One of the iconic photos of the civil rights movement shows Martin Luther King Jr. leading the Selma March. To his right is Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, one of many Jewish rabbis who marched with King. Rabbi Heschel said “I felt my legs were praying,” similar to “praying with your feet,” a call to action that resonates today. The photo evokes a time when many Jews, moved by their own history of genocide and bondage, became involved in the struggle for African-American freedom. Jewish college students hopped on buses going South to join the Freedom Riders. Some were beaten; some sacrificed their lives for the cause; rabbis implored their congregants to practice Tikkun Olam, repairing the world, by taking a stand against injustice.
On Martin Luther King Day, I find myself yearning to return to a time when African-Americans and Jews came together for the cause of freedom. Clearly, the idealized version of solidarity between blacks and Jews ignores tensions between the two groups that manifest today. Yet, regardless of their differences, people were able to stand strong, united against racism. African-Americans and their allies, under the leadership of Dr. King, were able to end legalized segregation in the South. The fact that slavery and segregation continue to manifest themselves today, across the country, should not diminish the victories of the civil rights movement.
Last week, my husband and I took a road trip to Tucson, Arizona, stopping briefly in Little Rock, Arkansas to see the sculpture in front of the Capitol of the nine students who integrated Central High School. The fear carved into the faces of each of the students is palpable, yet so is their courage. Plaques on the ground encircling the figures give voice to the nine students. The words of Melba Patillo Beals spoke to me: “The task that remains is to embrace our interdependence — to see ourselves reflected in every other human being, and to respect and honor differences.”
I have been thinking about Melba’s words a lot lately, perplexed and dismayed over the firestorm of conflict that threatened the success of the 2019 Women’s March. Women’s March co-leader, Tamika Mallory’s connections with Louis Farrakhan, a known anti-Semite and current leader of the Nation of Islam, have angered many in the Jewish community, who were already distrustful of co-leader Linda Sarsour, a Palestinian-American who supports BDS, the movement calling for the boycotting of Israeli goods and services as a strategy to end the occupation. Vanessa Wruble, co-founder of the first Women’s March in 2017, asserts that anti-Semitism led the current leaders of the march to ask her to leave her leadership position.
The media has fueled the controversy. A recent New York Times article, “Women’s March Roiled by Accusations of Anti-Semitism,” reported a litany of “she said/she said” accusations, but left out important facts. There was no mention of the three prominent Jewish groups that were working with the march’s current leaders to teach them about anti-Semitism. In November, the Women’s March organization released a statement in which they said their leaders “reject anti-Semitism in all its forms.” The march’s Unity Principles were also changed to include Jewish women on the list of groups whose human rights must be protected.
While most of the controversy centers around Tamika Mallory’s unwillingness to condemn Louis Farrakhan, rarely is there mention of how the Nation of Islam helped her family after her son’s father was murdered. Most importantly, there is almost no attempt to understand the complexities surrounding an African-American woman publicly condemning an African-American leader. For years, I would not write letters to the editor publicly criticizing Netanyahu and other Israeli leaders who support the occupation, despite my willingness to criticize Israel within the Jewish community. I was afraid to “air dirty laundry” in public, for fear it would fuel anti-Semitism. Mallory has publicly condemned anti-Semitism, but has been branded an anti-Semite because she won’t publicly condemn Farrakhan. During the long hours in my car heading to Tucson, we listened to Daily Show host Trevor Noah’s book, “Born a Crime,” a memoir of his years growing up biracial in apartheid and post-apartheid South Africa. Noah explains how the apartheid system succeeded because the country’s leaders masterfully manipulated South Africa’s tribal groups to hate each other, bi-racial (termed “colored”) people to hate blacks and vice-versa.
At a time when marginalized groups in our own country need to stand together against the white supremacy and xenophobia of the Trump administration, we are turning against each other. Marches were canceled in a few cities, and numerous groups, including the Democratic National Committee, withdrew their sponsorship of the Women’s March. These responses to the demonization of the leaders of the Women’s March play into the hands of those who are invested in destroying the movement.
Martin Luther King Jr. and Nelson Mandela united oppressed people for freedom, a cause that transcended their differences. As difficult as it may be, African-Americans and Jews must do whatever it takes, in spite of our differences, to stand together against hate.
Sara Weinberger, of Easthampton, is a professor emerita of social work and writes a monthly column. She can be reached at opinion@gazettenet.com.