such as Jews from interfaith households, Jews of color, LGBT Jews, converts and people who in other ways feel outside the Jewish "mold" will be brought into the conversation in ways they have not in the past.

Making these organizations collaborative in the way that Facebook groups and Wikipedia operates means that people who normally would never volunteer for Birthright Israel Next or some other group will begin to connect with one another.  Jewcy.com has created the perfect model for this, with Jewish media as the medium for collaboration and peer connection on a global level. On a social level, people will begin to form virtual friendships that may lead to real relationships over time.

On a practical level, it is much cheaper to run an organization online than brick and mortar. Sure, a potluck Shabbat is fun. But the cost and time to put something like this together doesn't appeal to the average Jew anymore. Instead, streaming an alternative Shabbat online and including a Second Life session or a game of Wii Tennis afterwards would honestly reach more people. It's hard to sell kugel and cantors in a Hot Pocket and Game Cube world.

The trend is already there. In full disclosure, I run a Jewish spirituality website called PunkTorah.com, focused on alternative Jewish spirituality. An online D'var Torah that's three minutes long averages 120 hits during that Parshah's week. When was the last time you saw 120 people at your synagogue? 

OurJewishCommunity.org is actively working on creating a web-based, humanist Jewish shul to address the spiritual needs of the evolving Jewish community. G-dcast.com presents the Parshat every week, through the medium of narrated cartoons. Facebook, Myspace and YouTube have seen a flood of Jewish organizations and content, as the next generation uses technology to create the Judaism of the future.

If we don't face the fact that falafel parties at Temple-Blah-Blah-Blah no longer matter to the average Jew, than we will lose Judaism forever. The future is here, so get used to it and change with the times.

 

Check out yesterday's idea "Jewish Media Mashups," get ready for tomorrow's mind blower at eJewish Philanthropy, and don't forget to visit 28days28ideas.com for the full list of ideas as they progress.

I got a lot of flack from family and friends about visiting Germany, but no one had any compelling reasons for me to reconsider-- other than 'this feeling' that it was somehow wrong for a Jew to set foot in the former Nazi-land. Their feelings, along with my own, weren't enough to quell my curiosity and in retrospect, I insist that my anti-pilgrimage was both worthwhile and a necessity.

I'd never visited a concentration camp and the Sachsenhausen Camp, located just outside of Berlin, was one of our first stops. It was cold and rainy and I walked around the camp, saw the bunks, the ovens, and the open fields in which my people were systematically shot and murdered at the discretion of some of the most evil men in the history of the world. It looked just like it did in the books and in the movies and I'd stuffed my pocket full of tissues in anticipation of the emotional breakdown of the century-- but it never came. Some people cried and others looked as numb as I did. I wasn't sure what to make of my reaction or the reactions of others and I just kept asking myself, "why am I here?" Surely, the purpose of visiting a concentration camp was to tug at your heartstrings and make you feel one-millionth of the pain that your grandparents would feel if they set foot inside the camp. No such luck.

On the bus ride home, I felt a slight escalation in emotion, mostly anger. I thought about the helplessness and desperation, focusing mostly on the perpetrators. Still, I realized that I was privileged to be a part of a generation with a source of comfort. This could never happen again because there is a powerful army that exists to protect Jews and I was able to witness the way in which guilt has truly influenced German society. There is a serious stigma within German society when there is mere mention of beginning a new political party and the German disdain for everything pertaining to the military is (almost) understandable. I struggled with all of this-- I struggled to remember with feeling and intention, all while knowing that this was a part of our past and that I could be certain that it would stay there, in the past, as another piece of our story that I could mourn for but not completely relate to. The same question came to mind, "why am I here?"

While at the Jewish Museum in Berlin-- one of the most fantastic tributes to Jewish history that I have ever witnessed in the diaspora-- I came the closest that I'll probably ever come to finding an answer. We saw the well-known installation Shalechet by Israeli artist Menashe Kadishman. It was featured as a part of an exhibit entitled Void, most of which conveyed messages related to the Holocaust. Shalechet was a tiny sliver of a room and there was a bit of light, but if you ventured far enough, you disappeared into the darkness. If you chose to walk the length of the room, you had to walk over thousands of hunks of metal that were shaped to look like faces (see photo below). The only sound in the room was the wretched, horrible sound of feet crunching on metal. When no one was there, the exhibit didn't move and it didn't make any noise. That was, as we interpreted it, the point. By walking on that very ground, we were giving the murdered and the forever lost the opportunity to scream again, and to be heard.

Shalechet, by Menashe Kadishman, Jewish Museum in Berlin.Two generations later, I was already somewhat numb to the pain of the Holocaust-- had I not visited Germany, acquired a visual, and dedicated two weeks to focusing on the screams of the Shoah, how would I remember? The reservations that I had about traveling to Germany, the ideological and emotional struggle of being shlepped around such a historically loaded place-- that was my first and only opportunity to truly grapple with the reality of the Holocaust.

The feeling that it's somehow wrong to visit Germany is irrational and purely emotional. The Nazis are dead or dying and their children, as a whole, haven't committed any crimes against humanity. You can buy a cappuccino from a middle-aged man and not have to worry that he voted for Hitler-- or worse. It's true that anti-Semitism has a real presence, but it has a presence in France, England, and most of your other European vacation destinations. My visit to Germany wasn't a book that I could put down or a movie that I could turn off; it was full immersion into the remnants of what happened, and that is the best that my generation can do when it comes to memorializing something that is in danger of becoming just another sad story among many others.

"You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid." - Franz Kafka

This article first appeared on November 22, 2008 and has been republished as part of the series JEWCYEST WEEK EVER.

A twentieth-century Eastern European writer who survived a variety of wars, movements, and renamings once said that he'd lived in five countries without ever leaving his house. During the fifteen months that I've been the editor of Jewcy, I've lived in several countries while always remaining in the same house. When I first started as the Editor of Jewcy, it was a for-profit enterprise with six other employees and a beautiful loft office in DUMBO. The following February, the company's initial investors pulled out of the venture, and my coworkers and I lost our jobs. In either the bravest or stupidest move I've ever made, I spent the next six months running the site myself out of my apartment, with no salary. Fortunately, JDub Records came along and adopted Jewcy - suddenly, I became part of the JDub staff. I can honestly say that, despite the fact that I am nowhere near cool enough to work at a record label, the JDub team always made me feel at home.

As much as it's been weird to have the country of Jewcy changing around me, there's one reason that I kept doing this job: because I believe in it. More specifically, I believe in Jewish journalism and the power it has to help people struggling to find a place within their faith and culture, as well as to encourage debate, discussion, and dissent from those already within it. I can't urge you enough to stay involved with Jewcy and keep reading, as it's only going to grow. I'm not at liberty to reveal all of the secrets, but I can tell you there is a beautiful, easy-to-use redesign in the works that will leave all the other Jewish blogs crying (sorry, other Jewish blogs). I plan to come back and blog whenever possible, because I believe in the unique, diverse, and open-minded Jewish community that Jewcy fosters. Jewcy's traffic has gone up 12% since it was adopted by JDub in October, and I hope that you guys continue to hang out here and contribute to the ongoing conversation. 

I spent most of my life growing up in a place where I thought I was beyond the reach of Jewish traditions and history, believing that someone from my background could never find a place within the Jewish establishment. But somebody gave this patrilineal-descent, non-Hebrew-speaking, non-bat-mitzvahed, still-figuring-it-out Jew from North Carolina a job editing a Jewish website, and for that I will always be grateful. I hope that I've been able to foster an environment where any person who identifies as Jewish can feel welcomed and encouraged. Whether I was writing about soap operas, The Kotel, Scientology, or my ex-boyfriends, I've always been proud of the fact that I was writing for Jewcy.

Though I've enjoyed the chance to get to know all of the writers and commenters here, there are a couple of people who deserve particular recognition. Craig Leinoff, who had been with Jewcy since the beginning and built almost all of this website with his own bare hands (it's true, he welds with code), was always available to field my middle-of-the-night questions about wonky html and spam filters. Ashley Tedesco (who despite being a college undergraduate is already well on the way to being a fine journalist) stayed on as an unpaid intern after Jewcy's doors were closed, somehow squeezing post-editing and Twitter-updating into her already crammed class schedule. Aaron Bisman and Jacob Harris of JDub believed in the Jewcy/JDub proposition from the very beginning, and their commitment to both the brand and to me has been boundless.

Like any adventure, this one too had to end. I've been offered a job as the editor of a new women's lifestyle and entertainment site. It doesn't actually have a name yet, but I swear it totally exists. I accepted the position knowing that Jewcy is in good hands and trusting that it will continue to grow and thrive without me.

Anyway, my login is about to expire, so I should start wrapping this up.

As a famous philosopher once said, it's been real.

Finding myself single yet again, I've realized it's time to focus on self-improvement. This means both, as my sister put it, "not dressing like a lazy hooker" and returning to my favorite diet so I can get back down to my goal dating weight of 110 pounds (just at the weight limit where I can still be checked in as baggage on domestic flights).

Coming from a long line of giant fat people and a long history of a variety of eating disorders, it should come as no surprise that I have extensive experience with diets. Only one (aside from the anorexia/bulimia two-for-one special) has ever rendered halfway decent results, and thusly I plan on returning to this one immediately. 

My choice to opt for a rigid diet as opposed to just trying to eat well was prompted in part by a recent trip grocery shopping. Whenever I unpack a bag of groceries, I am forced to realize that I really only buy two categories of food: non-food and cry-for-help food. Non-food consists of Single Jewish Girl staples such as miso soup packets, celery, non-fat yogurt and diet soda. I usully get a good two to three bags of that stuff; it's food that allows you to go through the motions of eating without actually having to consume anything. Then I get a bag or two of cry-for-help food, which is essentially the stuff you eat when you get back from a horrible Jdate or have had a bit too much to drink and you're having a I-want-to-destroy-my-body-so-I'll-have-an-explanation-for-why-no-one-loves-me. This consists of... pretty much all the food I was raised on: ice cream, mac and cheese, deep fried lard wrapped in bacon dipped in sugar, etc. It gets hidden behind the non-food in the fridge in case people come over, of course.

It's depressing to purchase these items, and more importantly it's expensive. That's part of the beauty of my diet plan... it's entirely free (for me)! It's way cooler than Atkins and South Beach combined, and it's twice as effective! I call it... The J-Diet. It's a real breakthrough, and I ultimately plan on writing a book about it just as soon as I'm emaciated enough for the jacket photo.

What's so amazing and unique about The J-Diet is that you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want! The only stipulation is that someone you met on JDate buys it for you. Sound too good to be true? It isn't. I went on the J-diet for 4 months and lost 30 pounds! (This was back when I worked at Bergdorf's, where Russian aestheticians reminded me daily that "food is how the sadness gets in.).

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Three weeks ago, I wrote about the Matzah Ball, the “revolutionary” Jewish singles party on Christmas Eve, a.k.a the sleaziest Jewish-themed event I’ve ever been to. At the Matzah Ball, as I wrote, there was a table offering plastic surgery advice and coupons.

Yesterday, after I had finally got the grime of the event off of my skin, I got a call from the plastic surgery clinic that the organizers of the Matzah Ball had given my contact information to. (WTF Matzah Ball organizers?) “Congratulations!” a cheery voice told me. “You didn’t win the drawing, but you were a runner up.” She offered me $500 off of any “cosmetic procedure.” When I told her I wasn’t interested, she offered it to any of my family members, as long as they called back within 24 hours. “This is special for you, because you attended the Matzah Ball.”

As disgusted as I am, I can’t say I’m surprised. Cosmetic surgery has been a not-very-secret secret of mainstream Jewish American culture for a few generations now. Two of my three grandmothers (yes, I said three) had nose jobs by the time they were 18. Grandma Esther got a nose job in a small town in Ohio in the 1930s. Could that sound any more painful?

And by the time I was 12, Bubbe Debbie made it clear that she would pay for a nose job if I wanted one. By the time I was 18, I had to directly tell her to stop talking about my nose. I’d love to say my grandmothers or the Matzah Ball are exceptions to the rule, but unfortunately they aren’t. Is looking "like a Jew" still such a bad thing?

 

This post originally appeared on JSpot and is reprinted with permission

Remember Boyz II Men? I do, and I also remember dancing to "End of the Road" at a middle school dance, which is making me feel really old. Anyway, one of their members, Shawn Stockman, has been outed on a gossip site as being a bigamist. Well, not a real bigamist - he's only legally married to one woman, but he was "spiritually married" to another woman for nine years. Apparently it's cool because Shawn is an Israelite and they believe in polygamy. Wait, what?

For those of you playing along at home, the Israelites - or as they're better known, the Black Hebrews - believe themselves to be direct descendants of, well, the actual Israelites. Many Israelites do not identify as being mainstream Jews and consider themselves "true" members of the faith. Therefore, you're not likely to see them fighting over whitefish salad next week after services. Everybody's favorite "recovering" crackhead Whitney Houston reportedly claimed to be a Black Hebrew during a trip to Dimona, Israel in 2003.

Apparently, Shawn's lifestyle looked pretty appealing to fellow bandmate Wanye "The One Who Dated Brandy" Morris, who has reportedly converted to Judaism recently. Welcome to the party, guys! 

Designers often credit the music they listen to as the inspiration for their collections. Clearly Marc Jacobs is into showtunes - The Producers' tune "Springtime for Hitler" has never been illustrated in fashion more vividly than in Jacobs' Fluo Passementary Lily Hobo Bag from his SS10 accessories collection. You do not need to be a grandchild of a Holocaust survivor or a genius to look at this fashion accessory and see a swastika there.

Marc Jacobs currently has a hand in designing multiple collections, including Louis Vuitton, his namesake collection Marc Jacobs and his more affordably priced Marc by Marc Jacobs line. It's possible that his being overworked and spread quite thin attributed to his being (dare I say) less detail-oriented as he clearly overlooked this front and center swastika. Although it's likely that this imagery was not evoked intentionally, CounterfeitChic blogger Susan Scafidi appropriately asks whether there could be another, less offensive way to evoke German style inspirations into our ensembles...as if we often look to the Germans for style tips (sorry, Karl Lagerfeld). Clearly versed on the historic side of the issue, Scadifi points out that although Jacobs' bag's image turns to the left while Hitler's swastika faced right, this image is undoubtedly offensive - or at the very least, jarring and unsettling - to those who recognize it. The intricate detail of the bag may as well be replaced by a Post-It note that reads "Hitler's Hobo." Perhaps it's time to lay off the showtunes for a little while, Marc?

Nazi Couture?

Ever wondered how the Tel Aviv we know now - high rise buildings, awesome beaches, ritzy hotels - looked a hundred years ago? Well, thanks to this awesome video from Liron Damir, you can get a sense of how Tel Aviv evolved. This is one of the coolest, and best-looking, videos we've seen in quite some time.

 

Tel-Aviv-Jaffa from Liron Damir on Vimeo.

 

For the second time in the past year, I tracked down Natalie Portman at a public appearance in New York City and asked her about connections between her Jewish faith and her vegan diet. After the world's most famous Jewish vegan took the topic in a different direction in April, I asked her a much more direct question as part of The New York Times' Arts & Leisure Weekend on Saturday night.

While performing my journalistic duty as a Jewish-vegan blogger, I learned several fascinating things. First, Natalie loves the name "heebnvegan." (I somehow managed to maintain my composure when she said this.) Second, she apparently remembers our initial encounter. Third, she sees her decision not to take animals' lives for food as the core of her Judaism. Finally, she thinks vegetarian food in Israel and California is excellent, but unlike the world's second-most famous Jewish vegan, she finds New York vegetarian food disappointing.

Below is a transcript of our conversation during the Q&A portion of the event.

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