- The story of the relationship
between the Jewish and Black communities in America
is complex with periods of division, harmony,
hostility, suspicion, and apathy.
What are the historical roots
of both the cooperation and conflict
we see between these two communities today,
and how do we create a vision for a brighter future?
In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries,
Jewish opinions on slavery,
were in line with their white neighbors.
As the politics of the US shifted,
Northern Jews increasingly opposed slavery
while Southern Jews continued to be sympathetic
to slave ownership, though there were notable exceptions.
These included Rabbi David Einhorn who, in 1861,
gave an anti-slavery sermon.
His congregation erupted in anger
and the rabbi was forced to flee to the North.
In the early twentieth century,
the Jewish community's demographics and opinions
began to shift.
Jews migrating from hostile countries
settled in Northeastern American cities
where they encountered Black Southerners
fleeing Jim Crow laws and other forms of extreme racism.
Coming from antisemitic Europe,
many Jews recognized and drew attention
to the parallels in the Black and Jewish experience.
Some Yiddish newspapers
referred to violent attacks on Black Americans,
like the Tulsa Massacre, as pogroms.
However, even with these positive developments,
division remained between Black and Jewish Americans.
Both groups were lightning rods for other people's hatred
and many Jews who aspired to assimilate,
or just make a living, were afraid of associating
too much with a group so openly mistreated.
This distance remained until the 1930s,
when the rise of the Nazi party in Germany
paralleled an increase in anti-Semitism in the US.
Fearful and in need of allies,
Jewish Americans sought support
and the Black community was one of the few
to join their cause.
Black and Jewish organizations began working together
to challenge employment and housing discrimination,
combat racial and religious violence,
and fight for inclusion in social and professional spheres.
In the years following the Second World War,
the bond between the communities grew.
Jews made up at least 30% of non-Black Freedom Riders,
risking arrest and violence for Black solidarity.
Jewish lawyers battled Jim Crow laws,
while Black organizations like the NAACP,
whose founders included Jews,
supported the creation of the state of Israel.
Black and Jewish Americans, along with other minorities,
led the effort to desegregate medical associations,
Southern universities, businesses and community activities
while working to introduce social programs
for the benefit of all members of society.
While Southern Jewish support for segregation dwindled,
the community was still torn over how to respond.
Southern Jews faced pressure
from their Northern counterparts to condemn segregation,
but they feared that making
official statements against segregation,
would result in retribution from their white neighbors.
Others argued that the community need not
make official statements about a topic
that didn't directly relate to the Jewish community.
As a result, some Southern Jewish institutions
withdrew their support for national Jewish organizations
that came out publicly against segregation.
The growing Northern Jewish population
did not share the concerns of their Southern counterparts.
Iconic photos of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel
marching alongside the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
encapsulate the best of the Black-Jewish relationship
at the time, often called "The Golden Period"
between the two communities.
Rabbi Joachim Prinz, who devoted much of his life
to the American civil rights movement
spoke just before MLK took the podium in D.C.
to deliver his famous "I Have a Dream" speech.
Black and Jewish Americans
continued the fight for civil rights
during the 1964 Freedom Summer Project in Mississippi,
where Jewish activists joined others
helping register Black voters
and joined protests in front of courthouses.
In June 1964, James Chaney, Michael Schwerner,
and Andrew Goodman were abducted and murdered
for their fight for equal voting rights.
The ensuing outrage pushed Lyndon Johnson
to sign the Civil Rights act the following month.
While Jews still faced discrimination in the 1960s,
the ability for many Jews to pass as white
still set them apart from their Black peers.
Jews had relatively greater access
to education and finances, giving them more class mobility.
These opportunities, combined in some part
with the healthy bonds between the communities,
enabled Jews to open businesses and buy property
in predominantly Black areas-
a degree of coexistence that sowed the seeds of discord.
A Jew was now their boss, their landlord, or their creditor,
playing into age old antisemitic tropes.
Throughout the 1970s and 80s
the bonds between the Jewish and Black communities
strained under growing racial tensions in urban America.
Atlanta's first Jewish mayor employed racist rhetoric
in his re-election campaign
against Black challenger Maynard Jackson.
In 1984, presidential hopeful Jesse Jackson
made a number of anti-Semitic comments,
referring to Jews as "hymies."
The growth and increased visibility
of the antisemitic Nation of Islam,
didn't help matters.
As the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict
drew greater international attention,
division between the communities mounted
as Palestinians were increasingly seen as People of Color,
with Jews seen as white oppressors.
And while many in both communities
continued to cherish the Golden Period of the 50s and 60s,
others began to portray Jewish support for Civil Rights
as paternalistic and, therefore,
just another form of racism.
Tension seemed to come to a climax
in the 1991 Crown Heights riots,
which erupted after a Hasidic man
accidentally veered his car onto a sidewalk
killing seven-year-old Gavin Cato.
The next day, in retaliation, 29-year-old Yankel Rosenbaum
was stabbed and beaten by a group of Black men.
Rosenbaum died a few hours later from his wounds.
Over the next three days rioters looted stores
and damaged Jewish property.
The violence of the Crown Heights Riots touched a nerve.
For some, the pain, mistrust, and anger
continues to this day.
More recently, old wounds were reopened
when voices within movements like Black Lives Matter
and the Women's March,
made antisemitic and anti-Zionist remarks.
In 2019, extremists connected
to the Black Hebrew Israelite movement
were responsible for the murder of four people,
including two Jews, at a Jersey City synagogue
and Kosher supermarket.
For some, these are simply isolated incidents.
For others, this violence points to a broader,
unacknowledged antisemitism
reflected in Anti-Defamation League polls
that find Black Americans
are significantly more likely than White Americans
to accept antisemitic sterotypes.
Despite these ongoing tensions,
the communities continue to find common ground.
A shared sense of fear and urgency
after the 2017 "Unite the Right" rally in Charlottesville
alarmed both communities
and triggered a rise in collaboration
between some Jewish and Black organizers and activists.
In 2019, the late John Lewis,
along with congressional representatives
formed the Bipartisan Congressional Caucus
on Black-Jewish Relations which now consists of 55 members.
Today's efforts at cooperation
always fall under the shadow cast
by the traumas of racism and antisemitism,
pain and mistrust.
But there is tremendous hope.
One year after the Jersey City murders,
members of both communities
say the violence has forced them
to leave their respective bubbles
and confront difficult issues together,
a model relevant well beyond Jersey City.
As Pamela Johnson
of the Jersey City Anti-Violence Coalition Movement said:
"We may not have always understood each other,
but we are all in this together."