Islamophobia and the Jews

I have a friend Sunny, an Iranian Jew who could probably compete with me in the “most energy” department. She hosts a conversation café in Long Beach, where all faiths can represent and converse about important topics.

When I attended recently, I was sitting and talking to someone when a young man came up to me. He touched me slightly on the shoulder.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

I paused. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

“From Cal State Fullerton…” he continued.

And then I remembered him. His name was Rashad, and he was a friend of my friend, Rudy. It was a flashback to the courtyard outside of the Humanities Building, sipping Italian sodas and talking about our lives.

“It’s so good to see you, Rashad!” I hugged him close. Sunny had no idea until afterwards that we had known each other, but I was so happy to be reunited from someone in my past who I shared wonderful conversations with – about our families, the foods that we ate and the life experiences we shared.

There was joy, but then I remembered the pain around the time that we met. A lot of the Jewish students that I was friends with couldn’t understand why I would be friends with the Muslims. I personally didn’t care. A friend was a friend, and I didn’t care who they were. After all, I came from Turkish descent – a place where, for centuries up until current times, Jews and Muslims lived side by side and worked together. In the end, it got me into a lot of trouble, to the point where certain people wouldn’t be friends with me.

It’s an unfortunate reality that we have to bring up in the Jewish community. I see it with my friends, and although I love them to pieces, I see that there is intolerance. I can’t mix my Muslim friends with my Jewish friends unless it’s people like Sunny – open, sincere and loving. It’s unfortunate that a people who faced so much discrimination over the centuries are more than willing to do it now in terms of Islamophobia.

I blame a lot of what’s going on in Israel for the fear. The situation is so sticky, and the Jews have so much pride in building a country from the bottom up which produces so much of the world’s technology, aids in the medical field and helps the desert bloom with agriculture. There are lots of people who feel that it has no right to exist, and should be blown to smithereens. It’s one of the many reasons why people there are so willing to discriminate, right down to the Rabbis who say that people shouldn’t rent apartments to Arabs. I guess the concept they have in mind is one of, “We should get them before they get us.”

But fortunately, we live in America. We are on the opposite hemisphere of these problems. We live in a country with the ability to discourse fully and practice our religions in peace. Although there are anti-Semetic bigots living in this country and people who aren’t willing to listen, there are more people who would love to get to know us, want to share a meal or a cup of coffee with us, want to know what Israel is like and what are the issues behind it. They also are respectful and allow us to agree to disagree.

This was why, when Cal State Fullerton became a war zone in my senior year, while other people were getting scared and trying to fight too much, I was drinking Italian sodas with Rashad and other Muslim kids, wanting to figure out a solution. We can waste all our time on hate, but it takes more effort to show love and embrace those around us.

I think that’s why I have been so drawn to food and cooking over the years. It’s something that we share, something that unites us. When I was in Washington, DC, the Muslims knew that I was kosher, so they would come to me and ask me where I was getting my food (as many Muslims will actually eat kosher meat, as it’s more stringent than Halal). The truth of the matter is that we may have our differences, but we all need to eat. I understand this, and I am willing to keep my kitchen table open for anyone who wants to share a meal with me.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Israel. I am not a self-hating Jew, and in fact am pretty proud of my identity. But being Jewish comes with a responsibility to those who came before me: to love and embrace those who are different than me, to be respectful and open, and of course to try to feed everyone. I do not believe in isolating myself. After all, I am a part of this world.

I applaud the efforts of anyone who is willing to make a difference – people like Sunny and my friend Lee Weissman, a wonderful man who started the blog Jihadi Jew (here’s the link: http://jihadiyehudi.blogspot.com). The Olive Tree Initiative at UCI, although controversial, has those same intentions.

I know I’m going to get comments such as how naïve I am and how I am grossly overestimating the good in people. However, I’m not willing to allow myself to fall into bigotry. It’s against everything that I believe in. After all, it was Abraham that fathered both Islam and Judaism. We are one people.