Thursday, November 20, 1997
Finding a culture in the land of squirrels
DIVISION: Being born into group doesn’t force automatic
connection
Here’s how you become a Daily Bruin Viewpoint columnist: You
promise to talk about a minority issue. See, I promised to talk
about being Jewish at UCLA. Ha, ha, I fooled them! I don’t even go
to UCLA! Oh, wait … yes, I do. Ha, ha, I fooled them! I’m not
even Jewish! Oh, wait … yeah, I am. I just have no perspective on
being Jewish at UCLA because … I keep it a deep, dark secret for
fear of all the Hitler-esque TAs running around here. Oh, wait …
that’s not true; the teachers are the Hitlers and the TAs are just
their Nazi henchman.
Anyway, it all worked out because The Bruin loves anything
cultural. In fact, they’re so stuck on it that they’re still
debating amongst themselves the ramifications of a paper that only
acknowledges black and white in its layout. As for me, I needed the
column space to promote my agenda of squirrel domination.
So, here’s my Jewish experience in Westwood: I once accidentally
stumbled into the Wilshire Boulevard Temple. But only because I
thought that it said Wilshire Boulevard Pimple and I could find a
cure for my acne there. Well, I got in there and they asked me
where my yarmulke was. I promptly replied, "I don’t even own a
motorcycle, you Hell’s Angel hoodlums!" I then ran as fast as I
could out of this den of iniquity, wondering about this particular
group of Hell’s Angels that choose Yamahas over Harleys.
You see, I only discovered that I’m Jewish last summer. I was at
home meditating (watching a taped scene of Spock shirtless over and
over again) when I realized, in a thunderous clap of
self-discovery, the source of all my psychological angst. I yelled,
"By God, it’s not the cancelling of the Smurfs! Mom, mom, come
quick!"
When my mom came in, I told her how my childhood had been
scarred because I never celebrated Christmas. She asked why a Jew
would celebrate Christmas. I said, "Well, silly, I don’t know why a
Jew would celebrate it, but I want to know why we didn’t celebrate
it." She explained that we are Jewish. I was quite shocked. I
attempted to piece it all together.
She asked if I didn’t remember all the Hanukkahs we celebrated.
I screeched, "Fwhaaaat? I though that was Kwanzaa! Next you’re
gonna tell me I’m not black!"
Needless to say, a great awakening befell me.
It all came flooding back to me. What I thought was a gathering
of my mom’s hippie friends who believed they could speak another
language after too many rounds was really Hebrew school and Friday
night services. And that was a bar mitzvah with a Star Trek theme,
not a convention hosted by my parents. (I was, and am, a treasure
trove of geekiness.)
So, I’ve really been trying to play catch-up this quarter.
Finally giving up on my many failed attempts to join the African
Student Union, I’ve been cautiously eyeing the "Ask the Rabbi"
stand on Bruin Walk, that carnival o’ culturalism.
("Hoppy! Hoppy! Hoppy! Deesnee ees a liah! Hollywood ees a liah!
Dalai Lama weel cook your head for hees birthday!") And the rabbi
has been eyeing me right back since I do the initial eyeing perched
in a tree with my squirrel minions.
In a country where you either have a group or you join a militia
because you’re a lonely white boy, I’m out in the cold. I don’t
understand why people feel connected to some group because they
were born into it. The only plight I understand is that of the
tragically dumb and ugly, but who the hell wants to hang out with
them?! Because of this, it’s quite incomprehensible to me when
other people are into these religious, cultural or racial groups. I
think them quite divisive and counter-productive to our nation.
And then, while I was thinking, I chanted the Battle Hymn of the
Republic over and over, religiously. Then I slapped myself upside
the head.
It seems to me that people often assume that others
automatically feel connected to their "people" ("Let my people
go-oooooo!"), a group they are born into. I usually assume that an
African American or an Asian student feels that part of his or her
identity lies in the person’s culture, or feels (in at least a
small way) some sort of representative role placed on them. But as
every good squirrel knows, you may not feel any camaraderie with
your fellow group members. You may want to bite the fur off their
tail and steal their nuts.
Of course, the experiences that Jews face in America are much
different from the ones that racial minorities face. When I meet
people, they don’t know I’m Jewish. They just know I’m a freak
wearing a Captain Kirk uniform, hiding a few squirrels in my trench
coat.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve never faced much discrimination that I
don’t feel drawn together with other Jews.
In a nation where most Jews do not go to temple and most marry
Christians, I doubt that I’m alone in my feelings. I’ve heard other
Jews worry that the culture will be lost here in America and does
seem worrisome. It is sad that a culture that has existed for
thousands of years should disappear in a few more generations. On
the other hand, perhaps culture is just a means to better human
interaction; if people share a culture, they can communicate on a
higher level, sharing certain assumptions, not needing to
constantly debate issues of conflicting cultural ideals.
Education can only move forward when we’re not debating what
language to teach it in. Perhaps I share some fascist inclinations
with my Nazi TAs, but it seems to me that it’s not so bad to
simply, arbitrarily choose a culture to use as a common reference
point and have people go with it. As long as history does not erase
any culture, what has been lost?
When I go home to Simi Valley ("my own little piece of the
Confederacy"), where I feel safest, I’m in a Christian suburban
vortex of boring. Although I haven’t yet donned a sheet and pointy
hat, I can’t help but have a certain love for orange ’70s trucks
with mudflaps. Yee-haaaaa! Who wants to be Woody Allen when you
could be Scary Spice?! "I wanna’ zig-a-zig-ha!"