I am because you are
When I am asked what it is like to be to both Black-British and Jewish, I smile and reply, “Infinitely rich in beauty, strength and humanity.”
Being at the nexus of being Black-British and Jewish is not without its challenges and it is clear that is what people expect to hear when they ask the question above. Within both communities, we are a minority within a minority with heritages that embrace global parts of the diasporas. We are African, Caribbean, European, Mixed. We are born and by choice. We are Orthodox, Reform, Liberal, Masorti and secular. We are across the UK. We exist and have done so for thousands of years. Fundamentally, our existence is always a battle for some: those who dislike Black people, those who dislike Jewish people and those who can’t stand both — including within both communities, either passively or overtly.
For both Black and Jewish communities, history embedded a parallel journey albeit dancing down alternative paths: the experiences of slavery, persecution and the pursuit of equality, inclusion and social justice. A cornerstone of both the Holocaust and British colonialism, including the transatlantic slave trade, was a dogmatic belief that non-white peoples (as defined by those in power) were inferior. The evil twins of genocide and slavery brutally entrenched the political and economic agendas of those who considered themselves to be superior. Both the Black and Jewish communities still live with the historic trauma and legacy of the oppression inflicted by others.
Last year, I wrote:
“This year has been intense and emotionally draining for people like me in the UK. Racist and/or anti-Semitic tropes — and the lack of understanding about why these are racist or anti-Semitic — has characterised how far we all are from valuing the lessons of the past. I have seen several recent Twitter conversations that reflect the tension I refer to above. This particular tension seems rooted in the following question: has the mainstream focus on antisemitism overridden the attention that needs to be paid to the behaviour that undermines black communities such as the hostile environment and terrible treatment of the Windrush generation? All of these are awful consequences of history and yet there is a perception of hierarchy in terms of the importance placed by the mainstream media and political class.”
Suffice to say, last week, I crumbled into pieces because we haven’t moved on from this. I shook with overwhelming anger, fear and sadness. I am not going to lie to you. Much of my anger and sadness was a result of how my Jewish community appeared to disregard the realities of what my Black community has been going through for a number of years. The legislation and policies of the current and previous Governments have been more than harsh to the Black and Asian communities; something that much of the Jewish community hasn’t been swept up in. I was so livid to the point where both my head and heart throbbed in pain. At times like this, attending shul to re-centre myself becomes critical and this week, I’m glad that I did.
It was Human Rights Shabbat in preparation for celebrating a world-changing document on the 10th of December: the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) which the United Nations adopted in 1948. With much of his life committed to human rights, and after learning that 29 members of his family had been murdered by the Nazis, Rene Cassin’s response was to apply the principle of ‘Never Again’ through the creation of an international system of human rights, equality and dignity by co-drafting the UDHR.
Since then, the UK put in place laws and systems to codify the UDHR. Yet, there is ever widening distance between words and action: systems and policies that negatively and disproportionately affect Black people, antisemitism and Islamophobia to name a few. The distance between the vision for human rights and the realities that ethnic minority groups live in is widening at a pace that that mostly Black and Asian people have little social power to stop. This is a poignant moment to question what we need to do bridge the gap between the society we currently live and that which we aspire to.
Interconnected upstander
There is a centrality of human rights in Jewish life that reinforces the notion that all human beings are created in the divine image. Within each of us, lives the spark of divinity. Most of the classic Jewish texts set the foundations for ethical behaviour and implore us to keep stoking this spark through our responsibilities as individuals and as a people that cares for others in a just, compassionate, loving and kind way particularly to those who are vulnerable among us. For Rene Cassin, human rights was rooted in his Judaism and he used this to define the legal principles of human rights.
“Human rights are an integral part of the faith and tradition of Judaism. The beliefs that man was created in the divine image, that the human family is one, and that every person is obliged to deal justly with every other person are basic sources of the Jewish commitment to human rights.”
Hillel, one of the wisest Jewish religious leaders, challenged us to embrace a fundamental obligation to self and to others saying, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, who am I? If not now, when?” This is enshrined in a similar idea within the Zulu concept of Ubuntu, “I am because you are.” Ubuntu describes a realisation that we do not and cannot exist in isolation. It is the mirror held up to humanity that affirms the potential of human beings and appreciation of their individual uniqueness collectively working to achieve goals that are greater than one individual or group. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the highly respected South African social rights activist, explained that Ubuntu, “speaks of the very essence of being human…It is to say, ‘My humanity is inextricably bound up in yours.’ We belong in a bundle of life.”
As with the creation of the UDHR, this modern use of Ubuntu’s powerful concept evolves from a nefarious history. In post-apartheid South Africa, Ubuntu developed as a way to overcome the tensions stemming from the long period of painful turmoil marked by divisive and unequal political, economic and social systems which excessively affected Black South Africans. It is for this reason there was a deep hurt when the anti-apartheid message was erased on Rachel's tshirtto make a point about Labour antisemitism.
One cannot exist as a human being in isolation. We are interconnected which means that it is imperative to provide a safe space, encourage and collaborate with one another to create community. At this time, when Britain’s minority groups are becoming more divided than ever, this requires a cognisant change to how we think about ourselves and others in relation to the future we want following this election.
Divided we stand
The upcoming UK General Election has exposed divides that, to be honest, I have felt simmering for a while. One would expect this divide to be between Brexit Remainers and Leavers. However, it is the visible divide between Britain’s minorities, of which I sit at the nexus of two. Omar Khan’s sobering reflection captures the divisiveness that has exploded:
The opining by non-Black British and US Jews speak about fears of a Corbyn-led government. On the one hand, what do we specifically fear would happen in government? What legislation or policies are likely to put in place that would sever our link to the state, remove our legal rights, kill our spirit and culture, seize what we own and render us indifferent to our own lives? That said, I also see and hear the rhetoric which triggers fears within the community that harm may come their way. The use of antisemitic tropes is concerning and this can be across the spectrum, even within the Black and Asian communities. Sometimes, this is down to a lack of understanding about why these are anti-Semitic or anti-Jewish. When this is highlighted, it is always heartening to see there are genuine souls who put the work in to undo narratives that they have learnt.
Some, however, are with explicit intent. When I tweeted about the Rachel Riley/Apartheid t-shirt, the avalanche of covert ways that respondents implied Jewish people were in the service of Israel was troubling. The presence of antisemitism and anti-Jewish hate is very real. It exists within the UK and within organisations such as political parties. It is within the left, centre and right of the political spectrum. To deny that is to be complicit with it flourishing in society. This also goes for anti-blackness and Islamophobia. Whilst some may see the existence of these as a resurgence, it may be fair to say that these have always been there; people have just become more consciously aware about how these have adapted and changed in the way they are used.
On the other hand, the focus of some people in the Jewish community and their allies solely on the community show a visible disregard for the reality of Black and Asian people being harmed right now. The current UK Government’s hostile environment policies has resulted in the deaths of at least 11 members of the Windrush generation whilst others been made destitute, jobless and broken.
More than 70 people died in the Grenfell Tower fire where a significant number of those who are no longer with us were non-White. Disproportionality exists within the criminal justice and education systems. I could go on. By centring non-Black Jewish fears about what may come whilst others are suffering the racism that affects them now, the Jewish community are not being seen as allies in the fight against racism. This matters because whether it is accepted by the community or not, politically non-Black Jews have a social power that other marginalised groups don’t have. Aligned with this, and beyond our control, is the way that both the media and political class are using the words, emotions and fears of the Jewish community. It is critical to avoid the zero sum game that is currently in play.
The central ongoing call of Torah, human rights and Ubuntu is explicit. The UDHR evolved from the ashes of the Holocaust and reverberated through the Civil Rights Movement and the dismantling of the British Empire and South African Apartheid, screaming that we must always be upstanders, not bystanders. To speak out and step up with action. The aftermath of this divisiveness threatens to make it more difficult to address the totality of racism. It is for that reason that we must rebuild and reclaim the anti-racism platform back from those who are consciously and unconsciously dismantling the actions necessary for moving forward with energy and purpose.
I am, because we are
Change is always possible even when it feels like it is unachievable. It will take a concerted effort from many players to accomplish this.
In most movements to achieve inclusion, liberty, equality and social justice for humanity, the leadership is never one person. Ubuntu holds that humanity is plural, not singular. At a time where an election is dividing Britain’s minorities, this is an important reminder that belonging to a dynamic whole can achieve the greatest good. However, there is also a caveat that what you want will come about when you work to make sure that others get it as well.
Both of my communities are very important to me. The upcoming election is one of the most difficult faced by many of us. Whilst I cannot tell you who to vote for, I can leave you with some wise words from the bold and the beautiful:
Shavua Tov
For an analysis of each parties’ manifestos on human rights, equality and diversity, see the synopsis from Rene Cassin here.
