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Mike Pence and the Jews: What to know as he begins a presidential campaign
WASHINGTON (JTA) — Until the Jan. 6 insurrection, Mike Pence made sure to stay on the same page as Donald Trump — except, sometimes, when it came to the Jews.
Both men delighted the pro-Israel establishment — Trump by fulfilling a long wishlist of Israel’s right-wing government, Pence by proving himself as a stalwart Christian Zionist through years in elected office. But just weeks after Trump assumed office, the difference in how each man approached Jewish anxieties was already stark.
Jewish community centers and other Jewish institutions were getting bomb threats, and a Jewish journalist asked the president what he planned to do about antisemitism. Trump lashed out, accusing the reporter of lying and quipping, “Welcome to the world of the media.”
A week later, Jews in St. Louis were reeling after a vandal knocked over over 150 tombstones in a Jewish cemetery. Pence was in town and took the opportunity to condemn the bomb threats and the vandalism as “a sad reminder of the work that still must be done to root out hate and prejudice and evil.” Then, he headed over to the cemetery, picked up a rake and helped clean up the mess.
Pence’s bid is the longest of shots. He polls in the low single digits, while Trump leads in the polls. The former president routinely depicts Pence as a traitor for not trying to hand him the election when Pence presided over the certification of the electoral vote on Jan. 6, 2021. Pence, meanwhile, has said Trump’s behavior that day endangered his family. If Pence does succeed in unseating his old boss, it will be because he’s tapped into a deep thirst among some Republicans for a more conventional candidate to wean the party off Trump.
No matter how he does in the race, here’s what you need to know about Mike Pence and the Jews.
He has been pro-Israel from the get-go
First elected to the U.S. House of Representatives as an Indiana Republican in 2000, Pence made clear from the outset that defending Israel was among his priorities.
“My support for Israel stems largely from my personal faith,” he told Congressional Quarterly in 2002. “God promises Abraham, ‘those who bless you, I will bless, and those who curse you, I will curse.’”
In his autobiography published last year, “So Help me God,” he credits his interest in Israel and in Jewish issues to his late sister-in-law, Judy, “an elegant, sophisticated young woman from a prominent Jewish family in Milwaukee” who married his brother, Thomas, “a pickup-driving, dirt bike-riding, banjo-playing country boy from southern Indiana.” Pence wrote, “She made him a better man.”
For years, he has placed a quote from the Biblical book of Jeremiah above the fireplace in his personal and then his official residences — in the governor’s mansion in Indiana and then in the vice president’s residence in Washington, D.C: “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope, and a future.”
“They’re words to which my family has repaired to as generations of Americans have done so throughout our history, and the people of Israel through all their storied history have clung,” Pence told a conference of Christians United for Israel in 2017.
In Congress, Pence took the lead in advancing pro-Israel legislation, especially in defending the barrier Israel built cutting through portions of the West Bank to shield Israel and some of its settlements from terrorist attacks. Together with Rep. Ron Klein, a Florida Democrat, and the late Tom Lantos, a California Democrat who was the only Holocaust survivor elected to Congress, he co-founded the House’s antisemitism task force.
Lantos, Pence said in his autobiography, had a profound influence on him. “He and I almost always disagreed on politics, but I was always inspired by his moral clarity and courage,” he wrote. Klein now chairs the Jewish Democratic Council of America.
As Indiana governor in 2016, Pence enacted the first state law banning state business with firms that support the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement targeting Israel, known as BDS. The bill also applied to businesses that boycott Israel’s settlements — one of the first pieces of legislation to erase the line between Israel and the West Bank.
Later that year, the Republican Jewish Coalition effusively praised Pence’s selection as Trump’s running mate, calling him “a critical leader and important voice regarding Israel during his time in the House and as governor.”
He attended every policy conference of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee during the Trump administration; Trump avoided all of them.
His evangelical beliefs shape his domestic policy
One of the most prominent issues of the 2024 election will be abortion, following the Supreme Court’s repeal of Roe v. Wade last year. The decision gave states the authority to determine reproductive rights and led to the swift narrowing of abortion access in many states. On abortion and other issues including LGBTQ rights, Pence departs from most of the Jewish community, where support for abortion access and LGBTQ issues are high.
A number of Republicans — chief among them Trump — believe that the party should take the win and not pursue further abortion restrictions, arguing that the decision last year contributed to Republican losses in the midterm elections.
Not Pence: he wants to ban abortion nationwide. “Having been given this second chance for life, we must not rest and must not relent until the sanctity of life is restored to the center of American law in every state in the land,” he said after the court’s decision.
Pence also has a long career of opposing LGBTQ rights. When he was governor, he sought to exempt Indiana from a Supreme Court ruling recognizing same-sex marriages. As a congressman, he opposed funding for outreach to HIV patients that he said promoted gay lifestyles. (His handling of an HIV outbreak in Indiana is understood to have worsened it.)
As Indiana governor in 2015, Pence signed one of the most far-reaching state laws allowing businesses to decline to serve LGBTQ customers. Businesses threatened to boycott the state, and he soon signed modified legislation that increased protections for LGBTQ people.
Months later, Pence was facing questions about why he pushed through the law from the Republican Jewish Coalition, a group that trends moderate on social issues and whose director said members had “a lot of questions” about the legislation. His tone was apologetic. “Ultimately we adopted a few reforms and made it clear this was a shield, not a sword,” he said of the bill.
He was the Trump administration’s top trauma whisperer for the Jews
During his time as vice president, Pence was often the favored spokesman when tragedy befell the Jews.
In 2018, at a Trump administration religious freedom event, Pence singled out the threats of violence faced by Jews in Europe, including in countries seen as allies by Trump.
“While religious freedom is always in danger in authoritarian regimes, threats to religious minorities are not confined to autocracies or dictatorships,” he said “They can, and do, arise in free societies, as well — not from government persecution but from prejudice and hatred.”
The same year, he said he was “sickened and appalled” at Nazi graffiti on an Indiana synagogue he knew well.
In 2019, he and his wife visited the Chabad synagogue in Poway, California, after a deadly attack by a white supremacist. “We had to come,” he told the rabbi.
The same year, he toured Auschwitz and the next year, he attended the Fifth World Holocaust Forum at Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust memorial.
Some efforts to mark Jewish tragedy went awry. In 2018, when Pence marked International Holocaust Remembrance Day, Jewish figures chided him for imbuing Christian imagery in his celebration of Israel’s founding in the wake of the Holocaust. “A few days ago, Karen & I paid our respects at Yad Vashem to honor the 6 million Jewish martyrs of the Holocaust who 3 years after walking beneath the shadow of death, rose up from the ashes to resurrect themselves to reclaim a Jewish future,” he said on Twitter.
It was not the last time a Pence event would bring Christian themes into Jewish mourning. Pence was scheduled on Oct. 29, 2018, to campaign in Michigan for a Jewish Republican running for Congress, Leah Epstein.
Two days earlier, a gunman massacred 11 Jewish worshippers at a synagogue in Pittsburgh, the worst-ever attack on Jews in U.S. history. Epstein invited a Messianic Jewish leader to deliver a prayer. Messianic Jews, who call their spiritual leaders rabbis, believe in the divinity of Jesus, and Jewish groups took offense. That led Pence’s folks to scramble to tell reporters that he was unaware that the rabbi was not, in fact, Jewish.
Pence was not among the many Trump administration figures and supporters who urged the president to walk back his “very fine people on both sides” equivocation after a neo-Nazi march in Charlottesville, Virginia, in August 2017 in which a counter-protester was killed. The vice president defended his boss: “I stand with the president,” he said when asked about Trump’s statements.
Trump-Pence vs. Trump
Pence, increasingly at odds with his former boss since their Jan. 6, 2021, falling-out, has a unique way of distinguishing Good Trump from Bad Trump: He portrays the administration’s wins as “Trump-Pence” policies, while the not-so-salutary stuff is Trump’s alone.
That dynamic was in evidence last November at the annual conference of the Republican Jewish Coalition in Las Vegas, when Pence was among an array of presidential prospective candidates to speak, including DeSantis, Nikki Haley and Trump himself.
Moving the embassy to Jerusalem? “Trump-Pence.” “It was the Trump-Pence administration that kept our word to the American people and our most cherished ally, when we moved the American embassy to Jerusalem, the eternal capital of the state of Israel,” Pence said.
As for Trump’s false claims that he won the 2020 election? Pence didn’t directly name the former president, but differentiated himself from him.
“The American people must know that our party keeps our oath to the Constitution even when political expediency may suggest that we do otherwise,” Pence said then. “We must be the leaders to keep our oath even when it hurts.”
Will he get Jewish funding?
Until filing papers on Monday, Pence’s main vehicle for fundraising has been a 501(c)4, a political advocacy group that is not required to reveal donors or extensive financial information. Advancing American Freedom has said its aim is to raise tens of millions of dollars to promote Pence’s favored conservative causes.
Now that he’s in the race, it will be interesting to watch where Pence draws Jewish support. One clue may be in a plane ride: Last year, Pence went on a campaign style tour of Israel and Ukraine. Loaning him the plane was Miriam Adelson, the widow of casino magnate and Republican kingmaker Sheldon Adelson.
Adelson has since said she’s not planning to get involved in the GOP primaries.
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The post Mike Pence and the Jews: What to know as he begins a presidential campaign appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Brooklyn’s new ‘lard bagel’ is not kosher. But it is delicious.
Bagels have long been a staple of the Jewish diet, even if they’re not exactly health food. But the latest addition to New York’s bagel scene achieves the impressive feat of inviting both your doctor and your rabbi’s scorn: the “lard bagel,” made with rendered pork fat.
The decidedly unkosher offering is on the menu at Caputo Bagels, which opened Monday in Brooklyn’s Park Slope neighborhood. The bagel shop is the successor to the once-popular Caputo Bakery in Carroll Gardens, which closed in April after five generations of operation.
At the now-shuttered Caputo Bakery, “lard bread” was a bestseller. Caputo Bagels seeks to recreate the lard bread experience, but in bagel form. Lard, salami, provolone cheese, salt and pepper are all folded into sourdough, hand-rolled, then boiled and baked at 425 degrees. The Italian-Jewish mash-up is the product of a partnership between James Caputo and Rafi Hasid, who also runs the Israeli restaurant Miriam next door.
Eager to try this bagel novelty, I stocked up on Lactaid pills and trekked to Park Slope early Friday morning. There, I met Caputo himself, who said the lard bread was a family recipe and an Italian-American specialty. Lard, he explained, was “a couple levels above adding butter to your bread.”
“A lot of people who went to the bakery are now rushing here to try the lard bagel,” Caputo said, adding that he did “feel bad” that kosher customers wouldn’t be able to eat the signature item.
I reassured Caputo that I did not keep kosher and was eager to taste the lard bagel myself.
But before digging in, I wanted to know what to expect. The first customer I spoke with had ordered an everything bagel, explaining that she hadn’t known the lard bagel “existed.” The second, visiting New York City from Spain, had opted for banana bread.
I asked her if she had considered ordering the lard bagel. “At this hour in the morning?” she asked.
I was starting to get worried. If nobody orders the lard bagel, does it make a sound?
Fortunately, I soon met Kristin Stoller, a local who used to frequent Caputo Bakery. She had ordered both a lard bagel and a plain one, with a side of scallion cream cheese, to bring home for herself and her boyfriend.
“He’s anxious about the lard bagel,” she told me, but she was hoping to convert him.
I asked if she would do a taste test. “Just like the bread!” she said after taking a bite. “This is perfection.”
Her enthusiasm seemed to be contagious. The first customer I’d spoken with came up to me, this time with a lard bagel in hand. I’d piqued her curiosity. “It’s a savory explosion,” she said.
Outside, I found a customer named Kendra Koch sitting on a bench with her dog, Pom Pom. She, too, had ordered the lard bagel, topped with olive cream cheese.
“It tastes like pizza,” she said as Pom Pom angled toward the bagel, seemingly longing for a bite.
I summoned my courage and ordered one sans toppings, figuring it had enough going on flavor-wise to stand on its own. One bite revealed a cheesy, peppery richness. I wasn’t sure I tasted the lard, but I also wasn’t sure if I was supposed to. My official verdict: delicious.
It was just too bad that my kosher friends couldn’t try it. I’m holding out hope that the schmaltz bagel will catch on next.
The post Brooklyn’s new ‘lard bagel’ is not kosher. But it is delicious. appeared first on The Forward.
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Yiddish Modernism and the political tumult in the 1930s
אין די 1920ער און 1930ער יאָרן האָט דער זשורנאַל „אין זיך“ געדינט װי אַ טריבונע פֿאַר מאָדערניסטישע עקספּערימענטן אין דער אַמעריקאַנער ייִדיש־ליטעראַטור. צו די „אינזיכיסטן“ האָבן געהערט יעקבֿ גלאַטשטײן, אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס, ה. לײװיק, שלמה שװאַרץ, יהודה לײב טעלער און אַנדערע.
װי מען קען טרעפֿן פֿונעם זשורנאַלס נאָמען, זײַנען די דאָזיקע ליטעראַטן געװען פֿאַרטאָן אין שעפֿערישע חקירות אַרום דעם אײגענעם „זיך“. און טאַקע, אין די 1920 יאָרן האָט „אין זיך“ ניט געהאַט קײן אינטערעס צו די פּאָליטישע דאגות־היום.
אָבער דאָס האָט זיך געביטן נאָך 1934, װען גלאַטשטײן איז געװאָרן דער רעדאַקטאָר פֿונעם זשורנאַל. דער דאָזיקער תּקופֿה איז געװידמעט דאָס נײַע בוך פֿון איתי זוטרא (אוניװערסיטעט פֿון מאַניטאָבאַ, קאַנאַדע) „אינזיכיזם: ייִדיש־דיכטונג און די ייִדישע אידענטיטעט אין אַמעריקע אין די 1930ער יאָרן“.
גלאַטשטײן האָט פֿאַרטײדיקט די שעפֿערישע אױטאָנאָמיע פֿונעם דיכטער קעגן די אַנגאַזשירטע קאָמוניסטישע קריטיקער װי אַלכּסנדר פּאָמעראַנץ, װאָס האָבן געפֿאָדערט, אַז ליטעראַטור זאָל דינען די אינטערעסן פֿון די פּראָלעטאַרישע מאַסן.
אַזױ איז גלאַטשטײנס אײגענע פּאָעטישע שאַפֿונג געװאָרן אַ מין פּאָליטישע פּאָזיציע. די דאָזיקע פּאָליטיק, האַלט זוטרא, האָט משפּיע געװען אויף זײַן ליטעראַרישן סטיל און דעם סטיל פֿון אַנדערע מחברים פֿון „אין זיך“.
גלאַטשטײן האָט געעפֿנט די זײַטן פֿון „אין זיך“ פֿאַר פּאָליטישע װיכּוחים. ער אַלײן איז אַרױס מיט אַ פֿאָרשלאָג צו שאַפֿן אַ פּאַרטײ, װאָס זאָל זײַן אי פּאָליטיש ראַדיקאַל אי ייִדישיסטיש, הגם קײן פּראַקטישע פּראָגראַם האָט ער ניט פֿאָרגעלײגט.
להיפּוך צו אַנדערע ראַדיקאַלע פּאַרטײען, קודם־כּל דער קאָמוניסטישער, איז דער הױפּטציל פֿון גלאַטשטײנס פּאַרטײ געװען צו פֿאַרטײדיקן ייִדישע נאַציאָנאַלע אינטערעסן. דאָס איז געװען ספּעציעל װיכטיק אין דער צײַט װען דער אַנטיסעמיטיזם האָט געהאַלטן אין אײן װאַקסן אין אײראָפּע.
גלאַטשטײן האָט פֿאַרבעטן ייִדישע ליטעראַטן אַרומצורעדן זײַן פּראָיעקט אױף די זײַטן פֿונעם זשורנאַל. לרובֿ זײַנען זײ ניט געװען אײַנשטימיק מיט גלאַטשטײן. דער עיקר זײַנען זײ געװען קעגן דער אידײ, אַז די אינטעלעקטואַלן דאַרפֿן װערן פּאָליטישע אָנפֿירער פֿון די מאַסן.
חוץ דעם, װי עס האָט באַמערקט חיים זשיטלאָװסקי, זײַנען שױן דאָ געװען גענוג פּאָליטישע פּאַרטײען אין װעלכע ייִדן האָבן זיך אַקטיװ באַטײליקט. צו שאַפֿן נאָך אַ פּאַרטײ װאָלט ניט געהאָלפֿן צו פֿאַרבעסערן דעם מצבֿ פֿון ייִדן.
דער אינזיכיזם, האַלט זוטרא, איז בטבֿע געװען עקלעקטיש סײַ פּאָעטיש און סײַ פּאָליטיש. מען האָט ניט געהאַלטן פֿון טראַדיציאָנעלע זשאַנערס און סטילן. אָפֿט מאָל האָט מען עקספּערימענטירט מיט מישן פּראָזע און פֿערזן.
אין די 1930ער יאָרן האָבן די ליטעראַרישע עקספּערימענטן באַקומען אַ פּאָליטישן אַקצענט. סײַ אין דער קונסט און סײַ אין דער פּאָליטיק האָבן די אינזיכיסטן געזוכט אַן ענטפֿער אױף דער עיקר־פֿראַגע: װאָס איז דער עצם פֿונעם ייִדישן „זיך“ אין אַמעריקע אין דער מאָדערנער תּקופֿה?
דער אינזיכיזם איז געװאָרן אַ נײַער מין ייִדישיזם: אַ קולטורעלע און פּאָליטישע אידעאָלאָגיע, װאָסער ציל איז געװען צו פֿאַראײניקן פֿאַרשײדענע פּאָליטישע שטרעמונגען אױפֿן סמך פֿון דער ייִדישער שפּראַך און דער מאָדערנער װעלטלעכער ייִדיש־קולטור.
גלאַטשטײן האָט געגלױבט, אַז װערטער דאַרפֿן טראָגן דעם װירקלעכן אמת, בפֿרט אין די צײַטן, װען כּלערלײ טאָטאַליטאַרישע רעזשימען האָבן פֿאַרשפּרײט ליגנס פֿאַר די צװעקן פֿון זײער מערדערישער פּראָפּאַגאַנדע.
אינעם בוך לידער „ייִדישטײַטשן“, װאָס איז אַרױס אין װאַרשע אין 1937, האָט גלאַטשטײן געפּרוּװט דערגרײכן די טיפֿסטע פֿאָנעטישע און לעקסישע װאָרצלען פֿון דער ייִדישער שפּראַך.
אין די שורות „אַלטער בױם, פֿעלדז און שטאַם / כ׳קום צו דיר מיט ברױט און גראַם“ דריקט גלאַטשטײן אױס זײַן פּאָזיציע לגבי דער ייִדישער קולטור־ירושה. ער קומט מיט זײַן אַמעריקאַנער „ברױט און גראַם“ צו דעם „אַלטן בױם“ פֿון ייִדיש כּדי צו שעפּן שפּראַכלעסע יניקה פֿאַר זײַן פּאָעזיע.
זוטרא אַנטפּלעקט אין „ייִדישטײַטשן“ סאַטירישע אונטערטענער, װאָס מאַכן חוזק סײַ פֿון די פֿאַשיסטן און קאָמוניסטן און סײַ פֿון די אַמעריקאַנער אַסימילאַטאָרן.
די צװײטע צענטראַלע פֿיגור אינעם אינזיכיזם איז געװען דער דיכטער, קריטיקער און זשורנאַליסט אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס. אין 1937, אײנצײַטיק מיט גלאַטשײטנס „ייִדישטײַטשן“, איז אַרױס גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס בוך לידער „פֿאַביוס לינד“.
אין הסכּם מיט די עסטעטישע פּרינציפּן פֿונעם אינזיכיזם איז דאָס דאָזיקע בוך אַ מישמאַש פֿון סטילן, זשאַנערס און שטאַנדפּונקטן, װאָס זײַנען פֿאַרקניפּט דורך דער פֿיגור פֿונעם הױפּטהעלד. דאָס איז אַ פּאָעטישער סך־הכּל פֿונעם איניזכיסטישן פּעריאָד אין לעיעלעסעס שאַפֿונג, האַלט זוטרא.
„פֿאַביוס לינד“ האָט באַקומען התלהבֿותדיקע אָפּרופֿן מצד די קריטיקער. גלאַטשטײן האָט געהאַלטן דאָס בוך פֿאַר דער „ערשטער גרױסשװוּנגיקער און גרױסשטאָטישער פּאָעמע אין דער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע“, און ה. לײװיק האָט עס געלױבט פֿאַר זײַן „אָרגאַנישער גאַנצקײט“.
די פֿיגור פֿון פֿאַביוס לינד איז ניט קײן אױטאָביאָגראַפֿישע. זוטרא מאַכט אַ פּרוּװ צו אַנטפּלעקן די פֿאַרפּלאָנטערטע באַציִונגען צװישן דעם מחבר אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס, זײַן פּאָעטישער פּערזאָן אַ. לעיעלעס, און זײַן אױסגעטראַכטן „אַלטער עגאָ“ — פֿאַביוס לינד.
לינד פֿיגורירט אינעם בוך װי אַ צעשפּאָלטענע פּערזענלעכקײט: „פֿאַביוס לינד פֿיל לעבנס פֿירט ער“. ער איז סײַ אַ פּראָדוקט און סײַ אַ קרבן פֿון זײַן תּקופֿה.
לינד האָט ספֿקות װעגן כּלערלײ פּראָיעקטן צו לײזן די „ייִדישע פֿראַגע“, אינעם סאָװעטישן ביראָבידזשאַן אָדער אינעם העברעיִש־רעדנדיקן ייִשובֿ אין ארץ־ישׂראל.
חוץ לידער האָט גלאַנץ געשריבן פּאָליטישע קאָמענטאַרן אין דער ליבעראַלער צײַטונג „דער טאָג“. להיפּוך צו גלאַטשטײן האָט ער ניט פֿאַרטראַכט קײן אײגענע פּאָליטישע פּראָיעקטן. זײַן פּאָליטישער שטאַנד איז געװען אין הסכּם מיטן פּראָגרעסיװן הױפּטשטראָם פֿון פֿראַנקלין רוזװעלטס „ניו דיל“.
דער לעצטער נומער פֿון „אין זיך“ איז אַרױס אין 1940, װען אײראָפּע איז שױן געשטאַנען אױפֿן שװעל פֿונעם חורבן. דער קאָנפֿליקט צװישן אַלװעלטלעכקײט און ייִדישקײט, װאָס איז געװען די צענטראַלע טעמע פֿון די אינזיכיסטישע חקירות, איז געלײזט געװאָרן לטובֿת ייִדישקײט.
גלאַטשטײן האָט פּראָקלאַמירט: „אַ גוטע נאַכט, ברײטע װעלט. […] אױף מײַן אײגענעם געבאָט גיי איך צוריק אין געטאָ“. דאָס איז געװען דער סוף פֿונעם ייִדישן מאָדערניזם, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט זוטרא.
די פּאָעטישע קולטור־ירושה פֿון די אינזיכיסטן איז פֿאָרגעשטעלט געװאָרן פֿאַרן ענגליש־שפּראַכיקן עולם אין דער פּרעכטיקער צװײ־שפּראַכיקער אַנטאָלאָגיע „אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישע פּאָעזיע“, װאָס איז אַרױס אין 1986 אונטער דער רעדאַקציע פֿון בנימין און באַרבאַראַ האַרשאַװ.
אין דער הקדמה האָט בנימין האַרשאַװ פּרטימדיק אַנאַליזירט די פֿאָרמעלע און סטיליסטישע חידושים, װאָס די אינזיכיסטן האָבן אַרײַנגעבראַכט אין דער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע אין די 1920ער יאָרן, אָבער ער האָט קױם באַרירט זײער פּאָליטיק.
זוטראס בוך באַטראַכט די אינזיכיסטישע שעפֿערישקײט אונטער אַן אַנדערן קוקװינקל. אין די 1930ער יאָרן זײַנען פּאָליטיק און פּאָעזיע געװאָרן נאָענט צונויפֿגעפֿלאָכטן אין די װערק פֿונעם לעצטן דור אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישעמאָדערניסטן.
The post Yiddish Modernism and the political tumult in the 1930s appeared first on The Forward.
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I never saw myself in Barbie. Would ‘Hanukkah Barbie’ have changed that?
I wasn’t really a Barbie kid. While I occasionally played with my sister’s hand-me-down Barbies, I preferred American Girl dolls. They were Barbie’s chunkier, cherubic counterparts, each representing a girl from a different period in history and accompanied by a series of historical-fiction books about her life. I devoured those books, including the story of Rebecca Rubin, a 9-year-old Russian-Jewish immigrant living on the Lower East Side in the early 1900s.
So when Mattel released its first Hanukkah Barbie last week — officially marketed as the “Barbie Holiday Sweater Doll” — I wondered whether she would have appealed to me when I was growing up. Would her Jewishness have made her feel more relatable than that blonde-haired, blue-eyed, impossibly proportioned bombshell?
As it turns out, I wasn’t the only one thinking about what it means for Barbie to look Jewish. Shortly after her release, Hanukkah Barbie set off a spirited debate over her appearance. Her nose seemed slightly more prominent than the default Barbie button nose, raising questions about whether Hanukkah Barbie’s face reinforced Jewish stereotypes, or if her distinctive nose reflected a good-faith effort to give the doll recognizably Jewish features.
It was at least clear that Mattel did its homework about the Festival of Lights. The hanukkiah on Barbie’s sweater has the correct number of candleholders, and the dreidels bear accurate Hebrew lettering — which is more than can be said about a lot of Hanukkah merchandise. If sales are any indication, Hanukkah Barbie is resonating. The doll, which originally retailed for about $30, is sold out, with third-party sellers now asking for as much as $345.
There have previously been Barbies modeled after Jewish celebrities, including Olympic gymnast Aly Raisman, Israeli Olympic surfer Anat Lelior and fashion designer Diane von Furstenberg. But Hanukkah Barbie is the first Barbie whose identity is simply Jewish — which means she will have the impossible task of representing Jews of all kinds. Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews, religious and secular Jews all have to somehow find themselves in the same doll.
Complicating matters, the original blonde Barbie has arguably been Jewish all along. Ruth Handler, the daughter of Polish-Jewish immigrants, invented Barbie in 1959, naming “Barbie” after her daughter, Barbara, and “Ken” after her son, Kenneth. “Barbie is a matrilineal Jew? Love it!” one Reddit user joked last month.
But Barbie was always a little too Aryan-coded to feel Jewish to me. Her origins go back to the postwar German ideal of blonde, white femininity. Handler drew inspiration for Barbie’s look from a German toy named Bild Lilli, marketed toward men as a gag gift and sold in bars and tobacco shops. That doll, in turn, was based on the comic-strip character Lilli, characterized by Barbie’s unofficial biographer M.G. Lord as “a golddigger, exhibitionist, and floozy” who worked as a secretary while looking for a wealthy husband. Bild Lilli was manufactured by O.M. Hausser, a toy company that had produced Adolf Hitler figurines during the 1930s.
No wonder stereotypically Ashkenazi-looking Jews like me, not to mention everyone else who also didn’t fit the Barbie mold, felt left out of Barbie-land. (Which is literally everyone, given that scaled up to human size, a traditional Barbie doll’s proportions would make her unable to survive; there’d be no room for her organs in her tiny waist, and she’d have no choice other than to walk on all fours.)
Over the years, Barbie has become far more inclusive. After the debut of the “Colored Francie” doll in 1967, Barbie expanded to include dolls of different races, body types and abilities, including dolls with prosthetic limbs and wheelchairs and, in 2016, the long-awaited introduction of “curvy,” “petite” and “tall” Barbies. Mattel introduced career-themed dolls in the 1960s, evolving from fashion designer, nurse, and flight attendant to a presidential candidate Barbie in 1992.
The American Girl doll, which Mattel acquired in 1998, was part of a similar response to the limitations of the traditional fashion doll. Created by teacher Pleasant Rowland in 1986, American Girl was designed to help girls see themselves in their dolls while making history feel personal and engaging.
Of course, little kids aren’t thinking so much about the sociological implications of their toy choices. For my part, my mom bought me an American Girl look-alike doll with my brunette hair and choppy bangs, hoping that seeing myself reflected in a doll would help build my self-esteem. But I also gravitated toward a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American Girl doll that looked more Barbie-esque, which I begged my mom to buy.
Looking back, I wonder how much of the Barbie beauty standard I had subconsciously absorbed, even with an array of representative dolls at my disposal. Hanukkah Barbie may more closely resemble women like me. But changing the default cultural image of Barbie will take more than a doll with a light-up Hanukkah sweater.
The post I never saw myself in Barbie. Would ‘Hanukkah Barbie’ have changed that? appeared first on The Forward.
