Lately, I’ve been asked if Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging are still important especially after October 7 and the unprecedented rates of anti-Jewish hate in the US. The simple answer is yes. One in seven adult Jews identify as people of color and we will continue to be more racially and culturally diverse every single day.
The answer is yes because having communities and workplaces where every person is able to fully be themselves, feel they belong, and want to lead Jewish lives is paramount to our community thriving. More personally, my emphatic yes comes after experiencing racism in two different Jewish spaces; experiencing two very different racist acts in Jewish spaces.
For five years, I – along with an amazing co-chair – had the honor of leading my synagogue in our DEIB and anti-racism work. Our committee focused on breaking down the internal barriers to belonging and institutional barriers to equity. Before I go further, I want to clearly state that all oppressions are linked and therefore the goal of DEIB and anti-racism is to dismantle all oppressions.
As part of that effort, I developed a curriculum called Building Racial Stamina in Jewish Community (BRSiJC) with the purpose of educating a significant number of congregants to create an anti-racist synagogue of belonging through a Jewish lens. While the focus was race, we consider the greater diversity of all congregants. I have always been grateful to the people on the committee and the many congregants who helped me hone and make BRSiJC what it is today. It did not take long before we started noticing a difference in our congregation. One rabbi said “You can tell who has taken BRS from the language they are using and how they are thinking.” One participant noted that taking part in BRS helped them disrupt sexism during a meeting.
From early on, I made it clear that this tool was my gift to the community. I also clearly stated to our committee and two rabbis that if our synagogue wanted to use it for staff-training purposes, I would require compensation. After all, an important tenet to this work is to pay Black women and people of color for their intellectual property and labor. Not paying or underpaying Black women for their labor is a form of racism born from the days of enslavement that continues to this day. So, imagine my surprise when I was informed via email that not only would I not be compensated for BRSiJC, it was not “my sole intellectual property” and that the synagogue would use it for staff training.
A friend used a metaphor to help digest what happened. My family joined a synagogue with a leaky roof, once the problem was understood, I offered an innovative and effective tool to patch the roof, people within the synagogue and especially on the committee provided support by helping me see where the roof was leaking, even bringing a ladder so that I could reach the roof better. When the leak was partially patched all the while saying that I’m willing and happy to keep working on this roof but when you’re ready to start fixing another part of the house, I deserve compensation. And because I’m here all the time, I’ll actually offer it at half price.
Other instances of racism
The other instance of racism happened when I was participating in a board of trustee fellowship. From the start, it was clear that a few people disagreed with the stated DEIJ goals. One participant, in particular, outwardly expressed disdain and hostility for DEI work on numerous occasions. The last straw was when the participant interrupted the presentation of a case study to share their disappointment that the organization prioritized DEI work.
I disrupted that moment of racism by first pointing it out and then giving reasons why DEI is so important for Jewish organizations and our community, writ large. After I spoke, the very next person who spoke did not support the need for keeping with the agreed upon norms or showing curiosity around why I needed to act when I did but instead accused me of calling the person racist when I spoke and that I was being unprofessional and angry.
In truth, I was sad and angry that people continue to justify being against DEI when Jews of Color cannot find spaces of belonging and are choosing to remain outside of community and sad because the truth was, I was a Black Jewish woman who used my calm and passionate voice to call out an action and behavior that was harmful for yet another incident of racism.
I was the same Black Jewish woman who had recently engaged an attorney after allies and I pointed to the structures of oppression that were behind my synagogue’s disregard of my work and the value I brought. I hired an attorney to ensure that the curriculum I dreamt of and spent countless hours creating was understood as my intellectual property.
I have heard little from my synagogue since they agreed not to use my work for staff training and acknowledged that it was indeed my work. Since the acknowledgment and rendering the final payment to my attorney, the synagogue made a promise to work towards “repair,” I have yet to see a true attempt to right the many harms that came from the racism that happened.
On the other hand, the leaders of the fellowship held the participant accountable for disregarding the established norms. Repair was taken seriously. While some things could have been done differently leading up and immediately following the racism that I disrupted, what is most important is that the leadership acted with thought and intention.
The leaders provided support right after the incident, offered affinity space and nourishment and asked what we needed so that the Jews of color (JOC) participants could continue learning in our cohort. They also acknowledged speaking to the individual on more than one occasion because they also noticed his hostility towards the DEI norms central to the fellowship. Months later, in recognition of the intellectual and emotional labor JOC gave to mitigate and respond to the racism acts, the fellowship paid for us to have an experience of our choosing.
Both of these institutions had done considerable work towards equity, diversity, and inclusion and only one lived up to their ideals. Not all is lost. Part of this work is the recognition that we all have and will do or say something that is harmful based on beliefs about race, body size, sexuality, etc. The key is that while we will all make mistakes, we are not defined by our mistakes.
Many of us, if not all of us, are struggling right now. There is a war in Gaza and that war is fracturing a community that was already fractured. It’s just that some of us who hold nondominant identities (e.g., JOC, LGBQT+, disabled persons) have been living in a fractured community far longer than others. Leaders who answer “yes” at the same exact time I do when asked if DEI is still important, give me hope.
What gives me hope is that some institutional leaders understand that this moment is calling for continued work in DEIB and know that the organizations that have been doing DEIB with integrity and accountability are better equipped to weather this moment than the institutions that haven’t. The organizations repairing harms they have caused and continuing to do the necessary work to make sure the harms don’t happen in the first place are the ones that give me hope.
The writer earned her PhD in educational psychology with an emphasis in curriculum and development from University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is a DEIB consultant who continues to empower organizations and leaders to recognize and dismantle systems of oppression with optimism and hope.