The Importance of Representation

Children Of Israel Are Never Alone

Hey, beloved tribe.

Last night was our second book club event and it was beyond my wildest dreams. I wondered if 90 minutes might be too long, but enthusiasm was high the entire time.

The most startling and moving part of the evening was early in the Q&A when one young woman became very emotional while speaking with author Mimi Zieman. I sent her an email this morning, asking whether I could share her full story here, and since I haven’t yet heard back, I won’t mention her name or any identifying details, but I’ll just say that her family’s Jewish history and many circumstances of her life were so very similar to Mimi’s that she felt fully seen and represented on the page in a way that she never has before. She sobbed as she related how powerful an experience this was for her.

This morning, I wrote to her and said (truthfully): “You made the evening exquisite. You blessed the event with your tears. I have never been so glad to have set up an event as I was last night, because you poured out your heart. Thank you for bringing your most vulnerable and authentic self to the space — it elevated all of us and the whole experience.”

The irony is that Mimi never set out to write a Jewish book. She hadn’t imagined her Jewish experience was part of her Everest story until she started to write and it just poured out of her.

But to me, that’s the beauty of representation. We so often have no idea how what we do affects other people. Just by bringing our Jewish selves to the table, without hiding or minimizing any aspect of them, we can inspire and comfort others in all kinds of ways we may never have anticipated.

Along the same lines, I was talking with a brilliant Jewish woman earlier this week and she said something that struck such a deep chord. She said, “I have never been so proud to be Jewish as I am every time Rachel Goldberg-Polin opens her mouth.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Rachel has undeniably affected us all in ways it would be impossible to put into words. This Jewish sister who is suffering the worst pain a human being could endure has summoned so much strength and grace throughout her ordeal and somehow it’s sustaining Jewish women across the world.

The words of that woman last night reminded me of the importance of representation. And representation comes in all forms. There’s public visibility but there’s also everyday life. Jews need to see other Jews being proud, strong, brilliant, beautiful, kind, and resilient.

For this reason, one of the brightest highlights of my trip to China with my daughter for the Youth World Climbing Championships was seeing Team Israel there.

During the opening ceremonies, I spotted the two Israeli coaches with an empty seat beside them, so I made my way over to them and slipped into it.

“You’re Team Israel?” I asked, more or less rhetorically.

They looked at me somewhat warily before saying yes, which was no surprise given the hostility Israelis so often experience at these world events.

I said, “I’m an American Jew and I’m just so happy to see you here.”

At that point, both coaches broke into wide and warm smiles and we hugged hello. I sat with them for quite a while. I told them I can’t imagine what the team has been through this year and I expressed gratitude that they were there at all, given how much they’re dealing with at home.

One of the coaches said: “It was important to come, and show Iran we have the strength to be here.”

Team Iran, in fact, was in our own hotel. Every morning at breakfast I saw the female climbers with their hijabs and with their full bodies covered and the men with no such restrictions, all of them sporting shirts that said The Islamic Republic of Iran.

And I was next to them at the coffee station with my hostage dog tags and my Magen David necklace, and we exchanged quiet smiles and said “Good morning” with no further commerce. I make no assumptions about Iranian citizens. I know many of them loathe their own government. That many, in fact, are on Israel’s side. But I can’t say the sight of their shirts brought the same warm joy that the other teams’ uniforms did.

At any rate, Team Israel crushed the fuck out of Youth World. They were strong as all hell. It made my heart sing. I don’t know how they have the fortitude to perform at that level with all the stresses, terrors and grief of the past year, but seeing them gave me strength and a renewed sense of pride.

We went to their hotel on our final night in China and Charlotte got to meet the entire team. Some of them talked with us for a long time. Two girls in particular were incredibly friendly and forthcoming. They shared an oversized plush armchair in the lobby and they traded competition stories – both triumphs and disasters – with Charlotte for around an hour. Everyone hugged when we left. It felt so wonderful.

The coach encouraged Charlotte to take a gap year and come climb for Israel. My daughter loves Israel but that scenario is not her dream, even if it is mine. Still, bonding happened between her and her climbing tribe members from the homeland, and that gave me joy.

And seeing the team so strong and resolute lent me energy and resolve of my own.

All this is to say: wear your Magen David outside your shirt. Keep the mezuzah mounted on your doorpost. Don’t cover your kippah with a baseball cap. Of course, if your safety is in direct peril, do what you need to do, but short of that, be out and proud and fully yourself. We never know who’s watching; we never know who might be taking something they desperately need from us in that moment.

I’m wishing all of you a beautiful and restorative day of rest. I’ll be back with you Monday!

Chazak v’ematz. Shabbat Shalom.

Am Yisrael Chai.