December 17th, 2024
A Stranger in an Even Stranger Land
A Message from Aliza
I know New York City. I went to university there and stayed for 20 years. My first NYC job was delivering singing telegrams, taking me daily into all five boroughs of the city. My three children were born there. I’ve watched the subway entry evolve from a token to a Metrocard to, finally, the ability to pay by tapping your credit card if needed. I even have NYC survival skills, like knowing how to order an iced coffee with a lotta milk, a little ice, and no bag please in Spanish. I really know New York. Or at least, I thought I did until last week.
Last week, I found myself in the Bay Ridge area of Brooklyn where the film Saturday Night Fever was set. If you’ve seen the movie, you’re familiar with the flavour of the neighbourhood. It’s a real throw-back part of Brooklyn, where the friendly guys at the newsstand still address females as “baby” and “honey” and “sweetheart” with no one calling it sexual harassment. During this season especially, this area has always been well known for the way its residents take special pride in displaying Christmas decorations. Over the years, the light displays have grown, spilling over into the now famous Christmas light section of Dyker Heights, where tourists come to see the impressive colours every December.
But now, there is a difference. The area has come to be known locally as “Little Palestine” and it’s easy to see why: Hijabs everywhere, many women in burkas. A number of signs have Arabic writing, and some store marquees don’t have any English at all. In one of the shops, I heard only Arabic spoken, and when I asked in English for a basket, the cashier had to call a colleague to find out what I was requesting.
I was secretly relieved that it was cold, so my coat was zipped up, covering my yellow ribbon pin and Bring Them Home dog tag necklace. Thankfully, in Bay Ridge, on that day at least, the locals went about their business quietly, mixing with the other ethnic groups represented here and there.
Then I thought about Toronto. I love Toronto. I love the community. I love Canadians in general. But these days, Toronto is often no longer the Toronto I recognize, and New York City, too, is now a strange land for me. I was able to walk on the sidewalk in peace last week, but for how long will that be possible? I think of the European Jews who wouldn’t leave before the Holocaust because they assumed the antisemitism would pass, and then it was too late. Too late to leave, too late to do anything about it. We can not reach that point. It is upon us to do all we can to stop the antisemitism, anti-Zionism, pro-Palestinians, and Hamasniks. Even if you have never been an activist, you absolutely can not, must not, remain silent. Write to political leaders, attend rallies, donate to the organizations that are doing the right thing. This is our city. May we never feel like strangers here.
Click here to watch “A Year of Hate” reel, and to see what we have been living through in Canada this past year.
Am Yisrael Chai!