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18 notable Jews who died in 2022
(JTA) — Every year brings the opportunity to celebrate the accomplishments of well-known Jewish icons in every field and to mourn those we have lost.
Here are 18 Jews who died in 2022 and who leave outsized legacies on politics, the arts, sports and everything in between.
Madeleine Albright
Former U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, pictured here in 2018, died March 23, 2022. (Bill O’Leary/The Washington Post via Getty Images)
The “first woman secretary of state in the United States” label will always follow Madeleine Albright, especially because of her success in such a male-dominated field of policy. But regardless of her gender, Albright’s moves as a part of Bill Clinton’s administration left a lasting mark on U.S. peacekeeping efforts around the world. Crucial to her worldview was her refugee story, which she did not fully grasp until after her time in the limelight. Her parents were Czech immigrants who had converted from Judaism to Catholicism and then Episcopalianism to avoid persecution before fleeing Europe. Albright did not like to talk about her parents’ choice to keep her in the dark, but when she did, it was in the voice of a blunt-edged diplomat who understood how the 20th century robbed some people of agency, and how they did what they had to do to reclaim it. “I can’t question their motivation. I can’t,” she told The Washington Post in 1997. Albright died March 23 in Washington, D.C., at 84.
Melissa Bank
American author Melissa Bank poses during a portrait session in Paris, Jan. 9, 2006. (Ulf Andersen/Getty Images)
Melissa Bank published just two books in her career, but both sets of short stories were bestsellers that explored the lives of Jewish women and still resonate with young readers decades later. Her 1999 debut, “The Girls’ Guide To Hunting And Fishing,” held a spot on The New York Times’ bestseller list for months. The comic misadventures of her two books’ Jewish protagonists often intersected with Jewish life: In “Wonder Spot,” Sophie Applebaum plays hooky from Hebrew class, considers taking a job with a Jewish newspaper, and contends with a cousin’s bat mitzvah and a sister-in-law’s passive-aggressive attempts to impose kosher rules on her home. Bank died of lung cancer at 61 in August.
Isaac Berger
Isaac Berger, left, at the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. (Central Press/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Setting Moses and the Maccabees aside, it’s not a stretch to call Isaac Berger one of the strongest Jews ever. Known as “Ike,” Berger won three Olympic medals, two World Championships and eight U.S. national championships in weightlifting during a dominant stretch in the 1950s and 60s. At the 1957 Maccabiah Games, Berger was the first athlete to break a world record in any sport in Israel. His gold medal was presented by Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, who called Berger the “gibor Yehudi,” or “mighty Jew.” Berger was inducted into the U.S. Weightlifting Hall of Fame in 1965 and the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in 1980. Berger died in June at 85.
Peter Bogdanovich
Peter Bogdanovich at the 1999 New York City premiere of “RKO 281.” (Ron Galella/Getty Images)
Peter Bogdanovich was an Oscar-nominated movie director and actor whose films, ego and off-camera exploits encapsulated the personality-driven excesses of 1970s Hollywood filmmaking. He got his start making low-budget fare for shlock pioneer Roger Corman, then broke into the big leagues in 1971 with “The Last Picture Show,” a coming-of-age drama set in small-town Texas starring Jeff Bridges and Cybill Shepherd (who became the director’s partner after he began an affair with her during filming). “The Last Picture Show” became a critical and commercial smash, scoring Bogdanovich Oscar nominations for best director and best adapted screenplay, and turned its 32-year-old director into a wunderkind whom the press frequently compared to his idol, Orson Welles. Bogdanovich’s 1972 follow-up “What’s Up, Doc?” was also a hit, and as a bonus, the screwball comedy helped make a Jewish sex symbol out of star Barbra Streisand. Though Bogdanovich rarely discussed his religious background in interviews, he was proud of his father’s role in rescuing his Jewish mother from Europe. “He was a really great painter and very highly praised in the former Yugoslavia,” Bogdanovich said of his father Borislav in a 2019 interview with New York magazine, “but he gave all that up to save my mother and her family because they were Jewish. He wasn’t, but they were.” Bogdanovich died Jan. 6 in Los Angeles at 82.
James Caan
James Caan stands under casino lights in a scene from the 1974 film “The Gambler.” (Paramount/Getty Images)
One of the leading movie stars of the 1970s, James Caan once said he was twice honored as New York City’s “Italian of the Year.” It made sense, in a way: his fans were used to seeing him in tough guy roles, including one in arguably the most famous Italian gangster flick of all time, “The Godfather.” But Caan was born to German-Jewish immigrants in Queens, where his father was a kosher butcher, before starring in movies such as “Brian’s Song,” “The Gambler,” and, later in his career, Will Ferrell’s hit comedy “Elf.” His onscreen (and offscreen) persona did much to break stereotypes about weak, wimpy Jewish men. “He’s in his own lane, Jew-wise,” Seth Rogen wrote in a 2021 memoir, calling Caan an unusually “scary Jew.” Caan died July 6 in Los Angeles at 82.
Elana Dykewomon
Lesbian author, poet and playwright Elana Dykewomon, photographed at her home in Oakland, Calif., on May 1, 2022, died Aug. 7, 2022. (Jane Tyska/Digital First Media/East Bay Times via Getty Images)
Despite never earning mainstream commercial success, Elana Dykewomon was a pioneer in the world of lesbian-themed fiction. “Beyond the Pale,” her award-winning 1997 novel, traced the intertwined stories of Jewish lesbians from Kishinev, Moldova, to the Lower East Side, in a saga that included both Russian pogroms and the deadly Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire. “It can’t be that we are the first generation of Jewish lesbian activists on the planet,” Dykewoman said at the time. “So part of what the novel is about is searching for our ancestors and ancestral community as Jewish lesbians.” Born Elana Nachman in New York City in 1949, Dykewomon changed her name after the publication of her first novel, “Riverfinger Women,” in 1974. She wanted to distance herself from the Nachman line of rabbis from whom she descended, she told J. The Jewish News of Northern California, in 1997. She adopted Dykewoman, then Dykewomon, to demonstrate her allegiance to the lesbian community — but later regretted not using her name to assert her Jewish identity, too. “If I had to do it all over again, I might have chosen Dykestein or Dykeberg,” she said at the time. Though she rejected religion after becoming a radical feminist, she said, she studied Yiddish, Torah and Talmud while writing “Beyond the Pale”; often wrote on Jewish themes; and frequently included Jewish characters in her work. The 2009 novel “Risk,” for example, featured a Jewish lesbian who lives in Oakland and makes a living tutoring high school students. Dykewomon died in August at 72 from cancer.
Hanna Pick-Goslar
Hannah Pick-Goslar seen at the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, Oct. 11, 2012. (Marcel Antonisse/ANP/AFP via Getty Images)
Hannah Pick-Goslar appears multiple times in Anne Frank’s iconic diary — as both a close friend and a premonition of the Holocaust horrors to come for Frank’s family. As Anne wrote after having a nightmare about her friend: “[Her] eyes were very big and she looked so sadly and reproachfully at me that I could read in her eyes, ‘Oh, Anne, why have you deserted me? Help, oh, help me, rescue me from this hell!’” Their final meeting would be at a fence in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. After recuperating from her liberation from the camp in the Netherlands and then later in Switzerland with her aunt and uncle, Pick-Goslar emigrated in 1947 to Israel, where she became a pediatric nurse and Holocaust speaker. Her friendship with Frank was the subject of a book, “Memories of Anne Frank: Reflections of a Childhood Friend,” and a Dutch film, “My Best Friend Anne Frank” (2021). Pick-Goslar died in Jerusalem on Oct. 28 at 93.
Gilbert Gottfried
Gilbert Gottfried at SiriusXM Studios in New York City, Feb. 3, 2020. (Slaven Vlasic/Getty Images for SiriusXM)
For a comic known for his grating, nasally voice and extremely R-rated jokes, Gilbert Gottfried was a surprisingly sweet and loving Jewish dad who grew more in touch with his Jewishness after marrying his wife in 2007. The man known as the Aflac duck voice got himself nearly canceled more than once: In 1991, Fox apologized after Gottfried, hosting the Emmy awards, kept joking about fellow comic Pee-wee Herman’s arrest for masturbating in an adult movie theater. He continued to score gigs in movies, on talk radio (frequently with Howard Stern), on sketch shows and sitcoms, and as a voice on cartoons. He was the funny animal sidekick, Iago the parrot, in Disney’s “Aladdin.” Then he famously told perhaps the first joke about the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks, just a few days after terrorists piloted airplanes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. “I’ve always said tragedy and comedy are roommates,” Gottfried told Vulture in 2019. Gottfried died Feb. 28 at 67 in New York from complications related to myotonic dystrophy, a rare condition.
Estelle Harris
Estelle Harris and Jason Alexander greet each other at the after-party for “The Producers” at the Hollywood Palladium in Los Angeles, May 29, 2003. (Kevin Winter/Getty Images)
Born Estelle, immortalized on TV as Estelle — Estelle Costanza, to be exact, the always shrill and frequently apoplectic mother to George Costanza, on the sitcom “Seinfeld” from 1992 until the show’s finale in 1998. According to Deadline, it was kismet: the character was named Estelle before Harris landed the part. Harris was born in New York City in 1928 where her parents, Jews of Polish descent, owned a candy store in Manhattan. When Harris was 7 years old, the family moved to Tarentum, Pennsylvania, where Harris suffered from antisemitic bullying at school. She quickly to turning to the theater, aided by elocution lessons, and found her calling. Though Harris went on to a prolific career recording voiceovers for commercials and playing minor characters in movies and TV shows, she became so identified with her “Seinfeld” role that fans frequently stopped her on the street to tell her her she reminded them of their own mothers. Jason Alexander, who played her character’s son George on “Seinfeld,” remembered his “tv mama” in a tweet after her death. “One of my favorite people has passed – my tv mama, Estelle Harris. The joy of playing with her and relishing her glorious laughter was a treat. I adore you, Estelle,” he wrote. Harris died in April at 93.
Chaim Kanievsky
Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky at his home in Bnei Brak, Israel, Dec. 26, 2019. (Yaakov Nahumi/Flash90)
For one of the most revered Torah scholars on Earth, at least for many haredi Orthodox Jews, Chaim Kanievsky had surprisingly small handwriting. People would write to him from around the world with questions on postcards, and he would usually give “quite short answers,” a professor told JTA. “But from all his answers there are many books,” she added. After the 2017 death of Rabbi Aharon Leib Shteinman, Kanievsky became the preeminent leader of Israel’s non-Hasidic haredi Orthodox community, an authority on matters of Jewish law. He was an isolated figure who kept to himself and studied Jewish texts in the city Bnei Brak, but he became more vocal on political topics late in life. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Kanievsky first lobbied for yeshivas to stay open, but once vaccines became available, he bucked the opinions of many in his community and pushed Jews to get vaccinated — earning some death threats in the process. Kanievsky died at 94 in Bnei Brak in March.
Aline Kominsky Crumb
Aline Crumb and Robert Crumb attend A Night at Crumbland celebrating Stella McCartney and Robert Crum Collaboration and the R. Crumb Handbook at the Stella McCartney Store, in New York City, April 12, 2005. (Nick Papananias/Patrick McMullan via Getty Images)
In one of her autobiographical comics, Aline Kominsky Crumb wrote about seeing one Jewish girl after another coming into high school on Long Island after plastic surgery. “Me ‘n’ my friends developed a ‘big nose pride,’” she wrote, and one of the characters says, “I could not stand to look like a carbon copy!” Working with her husband Robert Crumb, also a leading underground comics artist, and then on her own, Kominsky-Crumb brought raw self-lacerating accountability to the genre, subverting stereotypes about Jewish women along the way. Seen by many in the 1970s and 80s as overly crude or controversial, she’s now an icon for many feminist artists. Roz Chast said her influence is seen in “every woman who creates her own cartoon voice.” Kominsky-Crumb died of pancreatic cancer at 74 in November.
Sam Massell
Mayor Sam Massell , center, and his daughter Melanie, seated, welcome members of the Jackson Five to the mayor’s office in Atlanta, April 7, 1971. (Photo by Afro American News via Getty Images)
Sam Massell was Atlanta’s first Jewish mayor, serving from 1970-1974, and the city’s last white mayor. But he was remembered as more than a single-term bookend: Massell was the first mayor to prove that the city’s Blacks had clout enough to elevate their chosen candidate to office, and he embedded Black leaders in government and built its mass transport system, forever changing the city. During his term as mayor, the number of Blacks in leadership positions doubled, to 40%. “Being black means you are always different,” he would say. “But being Jewish means I am always different, too.” Massell died March 13 at 94.
Miriam Naor
Supreme Court President Miriam Naor speaks during a swearing-in ceremony for newly appointed judges for the Supreme Court at the President’s residence in Jerusalem, Jun. 13, 2017. (Yonatan Sindel/Flash90)
Miriam Naor served on the Israeli Supreme Court for 14 years and became the second woman to helm the court as chief justice. Her tenure presided over a period when the court made several significant rulings around religious pluralism in Israel. One of the most important came in 2016, when the court ruled that Israel must recognize conversions to Judaism performed in Israel outside of the rabbinate, which controls all religious matters in Israel, for the purposes of citizenship under the country’s Law of Return. During her tenure, the court also ruled that mikvehs, or ritual baths, in Israel had to be made available for the use of non-Orthodox converts to Judaism. Speaking at her swearing-in ceremony in 2015, Naor spoke about the need to preserve Israel’s character as a “Jewish and democratic state that upholds the principle of equality” as well as to “protect human rights and the rule of law.” Naor died in Jerusalem on Jan. 24 at 74.
Nehemiah Persoff
Nehemiah Persoff has hundreds of screen credits from classic Hollywood films and TV shows. Clockwise from top left: “Some Like It Hot,” “On The Waterfront,” “Red Sky at Morning,” “Yentl” and “Playhouse 90” (as Benito Mussolini). (Nehemiah Persoff/Photo illustration by Grace Yagel)
Few openly designate themselves as “character actors,” but Nehemiah Persoff didn’t shy away from the term. From the years following Israel’s independence through the Golden Age of Hollywood and beyond, Persoff had 200 stage and screen roles, working with directors such as Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock, Barbra Streisand and Martin Scorsese (playing a rabbi for the latter in “The Last Temptation of Christ”). He often played gangsters, including in the Marilyn Monroe classic “Some Like it Hot.” Born in Jerusalem, Persoff followed his family to the United States in 1929, and after World War II reconnected with his Israeli roots by performing onstage in the country. Though Persoff was not religious, he remained a devout Zionist his entire life and expressed regret for forgoing fighting in the 1948-49 War of Independence in order to further his acting career back in the United States. Persoff died in April at 102.
Svika Pick
Israeli singer Svika Pick, who died Aug. 14, 2022 at the age of 72, poses in a 1985 photo. (Moshe Shai/Flash90)
One of the most famous figures in Israeli cultural history, musician Svika Pick was a pioneer in his adopted country in many senses. He lightened up Israel’s pop music with simple chords and lyrics; he borrowed sounds from Mizrahi music and employed Black backup singers at a time when his government was trying to deport many would-be immigrants; and he set fashion trends with a feminine, Bowie-like aesthetic. In 1998, he wrote Israel’s third Eurovision winner, “Diva,” for Dana International, the first transgender person to win the contest. In his later years, Pick became a judge on reality shows and his daughter Daniella became paparazzi fodder when she married American director Quentin Tarantino, who moved to Tel Aviv to join the family. Pick died Aug. 14 in Ramat Hasharon, Israel, at 72.
Bob Saget
Comedian Bob Saget performs at the Improv Comedy Club at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood, Fla., Feb. 24, 2006. (Ralph Notaro/Getty Images)
A wholesome dad on network TV, and one of the raunchiest standup comedians in the business — few could boast a resume like Bob Saget’s. Before he got to Hollywood, Saget honed his comedy as a misbehaving Hebrew school student at Temple Israel in Norfolk, Virginia. “I go back and forth with my belief system, by the way. I’m not the best, most observant Jewish person you’ve ever met or talked to, and yet I’m Jewish and proud to be,” he once said. After a short stint contributing to CBS’ “The Morning Program,” Saget was cast to play a morning show host on TV. As Danny Tanner on “Full House,” Saget played a widowed dad and TV host raising three daughters in San Francisco with the help of his brother-in-law and his best friend. Saget was also known for hosting “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” The respected standup died in January at 65 from complications after a blunt head trauma.
Gerda Weissman Klein
President Barack Obama presents Jewish Holocaust survivor Gerda Weissmann Klein a 2010 Presidential Medal of Freedom, during a ceremony in the East Room of the White House in 2011. (Brooks Kraft LLC/Corbis via Getty Images)
Gerda Weissmann Klein’s liberation from concentration camps came after a brutal 350-mile death march to avoid the advance of the Allied forces. Of the 4,000 women who started the march, fewer than 120 survived. After moving to the United States, Weissman Klein became a bestselling author of 10 books, including her 1957 autobiography, “All But My Life,” which is frequently used as a text by Holocaust educators, and “The Hours After: Letters of Love and Longing in War’s Aftermath,” a chronicle of her and her husband’s correspondence in the years between liberation and their marriage. Decades later, Weissmann Klein’s story became the basis of the 1995 HBO short documentary “One Survivor Remembers,” which won both an Emmy and an Oscar (and is currently available for streaming on HBO Max). At the Oscars, she was almost played off before she could deliver an acceptance speech; but she stood her ground, and delivered a memorable message, concluding with, “Each of you who know the joy of freedom are winners.” Klein died April 3 in Phoenix, Arizona.
A.B. Yehoshua
Israeli novelist A.B. Yehoshua speaks after receiving an honorary degree at the University of Palermo, Sept. 10, 2019. (Francesco Militello Mirto/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
Many of Israel’s leading writers take aim at the country’s moral and political dilemmas. But few attacked the subjects with such blatant intensity as A.B. Yehoshua, who authored 11 novels, three collections of short stories and four plays, in addition to other essays. His fiction centered on the on-the-ground lived experiences of Israelis, but there were always larger societal themes and critique. He experimented with format, too, leading critic Harold Bloom to compare him to William Faulkner in 1984. But he was arguably as well known for his sharp public statements on his homeland, politics and Diaspora Jews. A firm believer in a two-state solution who critiqued both the Israeli occupation and Palestinian leaders, Yehoshua also infuriated U.S. groups by saying “Only those living in Israel and taking part in the daily decisions of the Jewish state have a significant Jewish identity.” He died on June 14 in Tel Aviv at 85.
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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.

