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Singing inside me with the best parts of you
My poem "די ירושה" is now online at Uncanny Magazine. It was written in September for Erev Rosh Hashanah. The title in Yiddish means "The Inheritance." The stories are all my family's; they have to be.
I think about marked and unmarked categories a lot these days. I always have—there's no way not to—but this administration keeps cranking up the contrast, applauding when lines are drawn ever more thickly and more and more cartoonishly. You may have seen the Washington Post's trash fire of an interfaith dating op-ed making the rounds on social media yesterday; I said on Facebook that my official position was "Mischling married to son of a preacher man calls shenanigans." I deeply appreciate the Forward's response: "Manners are very important to me, which is why I'm writing a piece blaming my ex-boyfriends' religion for our breakup in a national newspaper. This is a polite thing to do."
Thanks to the efforts of the National Center for Jewish Film, Michał Waszyński's The Dybbuk (דער דיבוק, 1937) is playing at the MFA in May. I have not seen that movie since college: there is a very good chance it was my first Yiddish film. The date has family significance. I will be there. I may even attend the accompanying documentary about Waszyński, although I wish it weren't screening first. You should always see the ghost for itself before it becomes a metaphor.
I think about marked and unmarked categories a lot these days. I always have—there's no way not to—but this administration keeps cranking up the contrast, applauding when lines are drawn ever more thickly and more and more cartoonishly. You may have seen the Washington Post's trash fire of an interfaith dating op-ed making the rounds on social media yesterday; I said on Facebook that my official position was "Mischling married to son of a preacher man calls shenanigans." I deeply appreciate the Forward's response: "Manners are very important to me, which is why I'm writing a piece blaming my ex-boyfriends' religion for our breakup in a national newspaper. This is a polite thing to do."
Thanks to the efforts of the National Center for Jewish Film, Michał Waszyński's The Dybbuk (דער דיבוק, 1937) is playing at the MFA in May. I have not seen that movie since college: there is a very good chance it was my first Yiddish film. The date has family significance. I will be there. I may even attend the accompanying documentary about Waszyński, although I wish it weren't screening first. You should always see the ghost for itself before it becomes a metaphor.
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Thank you!
And wow, I'd missed that Washington Post editorial. The Forward's satire makes up for it a little, but not nearly enough to excuse its existence.
This was also a good rebuttal. But, yes.
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