The Power of Thousands of Jewish Teenagers

Notes from BBYO's 2022 international convention

You may think of a Jewish soul as old, but I consider them young. Or souls – our neshamas – are always seeking, always questioning, often quarelling, and striving to connect. It keeps us in an adolescent state, which is why every Shabbat when we argue with each other around a roast, we can often feel as juvenile as we did in our teens. The emphasis on learning and debate in Judaism begins when we're sent to youth groups, and Hebrew school, and camps. And of course while so much of the logic behind the socialization of young Jews is to cement lasting friendships in the tribe, and potentially a significant other, it's also to create a new generation of thought leaders, organizers and educators. It is incredibly Jewish to learn. I think that's what keeps us young, and that's what keeps us inherently ascribed to progress.

When I stepped onstage at BBYO's international conference last week as a keynote speaker to address the 3,000 odd teenagers in the room that were attending from 60 countries, I asked them if I could take a picture (above), because I realized that there were more teenagers in that room than Jews I grew up with in Scotland. Throughout the conference, other delegates were asking me what I made of it, and I kept landing on an inability to imagine anything like the possibility of such a gathering in my youth. For me, I always felt like I was doing this quiet thing outside of my secular world when I stepped into Jewish youth spaces. This was not quiet. This was extremely loud. At the opening ceremonies, I walked into the main hall and felt like I was backstage again at a music festival. I was watching the thousands of kids in the moshpit, jumping on top of each other, cheering each other on onstage, and singing at the tops of their lungs, and it was hard to fathom that they were all there because of their Jewishness. To this day, the closest experience I've had to anything like that is of landing in Israel, walking out of Ben Gurion airport and realizing that you're now in the majority. And nothing compares to being in Israel, but BBYO brought something of the security of Israel, or the ability to be less conscious of your surroundings, to Baltimore.

The feeling of invincibility that these kids must acquire in those spaces is palpable. The confidence they exuded, whether it was onstage, or in break-out sessions I led with groups of young women, or at the Israel symposium I spoke at in which I presented the case against antizionism, defied the concerns we currently hold about high school graduating teenagers who are about to enter an undergraduate college system in the US that demonizes Zionist kids. That's not to say that being there as their leaders, and as their role models, is any less important. But it's humbling to do so, to be making the impact here, knowing the character and strength the future generations possess in spades to keep the flame burning. Humbling too was the way in which they harnessed so many big questions about their roles, their takes on Israel/Palestine, their commitment to offering kindness and forgiveness to others, and their preparedness to step into their futures.

My interactions with them in the rooms, and outside of them, in the hallways where some of them approached me for selfies and a quick word with tears in their eyes, really reminded me that I'm not doing this work in a vacuum, and that whether I like it or not, I am a leader and I have a responsibility to set an example. And this became even clearer to me when I had the pleasure of meeting some of the people I've followed online for years in this space in real life. When I saw Ashager Araro come to take a seat at my table during the Israel Symposium, I was tangibly joyous. Araro was one of the first Jewish activists I ever followed, back in 2018 or so. Her work as an Ethiopian Jew living in Israel who fled her birthplace due to antisemitism but who still experiences racism in the Holy Land and yet spreads the importance of Zionism around the world is remarkable. I had the pleasure of meeting Amy Albertson in person; a Chinese American Jew who was living in Israel until recently and was also one of the earliest accounts I saw covering complex issues of modern Jewish identity in progressive spaces. Ysabella Hazan – a Mizrahi Jew from Montreal, who runs Decolonized Judean – was rooming opposite me and we spent so much time debriefing and downloading. It's hard to explain the value of meeting your peers in person, after years in the digital trenches, often feeling the heftiness of solitude and futility. We all go through the same things, and we all fight the same fight.

Which brings me to a moment of humility. I have very strong opinions and very unapologetic tones. I don't mince my words. It's what people love about my advocacy and it's why I endure so much online hate. But nothing hurts more than the mis-characterization I experience sometimes at the hands of our own community. A few weeks ago, came some very hot debates online around the ADL's redefinition of racism, and a new initiative it's undertaking around telling the stories of Jews Of Color. The ADL employed the term JOC, which has been increasingly prevalent in the discourse in the past few years. It's a term I've rejected, and this has caused a great deal of upset.

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Let me explain my reaction to the term JOC. I see the term JOC as an appropriation of the term POC, and an adoption of a binary race system that is American, and that exists post-Jewishness, ie, a way of categorizing ourselves that is far younger than our identity, and that doesn't adequately summarize who we are, regardless of our individual skin tones. My reaction to the term JOC has often come from a place of fear, too. Because as with antizionism's incessant need to demonize Zionist Jews, I bring that pain to JOC, which I have in the past experienced as a tool to demonize white-functioning Jews, particularly when we're excluded from the dialogue. I come at it from a place of resisting another iteration of a non-Jewish idea that can be used to separate “good” Jews from “bad” Jews, that can be used to ghettoize us into different ranking groups, and that can be deployed to pit us ultimately against each other by non-Jewish foes. I don't understand the absolute necessity for the term when we can describe ourselves by all of our multitudes and remain just as Jewish.

However, it was brought to my attention during a late night discussion at BBYO that I will forever be grateful for, that my rejection of this term has been taken by other Jews, and more crucially by certain leaders in our space, as me trying to shut down conversations about racism within our tribe. To which I categorically say that this has never been the case. I grew up fighting back against racial slurs, exclusion, and prejudice in the community. I have been in rooms with Jews who don't look like me since I was in primary school. In my own blood family, we are not all white-passing. I know what the Jewish community contends with, and it does not serve me to deny it. I want to make that abundantly clear, and without certainty as to where to do so, I am doing it here on my Substack. Jewish, or not, I have always stood against racial prejudice. In my editorial life, I have reacted to prejudiced opinions about what is and is not marketable at the places I've worked. I was once told that “Black people don't sell” by a boss, and proceeded to spend the next year attempting to defy that by never relenting upon my advocacy to present artists of color as potential cover stars. I do not and will never seek to shut down conversations about racism. Ever. I hope that is understood.

I want to be honest, always. So what I will add is that I am still unsure as to why a new terminology is required to preclude this dialogue about racism in Jewish spaces. I don't feel a need to redefine myself according to my multitudes. For instance, in order to combat homophobia in the Jewish community I don't feel an urge to recategorize myself as, eg, JLGBTQ. I am white-passing, and bisexual and Scottish, and just the same kind of Jewish as any other Jew. However, people have the freedom to label themselves as they please, and if those who feel value in the JOC label want to convey why, then I am here to listen, and I hope to understand more about why being a Person Of Color and a Jew requires new nomenclature.

I was up all night after that conversation thinking about the kids at the conference, thinking about the Jewishness of being able to sit and hold intellectual discussion about the most intimate parts of ourselves with respect, whether two people agree or not, and to sometimes conclude that perhaps we're still searching for the solution or the answer because in the grand scheme of the world our souls are still young, and they plan on being here for a long time. Baruch hashem.

You can watch my 7-minute speech to the teens from the Friday morning plenary at the link here:

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CaIIId1DyML/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet