Uncategorized
Aline Kominsky-Crumb, who transformed comics first as a muse and then as a feminist artist, dies at 74
(JTA) — Robert Crumb put the “x” in comix by setting to paper his basest sexual longings, including strong-legged Jewish women who were cowgirls and who went by the name Honeybunch Kaminski.
So when an actual strong-legged Jewish cowgirl named Aline Kominsky walked into his life, it was love at first sight, and never wavered.
Aline Kominsky-Crumb, who died Wednesday at 74 in France of pancreatic cancer, was late to the revolution her husband launched in comics a few years before they met, with his Zap Comix. The “x” was a signifier of what was then known as “underground” comics and referred to the unfiltered treatment of humanity that censorious publishers, politicians and public figures had all but washed out of the art.
She soon fully embraced the art form and then helped transform it.
Working with her husband and then on her own, Kominsky-Crumb brought to comics raw self-lacerating accountability and subverted crude stereotypes about Jewish women — including those peddled by her husband — by taking possession of them.
She started out as a self-acknowledged sex object reviled by second-wave feminists and became a hero of younger feminists for modeling unfettered sexual expression. She was the brassy Jewish stereotype who became the muse who guided her husband to a deeper consideration of Judaism.
Kominsky-Crumb, born Aline Ricky Goldsmith in 1948 in the Five Towns, a Jewish enclave on Long Island, had a Jewish upbringing that was in many ways conventional, horrifying and both at the same time. She wrote about the warmth of her grandparents’ home and how she sought in it succor and about the pressures her materialistic parents placed on her. She said she was named for a Five Towns clothing store, Aline Ricky, that sold French fashion knockoffs. She resisted her mother’s pressure to get a nose job.
In one autobiographical comic, she recalls seeing one Jewish girl after another coming into school after plastic surgery. “Me ‘n’ my friends developed a ‘big nose pride,’” she writes, and one of the characters says, “I could not stand to look like a carbon copy!”
She told fellow Jewish cartoonist Sarah Lightman about the ordeal. “Like, I kept my nose, but it was really a close call, because my mother had me in Doctor Diamond’s office and he measured my nose. I remember that. They took an instrument and measured your nose. And then he took a piece of paper and he said,’ look, we can make it look like this.’ And I said, ‘Oh my God.’ My mother said, ‘Oh, it’s gorgeous, gorgeous.’”
In her teens, Kominsky-Crumb fled the suburbs for Manhattan. She studied at Cooper Union, an art school, and lived on the Lower East Side, earning plaudits from her instructors for her painting, but getting bored. She had a baby and gave it up for adoption to a Jewish agency, an experience that scarred her, and later led her to become outspoken in advocating for abortion rights.
After she married Carl Kominsky, they moved to Tucson, Arizona, which she called “hippie heaven.” There, she left her husband for a cowboy who lived with two brothers and his father in what she said was “the middle of nowhere” where she helped out on horseback, albeit under the influence of hallucinogens. (She said her beau was killed in a shootout with a romantic rival after she left.)
In Tucson, she met two pioneers of underground comics, Kim Deitch and Spain Rodriguez. They encouraged her to move to San Francisco, which was the scene of the burgeoning movement.
She did and met Crumb at a party in 1971, within three years of his having created “Honeybunch Kaminski, the drug-crazed runaway” (1968) and “Dale Steinberger, the Jewish Cowgirl.” Kominsky-Crumb, who had kept her first husband’s last name because it sounded more “ethnic” than Goldsmith, was so taken with the her husband’s lustful Jewish imaginings, and how closely she physically resembled them, that when she started creating her own, she named her avatar “Bunch,” a shortened version of the character whose name most closely matched her own.
It was kismet, except it wasn’t at first. Crumb and Kominsky-Crumb got together, but maintained open relationships. Crumb endured Kominsky-Crumb’s dalliances with other men for decades, but Kominsky-Crumb was not as able (or willing) to reciprocate. When one of Crumb’s exes arrived at their commune in Mendocino, she told The Comics Journal in 1990, she was furious. “I had a total s— fit,” she said, “I was wearing these giant platform shoes. I ran out the door and I fell and broke my foot in six places.”
Crumb sent the ex on her way and entertained the recovering Kominsky with a pastime he and his brother worked out as children: They would co-create a comic.
That process drew the couple closer, and also became a decades-long unflinching chronicle of a relationship. A culmination, “Drawn Together,” was critically acclaimed when it came out in 2012.
In one passage in the 2012 book, she gently chides her husband for resorting to antisemitic tropes — although it was tropes about loud, slightly unhinged, sexually voracious Jewish women that drew them together.
One page depicts the couple in bed. Crumb is stung by an accusation of antisemitism from Art Spiegelman. (Spiegelman joined with Crumb to launch the underground comics scene in the 1960s, but they grew apart as Spiegelman, who would author the Holocaust chronicle “Maus,” sought to attach an overarching philosophy to the genre, while Crumb continued to crave crude authenticity.)
Crumb says that Spiegelman “seems to be taking my ruminations about the Jews as antisemitism … I certainly didn’t mean it as such.” Kominsky-Crumb draws herself into the panel, listening to her husband, as a little girl wearing tefillin, a T-shirt with “kosher” in Hebrew and a Star of David pendant. In the next panel, once again appearing as a grown woman in a negligee, she makes clear to Crumb why she feels vulnerable as a Jew in the marriage.
“Dahling, you do call the Jewish religion ‘Brand X’,” she says.. “Now I might even think that’s true in some ways … and I’m one o’ them … I’m allowed to say that!”
Crumb draws himself as wounded but also awakened. “Oh, I see … ulp.” Crumb dedicated his masterwork, “The Book of Genesis,” a searing illustrated narrative of the Bible’s first book, to Aline.
The Crumbs’ collaborative work was celebrated among aficionados, but it wasn’t until 1994’s “Crumb,” a documentary directed by Crumb’s close Jewish friend, Terry Zwigoff, that she emerged into the broader culture. A vibrant, peripatetic Kominsky-Crumb cares for their daughter, Sophie, and revels in their life in a small French village, where they had moved a few years earlier, while Crumb continues to hold back, playing the wounded, misunderstood artist.
It was an arrival of sorts for Kominsky-Crumb. She had for a time been marginalized even on the underground scene, her deceptively simple art derided as sloppy. She helped found the Wimmen’s Comix collective in 1972, and wrote about her Jewish upbringing in the first issue, a piece entitled “Goldie: A Neurotic Woman.” But she was soon frozen out because some of her colleagues thought her musings about longing to be dominated (and her tendency to dress that way to please Crumb) were denigrating to women. “The Yoko Ono of Comics,” is how the New York Times described her early years.
She left the collective and joined another Jewish woman artist, Diane Noomin, in launching “Twisted Sisters” in 1976. Its cover depicts hers seated on a toilet wondering “How many calories in a cheese enchilada.” The message to her erstwhile colleagues, who depicted women heroically, was clear: Kominsky-Crumb would indulge her full unvarnished self.
It would take decades, but a later generation of feminists would come to understand her autobiographical “Bunch” not as a self-loathing caricature but as a means of understanding ones whole self. In 2020, Lightman launched an interview with Kominsky-Crumb by reviewing a 1975 cartoon, “Bunch plays with herself” that shocked even the underground scene at the time with its graphic depictions of a woman exploring every corner of her body.
“I didn’t do it to be disgusting but it’s, like, about every horrible and fun thing you can do with your body,” Kominsky-Crumb told Lightman. “I think it’s an amazing piece of feminist art,” Lightman said in the interview, “because women are drawn to be gazed at, and [here we see] their bodily juices, and everything. … The last panel is the best. ‘My body is an endless source of entertainment’.”
In 2007, she and Crumb created a cover for the Jewish counterculture magazine Heeb, where she is cradling him in her arms. “”I feel so safe in the arms of this powerful Jewish woman!” Crumb says.
By 2018, she was scrolling through her phone to show a New York Times reporter pictures of Crumb cavorting with the grandkids. (Daughter Sophie in adulthood also is a comics artist.) The photos then transition to photos of women’s behinds, taken in Miami.
“I’m enabling his big butt fixation,” she said. “Well I don’t have a big butt anymore so I have to offer him something.”
“It was her energy that transformed the American Crumb family into a Southern French one, with her daughter Sophie living, marrying and having three French children there,” the official Crumb website said in announcing her death. “She will be dearly missed within that family, by the international cartooning community, but especially by Robert, who shared the last 50 years of his life with her.”
—
The post Aline Kominsky-Crumb, who transformed comics first as a muse and then as a feminist artist, dies at 74 appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Iran Calls on Children, Civilians to Form Human Shields Around Power Plants Amid Trump Threats
Iranian citizens, including children, form a human chain around a power plant in Tehran on April 7, 2026, as officials urge civilians to protect key infrastructure amid rising tensions with the US and Israel. Photo: Screenshot
Iranian authorities have urged children, teenagers, and civilians to gather around power plants and other sensitive sites to serve as human shields, in an apparent effort to raise the cost of potential US and Israeli strikes on Iran’s infrastructure.
The call came as US President Donald Trump’s deadline of Tuesday night for Iran to reopen the Strait of Hormuz and accept a ceasefire proposal rapidly approached.
Trump previously warned that if Iran refused to reopen the strait — a critical global shipping chokepoint linking the Persian Gulf to international waters, through which about one-fifth of the world’s oil flows — US strikes would destroy the country’s key infrastructure, including bridges and energy facilities including power plants.
“We have a plan according to which every bridge in Iran will be destroyed and every power plant will be bombed by midnight. It will happen within 4 hours if we want,” Trump said during a press conference on Monday.
Trump appeared to escalate his threats on Tuesday.
“A whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again. I don’t want that to happen, but it probably will,” Trump wrote on his Truth Social website.
“However,” he added, “now that we have Complete and Total Regime Change, where different, smarter, and less radicalized minds prevail, maybe something revolutionarily wonderful can happen, WHO KNOWS? We will find out tonight, one of the most important moments in the long and complex history of the World.”
In response, Iranian officials issued stark warnings that, should the strikes on Iranian soil go ahead, Tehran would retaliate by targeting infrastructure and other civilian sites in Gulf states hosting US forces, risking a broader escalation across the region.
Even as negotiations remain formally underway, Iranian officials signaled little change in their stance, insisting that Washington’s demands and tone “have not changed” amid ongoing conflict.
“There are no negotiations with the US, which wants Iran to collapse under pressure. We will show flexibility after we see flexibility from the US,” an Iranian official told Reuters.
“Iran will not open [the Strait of Hormuz] in exchange for empty promises,” he continued.
With tensions now approaching a breaking point, Iranian government and military officials have publicly urged civilians to gather near key infrastructure sites to act as a deterrent against potential airstrikes.
During a televised speech on Monday, Alireza Rahimi, Iran’s deputy minister of youth affairs, urged citizens to join the “Iranian youth’s human chain for a bright tomorrow” by gathering around power plants to serve as human shields.
“I call on all youth, athletes, artists, university students, and professors to gather tomorrow, Tuesday, at 2 pm, and form a circle around our power plants, which are national assets and the nation’s capital,” Rahimi said.
“Come regardless of political views, because these facilities belong to the Iranian youth and their future. Let the world see that targeting civilian infrastructure is a war crime,” he continued.
Old habits die hard.
In the Iran-Iraq War, this regime deployed children with plastic keys to heaven against Iraqi machine gun fire and to clear minefields. This is a regime which also deployed Iranian and Afghan children alongside the Basij to fight in the Syrian Civil War. https://t.co/vfR3iqZnG5
— Behnam Ben Taleblu بهنام بن طالب لو (@therealBehnamBT) April 7, 2026
In a separate televised message, Hossein Yekta, a commander in the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), addressed parents directly and urged them to send their children to sensitive locations and checkpoints.
“Send the children to the checkpoints so they can become men,” he said.
The regime’s use of human shields appears to extend beyond minors, with reports indicating that political prisoners and dual nationals are also being positioned near sensitive sites as part of broader deterrence efforts.
Last month, the IRGC officially lowered the minimum age for war‑related roles to 12 as part of a campaign recruiting children to serve as “Homeland‑Defending Combatants for Iran,” assigning them to patrols, checkpoints, and logistics duties.
For years, Iran has drafted children under 18 into the Basij militia, with Human Rights Watch documenting boys as young as 14 years old killed in combat, revealing a brutal pattern of exploiting children on the battlefield.
Uncategorized
Before They Can Defend It, They Must Know It
The Four Questions from The Haggadah. Łódź, 1935. Source: Irvin Ungar
Before Passover, I took my son to Borough Park to buy a new Haggadah, part of a small annual ritual and one more way into an ancient story. The streets were busy, storefronts full, families preparing. Judaism there is not abstract. It is lived, visibly and confidently, woven into the rhythms of everyday life.
A few days earlier, we had been at the Jewish Museum on the Upper East Side, where he carefully decorated a matzah cover for the holiday. It was thoughtful, creative, and quiet. Another expression of Jewish life, shaped more by culture and reflection than by density and immersion.
Two experiences. Two expressions of Judaism. Both real, and both necessary.
My son is still young, but he has reached the age when everything is noticed and everything is questioned. That is part of what makes Passover so powerful. The Seder is not designed for passive listening. It is built around questions, anticipated and encouraged. The tradition does not fear inquiry; it depends on it. And it places the responsibility squarely on parents to respond.
That responsibility feels especially urgent now, because what Jewish children are not given early, they are often forced to confront later, and not always in its full or faithful form.
At a time when Jewish identity is increasingly contested in public life and often distorted in classrooms, many Jewish students arrive at college, and even in K–12 settings, without a basic understanding of their own history, traditions, or texts. They may have absorbed fragments – holidays, foods, cultural references – but lack the knowledge that allows them to situate themselves within a larger story. They know how to gesture toward identity, but not how to explain it, defend it, or live it with confidence.
I see this firsthand. In my own classes, many Jewish students are articulate and well-intentioned. They are comfortable analyzing power, language, and identity. But when asked basic questions about Jewish history, Zionism, or the origins of the modern Middle East, there is often a striking absence of knowledge. Not hostility. Not even indifference. Something more fragile: a lack of foundation.
This is not a failure of intelligence or curiosity. It is a failure of formation.
In the months since October 7, this gap has become difficult to ignore. Campuses have filled with slogans that many students can repeat but few can explain. Jewish students, in particular, are often left without the knowledge or confidence to respond.
This reflects a broader shift in education. In many cases, students are taught to critique identity before they have been given the knowledge needed to understand it. They learn to deconstruct before they learn to inherit. They are trained to interrogate narratives without first being grounded in them. The result is not critical thinking, but a kind of intellectual weightlessness, an uncertainty about what is theirs to defend, or even to value.
By the time Jewish students arrive on campus, these gaps are no longer theoretical. They shape how students understand their own identity and how they respond when it is challenged.
On many campuses, discussions of Israel and Jewish identity are flattened into slogans, repeated with confidence but stripped of historical context and moral complexity. Students encounter phrases, not arguments. Certainty, not understanding. And without a strong sense of their own inheritance, many Jewish students are left vulnerable to distortion or silence.
What is striking is not only the presence of these narratives, but the absence of a meaningful institutional response. Universities that pride themselves on rigor and inquiry often retreat into procedural neutrality or vague calls for dialogue, while leaving Jewish students without the intellectual tools to navigate what they are hearing. Leadership hesitates. Standards blur. And in that space, confusion hardens into conviction.
Which is why the work of formation cannot be outsourced.
Passover offers a model, not just as a ritual, but as a theory of education. It assumes that knowledge must be transmitted before it can be meaningfully questioned, and that identity must be formed before it can be defended.
The Haggadah does not present a single type of learner. It presents four children, each asking in a different way, each requiring a different response. The message is simple but demanding. Transmission must meet the child where they are. The burden is on the adult to ensure that the story is told, understood, and carried forward.
This is a serious vision of education. It assumes that identity is not automatic. It must be cultivated, explained, and renewed across generations.
And it assumes something else as well. Belonging precedes critique. Understanding must come before judgment.
A child who understands the story of the Exodus, who sees himself as part of it, is in a position to ask meaningful questions about it. A child who does not know the story at all is left with abstraction. The same is true more broadly. Without grounding, critique becomes unmoored from understanding.
This requires time, attention, and a willingness to take questions seriously, even when they are difficult. It requires parents to know something themselves, to explain, to contextualize, and sometimes simply to say: this is who we are, and this is why it matters.
Antisemitism today is often less explicit than ambient. It appears in slogans, selective history, distortions of Israel, and just as often in what is omitted. Jewish students encounter it not only in hostility, but in confusion, in half-truths presented without context. The danger is not only that they will hear falsehoods. It is that they will lack the grounding to recognize them and the confidence to challenge them.
That is why what happens at home matters so much.
The Seder is not just a ritual meal. It is an exercise in memory, identity, and transmission. It is where Jewish children learn not only what happened, but why it matters, and why it is theirs. It is where questions are welcomed, where stories are told, and where belonging is made real.
It is also where pride begins.
Children who understand their history, who have heard the story of their people told with clarity and care, are not easily disoriented. They are not dependent on others to explain who they are. They carry something with them, something durable, something that does not shift with the mood of the moment.
They will not be defensive. They will be grounded. And from that grounding comes a quiet but enduring pride.
If we do not teach our children who they are, others will, and not with care, clarity, or love. Passover reminds us that Jewish identity is not inherited automatically. It is transmitted: at the table, in the home, through questions, stories, rituals, and example.
In an age of confusion and institutional hesitation, that work is not optional. It is essential and sacred work, and it begins at our own tables.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
Uncategorized
The Forward publishes exclusive interview with Columbia protest leader Mahmoud Khalil
New York — April 7, 2026 — Today, the Forward, the nation’s leading Jewish news organization, published an exclusive, in-depth interview with Mahmoud Khalil, the Columbia University protest leader whose arrest during last year’s campus demonstrations thrust him into the national spotlight.
In a candid and wide-ranging conversation with Arno Rosenfeld, an enterprise reporter and author of the Forward’s Antisemitism Decoded newsletter, Khalil critiqued Hamas and said it had come to power through collaboration with Israel, explained his “nuanced” view of Zionism and detailed his vision for a “free Palestine” that includes the Jewish citizens of Israel.
“I was glad to have the opportunity to drill down on specifics that have been widely speculated upon but not addressed in Khalil’s previous interviews,” said Rosenfeld. “He wanted to speak directly to a major Jewish audience.”
The interview offers rare insight into one of the most scrutinized figures to emerge from the campus protest movement, drawing on original reporting, Khalil’s past public statements, and interviews with current and former Columbia students.
The post The Forward publishes exclusive interview with Columbia protest leader Mahmoud Khalil appeared first on The Forward.