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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.
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Three Jewish Men Threatened With Knife in Paris as Antisemitic Attacks Surge
Sign reading “+1000% of Antisemitic Acts: These Are Not Just Numbers” during a march against antisemitism, in Lyon, France, June 25, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect
Three Jewish men were harassed by a knife-wielding individual in Paris, in the latest antisemitic incident to spark outrage within France’s Jewish community, prompting local authorities to launch a criminal investigation and bolster security amid a rising tide of antisemitism.
On Friday, three Jewish men wearing kippahs were physically threatened with a knife and forced to flee after leaving their Shabbat services near the Trocadéro in southwest Paris’s 16th arrondissement, European Jewish Press reported.
As the victims were leaving a nearby synagogue and walking through the neighborhood, they noticed a man staring at them. The assailant then approached the group and repeatedly asked, “Are you Jews? Are you Israelis?”
When one of them replied “yes,” the man pulled a knife from his pocket and began threatening the group. The victims immediately ran and found police officers nearby. None of the victims were injured.
Local police opened an investigation into acts of violence with a weapon and religiously motivated harassment after all three men filed formal complaints.
Jérémy Redler, mayor of Paris’s 16th arrondissement, publicly condemned the attack, expressing his full support for the victims.
“I will continue to fight relentlessly against antisemitism,” he wrote in a social media post. “Acts of hatred and violence targeting any community have no place in Paris.”
The European Jewish Congress (EJC) also denounced the incident, calling for a swift investigation and stronger action to safeguard Jewish communities amid a surge in antisemitic attacks.
“An attack targeting individuals because of their Jewish identity is unacceptable and incompatible with the values of our democratic societies,” the EJC wrote in a post on X.
“Ensuring that Jews can live, worship and participate fully in public life in safety and dignity must remain a fundamental priority,” the statement said.
The knife threat against three young Jewish men returning from synagogue in Paris is a matter of serious concern.
An attack targeting individuals because of their Jewish identity is unacceptable and incompatible with the values of our democratic societies.
The swift… pic.twitter.com/PsxmP0CeLk
— European Jewish Congress (@eurojewcong) February 9, 2026
Like most countries across Europe and the broader Western world, France has seen a rise in antisemitic incidents over the last two years, in the wake of the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
According to the French Interior Ministry, the first six months of 2025 saw more than 640 antisemitic incidents, a 27.5 percent decline from the same period in 2024, but a 112.5 percent increase compared to the first half of 2023, before the Oct. 7 atrocities.
Last week, a Jewish primary school in eastern Paris was vandalized, with windows smashed and security equipment damaged, prompting a criminal investigation and renewed outrage among local Jewish leaders as targeted antisemitic attacks continued to escalate.
Amid a growing climate of hostility toward Jews and Israelis across the country, the French government is facing mounting criticism as the legal system appears to be falling short in addressing antisemitism.
In one of the most recent and controversial cases, a French court tossed out antisemitic-motivated charges against a 55-year-old man convicted of murdering his 89-year-old Jewish neighbor in 2022.
French authorities in Lyon, in southeastern France, acquitted defendant Rachid Kheniche of aggravated murder charges on antisemitic grounds, rejecting the claim that the killing was committed on account of the victim’s religion.
According to French media, the magistrate of the public prosecutor’s office refused to consider the defendant’s prior antisemitic behavior, including online posts spreading hateful content and promoting conspiracy theories about Jews and Israelis, arguing that it was not directly related to the incident itself.
In May 2022, Kheniche threw his neighbor, René Hadjadj, from the 17th floor of his building, an act to which he later admitted.
At the time, Kheniche and his neighbor were having a discussion when the conflict escalated. He told investigators that he had tried to strangle Hadjadj but did not realize what he was doing, as he was experiencing a paranoid episode caused by prior drug use.
After several psychiatric evaluations, the court concluded that the defendant was mentally impaired at the time of the crime, reducing his criminal responsibility and lowering the maximum sentence for murder to 20 years.
In another case last year, the public prosecutor’s office in Nanterre, just west of Paris, appealed a criminal court ruling that cleared a nanny of antisemitism-aggravated charges after she poisoned the food and drinks of the Jewish family she worked for.
Even though the nanny initially denied the charges against her, she later confessed to police that she had poured a soapy lotion into the family’s food as a warning because “they were disrespecting her.”
“They have money and power, so I should never have worked for a Jewish woman — it only brought me trouble,” the nanny told the police. “I knew I could hurt them, but not enough to kill them.”
The French court declined to uphold any antisemitism charges against the defendant, noting that her incriminating statements were made several weeks after the incident and recorded by a police officer without a lawyer present.
In another shocking case last year, a local court in France dramatically reduced the sentence of one of the two teenagers convicted of the brutal gang rape of a 12-year-old Jewish girl, citing his “need to prepare for future reintegration.”
More than a year after the attack, the Versailles Court of Appeal retried one of the convicted boys — the only one to challenge his sentence — behind closed doors, ultimately reducing his term from nine to seven years and imposing an educational measure.
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US Judge Orders Carnegie Mellon to Disclose Documents on Qatari Money in Explosive Lawsuit
Students walking on the campus of Carnegie Mellon University on July 15, 2025. Photo: ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
A US federal judge has ordered Carnegie Mellon University to release documents relating to its $1 billion financial relationship with the government of Qatar, an arrangement which has allegedly led to the country’s purchasing influence over how the school handles antisemitic incidents.
The ruling, issued last week, is the latest development in a lawsuit filed by The Lawfare Project on behalf of a Jewish Israeli student, Yael Canaan, who came forward to accuse one of the Pittsburgh university’s top DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) and civil rights officials of being a bystander to a series of antisemitic incidents. She allegedly witnessed a number of the incidents and refused to address them in accordance with antidiscrimination policies which explicitly proscribe racial abuse and harassment.
Canaan originally sought redress for an incident in which Carnie Mellon (CMU) professor Mary-Lou Arscott told her to submit a project which would show “what Jews do to make themselves such a hated group,” according to court documents. Later, the diversity official, who is not named in the filing, allegedly perpetrated illegal wiretapping in an attempted mediation between Arscott and Canaan, recording their conversation without securing the consent of every party who participated in the dialogue.
Carnegie Mellon University is located in Pennsylvania, a “two-party consent state” which proscribes recording conversations without the consent of every participant.
With the DEI official’s knowledge, Arscott allegedly continued to harass Canaan after the mediation by sending her a note which contained a link to an “antisemitic journal.” As the conflict progressed, a gang of CMU faculty piled on, reducing her marks and accusing her of “acting like a victim.” Canaan was also told that no one at CMU would “be an advocate for the Jews,” according to court documents.
Discovery has since revealed that the unnamed DEI official, whose sole responsibility is to protect students like Canaan from harassment and discrimination based on race, ethnic origin, and sex, is receiving a salary partly funded by Qatari money — which The Lawfare Project described as an example of foreign influence interfering with the enforcement of civil rights laws passed by US lawmakers.
Now, a judge has ordered Carnegie Mellon University to turn over a slew of documents “reflecting the full economic benefit received from its Qatari relationship,” a decision The Lawfare Project touted as both a major victory in the case and a dramatic revelation of the consequences of foreign influence in American higher education.
“This case shines a light on a dangerous civil rights conflict hiding in plain sight,” Lawfare Project director Ziporah Reich said in a statement. “Foreign governments with appalling human rights records are funding the very offices meant to protect students’ civil rights. This should alarm every parent, every student, and every policymaker in this country. The court recognized that foreign government funding is not peripheral but potentially central to understanding how civil rights laws are applied on campus.”
She continued, “That acknowledgement opens the door for courts nationwide to examine whether hostile foreign state interests are shaping institutional behavior in ways that undermine US law.”
Carnegie Mellon University — which has not responded to The Algemeiner’s request for comment on this story — is not the only school to be accused of being restrained from taking action on antisemitism by a straitjacket of Qatari money.
Last month, the Middle East Forum (MEF) issued a report titled “Qatar’s Multidimensional Takeover of Georgetown University,” which described how Qatar has allegedly exploited and manipulated Georgetown since 2005 by hooking the school on money that buys influence, promotes Islamism, and degrades the curricula of one of the most recognized names in American higher education.
“The unchecked funds provided by Qatar demonstrate how foreign countries can shape scholarship, faculty recruitment, and teaching in our universities to reflect their preferences,” the report explained. “At Georgetown, courses and research show growing ideological drift toward post-colonial scholarship, anti-Western critiques, and anti-Israel advocacy, with some faculty engaged in political activism related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or anti-Western interventionism.”
Georgetown is hardly the only school to receive Qatari money. Indeed, Qatar is the single largest foreign source of funding to American colleges and universities, according to a recently launched public database from the US Department of Education that reveals the scope of overseas influence in US higher education. Meanwhile, the federal dashboard shows Qatar has provided $6.6 billion in gifts and contracts to US universities, more than any other foreign government or entity. Of the schools that received Qatari money, Cornell University topped the list with $2.3 billion, followed by Carnegie Mellon University ($1 billion), Texas A&M University ($992.8 million), and Georgetown ($971.1 million).
“Qatar has proved highly adept at compromising individuals and institutions with cold hard cash,” MEF Campus Watch director Winfield Myers said in a statement. “But with Georgetown, it found a recipient already eager to do Doha’s bidding to advance Islamist goals at home and abroad. It was a natural fit.”
Another recent MEF report raised concerns about Northwestern University’s Qatar campus (NU-Q), accusing it of having undermined the school’s mission to foster academic excellence by functioning as a “pipeline” for the next generation of a foreign monarchy’s leadership class.
MEF found that 19 percent of NU-Q graduates carry the surnames of “either the Al-Thani family or other elite Qatari families.” Additionally, graduates from the House of Thani, the country’s royal family, are overrepresented in NU-Q by a factor of five despite being only 2 percent of the population.
The report also said that NU-Q uses its immense wealth, which includes a whopping $700 million in funding from Qatar, to influence the Evanston campus in Illinois, Northwestern’s flagship institution.
“Endowed chairs, faculty exchanges, and governance links” reportedly purchase opinions which are palatable to the Qatari elite instead of investments in new NU-Q campus facilities and programs.
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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Can Manischewitz make matzo ball soup hot again?
Last weekend, I was walking through Lower Manhattan, when I strolled past something confusing. Several women in matching baby blue leggings and puffer coats were dancing to pop music in a small park outside the Soho Apple store, surrounded by ice blocks with something — it was hard to tell what — frozen inside them. As I got closer, I realized that they were handing out some kind of greens-boosted energy drink. The set-up was a made-for-Instagram PR stunt.
The whole point of the event seemed to be to cultivate a cool Manhattanite sheen for the brand. People were taking cans of the beverage, because why not — it was free! No one, however, was hanging out and dancing with the paid promoters, who were dancing conspicuously alone. The drink, which was gross, piled up in nearby municipal trashcans. The whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth, and not just from the fake sweetener in the beverage. Do these stunts sell energy drinks? Do they sell anything at all?
These questions were front of mind when I showed up at an art exhibit at a gallery on the Lower East Side. The art show was called SOUP, and it was hosted by Manischewitz to mark the launch of, yes, a line of jarred soups.
When I walked in, there was a solid crowd mingling in the gallery. Photos from Manischewitz’s newest ad campaign from Ohad Romano — a delightfully campy set of family photos featuring, of course, jars of soup — hung on one wall, opposite the soup-free work of two other Jewish artists, psychedelic scenes by Dan Weinstein and colorful objects from Rosemarie Gleiser.
Orange-aproned waiters passed around teacups full of soup and a bartender made gin and tonics featuring Cel-Ray and spritzes with Manischewitz wine. (The wine is owned by a different company than the food products, so was unrelated to the event.) There was a line in the back room to get Manischewitz-themed patches sewn onto Manischewitz-branded hats. A baby on a woman’s hip giggled. A man in a sharp suit, cravat and kippah laughed with a group of friends as they all sipped chicken soup with matzo ball floaters.
But what did any of it have to do with actually selling soup?
Talia Sabag, a marketing manager at Manischewitz, told me that the art show was part of the rebrand that the company has been rolling out over the past few years. Their boxes of matzo went from a bookish off-white to a bright orange, with scribbled illustrations of little figures carrying bowls of soup across the box that look like they should have walked out of the Jewish Almanac. The company told The New York Times, in 2024, that the rebranding effort was to refresh the brand, but also to target a new base of “culturally curious” consumers. In short, they wanted to sell kosher products to everyone, not just Jews.
Nearly everyone at the art show’s opening, however, seemed to be Jewish. More relevantly, the show was only planned to be up for six days.
While I sipped my teacup of soup, I asked Sabag what the show was meant to achieve for the brand. At first, she stuck to the message, arguing that the show was exactly what it said it was: an art show about soup.
“We want to celebrate the interwoven ways cuisine plays a role in communicating Jewish culture to ourselves and to the world,” she said with a bright smile, all symbolized by “the warmth of soup!”
Eventually, though, we got down to it: “A lot of studies do show that Gen Z does buy products based on that coolness factor,” Sabag told me. (She mentioned Nutter Butter as an example; the cookie started posting surreal, apocalyptic memes and saw their sales spike as a result.) In the words of the Gen Z buyers the brand is trying to attract, the art show is aura farming.
But is it possible to make Manischewitz cool? The brand is so iconic, so central to American Judaism, that it almost feels like asking whether it’s possible to make Judaism itself cool. Whether or not Judaism needs help in that arena is an open question, but plenty of people and brands have been trying to boost its coolness factor, whether it’s handbag designer Susan Alexandra’s glitzy launch party for her line of Judaica or the transgressive Bushwick burlesque show, Sinner’s Shabbat.
“We want to open up the conversation to the younger generations of course,” Sabag said. “But we’re not neglecting our core audience: our bubbes.” That means balancing nostalgia and hipness.
It’s almost impossible to purposefully construct coolness; by its nature, it resists trying. Usually, trying to be cool can only backfire, like the event with the energy drink dancers.
But I have to admit: The art show was kind of cool. It nailed its aesthetic, embracing the absurdity and surrealism of a moment in which a historic, grandmotherly brand like Manischewitz would be running an aura farming event, tonally a perfect fit for an irony-pilled era. Yet it also took itself seriously in the right ways; it was, ultimately, an actual art show with Jewish artists’ work in a neighborhood with deep Jewish roots, serving historic Jewish food. It felt genuine and rooted even as it was irreverent. Every detail was thoughtful. The drinks were actually good. The soup was exactly the same as ever.
The truth is, Manischewitz’s rebrand is cool because Manischewitz has always been cool. So has Judaism.
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