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20 years ago, Marvel introduced a Jewish Black Panther
(JTA) — Like some Jewish baseball fans, many dedicated Jewish comic book readers keep a running roster of Jewish heroes that have appeared in the “major leagues” of the comic world: Marvel, DC and some independent publishers’ titles.
Many know the handful of often-discussed Jewish characters: The Thing, whose adult bar mitzvah and Jewish wedding were major storylines; the Jewish star-wearing X-Men character Kitty Pryde; one-time Batwoman Kate Kane; and the popular supervillain Harley Quinn, to name a few. Moon Knight recently became the first overtly Jewish character to appear in the so-called Marvel Cinematic Universe, with his own show on Disney+ starring Oscar Isaac.
But not many readers are aware that, for a brief period exactly 20 years ago, the most overtly Jewish of all mainstream superheroes was the Black Panther.
Marvel’s original Black Panther character debuted in the summer of 1966, coincidentally just months before the launch of Bobby Seale and Huey Newton’s political party of the same name. Like Superman, Batman, Spider-Man and Captain America, the first mainstream Black superhero was created by Jewish comic book legends, in this case the dynamic duo of Jack Kirby (born Jacob Kurtzberg) and Stan Lee (born Stanley Lieber).
The Black Panther first appeared in a “Fantastic Four” issue, and is also known as T’Challa, the king and protector of the fictional African nation of Wakanda, a technologically advanced society hidden from the world. T’Challa possessed superhuman abilities, advanced technology and unmatched combat skills, and was considered one of those most brilliant men alive. The character and his storylines explored themes of identity, heritage and the responsibilities that come with power.
At the time of its creation, a strong, positive portrayal of an African superhero that defied stereotypes was a significant milestone in representation and diversity in the comic book industry. The Black Panther’s impact has been far-reaching, inspiring generations of readers as an enduring symbol of Black empowerment and pride.
Flash forward several decades after the character’s debut, and comics creator Christopher Priest was nearing the end of a transformative 60-issue run at the helm of the Black Panther title. Priest was the first Black writer to work full time at either of the big two studios, and his trailblazing reinvention of the character served as the primary inspiration for the two blockbuster movies that have earned acclaim in recent years.
In the final dozen issues of Priest’s “Black Panther” series, the story took a surprising turn. T’challa had vanished and was presumed dead. In his stead, a new Black Panther appears mysteriously on the scene: Kevin “Kasper” Cole, a narcotics officer in the NYPD’s Organized Crime Control Bureau.
Cole’s father was born in Uganda, but Kevin lives in a tiny apartment in Harlem with his Korean girlfriend, Gwen, and his Jewish mother, Ruth. Kevin is known as “Kasper” — after the well-known Casper the Friendly Ghost cartoon — because, as he puts it:
There once was the greatest cop who ever lived. A proud and noble warrior, someone to be both feared and respected. Jonathan Payton Cole. “Jack” Cole. Called him “Black” Jack because he was so dark. Just like they called his kid “Kasper,” because I was so light.
Meanwhile, Priest modeled Ruth after the mother on “Everybody Loves Raymond,” played by Jewish comedic actress Doris Roberts.
Cole originally “borrows” the Black Panther costume from the home of his boss, Sgt. Tork, an ally of T’challa who had held on to the costume for safekeeping. Cole’s motives were hardly altruistic, as Priest wrote on his blog at the time: “Kasper’s motive is to wear the costume so he won’t be recognized by the good guys or the bad guys as he goes about cleaning up his precinct so he can get a promotion to Detective so he can make enough money to marry his pregnant girlfriend and move them all out of Harlem.”
But what starts out as a side hustle for Cole soon evolves into a hero’s journey. When Cole is discovered by T’challa’s longtime adversary and half-brother, Hunter — AKA The White Wolf — he provides Cole with training, equipment and mentorship in order to use Cole as a proxy to hurt T’challa, who has resurfaced in New York City. The story soon becomes, in Priest’s words, “a war between The Black Panther (T’Challa) and the ‘white panther’ (Hunter) over the soul of this young kid.”
The story doesn’t end there: Cole decides to pursue official Wakandan acceptance as Black Panther by enduring rigorous initiation trials, and he soon receives support from none other than Erik Killmonger (the villain in the first “Black Panther” movie). Killmonger offers Cole a synthetic version of a heart-shaped herb, giving him T’challa-level powers. The series ends when Cole agrees to become an acolyte of the Panther god, Bast, instead of living as an imitator. He assumes a new title, The White Tiger (thereby becoming the second Jewish Marvel hero after Moon Knight to dress all in white and serve at the pleasure of an African deity).
Throughout the series, Cole’s Judaism is not a mere aside. Priest provides numerous examples of a strong Jewish identity: He dreams of his unborn son having a bar mitzvah (where they will serve “Bulgogi and ribs”). He dons a kippah and recites a Hebrew prayer at the grave of his slain friend and boss, Sgt. Tork. Even Erik Killmonger refers to Cole’s Jewish identity as a reason why Cole would identify with the underdog. Cole also proudly mentions his Jewish identity to several other characters in both Black Panther and in Priest’s short-lived follow-up series, “The Crew.”
(Priest originally envisioned the ensemble for “The Crew,” which wound up being mostly Black heroes, to be a much more diverse group, including not only Cole but also the one-time Avenger and New Warrior, Vance Astrovik, AKA Justice. That would have meant an unprecedented two Jewish superheroes on one team.)
Cole was the son of a non-Jewish African father and Jewish-American mother. (Marvel Comics)
One reason why Priest decided to make Cole Jewish could have been his personal familiarity with Jews. Priest himself went to a primary school in a Jewish neighborhood in New York City, where, he writes, “I had absolutely no sense of racism being directed at me… If I had a beef with another boy, it was about whatever it was about—race played absolutely no role… At least half of my friends were white. Right up through middle school, my girlfriend was a little Jewish girl.”
Fabrice Sapolsky, CEO and Founder of FairSquare Comics — which aims to “promote and give more exposure to immigrants, minorities and under-represented creators of the word” — hopes that Cole will not be the last comic character to represent an understanding of Jewish ethnicity beyond the “Ashke-narrative trope.”
“It is the right time for these kinds of stories to emerge,” said Sapolsky, who recently published a book starring an Asian-Jewish protagonist. He said he is also releasing a title soon that features a Black-Jewish heroine.
Cole’s journey has continued in a new series written by Ta-Nehisi Coates, over a dozen years after his first appearance (or 1-2 years in “Marvel time”). In the Coates narrative, T’challa convinces Cole to come out of superhero retirement and move to Wakanda. T’challa offers to train and outfit him not as The Black Panther or The White Tiger, but as an entirely new hero, simply known as Kevin Cole. In the most recent issues, he defends Wakanda alongside a veritable who’s-who of Black Marvel superheroes.
“One of the prime directives at Marvel has always been to create characters that resemble the world and people we know, that are around us,” Mike Marts, Priest’s editor on “Black Panther,” said about the groundbreaking representation that a Black-Jewish hero represents. “So making Kevin half-Jewish was most likely a result of collaboration between us (Marvel) and Priest… to create a character that our readers could identify with and relate to.”
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The post 20 years ago, Marvel introduced a Jewish Black Panther appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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For the Jews of Venice, an uneasy history of scapegoating and grudging tolerance
The First Ghetto: Venice and the Origins of Modern Antisemitism
By Alexander Lee
Basic Books, 432 pages, $34
When one thinks of Venice and the Jews, the first figure that probably comes to mind is Shylock, literary history’s famous Jewish villain, a moneylender who demands a “pound of flesh” from the titular character in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.
In Alexander Lee’s new book, The First Ghetto: Venice and the Origins of Modern Antisemitism, Shylock is mentioned just twice, both times in the introduction, but his ghost hovers over the pages of the book. Much of Lee’s historical account of Jewish life in Venice is devoted to Jewish moneylenders, and the key role they played in keeping Venice’s economy afloat.
The First Ghetto centers on the uneasy and guarded relationship that the Venetian government and its Christian people — first as the Venetian Republic and later as part of the Italian nation — always had with its Jewish population. According to Lee’s account, Venice didn’t want the Jews, but it needed them, largely for their ability to provide credit.
As he tracks the rise and fall of the Venetian Ghetto across more than six centuries, from Venice’s first Jewish visitor in 1315 through the fateful deportation of its Jewish citizens in the Holocaust, Lee’s focus is so narrowly limited to the fluctuations of finance that he very nearly makes the word “Jew” synonymous with “moneylender” or “pawnbroker.”

That’s a pity, because readers can be left with the impression that the primary role Jews played in the life of the city nicknamed “La Serenissima” — the most serene place — was financial.
“More than once, the Ghetto’s Jews helped keep the Venetian economy from collapse,” writes Lee, an Italian Renaissance scholar at the University of Warwick who has previously published four books, including Machiavelli: His Life and Times. “They founded no fewer than eight glittering synagogues, each a masterpiece of its kind, founded innumerable charities, and administered their own affairs with democratic probity.”
There is, of course, validity to the argument that the Venetian brand of capitalism that emerged in the late Middle Ages and sustained the city through the 20th century was reliant on Jewish labor. Since the mid-12th century, the Catholic Church had prohibited usury, loans offered with interest. But this rule only applied to Christians lending to Christians. They could, however, take out interest-bearing loans from Jewish moneylenders, who were permitted to lend and borrow without, apparently, incurring sin.
The precarious arrangement proved, over time, to be mutually beneficial for the Venetians and the Jews. As long as they were supporting the city’s financial needs, Jews were tolerated — even as they were isolated, overtaxed and frequently attacked. When the Venetians had less of a need for Jewish resources, cruelty against them spiked. They were blamed for most of the city’s woes, including the Black Death, the loss of wars, and various forms of spiritual corruption.
Even if Jews’ contributions were valued by some, the majority of Venice’s Christians “still harbored a horror of moneylending in Venice itself — and almost all regarded Jews with unconcealed hostility,” Lee writes. To balance this necessity against their antipathy, Jews were permitted to live in Venice, as long as they remained apart. Thus the Venice Ghetto was born.
Beginning in 1516, they were segregated to an island of their own on the dilapidated site of a former municipal cannon foundry, Ghetto Nuovo, surrounded by high walls and an iron gate. They were constrained in cramped conditions, and allowed to associate with Christian residents only for business purposes, in daytime. They were marked as outsiders wherever they traveled within the city by a yellow circular patch on their clothing, and an oddly shaped yellow hat.
“The Ghetto was simply the easiest way of allowing Jewish loans to keep flowing,” writes Lee, “while keeping the spiritual ‘risks’ [of associating with Jews] to a minimum.”
Although Jews had been segregated and harassed in other settings for centuries, Venice’s Ghetto was a precursor of the many Jewish ghettos that would later be created throughout Europe. The word ghetto, borrowed from Venice, later “shed its purely Jewish connotations,” Lee writes, and became “shorthand for vulnerability, poverty and powerlessness,” in the living conditions of any minority group.
The first 150 pages of The First Ghetto track the vicissitudes of the explotive financial partnership between Venice and its largely captive population of a couple thousand Jewish residents. The periods of time when Jewish life could be conducted with some sense of security and ease were offset by periods of blame, harassment, and threats of expulsion. But, as Lee argues, the story of Venice’s Jews is one of resilience and survival.
Shakespeare penned The Merchant of Venice between 1596 and 1598, in a period that Lee describes as the Ghetto’s “Golden Age, 1589-1630.” Yet precisely why the character of Shylock emerged in England in this period or how the play related to the true conditions of moneylending and commerce are unfortunately never discussed.
Culture and humanity are strikingly absent from Lee’s account of the history of the Venice Ghetto. Lee notes that the inhabitants of the Ghetto were “poets and scientists, musicians and philosophers; they put on plays and held festivals; and they transformed Venice into the greatest center for Hebrew printing in the world.”
But, apart from a detailed account of the genesis of the book trade, Lee offers little description of these poets and scientists or philosophers, nor does he provide much insight into the daily life experienced in the Venice Ghetto. I yearned for a more vivid sense of how the Ghetto’s people passed their time, what they ate, how they socialized or practiced religious observance — and how they responded to the discrimination they faced.
The book’s subtitle, Venice and the Origins of Modern Antisemitism, suggests that Lee might dive into the genesis of antisemitic tropes or ideas — why did Christian Venetians believe that Jews ate babies, for example? — but this kind of analysis isn’t provided. Instead, Lee seems to regard antisemitism as a given, a force of nature that merely fluctuates depending on the conditions of the time.
“By 1630,” writes Lee, “Venice was the best place in the world to be a Jew.” And, “Anyone could see that the Ghetto was indispensable to Venice.” The bright moment didn’t last long, however, as that same year, the city was hit by a plague that took about a third of its population. Because they were still relatively isolated, the Jewish community lost only about 15% of its residents, but the larger city’s “glory days were now numbered,” Lee writes. “There would be no recovery — only a gradual slide into irrelevance.”
In 1797, Napoleon Bonaparte marched into Venice and forced its leaders to abdicate, effectively ending the Venetian Republic, and declared all its residents equal. The walls of Venice’s Ghetto were finally torn down; its gates were carried to the town square, smashed to bits, and burned. A member of the national guard, Raffaele Vivante, jumped up and gave a speech. “Here you have toppled the terrible doors which held our Nation as if locked up in a prison,” he cried, and then, as Lee writes, “The dancing went on till dawn.”
In the 1930s and 40s, under Mussolini’s fascist reign, the Venetians’ long-simmering hatred of its Jews rose to a boil. As the Jewish community was still small and somewhat contained, in spite of early 20th-century integration, it was easy to identify and decimate. The emptying of the Ghetto, handled here in about ten pages, resulted in the removal of around 2,100 people in 1943 and 1944, of whom hundreds were murdered.
In the 21st century, while the waves of antisemitism have once again crested, the notion that to be Jewish is to be linked to moneylending, banking, and usury has, sadly, gained new currency. Although this is not the only issue Lee touches upon, I wondered while reading the book if it was truly useful to hammer home this connection once again.
As I read Lee’s history, waiting for a better sense of the dimensions of humanity in the Ghetto, a line from the Merchant of Venice kept popping into my mind: “If you prick us, do we not bleed?” I would have liked to have seen a slightly more sanguine touch on these pages.
The post For the Jews of Venice, an uneasy history of scapegoating and grudging tolerance appeared first on The Forward.
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British Museum postpones a Jewish Culture Month lecture, citing ‘disruption’ concerns
(JTA) — The British Museum has canceled a lecture titled ‘‘Ancient Israel and Judah” that was scheduled to take place today on its premises.
In a statement on Wednesday, the museum said the decision was made because it was informed in recent days that “a significant proportion of registered attendees were individuals intending to deliberately disrupt the event.”
The event was supposed to be jointly led by members of the museum’s senior curatorial team alongside organizers from Jewish Culture Month, with the lecture presented by Dr. Paul Collins, the museum’s Keeper of the Department of the Middle East.
Jewish Culture Month is the first event of its kind in the United Kingdom, organized by the Board of Deputies of British Jews. The festivities opened on May 15 and run through June 16, and include more than 100 events celebrating Jewish heritage, creativity and culture across the U.K.
Major British institutions including the British Library, Tate Modern, Victoria and Albert Museum and the BBC are participating.
The British Museum said it was only postponing and not canceling the event, stating the decision was a joint one “made following conversations with organisers and security partners.” The museum added that the decision was made “to protect the event — not diminish it.”
British Museum Assistant Press Officer Lucy McDonald told JTA that the museum could not comment on “operational or security arrangements” and referred to the statement saying that the event would be rescheduled “to a later date when it can take place in an environment that properly safeguards both the audience experience and the integrity of the programme itself.”
The Board of Deputies of British Jews responded with a statement saying, “It is highly regrettable that individuals have sought to deliberately disrupt a Jewish Culture Month event celebrating Jewish cultural heritage at the British Museum.” A spokesperson for the Board told JTA they could not comment further.
At the launch earlier this month, Board of Deputies Acting President Adrian Cohen said the events were designed for Jewish and non-Jewish community members alike because “British Jewish culture is not something that exists in isolation.”
Board of Deputies Director of Culture, Education and Communities Liat Rosenthal added, “Jewish culture has never been something sealed behind glass. It is a living culture. An argumentative culture. A hospitable culture. A culture of memory and reinvention. Of stories carried across borders and generations, then remade anew.”
The museum’s postponement of the event is a blow to London’s Jewish community, which has weathered rising antisemitic incidents since the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attack on Israel.
Shimon Cohen, the campaign director for Shechita UK, an organization that advocates for the Jewish ritual of kosher animal slaughter, told JTA in a statement, “Why has our country descended into mob rule? Why are we signaling that intimidation, vitriolic abuse, and violence against Jews works?”
“The British Museum can ‘celebrate the contribution of our communities’ except the Jewish community,” said Cohen. “Instead, their message is clear: let them cower, be cancelled, and be exposed, through the cowardice of our passivity, to ever more hatred, and why? Simply because Jews don’t count!”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post British Museum postpones a Jewish Culture Month lecture, citing ‘disruption’ concerns appeared first on The Forward.
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In Miami, rekindling the Black-Jewish alliance that Clarence Jones insisted never died
The day before the March on Washington in 1963, a man who embodied much of what that civil rights action was all about left this world. The march went on, and changed history, in dedication to the life and work of W. E. B. Du Bois. During it, the NAACP’s Roy Wilkins told the crowd, of Du Bois, that “his was the voice that was calling to you to gather here today in this cause.”
A similar scenario is unfolding in Miami today with the start of a major convening of groups committed to the Black-Jewish alliance. It comes in the shadow of the death of Clarence B. Jones, a lawyer and speechwriter for Martin Luther King, Jr., who embodied that alliance and its cause for much of his life. He died last Friday at 95.
Chairman emeritus of the Black-Jewish alliance group Spill the Honey, and long cemented in history as the legal mind behind King’s protest strategies who also contributed passages to the “I Have a Dream” speech, Jones would vociferously argue that despite endless fissures, the alliance never ended.
That is a position I too have long maintained, particularly because a major part of the alliance is acknowledging the existence and power of Black Jews. As I and so many others tirelessly repeat, the two groups are not mutually exclusive. It’s a misnomer to say “Blacks” and “Jews” when each group overlaps with the other.
And if the alliance did die sometime during the last 30 or 40 years, did my existence and that of every other Black Jew not get the memo?
Our reality hasn’t stopped others from restarting the alliance with all the patentability of reinventing the wheel. I’ve lost count over the years of how many times a new Blacks-and-Jews group — again, usually ignoring Black Jews — would form as if it alone had the answer to whatever discord was then going on, from disputes over affirmative action after the Supreme Court’s 1978 Bakke decision to the latest over Israel’s horrific actions in Gaza and Lebanon.
That led me and Bruce Haynes, author of The Soul of Judaism and an African American professor who recently discovered his Jewish ancestry, to wonder last February if it was time to form an umbrella organization for all the organizations so dedicated.
While we discussed it, others were mobilizing.
An influential — and funded — group was already working on exactly that, calling for the National Convening of the Black-Jewish Alliance in Miami this week. Organizers include the Redstone Family Foundation and the EXODUS Leadership Forum, founded by CNN commentator Van Jones.
At 95, Clarence Jones would not have made the trip. But Spill The Honey, the organization he recently chaired and for which Haynes and I both serve as board members, is also among coalition partners.
Nearly 100 Black, Jewish, and Black Jewish leaders (this time, we’re being heard) will gather in what will be a show of unity merely in all of us being together, even if we don’t agree on everything. No coalition does, and those that do succeed (think of the not-always-comfortable bedfellows of the civil rights and labor groups that pulled off the March On Washington) do so despite their differences. What’s important is that we’ll be in the room together.
Will it work? Who knows. The alliance has always been rocky, even if it has also always survived.
And don’t count Clarence Jones out yet. His spirit will definitely be with us, which he foreshadowed in a conversation we had in the Forward three years ago.
“When I die, I’m coming back Jewish,” he said.
“But still Black?” I asked.
“Absolutely!”
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