Multiple Heritages by Kaya Comer-Schwartz
As someone who is of mixed heritage, Black History month is an important chance for learning, reflection and celebration. It’s a time to think of how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go. Doesn’t that sound familiar? We have just had Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah after all.
It can feel strange to hold both sides of my ethnicity at once, as on the surface my Zimbabwean heritage and Austrian/Jewish-heritage may seem as distant as the physical difference between the countries. In actuality of course this is not the case, in the same heart I hold the pain of colonial oppression, structural anti-blackness as well as anti-Semitism and the legacy of the Holocaust. Both of which span back centuries and have often had periods of crossover like the Boer War, the anti-apartheid movement and of course the joint experiences of slavery. The complicated threads of oppression, resistance, freedom and survival are entwined in my DNA, thanks to my parents who met in a night club in Camden.
Sometimes the difference is stark, when I walk into shul and I am the visibly different one or when I’ve been told that I can’t possibly be Jewish because of the colour of my skin. However, I have never been able to clearly know which side my curvy hips or dark set eyes are from. And day to day this duality is obviously not worn so heavily; it’s joyous that I get to cook both schnitzel with the same relish as Sadza. Both of my cultures are rich in music, fashion, sense of humour, huge extended families and strong values of social justice. I recently learnt of the black writer and abolitionist Charles Ignatious, who coincidentally shares his names with my son who was named Ignatz Charles after his thoughtful, kind ancestors who also stood with others. The echoes of history are visible in my own son, a child who gets very excited about lighting the Shabbat candles and who has taught me about Lilian Bader.
Of course human history is an ever evolving narrative and in the last few years the UK has been having deep and challenging conversations about both anti-Semitism and anti-blackness created by a significant increase of both. For me, this has been understandably deeply distressing. We know how upsetting it is to feel fear and to be hated for being ourselves. There is no doubt that these forms of prejudices are distinct and I am not naive to the fact that both groups are capable of enacting them on each other. But we know they definitely have similarities too and I can say that the pain of both feels acute. As a member of Crouch End Chavurah, I optimistically hope that through conversation, learning, reflection and celebration there is great potential for solidarity and the shaping of a better tomorrow.