Cindy Milstein (they) on Nostr: Ever since October 7, 2023, holidays have taken on a whole different significance. I ...
Ever since October 7, 2023, holidays have taken on a whole different significance. I see them through the eyeglasses of the genocide in Gaza as well as fascism there and here. It’s like going for an eye exam where they keep changing lens on you, and then the lines of letters they ask you to read wobble, blur, become illegible, and at some point re-focus into what feels a whole different clarity.
No holiday or ritual has escaped this recalibration, this re-seeing and this re-reading of them, against the backdrop of these times. In a way, that’s not so unusual for Jewish celebrations, with so many of our (many) holidays revolving around revisiting stories and symbols, ethics and themes, weighty questions and practices in whatever context and geography we find ourselves that year. But this nearly 13 months has felt different—not the familiar, pleasurable wrestling with ideas that in turn binds us closer, but a wrestling that’s tearing apart communities, friendships, kinships, and hearts. That’s tearing apart—for those of us who see so clearly right from wrong—much of the joy that accompanies our holidays, making even, say, Hanukkah, the festival of miraculous light, feel so dark. That darkness has lead progressive Jews against Zionism as well as anarchist Jews against all forms of hierarchy including Zionism and statism to instead reshape our holidays into “festivals of resistance,” often as public acts, and often heavy with sorrow and rage.
So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Halloween, one of the most playful holidays usually, felt in such poor taste. What could be scarier than the upcoming fascism vs. fascism? Unprecedented flood disasters? The horror of genocide?
As I walked around my neighborhood tonight, though, I saw something else: social fabric and mutual aid. Folks sat leisurely outside on porches and stoops, bowls of treats at their feet, schmoozing among themselves. They engaged everyone who passed by in conversation, and then offered candy to young and old, costumed and not in costume, as if hospitality not holiday for strangers and friends alike. There were jokes and smiles. No one was in a rush.
#UntilAllAreFree, we need some sweetness.
No holiday or ritual has escaped this recalibration, this re-seeing and this re-reading of them, against the backdrop of these times. In a way, that’s not so unusual for Jewish celebrations, with so many of our (many) holidays revolving around revisiting stories and symbols, ethics and themes, weighty questions and practices in whatever context and geography we find ourselves that year. But this nearly 13 months has felt different—not the familiar, pleasurable wrestling with ideas that in turn binds us closer, but a wrestling that’s tearing apart communities, friendships, kinships, and hearts. That’s tearing apart—for those of us who see so clearly right from wrong—much of the joy that accompanies our holidays, making even, say, Hanukkah, the festival of miraculous light, feel so dark. That darkness has lead progressive Jews against Zionism as well as anarchist Jews against all forms of hierarchy including Zionism and statism to instead reshape our holidays into “festivals of resistance,” often as public acts, and often heavy with sorrow and rage.
So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Halloween, one of the most playful holidays usually, felt in such poor taste. What could be scarier than the upcoming fascism vs. fascism? Unprecedented flood disasters? The horror of genocide?
As I walked around my neighborhood tonight, though, I saw something else: social fabric and mutual aid. Folks sat leisurely outside on porches and stoops, bowls of treats at their feet, schmoozing among themselves. They engaged everyone who passed by in conversation, and then offered candy to young and old, costumed and not in costume, as if hospitality not holiday for strangers and friends alike. There were jokes and smiles. No one was in a rush.
#UntilAllAreFree, we need some sweetness.