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Humans of Heller High: What nine teens learned on an immersive program in Israel
This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with teens across the world to report on issues that impact their lives.
(JTA) — After nearly two years of hybrid learning at school, some students couldn’t wait to get back in the classroom full-time. For some teens that meant flying thousands of miles to attend the immersive program at Heller High School in Israel in the Fall of 2022.
This fall, 18 students left home to experience life as students in Israel. Living together, taking classes as a group, and going on field trips with each other, students have to learn how to experience life on their own away from home in addition to a general studies class load that includes Jewish history and Hebrew.
Heller was created to give “Reform youth an opportunity to strengthen through learning and experience, their connection to Judaism, the Jewish people, and the Jewish state,” said David Solomon, associate principal. The curriculum focuses on field trips and immersion learning. Heller High takes place in Israel. The fall semester lasts from August through December and the spring semester lasts from January through May. Students that are Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors can attend Heller and can stay from a semester up to a year.
In this photo gallery, students talk about their experiences and struggles with the program along with how they are coping with the changes around them.
Changing it up
Flora Pelton, left, 15, 10th grade, from Falls Church, Virginia. (Courtesy of Flora Pelton)
“Before this semester, everything in my life was very familiar; I had lived in the same house, gone to the same schools, and been a member of the same congregation my whole life. Israel was a way for me to get new experiences outside of a small-town American lifestyle. I have become friends with so many new people from different places around the world. I enjoy being able to go to school but still go on so many trips and adventures. I learned how to be independent, take care of myself, and get to know people I have never met before. We were all kind of thrown into this experience and so we had to learn how to do all of these things on our own. It has opened my mind to knowing that I will have to do things like this in the future. It has moved me because I know that I can do so much more than I thought I could. Being in Israel will change who I am now because I have learned to be more aware of others. We have to be with each other at all times and so respecting and learning others’ needs is super important. For example, if my roommate wants to go to bed, I have to be quiet or find somewhere else. I have enjoyed swimming in Sachne [a nature spot in the lower Galilee] the most. It was during a full day field trip and we got to swim as it is the last time we can swim until summer. We all jumped in and were terrified of the fish in the water. The experiences have brought me closer to everyone around me.” — Flora Pelton
Connected
Eitan Hefer, 15, 10th grade, in Hudsonville, Michigan. (Courtesy of Eitan Heffer)
“I love being able to have fun with Jews my age. I am able to surround myself with people that have similar interests and ideas as me. I feel more connected and comfortable with these people than with most of my friends at home because you are with the people here all day, everyday. I will be a lot more mature and be able to focus and do my homework without being asked [when I return home]. I will also be able to advocate for myself a lot more. I have a lot more fun here versus school at home because I can have more one-on-one with my roommates. Being in Heller High has taught me to manage my time and know when I need to focus on myself versus the people around me. This experience has changed my outlook on life because it has taught me to make the most of each moment. ” — Eitan Hefer
New View
Lena Schapiro, 16, 11th grade, from Rancho Cucamonga, California. (Zoe Klevens)
“I heard about Heller High from a friend. My parents thought it would be a great opportunity, and we didn’t know anyone that had studied abroad as a high school student. I decided to do it because, at home, I wasn’t feeling very Jewish. My school has no Jews. I was looking for a connection to other Jews and my Jewish identity in Israel. I expected to observe Judaism more often here and it is true compared to my life at home. An experience I’ll remember most was we went into the caves at Bar Kochva and sang the Shema and extended every word. It was so spiritual, and it felt so good at that moment. It felt like I was ascending with the echoing voices. We were all in harmony both out loud, but also in our souls. This experience has given me a whole new mindset about the world. I feel more responsibility through community service, engaging with Israelis that I have never met, and being away from home. Now that I have been able to surround myself with other Jews, I can feel confident in my Jewish identity when returning home. It opened my eyes, like when we learned to clean out plates with dirt. It opened my mind up to the fact that you can clean something dirty with something even dirtier. It was something I would never have believed worked, but although it seems absurd, it was so effective. It’s taking something you’d never believed and turned it into something so easy. I can apply this to my Jewish life at home by trying new things that might seem weird to others.” — Lena Schapiro
Reminded of home
Adina Golbus, 17, 11th grade, from San Rafael, California. (Zoe Klevens)
“Raticus is this toy rat; he’s not quite a stuffed animal, but he looks realistic and special to me. It was this joke between my friends and me back home, and I ended up bringing it with me. I created this Instagram account called raticus.inisrael. On my first day in the airport, I knew these kids in the airport were going to think I was the weirdest person in the world or have similar humor. It made my heart happy when everyone thought it was super funny. Now wherever we go, I try to bring Raticus to all the significant places we go. He has become a mascot for our group. He has become a special thing. I share them with my parents. Masada was a challenging mountain to climb, and having Raticus there made it easier, knowing I could take him to the top and get sunset pictures. He helped to change the mood.” — Adina Golbus
Together
Sylvia Kassoff, 16, 11th grade, from Jackson, Mississippi. (Zoe Klevens)
“After going to Israel with NFTY this summer, I knew I wanted to return. I was unhappy with my home school because I felt as though I wasn’t getting a very good education. My friend from home had told me that ‘being around other Jewish people was good for me.’ That really stuck with me and made me want to come to Israel again. The cultural shift from Jackson, Mississippi to Israel is definitely large. At home, there is a lot of Southern hospitality where everyone is kind to everyone. Here, people are kind, but it is definitely different because people display their kindness differently. A lot of the time people don’t really smile on the street that much, but many give to charity and in general people are a lot more willing to be socially active here versus at home.
“My happiest moment here was when we went to the Mediterranean sea and hung out on a rock. It was directly after we finished Yam le Yam (Sea to Sea) where we hiked from the Kinneret to the Mediterranean sea. Everyone was exhausted and we got to unwind and be together. I realized that these are the people I am going to be spending four months of my life with and I really appreciated that. While the school day is a lot longer, the breaks in between learning are helpful. The content is much more interesting and easier to follow. I have learned that I want to find a community and find people that make me feel comfortable. In Israel, I have made my own community of so many other Jewish teens. I am a little worried to go back to Jackson because I know it will be a huge adjustment. I have to go back to school less than a week after I get home from Israel. I think once I get back I will notice a big difference between my friends and me. I am excited to see what the world has to offer when I arrive back home.” — Sylvia Kassoff
Full of possibilities
Anna von Thomsen, bottom left, 16, 11th grade, from Schwerin, Germany. (Courtesy of Anna von Thomsen)
“The bus ride from the airport to Heller High felt like it was so full of possibilities. I didn’t know anyone and was like this is the start. The class sizes are either one-on-one or much smaller than my class sizes at home. It’s different from having a teacher that cares about what I learn. Since I am not American, I have had difficulty socially adapting, but I am working on that. The cultural difference between German and American teens makes it difficult. Trends and humor are both incredibly different. Sarcasm is more subtle in the United States and I have found that a lot of American trends reach Germany a lot later. Germans are generally a lot more blunt whereas Americans tend to dance around subjects. I have adapted by letting my peers shape me and teach me what they find funny. I haven’t stopped believing what I believed before I came here, but I have definitely catered to other people.” — Anna von Thomsen
Connected
Kami Rosenblatt, 16, 11th grade, from Danville, California. (Zoe Klevens)
“The best advice I was given before coming here is that nothing is permanent. I’m trying to make the most of it and live in the moment. I was expecting to be homesick, [but] I was shocked at how comfortable I was by day two. I’ve never been happier. We never really know how our day is going to turn out. It can go from being an 11-hour school day to having some of my favorite memories during or right after school. I also love Israeli dancing. When I am dancing, I feel energized and a kind of kehila (community) that you can not feel anywhere else. During Simchat Torah, we unraveled the Torah and saw the whole thing. We celebrated and danced around it with people we never met before; that was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. At home, I only go to school from 8:30 a.m. until 1pm. Here, we go to school from 8 a.m. until 7 p.m. It’s draining and long. However, learning Hebrew and the Jewish history class about Israel, the land, the people, the culture, and then just Judaism – the classes are so important to be learning here. It’s immersing us into the culture even more, and it’s the kind of education I would never receive in my life again. My greatest challenge has been learning to adapt to not enough sleep and going all day long without any breaks or stops. I’ve learned not to care about the things I used to care about. I am a lot less uptight.” — Kami Rosenblatt
Tradition
Talia Rapaport, top, 17, 12th grade, from Raleigh, North Carolina. (Courtesy of Talia Rapaport)
“Last year, I attended Alexander Muss High School for a semester. My dad and all of his family had done it. I realized how much Israel means to me and knew I wanted to return to my senior year. I wanted to learn more about the history of Israel, so I could go back and share it with my community. My happiest moment at Heller High was when we made it to the top of Masada and hung an Israel flag together. It was blowing in the wind, and I felt like we had all made it. When we screamed into the mountains ‘Am Yisrael Chai,’ and it screamed back at us, it showed all of the generations and what we are continuing. This gave me a sense of Israeli pride and what we get to be a part of daily. Living on my own here has made me a lot more independent. It is great college prep. I’ve had to start making my own life decisions like choosing when to do my homework or when I want to eat out versus staying in. It is now up to me how I want to practice Shabbat. In Israel, I am trying to stay off my phone on shabbat. At home, I attend Orthodox school; I learn all the religious aspects of being Jewish, the Talmud and Chumash [the Hebrew Bible], and not the history. The hardest thing for me has been learning about reform Judaism; it’s been eye-opening. It has given me a new perspective on what the prayers mean to different people. I learned so many different tunes and melodies to songs along with saying things in English instead of Hebrew. It gives everyone the ability to learn what we are praying about.I never had any background in that. But, I’ve adapted to it and overtime I started doing the reform prayers, instead of how I learned. Everyone has done a good job of including me in services.” — Talia Rapaport
Learning balance
Noa Maccabee, left, 14, 10th grade, from Hood River, Oregon. (Courtesy of Noa Macabee)
“I grew up in a non-Jewish community and struggled with my Jewish identity. Growing up in a small community with no Jews, I didn’t really know how to be Jewish. Being Jewish to me before didn’t really mean anything, but now I know more about the world and the people around me. I have learned more about my religion and others. Now, being Jewish means being me and not having to hide it. I was looking to explore Israeli culture and thought Heller High would help me. I’ve learned to enjoy every moment and take school more seriously. Hiking Sea to Sea with some of my closest friends and being outdoors was amazing. It pushed us because we were tired and exhausted, but we kept going. We discovered a stream after hiking six miles. We were all super hot and sweaty and arrived in this secluded area for lunch. My friend Kami and I decided to go for a brief swim. At that moment, I realized how close I was to nature, and the deep connection I have made with friends is the strongest I have ever had. Being here has taken time to get used to. Balancing school, friends, and living with people all the time – the social aspect can be difficult because of lack of alone time. It was surprising how short of a time this place took to feel like home. This experience has made me a more open person. I have a much better understanding of how the world functions and lives because I have the ability to see how Jews live when they are surrounded by thousands of other Jews.” — Noa Maccabee
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Nearly forbidden: Street signs in an ‘unwanted’ language
דער קינסטלער שעבעשטיען פֿיומײ איז, אײן זוניקן טאָג אין פֿרילינג 2021, געשטיגן אױף אַ לײטער און אױפֿגעהאָנגען אַ װײַסן גאַסנשילד מיט ייִדישע אותיות׃ „גרענאַדיערשטראַסע“. װען נישט דעם אַלף־בית װאָלט פֿיומײס קונסטװערק געװען אַ צװילינג מיטן אָפֿיציעלן שילד דעריבער, װאָס װײַזט אין גלחות דעם הײַנטיקן נאָמען פֿון דער גאַס אין צענטער בערלין׃ „Almstadtstraße“.
גרענאַדירשטראַסע איז ביז 1938 געװען די באַרימטסטע „ייִדישע גאַס“ אין דער שטאָט, ספּעציעל בײַ ייִדיש־רעדערס. דער דײַטשמערישער אױסלײג מיטן שטומען „ע“ שטאַמט פֿון אַ ייִדישן שילד װאָס מ׳האָט אַ מאָל אַרױסגעהאָנגען אױף נומער 31, פֿאַרן „האָטעל אָדלער“.
אין אָט דעם איבערגעפּאַקטן בנין האָט מען נישט נאָר געקענט אײַנשטײן אין אַ פּיצל האָטעל, נאָר אױך קױפֿן גרינסן אין אַ שפּײַזקראָם, עסן אין אַ כּשרן רעסטאָראַן, לערנען חומש אין אַ תּלמוד־תּורה, לערנען גמרא אין אַ בית־מדרש – און דאַװענען אין אַזש פֿיר שטיבלעך!
פֿיומײס אומלעגאַלן גאַסנשילד האָט די נאַטשאַלסטװע גיך אַראָפּגענומען. אַ פֿונקציאָנאַר פֿון קװאַרטאַל־אַמט, נתּן פֿרידנבערג, איז אָבער מסכּים געװען מיט פֿיומיין אַז מע דאַרף סוף־כּל־סוף אָנערקענען די קולטורעל ייִדישע „אָסטיודן“ (די אַמאָליקע מיזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע ייִדן), נישט נאָר די אַסימילירטע „יעקעס“. און מע דאַרף געדענקען ווי ייִדן האָבן געלעבט, נישט בלויז ווי זיי זענען אומגעקומען. צוזאַמען מיט אַ היסטאָריקער פֿון „צענטרום יודאַיִקום“, דזשעס ערל, האָט פֿרידנבערג געפּרוּװט אָרגאַניזירן אַן ענלעכן זכּרון־שילד. נײן, צען אַזעלכע – אױף צען שכנותדיקע „ייִדישע גאַסן“.
ס׳איז נישט געװען פּשוט. דער װײַסער קאָליר, װי בײַ די „װאָרע“ גאַסנשילדן? פֿאַרבאָטן. דאָס װאָרט „שילד“? פֿאַרבאָטן. דאָס װאָרט „קונסט“? פֿאַרבאָטן אָן אַ קונסט־פֿאַרמעסט. ייִדיש גופֿא איז שיִער נישט פֿאַרבאָטן, װײַל אין דײַטשלאַנד איז דאָס נישט קײן אָנערקענטע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך.
נאָך פֿינף יאָר מיט אַפּליקאַציעס און קאָמפּראָמיסן האָבן ערל און פֿרידנבערג אין מאַרץ אָרגאַניזירט אַ „פּרעסע־טערמין“ אױפֿן ראָג. די שלײער איז כאָטש אײן מאָל אַראָפּגעפֿאַלן אין װינט אײדער מע האָט אָפֿיציעל אױפֿגעדעקט דעם ערשטן „גאַסנצײכן“, װאָס מע טאָר נישט אָנרופֿן קײן גאַסנשילד׃ „גרענאַדיערשטראַסע“ אין אַ נײַער שריפֿט מיט פֿיומײס אױסלײג אױף אַ בלאָען הינטערגרונט. אַ צװײטער „צײכן“ דערקלערט דעם װיץ אױף דײַטש און ענגליש; אַ קו־אַר־קאָד פֿאַרלינקט אַ נײַ באַלערנדיק װעבזײַטל מיטן קעפּל „נעלם געװאָרן אָן אַ שפּור?“
צװישן די בערך 30 צוקוקערס – אַרײַנגערעכנט פּאָליטיקערס און רבנים – זענען כאָטש פֿיר ייִדישיסטן געװען אין עולם׃ אַ ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסע, אַ ייִדיש־קינסטלער, אַ ייִדיש־פֿאָרשערין און אַ געװעזענע ייִדיש־פּראָפֿעסאָרשע. אַלע האָבן זיך געפֿרייט צו זען די ייִדישע אותיות אױף דער אַלטער ייִדישער גאַס. בײַ דער טריבונע האָט מען אָבער נישט געהערט קײן וואָרט ייִדיש.
„אַװדאי נישט“, האָט מיר דזשעס ערל געזאָגט אָן חרטה. „די שפּראַך איז נישט דער עיקר. מע דערמאָנט זי בלױז װען ס׳איז טאַקע נײטיק.“ אױפֿן ענגלישן װעבזײַטל געפֿינט מען דאָס װאָרט Yiddish ערשט האַרט בײַם סוף פֿון אַלפֿאַבעטישן גלאָסאַר. נתּן פֿרידנבערג, להיפּוך, האָט געבעטן מחילה און צוגעזאָגט צו באַטײליקן ייִדיש־רעדערס אין צוקונפֿטיקע אונטערנעמונגען.
װער אָדער װאָס איז נעלם געװאָרן? רובֿ ייִדן אין הײַנטיקן דײַטשלאַנד זענען אימיגראַנטן פֿון מיזרח־אײראָפּע אָדער זײערע קינדער. די ייִדיש־זינגערין סאַשע לוריא, למשל, אַ געבױרענע פֿון לעטלאַנד, האָט זיך באַזעצט אין נױקעלן, אַ בערלינער אימיגראַנטן־קװאַרטאַל אַזױ װי די ייִדישע גאַס פֿון אַ מאָל. דאָרט האָט זי מיט די חבֿרים אױפֿגעבױט אַ באַלעבטע ייִדיש־מוזיק־סבֿיבֿה. „איך פֿיל זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט די אַמאָליקע ייִדן פֿון אָט די גאַסן“, זאָגט לוריא. „זײ דערמאָנען מיך אין מײַנע קרובֿים.“
די סבֿיבֿה אין נױקעלן האָט דערפֿירט צום גרינדן אַ קולטור־אָרגאַניזאַציע, „שטעטל בערלין“, מיט כּסדרדיקע פּראָגראַמען און אַ יערלעכן פֿעסטיװאַל. אױך די פּאָעזיע־ און קונסט־סבֿיבֿה אַרום „ייִדיש.בערלין“ איז פֿיבעריש־פֿלײַסיק. (איך אַרבעט צוזאַמען מיט בײדע גרופּעס.) אין מאַרץ למשל זענען אין דער שטאָט פֿאָרגעקומען אַ כּליזמר־דזשעם־סעסיע; אַ שבת־טיש מיט פֿריש פּובליקירטע ייִדישע לידער; אַ ייִדיש־זינגערײַ; קאָנצערטן פֿון כאָטש דרײַ קאַפּעליעס; אַן אָװנט פֿון „שמועס און װײַן“ — אַ ייִדישער שמועסקרײַז אין אַ שענק; אַ רובריק װוּ ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסעס לײענען די ווערק פון אַנדערע ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסעס; װײַטערע לײען־ און שרײַבקרײַזן…
„אונדזער סבֿיבֿה האַלט אין װאַקסן“, זאָגט לוריא. „אַלץ עפֿטער הערט מען בײַ אונדזערע אונטערנעמונגען אויך שמועסן אויף ייִדיש.“
נישט אַלע „װאָרע“ גאַסנשילדן אין דײַטשלאַנד זענען בלױז אויף דײַטש. סוף מאַרץ בין איך מיט אַ געדונגענעם אױטאָ געפֿאָרן אָנדערטהאַלבן שעה קײן לאַוזיץ/לוזשיסקאַ, אַ ראַיאָן פֿון דײַטשלאַנד װוּ מע רעדט צװײ אָנערקענטע סלאַװישע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן׃ אונטער־סאָרביש (װענדיש) און אױבער־סאָרביש. אַרױספֿאָרנדיק פֿון שאָסײ האָב איך דערזען אַ שילד פֿאַר אַ דאָרף מיט צװײ נעמען, אַ דײַטשן און אַ סאָרבישן. אױך אַלע גאַסן האָבן צװײ נעמען. אָבער הערן האָב איך דעם גאַנצן סוף־װאָך אין ערגעץ נישט געהערט קײן סאָרביש װאָרט – ביז מיר זענען אַרײַן אין װענדישן מוזיי אין קאָטבוס/כעשעבוס.
במשך פֿון דער געשיכטע האָט דײַטשלאַנד אונטערגעדריקט די סאָרבישע שפּראַכן. פּרײַסן האָט אַרױפֿגעצװוּנגען אױף די סאָרבן דײַטשע נעמען. די נאַציס י״ש האָבן פֿאַרבאָטן פּובליקאַציעס און פֿאַרטריבן די גלחים כּדי צו פֿאַרדײַטשן די קלױסטערס. מיזרח־דײַטשלאַנד האָט באַזעצט דײַטש־רעדנדיקע פּליטים אין סאָרבישע דערפֿער און צונױפֿגעמישט די אַרבעטערס אין קאָלװירטן. עד־היום האָט מען חרובֿ געמאַכט 130 סאָרבישע דערפֿער לטובֿת די קױלנגריבער.
די ראָלע פֿון דײַטשלאַנד אין דער געשיכטע פֿון ייִדיש – דאָס מאַמע־לשון פֿון 85% פֿון די קדושים – קענען מיר שױן.
אונטער־סאָרביש האָבן סאָרבן אױפֿגעהערט איבערצוגעבן בירושה; אױבער־סאָרביש הערט מען נאָך בײַ געצײלטע קאַטױלישע משפּחות. פֿאַר בײדע שװעסטער־שפּראַכן האָט מען שוין אָבער דורכגעפֿירט ממשותדיקע צילן אויפֿצולעבן דאָס לשון׃ ביזן יאָר 2100 האָפֿט מען, אַז עס וועלן זײַן אַזש 100,000 סאָרביש־רעדערס!
הײַנט האָט דאָס סאָרבישע פֿאָלק מיט זײַנע צװײ לשונות געוויסע רעכט און דעריבער — געלט און אינסטיטוציעס. פֿאַראַן אַ מין סאָרבישער ייִװאָ (װאָס בײַט גערן דעם אױסלײג פֿון סאָרביש); צװײ קינסטלער־קאָלעקטיװן („קאָלעקטיװ.װאַקוּום“ און „נײַע סאָרבישע קונסט“), קאַפּעליעס, קינדער־גערטנער, אײַנטונק־פּראָגראַמען, אַ פֿאַרלאַג, צװײ מיטלשולן, און באַצאָלטע אַרבעט…
דער סאָרבישער ייִװאָ האָט אָנגעשטעלט צװײ לינגװיסטן, שימאָן בלום און עװאַן בליקלי, צו דאָקומענטירן די „לינגװיסטישע לאַנדשאַפֿט“. אױף זײערע ביציקלען האָבן זײ פֿאָטאָגראַפֿירט יעדן סאָרבישן גאַסנשילד אין 70 דערפֿער. „װען איך האָב צום ערשטן מאָל דערהערט קינדער רעדנדיק אױפֿן לשון“, דערצײלט בליקלי, „האָב איך זיך כּמעט צעװײנט.“
דער סאָרבישער קינסטלער בערנהאַרד שיפּער האָט מיר געזאָגט אַז די שילדן זענען אים „גאָר װיכטיק“. אַזױ װײס מען אַז ס׳איז דאָס סאָרבישע געביט. „דאָס פֿאַרשטײט זיך אַלײן.“
די סאָרבישע שילדן האָבן אױך אינספּירירט מיעטאָ נאָאַק, דעם אַמאָליקן פֿאָרזיץ פֿונעם מינאָריטעטן־סעקרעטאַריאַט װאָס פֿאַרטײדיקט אַלע זיבן דײַטשע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן. קינדװײַז האָט ער אַ מאָל באַמערקט אַזאַ שילד, און שפּעטער זיך אױסגעלערנט אונטער־סאָרביש און געװאָרן אַ שפּראַך־אַקטיװיסט.
אין זײַן ענטפֿער אױף מײַן בקשה האָט נאָאַק געשריבן׃ „כ׳האָב זיך שױן אָפֿט געפֿרעגט פֿאַרװאָס ייִדיש איז נישט קײן מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך אין דײַטשלאַנד. אין אַכט אײראָפּעיִשע לענדער איז עס יאָ אַזוי.“
אױף אַ שפּאַציר לענג־אױס גרענאַדירשטראַסע האָב איך דערצײלט נאָאַקן מעשׂיות פֿונעם ייִדישן אַמאָל און דעם ייִדישיסטישן הײַנט. האָבן מיר זיך אַװעקגעזעצט בײַ אַ קאַפֿע לעבן דעם שילד. קוקנדיק אױף די פֿאַרבײַגײערס האָט ער פֿאַר מיר אַנטפּלעקט די סודות פֿון מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן און באַשלאָסן צו שרײַבן אַן אײגענעם אַרטיקל װעגן די ייִדיש־שילדן – אױף אונטער־סאָרביש.
אַגבֿ, אין פֿרילינג 2021 האָט פֿיומײ נישט נאָר אונטערגענומען זײַן קינסטלערישע אינטערװענציע. ער האָט אױך מיט זײַן מיטװױנערין עליאַנאַ דזשײקאָבס לאַנסירט אַ פּאָליטישע קאַמפּאַניע לטובֿת ייִדיש װי די אַכטע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך פֿון דײַטשלאַנד. די לעצטע מעלדונג אויפֿן אינפֿאָרמאַטיװן פֿייסבוק־זײַטל לכּבֿוד דעם דאָזיקן אויפֿרוף שטאַמט פֿון יענעם אָקטאָבער, נאָר די צען נײַע שילדן האָבן באַנײַט די דיסקוסיע.
„לאָמיר פֿאָרט אויפֿלעבן די קאַמפאַניע!“ האָט מיר דזשייקאָבס געזאָגט.
„ס׳איז אַ גאַנץ רעאַליסטישער געדאַנק“, האָט סאַשע לוריא מסכּים געווען.
הייסט עס, אין לעצטן סך־הכּל, איז ייִדיש אין בערלין טאַקע נישט נעלם געװאָרן.
The post Nearly forbidden: Street signs in an ‘unwanted’ language appeared first on The Forward.
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The ‘godfather of denim’ was an Italian designer whose Jewish father was murdered at Auschwitz
(JTA) — Adriano Goldschmied became known as the “godfather of denim” for elevating jeans from casual wear to a luxury staple. His own father’s story was equally riveting.
Goldschmied, who died April 5 at 82, following a battle with cancer in a hospital in Castelfranco Veneto, Italy, credited himself with founding or developing at least 50 brands, including Diesel, AG, Replay, Gap 1969, A Golde and Goldsign.
He was just an infant in 1944 when his Italian Jewish father was arrested by the Nazis.
Goldschmied’s mother, Sofia, was in hiding with his sister at the time of his birth on Nov. 29, 1943, in Vico Canavese, Italy. The Nazis had invaded Italy just months earlier.
His father, Livio, had joined the Italian resistance after the Nazis took over. When he tried to visit his wife, daughter and newborn son, he was apprehended en route. One of six people with his last name deported by the Nazis via Milan’s central station, he was ultimately sent to Auschwitz, where he was killed several months later.
According to a testimony made by a survivor to Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust center, Livio was denounced by a midwife and received permission to visit his son briefly after his arrest. The testimony, which cannot be independently verified, said he had rejected an offer to move to the United States to work with the physicist Enrico Fermi because he would not have been able to bring his family, and had also declined an opportunity to escape from the train that took him to Auschwitz.
Following the war, Goldschmied moved with his mother to Trieste. He later spent a stint pursuing skiing in the 1960s in Cortina, the ski resort in the Southern Alps.
He did not speak readily about his family’s Holocaust history, and unlike his sister, he did not connect with his Jewish heritage. Diana was responsible for installing Stolpersteine, small memorials embedded in sidewalks documenting the Jews who lived at that address before the Holocaust, to commemorate their family members who were murdered.
“Like my father, my brother was a man of great intelligence and extraordinary intuition,” Diana told the Italian-Jewish news outlet Moked. “However, he did not want to talk about our family history. I think memory was working inside him, though.”
Goldschmied got his start in fashion in the 1970s, when he launched his shop, King’s Shop, in Cortina d’Ampezzo, and started a denim line, Daily Blue.
“That first production was going to a fabric store in my hometown, buying crazy fabrics for a very high price and going through manufacturing with my tailor,” Goldschmied told Women’s Wear Daily in 2023. “The product was extremely expensive, and in some way, I created a premium denim by accident.”
In 1981, Goldschmied went on to found the Genius Group, a collective that backed emerging labels like Diesel, Replay and Goldie.
Among Goldschmied’s innovations throughout his career were the development of the stonewash technique, experimenting with Tencel fibers, creating super-stretch denim and pioneering sustainable production methods as early as the 1990s.
“He was the architect of a global staple,” Mariette Hoitink, the co-founder of House of Denim, told Women’s Wear Daily. “Adriano didn’t just design jeans; he orchestrated the greatest transformation in the history of apparel. He was the singular force who elevated denim from rugged workwear into a global fashion staple.”
Goldschmied is survived by his wife, Michela; his daughters Sara, Marta and Glenda; two grandchildren; and his sister.
“Adriano and I led very separate lives,” Diana told Moked. “I rediscovered my Jewish identity. He took a different path, but everyone carries the past within them.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post The ‘godfather of denim’ was an Italian designer whose Jewish father was murdered at Auschwitz appeared first on The Forward.
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Not Stupidity — Something Worse: Why the ‘Israel Controls America’ Myth Keeps Spreading
US President Joe Biden and Democratic presidential candidate and US Vice President Kamala Harris react onstage at the Democratic National Convention (DNC) in Chicago, Illinois, US, Aug. 19, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque
In a recent post, Donald Trump took aim at Tucker Carlson, Megyn Kelly, Candace Owens, and Joe Kent, calling them “low IQ” and “losers,” and asking — between Carlson and Kent — “who is dumber?”
It was vintage Trump: blunt, theatrical, and calibrated to dominate a news cycle with a single line. He has long relied on that instinct — to compress a dispute into something sharp enough to stick. But beneath the spectacle sits a more serious issue.
The problem is not intelligence. Many of these figures are clearly relatively smart. The problem is that they — along with a growing chorus of voices on the political left such as Ana Kasparian, Cenk Uygur, and Mehdi Hasan — continue to advance a claim that collapses under minimal scrutiny. Strip away the stylistic differences, the accents, and the partisan framing, and the argument is identical: “Israel controls the United States,” or in its updated form, “Benjamin Netanyahu controls Donald Trump.”
That claim has resurfaced repeatedly over the years, sometimes dressed in more sophisticated language, sometimes stated outright. What makes its latest iteration notable is not merely its persistence, but where it is now being voiced.
This weekend, Kamala Harris, speaking at a Democratic fundraiser in Detroit, said that Donald Trump had been “pulled into this war” by Benjamin Netanyahu. That phrasing carries a clear implication: that the president of the United States — the commander-in-chief of the most powerful military in the world — is not acting independently but is being maneuvered into conflict by a foreign (Jewish) leader.
When this idea circulates on the fringes, it is dismissed. When amplified by pundits chasing attention, it’s often ignored. But when it’s echoed, even cautiously, by a former vice president and major presidential candidate, it crosses a different threshold. At that point, the claim can no longer be dismissed as noise. It has been normalized.
This is not a new idea. It is one of the oldest political accusations in circulation, and it is remarkably easy to test against reality. Only last week, Trump effectively dictated that Israel must accept a temporary ceasefire with Hezbollah — an outcome widely opposed within Israel, where many believe the campaign should be completed and remain skeptical that the Lebanese state will ever disarm Hezbollah. If Israel were directing American policy, that outcome would not occur.
Historically, the “Israel controls America” claim has appeared in different ideological forms but with identical substance. On the far-right, figures such as David Duke have advanced it explicitly. On the far-left, figures like Cynthia McKinney have repackaged it in political language. The wording changes, but the core allegation remains the same: that American power is not sovereign, but subject to external — specifically Jewish — control, echoing Henry Ford and his “International Jew” conspiracy theories of the 1920s and 1930s.
The argument collapses as soon as one examines scale and structure. The United States is a $27 trillion economy with unmatched global reach across military, financial, technological, and diplomatic domains. It maintains a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and leads a network of alliances that spans continents. Israel’s economy, by contrast, is approximately $700 billion. Its military is highly capable, but it is not a global force. It does not control sea lanes, command multinational coalitions, or set the terms of global finance. The disparity is not marginal; it is foundational.
This asymmetry is not unique. The United States maintains deep strategic relationships with many smaller allies such as South Korea, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait. In fact, the United States fought a war to liberate Kuwait in 1991, sustaining approximately 150 American combat fatalities in the process. Yet, almost no one claims Kuwait controls Washington, or that Saudi Arabia dictates US foreign policy. Only one small ally is routinely described in those terms.
The historical record reinforces the absurdity of this Israel “controls” America trope.
In 1956, despite repeated attacks on Israel from the Sinai and Egypt-controlled Gaza, Dwight D. Eisenhower forced Israel to withdraw from Sinai following the Suez Crisis; Israel complied. In 1982, Ronald Reagan pressured Israel to halt operations in Beirut, facilitating the evacuation of Yasser Arafat and the PLO leadership to Tunisia. In 1991, George H. W. Bush asked Israel not to respond to Iraqi Scud missile attacks to help preserve the US-led coalition; Israel absorbed 39 Scud strikes, 13 deaths, and stood down.
In 2015, Barack Obama advanced the Iran nuclear deal despite sustained Israeli opposition. Under Joe Biden, Israeli operations in Rafah were delayed for months under US pressure despite Israeli hostages being held there and its centrality to Hamas’ military infrastructure.
More recently, on June 24, 2025, as a Trump-negotiated ceasefire was taking effect, Iran launched multiple ballistic missiles at Beersheba, killing four Israelis. Israel prepared a large retaliatory strike. Trump intervened and effectively ordered Israel to turn its planes around.
This is what an unequal alliance looks like: coordination, pressure, and at times outright constraint. It is not a relationship where the far smaller country exercises “control.”
So why does the claim persist? Not because it is analytically persuasive — but because it is emotionally effective. Political narratives built on grievance often prefer simple explanations to complex realities.
It is easier to attribute outcomes to hidden manipulation than to acknowledge the interplay of strategic interests, risks, and constraints that define foreign policy decision-making.
There is also a deeper historical layer. For centuries, European political culture absorbed and transmitted variations of the same vile accusation: that Jews operate behind the scenes, exercising covert and pernicious influence over institutions and leaders.
So, when modern commentators repackage that idea — whether in the language of “influence,” “lobbying,” or outright “control” — it does not enter a neutral environment. It lands on fertile soil, reinforcing a long-established and familiar narrative.
Since World War II, the claim hasn’t changed — only its migration from the margins into the mainstream. And once it crosses that threshold, it stops being rhetoric and starts shaping behavior.
As it did in Germany after World War I, if a significant number of people come to believe that their government has been captured, that their leaders are not acting independently but are controlled by a nefarious external force, the range of conclusions and actions they will justify or rationalize expands dramatically. History offers no shortage of examples of where that logic can lead.
Trump attempted to reduce this to a punchline. But this is not a matter of tone. It is a warning sign. And this time, it is coming from closer to the political center than it has in a very long time.
Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.