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Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
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Helen Mirren criticizes Israel at film festival after being called ‘evil Zionist’ in viral video
(JTA) — British actor Helen Mirren criticized Israel at a film festival in Italy, in her first public comments since security footage of a November incident where she was accused by a stranger of being an “evil Zionist b—h” went viral late last month.
“Evil forces are rising everywhere, even in a country like Israel,” Mirren said in an interview with journalists at the Taormina Film Fest in Sicily, according to reports in entertainment media. “How could you possibly repeat the actions of what was done to you as people to other people? Crimes against humanity, it’s called.”
The Academy Award-winning actor, who is 80, is being honored with a lifetime achievement award from the festival on Friday. Her many roles have included playing former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir in the 2023 biopic “Golda,” which she premiered in Jerusalem.
Mirren is not Jewish but has a long history of connection to Israel, dating back to 1967, when she traveled with a Jewish boyfriend to work for a month on a kibbutz in the country’s north.
She referenced that period in her comments at Taormina.
“I saw it from the inside and I saw some things that disturbed me from the inside in Israel at that time,” she said, according to Deadline. “I’m talking about six months after the Six Day War.”
Mirren has previously criticized the Israeli government. While promoting “Golda” in early 2023, she said she believed that Meir would be “utterly horrified” by Israel’s current leadership, which she referred to as a “dictatorship.”
But she also spoke favorably about Israel during the promotional events, which shortly preceded the Hamas attack that began the war in Gaza.
“I believe in Israel, in the existence of Israel, and I believe Israel has to go forward into the future, for the rest of eternity,” she told the country’s Channel 12 in August 2023. “I believe in Israel because of the Holocaust.”
During the November incident, the person who accosted Mirren and her husband Taylor Hackford appeared to reference those comments, saying, “She said Israel should last forever because of the Holocaust, and she was very happy that Palestinians’ houses were gone.”
Hackford responded, “F–ck off,” and Mirren did not say anything in the video.
At Taormina, the actor offered a more nuanced characterization of her beliefs while also praising Israel’s creative and intellectual communities.
“I grew up in Europe post-Second World War and the realization in my parents’ generation of what had happened in the Holocaust was so profound, so important,” Mirren said. “Therefore, the creation of Israel was a very important moment, although maybe it was done in completely the wrong way, in the wrong place, I don’t know. But something had to happen after the horror.”
According to Variety, she also said, “The evil is always lurking, waiting to take over, even in a place like Israel. I played Golda Meir and worked in a country that was the idealistic Israel, and I always thought it was a country that would never do wrong, but of course they were doing wrong, even then.”
About the viral video showing her being accosted, Mirren told journalists at the festival she believes she was “attacked by mistake by a man who was maybe a little over passionate or maybe mentally not quite stable.”
She added, “I don’t know whether he read things on the Internet or thought he read something which he hadn’t read, I don’t know.”
Though London’s Metropolitan Police initially said it was possible for an incident to be investigated as an antisemitic hate crime even if the victim is not Jewish, it will not be investigating further, as Mirren and Hackford have decided not to press charges.
The post Helen Mirren criticizes Israel at film festival after being called ‘evil Zionist’ in viral video appeared first on The Forward.
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After dozens of Jewish girls get lost in NY creek tunnel, antisemitic comments follow online
(JTA) — When dozens of Jewish girls emerged from a storm drain in Nyack, New York, Wednesday after becoming lost on a school trip, local officials described the episode as a fortunate ending to a potentially dangerous situation.
On social media, however, the incident quickly drew a slew of antisemitic comments.
“They can’t help it. Roaches and rats love the sewers,” wrote one Facebook user on a post by the Rockland Daily.
“Those tunnels were promised to them 3,000 years ago,” another user wrote, referencing the common online antisemitic phrase ridiculing the Jewish connection to Israel.
Many of the comments also referenced the 2024 incident at the Chabad-Lubavitch movement’s world headquarters in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, in which a group from the movement attempted to dig an unauthorized tunnel beneath the building.
“From the tunnels in Brooklyn to the tunnels in nyack! The black coats never disappoint 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣,” one user wrote. “There drawn to tunnels. Natural instinct😂,” another wrote.
The girls, students from the Toras Emachu school in Monsey, New York, had been visiting Nyack Memorial Park on a school trip when they entered a large drainage culvert located in the park, according to the Orangetown Police Department.
While walking through the tunnel system, the students got lost but were heard by individuals in the town who alerted police, according to Nyack Mayor Joseph Rand.
“First responders immediately came to the scene and located all the girls at various points in Nyack,” Rand wrote in a post on Facebook. “Technically, none of the girls were ‘rescued,’ because they all came out in their own power, but everyone’s lucky that the authorities responded and figured out where all the girls were as quickly as they did.”
Rand said that roughly 70 students were on the trip, and there were no serious injuries beyond some “cuts and scrapes.”
Nyack Village Administrator Andy Stewart told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that the school group had not been given a permit to host a field trip in the park Wednesday, and while there was “definitely concern over the violation of that law,” he wasn’t sure how the local government would follow up with the school.
“This is a group that did not have a permit, and so we didn’t know they were there, and they made no plans with the village,” Stewart said.
The Toras Emachu school did not respond to numerous requests for comment from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
But while local town officials handle the response to the incident, for some Jewish groups, the online response underscored how an innocuous incident can become a vehicle for antisemitic rhetoric.
“Unfortunately, internet comment sections have become havens for antisemitic memes and conspiracies, and commenters emboldened by relative anonymity will jump at any opportunity to demonize Jews,” Nate Wolfson, the communications director for the Nexus Project, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency about the incident. “In this case, a story of dozens of children getting lost on a field trip is appallingly used to spread stereotypes about Jews, including comparing them to rats.”
Wolfson added that the references to the Chabad tunnel incident had been “especially troubling,” adding that the story had been “routinely used by antisemites to spread truly vicious and dangerous conspiracies about child sex trafficking.”
Some Nyack residents also called out the spate of antisemitic comments about the incident online.
“This was not hard to find. It was not buried. It was not one bad comment from one bad actor. It was thread after thread of people in this county saying the same old bullshit about Jewish people like it was nothing,” wrote one resident in a post on Facebook alongside a series of screenshots of antisemitic comments. “If all it takes is one local news story for your contempt to come spilling out, the contempt was already there.”
The post After dozens of Jewish girls get lost in NY creek tunnel, antisemitic comments follow online appeared first on The Forward.
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The battle between tradition and revolution in Soviet-Yiddish culture
די סאָװעטיש־ייִדישע קולטור איז געװען עסטעטיש אָדער אידעאָלאָגיש פֿילזײַטיק, לכל־הפּחות אין משך פֿון די ערשטע פּאָר צענדליק יאָר. דאָס איז דער עיקר־טעזיס פֿון דער װאָגיקער שטודיע „רױטע ייִדן: דער ייִדיש־סאָװעטישער קולטור־פּראָיעקט“ פֿון דער ליטעראַטור־פֿאָרשערין דאַריע װאַכרושאָװאַס (אוניװערסיטעט פֿון מינכען).
דער ציל פֿון דער פֿאָרשונג איז צו לאָזן דעם הײַנטיקן לײענער הערן די פֿאַרשײדענע שטימען אינעם אַלגעמײנעם כאָר פֿון סאָװעטישע ייִדישע ליטעראַטן, קינסטלער און כּלל־טוער.
ווי האָבן אָט די פֿיגורן פֿאַרשטאַנען די צוקונפֿטיקע ייִדישע קולטור? װי אַזױ האָבן זײ בדעה געהאַט צונױפֿצוברענגען ייִדישקײט און סאָװעטישקײט? װוּ שטײט די סאָװעטישע ייִדישע קולטור אױף דער ייִדישער װעלטמאַפּע? דאָס זײַנען די פֿראַגן, װאָס װאַכרושאָװאַ באַהאַנדלט.
זי גיט זיך ספּעציעל אָפּ מיט לינגװיסטישע פּרטים — טערמינען, מעטאַפֿאָרן, אימאַזשן — װאָס מען האָט גענוצט אין די קריטישע װיכּוחים פֿון יענער תּקופֿה. דערבײַ באַטראַכט זי ניט נאָר די מער באַקאַנטע ליטעראַרישע טעקסטן, נאָר אַ ברײטערן פֿאַרנעם פֿון מקורים פֿון צײַטונגען.
װאַכרושאָװאַ פּרוּװט צו אַנטפּלעקן די פֿילשטימיקײט פֿונעם סאָװעטיש־ייִדישן קולטורעלן פּראָיעקט. זי איז ספּעציעל פֿאַראינטערעסירט אין פֿאַרשײדענע װיזיעס פֿון דער צוקונפֿט פֿון ייִדיש אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, װאָס מען האָט אַרומגערעדט אין די 1920ער יאָרן.
דאָס בוך באַשטײט פֿון דרײַ טײלן. אינעם ערשטן באַטראַכט װאַכרושאָװאַ כּלערלײ עסטעטישע מאַניפֿעסטן און קינסטלערישע פּראָגראַמען פֿון ייִדישער קולטור, װאָס מען האָט אַרױסגעגעבן נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה אין קיִעװ, מאָסקװע, לאָדזש, װאַרשע און בערלין.
דער צװײטער טײל איז געװידמעט דעם נסתּרס זאַמלונג רײַזע־פֿאַרצײכענונגען „דרײַ הױפּטשטעט“(1934). דער לעצטער חלק אַנאַליזירט די סטיליסטישע און לינגװיסטישע אַספּעקטן פֿון סאָװעטישע ליטעראַרישע איבערזעצונגען אױף ייִדיש פֿון רוסיש און אײראָפּעיִשע שפּראַכן.
די יאָרן נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה זײַנען געװען אַ בלי־תּקופֿה פֿון ייִדישן אַװאַנגאַרד אין ליטעראַטור און קונסט. אין װאַרשע זײַנען דערשינען די זשורנאַלן „רינגען“, „אַלבאַטראָס“, „כאַליאַסטרע“, „די װאָג“; אין בערלין — „מילגרױם“; אין קיִעװ — דיאַלמאַנאַכן „אײגנס“ און „אױפֿגאַנג“. לרובֿ האָבן די דאָזיקע פּובליקאַציעס ניט לאַנג געדױערט, אָבער זײ האָבן געמאַכט דרײסטע פּראָקלאַמאַציעס װעגן דער רעװאָלוציע אין דער ייִדישער קולטור.
למשל, אינעם ערשטן נומער פֿון דער סאָװעטישער קאָמוניסטישער צײַטונג „דער עמעס“ דעם 7טן נאָװעמבער 1920 האָט פּרץ מאַרקיש פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכט אַן אַרטיקל „אױף די װעגן פֿון ייִדישער דיכטונג“. עס איז מערקװירדיק, באַמערקט װאַכרושאָװאַ, װאָס דער דאָזיקער מאַניפֿעסט פֿון דער נײַער סאָװעטישער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע פֿאַרמאָגט ניט קײן מאַרקסיסטישע קאָמוניסטישע מליצה.
אַנשטאָט דעם רעדט מאַרקיש װעגן טיפֿע איבערלעבונגען, װאָס פֿאַרכליניען דעם מענטשן אין דער צײַט פֿון דער רעװאָלוציע. די רעװאָלוציע האָט גורם געװען אַן איבערבראָך אין דער טראַדיציע, „און טאַקע דערפֿאַר קאָנען די דיכטער פֿון אונדזער נײַער שטורעמדיקער תּקופֿה ניט שאַפֿן קײן מאָנומענטאַלע װערק, זײ זײַנען קױלן־גראָבערס […] פֿאַר נײַע תּקופֿות, פֿאַר קומעדיקע דורות,“ שרײַבט מאַרקיש.
אָבער מיט פֿיר יאָר שפּעטער האָט מאַרקיש זיך באַרעכנט װעגן דער המשכדיקײט פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור. אין אַ רעפֿעראַט אין װילנע אין 1924 האָט ער געזאָגט, לױטן באַריכט אין דער װילנער צײַטונג „טאָג“: „ניטאָ קײן צװײ ליטעראַטורן, ס’זײַנען בלױז פֿאַראַן צװײ ליטעראַרישע עפּאָכעס, מיט פֿאַרשײדענע פֿאָרמעס, אָבער מיט אײן גרונד־ליניע, אײן ענדציל.“
דאָ האָט מאַרקיש פּראָקלאַמיט די המשכדיקײט צװישן די קלאַסיקער װי מענדעלע, שלום־עליכם און פּרץ און דער נײַער ליטעראַטור, װי מאַרקיש אַלײן, װאָס איז אַנטשטאַנען נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה.
אָט די צװײ קעגנזײַטיקע דעות װעגן דער ליטעראַרישער אַנטװיקלונג — אַן איבערבראָך אָדער המשכדיקײט — האָבן באַשטימט צװײ שטרעמונגען אין דער אַלװעלטלעכער ייִדישער ליטעראַטור נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה, סײַ אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, סײַ אין פּױלן און סײַ אין אַמעריקע.
אין אונטערשייד צו דער הײַנטיקער אַמעריקאַנער שיטה אין ייִדיש־פֿאָרשונגען, װאָס פּרוּװן כּסדר צופּאַסן ייִדישע טעקסטן צו דער הײַנטיקער מאָדע אין ליטעראַרישער טעאָריע, איז װאַכרושאָװאַס מעטאָד דער עיקר אַ פֿילאָלאָגישער.
זי באַזירט אירע אױספֿירן אױף אַ גרונטיקן אַנאַליז פֿונעם שפּראַכלעכן סטיל פֿון ייִדישע מקורים. אַזאַ צוגאַנג מאַכט אירע אַרגומענטן גלײַכצײַטיטק מער װאָגיק און מער ניואַנסירט. זי דערװײַזט פּינקטלעך, װי אידעיִשע און עסטעטישע חילוקי־דעות צװישן ייִדישע ליטעראַטן האָבן זיך אַנטפּלעקט דורך שאַטירונגען אין זײער זאַצבױ, װאָקאַבולאַר, אינעם אױסקלײַב פֿון גערמאַנישע, סלאַװישע און לשון־קודשדיקע קאָמפּאָנענטן.
װאַכרושאָװאַ באַמערקט, אַז כּסדר שאַצט מען אָפּ די פּאָזיציעס פֿון סאָװעטישע שרײַבער, אַזעלכע װי מאַרקיש און דוד בערגעלסאָן, פֿונעם שפּעטערן שטאַנדפּונקט, װען מען איז שױן געװױר פֿון זײער טראַגישן אומקום. זי פּרוּװט, להיפּוך, לײענען זײערע טעקסטן דורך דעם מיטצײַטלערישן שפּאַקטיװ. זי ברענגט דעם לײענער אַרײַן אינעם סאַמע ברען פֿון קריטישע װיכּוחים פֿון די 1920ער יאָרן.
אַן אינטערעסאַנטער בײַשפּיל פֿון דעם, װי אַזױ מען האָט זיך געפּרוּװט צופּאַסן צו די נײַע סאָװעטישע באַדינגונגען, זײַנען דעם נסתּרס פֿאַרצײכענונגען װעגן די שטעט כאַרקעװ, לענינגראַד און מאָסקװע אינעם זאַמלבוך „הױפּטשטעט“. דאָס איז געװען זײַן פּרוּװ אַריבערצוגײן פֿונעם סימבאָליסטישן סטיל פֿון זײַנע פֿריִערדיקע דערציילונגען צו דעם רעאַליסטישן סטיל פֿונעם זשאַנער פֿון רײַזע־פֿאַרצײכענונג.
װאַכרושאָװאַ האַלט, אַז דער נסתּר האָט בכּװוּן אָפּגעהיט עלעמענטן פֿון זײַן סימבאָליסטישן סטיל – אַזעלכע װי ריטמישע איבערחזרונגען פֿון די אײגענע װערטער אין אײן זאַץ, דער שװערלעכער דײַטשמערישער זאַצבױ, דער ניט־פֿאַרלאָזלעכער נאַראַטאָר – כּדי אונטערצורײַסן די פּאָזיטיװע שטימונג, װאָס עס האָט געפֿאָדערט די אָפֿיציעלע סאָװעטישע ליטעראַטור. „הױפּטשטעט“ איז אַ דאָקומענט פֿון דעם נסתּרס אַנטױשונג אינעם פּראָיעקט פֿון אױפֿבױען די ייִדישע קולטור אינעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט װאַכרושאָװאַ.
װי אַ צאָל אַנדערע ייִדישע און ניט־ייִדישע מחברים, װאָס זײַנען געשטאַנען אױף די ראַנדן פֿון דער אָפֿיציעלער סאָװעטישער ליטעראַטור, האָט דער נסתּר געפֿונען אַ מקום־מקלט אין איבערזעצערישער אַרבעט. ער האָט איבערגעזעצט אויף ייִדיש די װערק פֿון די רוסישע קלאַסיקער לעװ טאָלסטאָי, פֿיאָדאָר דאָסטאָיעװסקי, איװאַן טורגענעװ, און פֿון אַ היפּשער צאָל דײַטשישע, פֿראַנצײזישע און אַנדערע שרײַבער.
איבערזעצונגען פֿון דער רוסישער און אײראָפּעיִשער בעלעטריסטיק און דיכטונג, פֿון פּאָליטישער און װיסנשאַפֿטלעכער ליטעראַטור אױף די סאָװעטישע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן זײַנען געװען אַ װיכטיקער עלעמענט פֿון דער סאָװעטישער קולטור־פּאָליטיק, און ייִדיש איז ניט געװען קײן אױסנאַם. דערצו איז דאָס געװען אַ מער־װײניקער סטאַבילע פּרנסה, װײַל די האָנאָראַרן האָבן באַצאָלט מלוכישע פֿאַרלאַגן.
דװקא די איבערזעצונגען האָבן אַ סך בײַגעטראָגן צו דער אַנטװיקלונג פֿונעם אײגנאַרטיקן סאָװעטישן נוסח פֿון ייִדיש. איבערזעצונגען זײַנען אויך געװאָרן אַ װיכטיק ליטעראַריש פֿעלד פֿאַר שפּראַכלעכע עקספּערימענטן, בפֿרט װען די פּאָליטישע באַדינגונגען זײַנען אין די 1930ער יאָרן געװאָרן אַלץ שװערער, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט װאַכרושאָװאַ. אַזױ האָט זיך די ייִדישע שפּראַך װײַטער אַנטװיקלט, ניט געקוקט אױף דעם פּאָליטישן דרוק.
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