Black-Jew Dialogues

On November 14, I attended a production at Anshe Emet Synagogue entitled “Black-Jew Dialogues.” Through sketches, improvisations, multi-media, and puppets, this two man show is has a mission. “The black and Jewish communities in America share a history of pain, oppression, pride, and a deep commitment to civil rights and justice. In the past several decades the communities have slowly drifted apart...From the inception of the N.A.A.C.P to black newspapers being first in decrying the abuse of Jews in Nazi Germany to the civil rights movement here, blacks and Jews have been arm-in-arm in their fight for social justice. Through laughter, honesty, conversation (and a little nosh), The Black-Jew Dialogues is our attempt to revive this all-important union.” Through brutal yet relatable humor, the show strives to model effective conversations about being an ally, as well as the difficulties of being a minority navigating American institutions.

One concept presented in the show that peaked my interest was that of competing lists of hardship. The “Jew” and the “Black” argued over which community had suffered more throughout their history, however, they eventually reached the conclusion that they aren’t even comparable, nor worth finding a way to compare them. I thought about this within the context of self-pity as a preventative to progress, and I continue to question the role of acknowledging and comparing hardships in being an ally.

I was drawn to the promising idea of historic allies. Allies are intrinsically crucial to creating change for an oppressed people because by definition, they are not apart of that oppressed group, and their power enables they and the oppressed voices be heard. The job of an ally, I think, is to amplify the voices of the oppressed. More interestingly, is the concept of a historic ally. It is almost beautiful to think of the parallel existences of two groups oppressed in different areas of their identity. It speaks to the value of having skin in the game: if you know what it is like to be oppressed, you will do everything you can to ensure others don’t have that experience as well. Allyship over decades requires immense collaboration that often seems unsustainable, and in this generation, the Black-Jew dialogues identified the Jewish-Black partnership to be struggling. As I move forward, I would like to assume responsibility for the relationship, as I know it is crucial to both communities’ futures.

The GAGDC: Using Beauty to Create Change

Today, I visited the Greater Auburn Gresham Community Development Corporation (GAGDC). Led by Executive Director Carlos Nelson, we experienced the history, architecture, culture, and needs of the Auburn Gresham neighborhood. The community, located on Chicago’s south side, is the 71st community area. GAGDC sees the development of relationships as integral to community organizing.

They focus on comprehensive community development by connecting the history of the community to its present and future. Namely, Mr. Nelson shared with us eight of GAGDC priorities in developing the community: encourage local business ownership and generate jobs for youth and young adults; promote Auburn Gresham through a broad-based publicity program; develop housing that accommodates all levels of income and special needs while preserving existing housing; focus development on 79th Street and into compact business clusters that are pedestrian-and-transit-friendly; develop a “transit village” near Winneconna Parkway; improve the quality of education for all people of all ages and help students and parents maximize the school experience, strengthen support systems for health and social services, safety and workforce development; and make enjoyment of the arts, culture and open space part of the of the Auburn Gresham way of life. Through relationships with their State Senator, Jacqueline Y. Collins, and numerous other partnerships among the community’s religious, educational, and political leaders, GAGDC seeks to fulfill all of their goals over the next five years.

The majority of our time with Mr. Nelson and the GAGDC was spent praising the assets, accomplishments, and developments of Auburn Gresham. When the south side of Chicago is presented in local and national news, it is always about the tragedies and obscenities. The GAGDC seemed to be tactically celebrating the marvels of their south side neighborhood in order to restore its reputation. By emphasizing such developments, progress does not seem hopeless, nor does the investment in the neighborhood’s progress seem a waste of time. This tactic — advertise the strengths and areas of improvement — is unique and seemingly effective in community organizing.

Derek Gripper Grips my Passion

I have participated in the Chicago Children’s Choir since 3rd grade. The Choir, created by Reverend Christopher Moore in 1956 — the height of the Civil Rights Movement—is a racially, ethnically, culturally, and economically diverse arts education program. Currently, the Choir has nearly 75 in-school programs that provide a music program to Chicago Public Schools’ whose arts education funding has been cut, an after-school program in 10 Chicago neighborhoods, and a top, accumulative performing ensemble, the Voice of Chicago. The nonprofit is nearly 3,500 voices strong, including eight- year-olds, as well as eighteen-year-olds. The strong voices ensure a strong mission: to create a better world through the power of music.

The Choir is diverse in its membership, as well as repertoire. Thus, for many years, the Choir has had a commitment and love for South African music, among many others. An alum of the Choir and conductor of a neighborhood program, Mollie S., travelled to South Africa and brought back numerous songs, as well as passion and love for South Africa (and its music). It was only natural that, for my public event, I attended a World Music Festival performance by Derek Gripper, a South African guitarist.

At the DePaul University Concert Hall, Mr. Gripper consumed the stage with a single chair, a slight scarf, and his guitar. Before my admittance to the the Voice of Chicago, I was in the Depaul Neighborhood Choir: we rehearsed in a building in the same corridor as the Concert Hall. I sat in the Concert Hall’s velvet-lined rows as an entirely different Ellory than the one that previously occupied the same space. However, one thing was the same: I was, and am, still confident that music has the ability to create universal, substantial change. As I watched Mr. Gripper and embraced the resonance of his mastery, the interconnectedness of my experiences reflected the potential music has to create a similar interconnectedness between humans. When differences consume our perception of each other, music has the ability, unlike anything else, to intervene. Music creates empathy and commonality, without denying the intrinsic value of diversity. My experience watching Mr. Gripper reinvigorated my commitment to music as a means for creating change, as well as made me question my responsibility to my own country’s challenges.