Podcasts about Mizrahi Jews

On October 7, 2023, Hamas launched the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust, calling it Operation Al Aqsa. For journalist Yardena Schwartz, the massacre was a chilling echo of the 1929 Hebron Massacre—the brutal slaughter of nearly 70 Jews, incited by propaganda that Jews sought to seize the Al Aqsa Mosque. At the time, she was deep into writing her first book, Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine That Ignited the Arab-Israeli Conflict. In this episode, Yardena shares how history repeated itself, how the October 7 attack reshaped her book, and why understanding the past is essential to making sense of the present. ___ Read:  Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine That Ignited the Arab Israeli Conflict Listen – AJC Podcasts: The Forgotten Exodus: Untold stories of Jews who left or were driven from Arab nations and Iran Social media influencer Hen Mazzig on leaving Tunisia Chef Einat Admony on leaving Iran Playwright Oren Safdie on leaving Syria Cartoonist Carol Isaacs on leaving Iraq Novelist Andre Aciman on leaving Egypt People of the Pod:  Latest Episode: Higher Education in Turmoil: Balancing Academic Freedom and the Fight Against Antisemitism Held Hostage in Gaza: A Mother's Fight for Freedom and Justice Yossi Klein Halevi on the Convergence of Politics and Religion at Jerusalem's Temple Mount Follow People of the Pod on your favorite podcast app, and learn more at AJC.org/PeopleofthePod You can reach us at: peopleofthepod@ajc.org If you've appreciated this episode, please be sure to tell your friends, and rate and review us on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. __ Transcript of Interview with Yardena Schwartz: Manya Brachear Pashman: Hello, and welcome to People of the Pod, brought to you by American Jewish Committee. Each week, we take you beyond the headlines to help you understand what they all mean for America, Israel and the Jewish people. I'm your host Manya Brachear Pashman:. In October 2023 journalist Yardena Schwartz was in the middle of writing her first book exploring the rarely talked about 1929 Hebron massacre, in which nearly 70 Jews were murdered, dozens more injured by their Muslim neighbors during riots incited by the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, who spread lies that Jews wanted to take over the Al Aqsa Mosque. When she heard reports of the October 7 terror attacks by Hamas dubbed Operation Al Aqsa, she realized just how relevant and prescient her book would be, and began drafting some new chapters. Yardena is with us now to discuss that book titled Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine that ignited the Arab Israeli conflict. Yardena, welcome to People of the Pod.  Yardena Schwartz: Great to be here, Manya. Manya Brachear Pashman: So full disclosure to you and our audience. You attended Columbia Journalism School 10 years after I did, and you took Professor Ari Goldman's class on covering religions 10 years after I did that, class had always traveled to Israel, and I had hoped it would be my ticket to go to Israel for the first time, but the Second Intifada prevented that, and we went to Russia and Ukraine. Instead, your class did go to Israel, and that was your first visit to Hebron, correct?  Yardena Schwartz: So it was in 2011 and we went to Hebron for one day out of our 10 day trip to Israel, and it was my first time there. I was the only Jewish student in our class. It was about 15 of us, and I was the only one who had been to Israel. I had been all over Israel, but I had never been to Chevron. And our tour was with Breaking the Silence, an organization of former Israeli soldiers who had served in Hebron or in other parts of the West Bank and wanted Israelis to know what was happening in Hebron and how Palestinians were living there, and the various restrictions that were put in place as a result of terrorist attacks. But nevertheless, you know, those restrictions were extremely disturbing, and that brief visit in 2011 made me really never want to go back to Hebron. And when I moved to Israel two years later to become a freelance journalist there, and, you know, to move to Israel because I loved Israel, and still obviously love Israel, I didn't really go back to Chevron because I, you know, was really troubled by what I saw there. But this book took me, of course, back to Chevron hundreds of times, spending hundreds of hours there. And it came to be, you know, my expertise in this conflict, in my reporting. And you know, of course, Heron is kind of the main character in this book, Manya Brachear Pashman: Tell us how you came to find out about this massacre. Was it mentioned during that class visit in 2011 or was it later that you learned about it? Yardena Schwartz: So that was one of the most interesting things about my early adventure into writing this book, was that I had of course been to have Ron, and yet, during that day that we spent there learning so much about the history of this place, this deeply holy place to so many people, there was no mention of the massacre of 1929, so, you know, I knew that Chevron is, you know, the second holiest city in Judaism, the burial place of Abraham And the matrix and patriarchs of the Jewish people. And you know the first place where King David established his kingdom before Jerusalem. So it was holy before Jerusalem. And yet I had no idea that this ancient Jewish community in Hebron had been decimated in 1929 in one of the worst pogroms ever perpetrated. We all know about the kishineff pogrom of 1904 and yet the pogrom in 1929 in Hebron, perpetrated by the Muslim residents of Hebron, against their Jewish neighbors, was more deadly and more gruesome than the kishineff pogrom, and it effectively ended 1000s of years of Jewish presence in this holy city. And so when I was told by my mentor, Yossi Klein Halevi, the amazing writer, that there was a family in Memphis, Tennessee that had discovered a box of letters in their attic written by a young American man from. Memphis, who had traveled to Chevron in 1928 to study at the Hebron yeshiva, which was at the time, the most prestigious yeshiva in the land of Israel in what was then, of course, British Mandate Palestine. And that this young man had been killed in that massacre. Yet his letters, you know, painted this vivid portrait of what Chevron was before the massacre that took his life. I was immediately fascinated. And I, you know, wanted to meet this family, read these letters and see how I could bring the story to life. And I was introduced to them by, yes, in 2019 so that's when I began working on my book. And you know, as you mentioned, I was still writing the book in 2023 on October 7, and this book I had been writing about this massacre nearly a century ago immediately became more relevant than I ever hoped it would be.  Manya Brachear Pashman: The young American man from Memphis. His name was David Schoenberg. Give our listeners a history lesson. Tell us about this 1929 massacre. So Yardena Schwartz: On August 24 1929 also a Shabbat morning in crevorone, every Jewish family had locked their doors and windows. They were cowering in fear as 1000s of Muslim men rioted outside their homes, throwing rocks at their windows, breaking down their doors and essentially hunting down Jews, much like they did on October 7, families were slaughtered. Women and teenage girls were raped by their neighbors in front of their family members. Infants were murdered in their mother's arms. Children watched as their parents were butchered by their neighbors, rabbis, yeshiva students were castrated and Arabic speaking Jews, you know, Sephardi, Mizrahi, Jews, who composed about half of the Jewish population in Hebron at the time, and were very friendly with their Arab neighbors. You know, they went to each other's weddings and holidays, went to each other's shops, and these people were also slaughtered. It wasn't just the yeshiva students who had come from Europe or from America to study there, or, you know, the Ashkenazi Jewish families. It was, you know, Arabic speaking Jews whose families had been there for generations and had lived side by side in peace with their Muslim neighbors for centuries. They too were slaughtered. Manya Brachear Pashman: Why did their Muslim neighbors turn on them so suddenly and violently? The Yardena Schwartz: rioters that day were shouting Allahu Akbar. They claimed to be defending Islam and Al Aqsa from this supposed Jewish plot to destroy Al Aqsa in order to rebuild the Third Temple. This is what they had been told by their leaders and by Imams and their mosques and in Hebron, that Lai had also extended to the tomb of the patriarchs and matriarchs, which is known in Arabic as the Ibrahimi mosque. Imams there had told Muslims in Hebron that the Jews of Hebron were planning to conquer Ibrahimi mosque in order to turn it into a synagogue. So this incitement and this disinformation that continues to drive the conflict today. Really began in 1929 the rumors about this supposed Jewish plot to destroy Al Aqsa that began in 1928 around the same time that David Schoenberg arrived in Palestine to study at the yeshiva. Manya Brachear Pashman: So in addition to the letters that David Schoenberg wrote to his family back in Tennessee. How else did you piece together this history? How did you go about reporting and researching it? Who kept records?  Yardena Schwartz: So it's really interesting, because I was so surprised by the lack of literature on this really dramatic moment in history, in the history of Israel, the history of this conflict. And yet, despite the fact there are really no books in English, at least, about the massacre and about these riots and what led to them, there were mountains of, you know, testimony from victims and survivors. The British carried out this commission after the riots that produced this 400 page report filled with testimony of British officials, Arab officials, Jewish officials, survivors. So there was just so much material to work with. Also, survivors ended up writing books about their experiences in Hebron, very similar to David's letters, in a way, because they wrote not only about the riots and the massacre itself, but also what they experienced in Hebron before they too, wrote about, you know, the relatively peaceful relations between the city's Jewish minority and the Arab majority. And I also relied on archival newspaper reports so the. Riots really occupied the front pages of American newspapers for about a week, because it took about a week for the British to quell the riots, and they did so with an air, land and sea campaign. They sent warships and war planes from across the British Empire and sent troops from other parts of the British Empire. Because one of the reasons the riots were so effective, in a way, you know, were so deadly, especially in kharag, was because there was just no military force in Palestine. At the time, the British did not have a Palestine military force, and it was only after the 1929 riots that they did have troops in Palestine. Until then, they had the Palestine police force, and that police force was mostly Arabs. In Hebron, for example, there were about 40 policemen under the stewardship of one British police chief, and all but one of those policemen were Arabs, and many of them participated in the massacre or stood by outside of Jewish homes and allowed the mobs to enter the homes and carry out their slaughter. And Manya Brachear Pashman: I'm curious. There was a lot of newspaper coverage, but what about the international community's response beyond the British Empire? Yardena Schwartz: So there were actually protests around the world against the massacre in New York. 35,000 people marched through the streets of Manhattan to protest the British failure to protect their Jewish subjects from these riots. Most of the marchers were Jewish, but nevertheless, I mean 35,000 people. We didn't see anything like that after October 7. Of course, we saw the opposite people marching through the streets of New York and cities around the world supporting the mass of October 7. You know, I mentioned this March in New York, but similar protests were held around the world, mostly in Jewish communities. So in Poland, Warsaw and in England, there were protests against the British failure to protect Jews in Palestine from these riots. And the American government was livid with the British and they sent statements put out, statements to the press, criticizing the British inaction, the British failure to protect the Jewish subjects and the American citizens who were in Palestine at the time, there were eight Americans killed in Hebron on August 24 1929. Out of the 67 Jewish men, women and children who were killed, and all of them were unarmed. The Haganah at the time, you know, the underground Jewish Defense Force that would later become the nucleus of the IDF, the Haganah was active then, mostly in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, there were no Haganah members in Hebron. The Hebron Jewish community was very traditional, very religious, and when Haganah came to Hebron two days before the riots erupted, they because they knew that these riots were going to happen. There had been calls from Arab officials to riot, to attack Jewish communities across Palestine. And so the Haganah came to Hebron to warn Jewish leaders of Hebron that they could either come there to protect them or evacuate them to Jerusalem to safety until the riots subsided and the Jewish leaders of Hebron were unanimous in their opposition. They said, No, you know, we're friends with our Arab neighbors. They'll never hurt us. We trust them. If anything happens elsewhere, it won't happen here. And they believed that because, not only because they had such a good relationship with their Arab neighbors and friends, but also because in previous outbursts of violence in other years, like in 1920 1921 when they were much smaller riots and much less deadly riots. When those riots reached other parts of Palestine, they didn't reach Hebron because of those relations and because they weren't fueled by incitement and disinformation, which was what led the riots of 1929 to be so massive and so deadly, and what led them to be embraced by previously peaceful neighbors. Manya Brachear Pashman: How did that disinformation travel in 1929 How did it reach those neighbors in Hebron? Yardena Schwartz: When we talk about disinformation and misinformation today, we think of it as this, you know, modern plague of, you know, the social media era, or, you know our fractured media landscape. But back in 1929 disinformation was rampant, and it also traveled through Arabic newspapers. They were publishing these statements by Arab officials, mostly the Grand Mufti Hajime Husseini, who was the leader of Palestinian Muslims under British rule, he began this rumor that the Jews of Palestine were plotting to conquer Al Aqsa mosque to rebuild their ancient temple. Of course, Al Aqsa is built upon the ruins of the ancient temples. Temple Mount is the holiest place for Jews in the world. And in 1929, Jews were forbidden from accessing the Temple Mount because it was considered, you know, a solely holy Muslim site. But the closest place they could pray was the Western Wall, the Kotel. And Jews who were demanding British protection to pray in peace at the Western Wall without being attacked by Muslims as a result of this disinformation campaign were then painted by the Arabic press as working to conquer the Western Wall, turn it into a synagogue, and then from there, take Al Aqsa Mosque.  So this disinformation traveled from the very highest of Muslim officials. So the imams in mosques across Palestine, specifically in Al Aqsa and in Hebron, were repeating these rumors, these lies about this supposed Jewish plot. Those lies were then being published in flyers that were put in city squares. Jewish officials were warning the British and telling, you know, they should have known and they should have done more to end this campaign of disinformation, not only to achieve peace in this land that they were ruling over, but also because they were responsible for installing hajamina Husseini, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, into his position they had chosen him for that position, that all powerful position. And so they were responsible, in a way, for all of these lies that he was spreading. And yet they took no responsibility.  And even in the commission that they sent to Palestine from London to investigate the causes of the riots, despite the fact that, you know, if you read these, you know, 400 pages, I don't recommend it. It's a tough reading. But, you know, I did that for this book. And it's so clear from all of these hearings that this disinformation campaign was very obvious, very clear and very clearly to blame for the riots. And yet, because saying so would have made the British responsible for so much death, their conclusions in this commission was that it was Jewish immigration to Palestine and Jewish land purchases at the time that had sparked the riots, and that it was this Jewish demonstration, peaceful demonstration at the Western Wall on to Shabaab in August of 1929 that had sparked these riots.  So there's just, you know, this absolute lack of accountability, not only for the Mufti, who retained his position and became even more powerful and more popular as a leader after these riots, but also for the British and instead, you know, the Jewish victims were blamed for their suffering. At the time, Jews were just 20% of the Palestinian population, which was just 1 million people. Of course, today, Israel is home to more than 10 million people. So you know, clearly there was room for everyone. And the Jews at the time were very peaceful. The Haganah was a very, you know, weak, decentralized force, and after these riots, it became much stronger, and Sephardi Jews and Mizrahi Jews, more traditional Jews who had not joined the Haganah before 1929 had not really embraced Zionism before 1929 now agreed that if Jews were going to be safe in our homeland, then we would need our own army. Manya Brachear Pashman: Can we talk a little bit about the turn toward radicalization and extremism during this time, and what role that has played in the years since? Yardena Schwartz: you know, the Zionist leadership was very adamant that Jews in Palestine should not be carrying out attacks against Arabs in Palestine. You know, it should be really about defending Jews, preventing attacks, but not carrying out retaliatory attacks. But as we've seen throughout the century, of this conflict. You know, extremism begets extremism. And you know, when violence is being used by one side, it is going to be used by the other side as well. And so the rise of a more militant form of Zionism was a direct result of 1929 and this feeling of just helplessness and this feeling of relying on this foreign power, the British, to protect them, and realizing that no foreign power was going to protect the Jews of Palestine and that Jews would have to protect themselves, and the radicalism and the extremism within the Muslim population, particularly the Muslim leadership of Palestine, really just accelerated after the massacre, because they saw that it succeeded. I mean, the British punished the Jewish population of Palestine for the riots by vastly limiting Jewish immigration, vastly limiting Jewish land purchases. Notice, I use the word land purchases because, contrary to a lot of the disinformation we hear. Much today, none of this land was being stolen. It was being purchased by Jews from Muslim land owners. Many of them were absentee landowners. Many of them were from the wealthiest families in Palestine. And many of them were members of, you know, this anti Zionist, pro Mufti circle, who were then telling their own people that Jews are stealing your land and evicting you from your land, when, in fact, it was these wealthy Arab landowners who were selling their land to Jews at exorbitant prices. Manya Brachear Pashman: Did you establish a motive for the Mufti and what were his intentions spreading this disinformation? Yardena Schwartz: Great question. So it was very clear. I mean, he never admitted this, but it was very clear what his motives were, and that was to counter the criticism and accusations of corruption that had dogged him for years, until he began this campaign of propaganda which led much of that criticism and much of those stories of his corruption within the Arabic press and among his Arab rivals to essentially disappear, because now they had a much more threatening enemy, and that enemy was the Jewish community of Palestine, who was plotting to destroy Al Aqsa, conquer Al Aqsa, rebuild their temple, take over Palestine and his campaign worked. You know, after that propaganda campaign became so successful, there were very few people willing to stand up to him and to criticize him, because after 1929 when he became so much more powerful, he began a campaign of assassinations and intimidation and violence used against not only his political rivals and dissidents, but also just Anyone who favored cooperation between Arabs and Jews in Palestine. So there were various mayors of Arab cities who wanted to work together with the Jewish community of those cities or with other Jewish leaders to bring about various economic initiatives, for instance. And some of those mayors were assassinated by the muftis henchmen, or they were just intimidated into silence and into kind of embracing his platform, which was that Palestine is and has always been and should always be, a purely Muslim land, and that there is no place for any kind of Jewish sovereignty or Jewish power in that land.  So, you know, the Mufti, in 1936 he ended up leading a violent rebellion against the British. And the British at that point, had gotten tired of ruling Palestine. They realized it was much more work than they were interested in doing, and they were interested in leaving Palestine, handing over governance to the local population to the Jews and Arabs of Palestine, and they had been interested in figuring out what could be done. Could there be a binational state with equal representation, or representative governance? If Jews are 40% of the population and Arabs are 60% then there could be some kind of governance on those ratios, all of those solutions, including a two state solution, which was presented in 1937 all of those solutions were rejected by the grand mufti, and his platform was embraced by the other Arab officials within Palestine, because if it wasn't, they could face death or violence. And he even rejected the idea of Jews remaining in Palestine under Arab rule. You know when the British said to him, okay, so what will be done with the 400,000 Jews who are in Palestine right now? He said they can't stay. So he didn't only reject the two state solution. He rejected, you know, this bi national, equal utopian society that we hear proposed by so many in pro Palestine movement today. You know, all of these solutions have been on the table for a century and always. They have been rejected by Palestinian leaders, whether it was the Grand Mufti or his apprentice, his young cousin, yas Arafat. Manya Brachear Pashman: Ah, okay, so what happened to Grand Mufti Husseini? Did he stick around? So The Mufti was eventually, finally wanted for arrest by the British after his rebellion claimed the life of a British official. Until then, it had only claimed the lives of Jews and Arabs, but once a British official was killed, then the British had decided that they'd had enough of the Mufti, and they ordered his arrest. He fled Palestine. He ended up in Iraq, where he was involved in riots there the far hood in which many Jews were massacred, perhaps hundreds, if not over 1000 Jews were slaughtered in Baghdad, which was at the time home to about. 100,000 Jews. He then fled Iraq and ended up in Berlin, where he lived from 1941 to 1945 in a Nazi financed mansion, and he led the Arab branch of Joseph Goebbels Ministry of Propaganda. He was the Nazi's leading voice in the Arab world, he spread Nazi propaganda throughout the Muslim world and recruited 10s of 1000s of Muslims to fight for the Nazis, including in the Waffen SS and when the war ended, when world war two ended, and the UN wanted him for Nazi war crimes, he was wanted for Nazi war crimes, placed on the UN's list of Nazi war criminals. Once again, he fled, first to France, then to Cairo, eventually settling in Beirut, where he continued to lead his people's jihad against the Jews of Palestine. So when, in 1947, when the UN voted to partition British Mandate Palestine into an Arab state and a Jewish state so that the British could finally leave Palestine. He declared jihad, and he rejected the Partition Plan, along with every other Arab state which also rejected it. Of course, the Jews of Palestine embraced it, celebrated it, and the very next day after the UN vote, riots erupted throughout Palestine, and he helped. He was kind of pulling the strings of that Jihad taking place in Palestine. And in fact, 1000 Muslim men who he had recruited for the Waffen. SS joined that holy war in Palestine. The Mufti helped create the army of the holy war. Yasser Arafat, who was also in Beirut at the time, also assisted the army of the holy war. He actually fought in the war that began in 1947 alongside the Muslim Brotherhood. So, you know the legacy that the Mufti had? You know, it doesn't end there. It continued to his dying day in 1974 and Arafat took over his mantle as the leader of the Palestinian people. And you know, we see how the disinformation and incitement and rejection of Jewish sovereignty in any part of the ancient land of Israel has continued to be a prominent force in Palestinian politics no matter who was in charge. You know, the Fatah, Mahmoud, Abbas and Hamas, of course, perpetuate the same lies about Al Aqsa. They perpetuate the same denial of a Jewish right to live in peace in our homeland, deny the history of Jewish presence in Israel. So, you know, it's really astounding to me how little is known about the Grand Mufti and how little is known about his impact on this conflict, and particularly in the very beginnings, the ground zero of this conflict in 1929 Manya Brachear Pashman: It's so interesting. We talk so much about Hitler, right? And his antisemitism, but we don't talk about Husseini. Yardena Schwartz: Yeah, and they were good friends. I mean, they met in 1941 shortly after the Mufti arrived, he had a private chauffeur. He was lavishly paid by the Nazis, and he was good friends with Himmler. He toured concentration camps. He knew very well about the final solution. Hitler himself considered the Mufti an honorary Aryan. I mean, the Mufti had blue eyes, fair skin, light hair. Hitler believed that Husseini had Roman blood, and he saw him as someone who could lead the Nazi forces once they arrived in the Middle East. He saw him as, you know, a great ally of the Nazis. He didn't just participate in the Nazis quest to eradicate the Jewish population of Europe and eventually arrive in Palestine, but he also the Mufti worked to convince various European leaders not to allow Jewish refugees from fleeing Europe and not allowing them to come to Palestine. He told them, send them to Poland, and he knew very well what was happening in Poland. Manya Brachear Pashman: So I want to go back to this family in Tennessee, the genesis of this story, and I'm curious. David Schoenberg's niece said that at one point in the book, she said they're Southern, so they sweep ugly under the rug in the south. And so they just didn't talk about that. And when I read that, I thought, actually, that's kind of a Jewish approach, not a southern approach, except we wouldn't say we sweep things under the rug. We move on, right? We treasure our resilience, and we move on from that pain and we build anew. But is moving on really in the Jewish community's best interest? Is that how we end up forgetting and letting this history and this very important history fade?. Yardena Schwartz: Yeah, absolutely. You know, I think it is possible to do both. It is possible to take great pride in our resilience and in our strength and our ability to experience so much devastation and suffering, and yet every time emerge stronger.  I mean, think about the Holocaust. First of all, for many years, we did sweep that under the rug. Survivors were discouraged from speaking about what they went through. They were seen as, you know, especially in Israel, they were seen as, you know, people who went like sheep to the slaughter. It wasn't something to talk about. It was something to move on from. And yet now we are able to hold both in both hands. You know. We're able to honor and commemorate the memory and speak about the atrocities that millions of Jews suffered during the Holocaust, while also celebrating where we went after the Holocaust. I mean, three years after the Holocaust, Israel was born. You know, that's just, on its own, you know, a remarkable symbol of our resilience and our strength as a people. But I think the way we commemorate the Holocaust is a really great example of how we do both how we honor the memory and use that as a lesson so that it never happens again.  And yet, I think that when it comes to the conflict and the various forces that have led us to where we are today, there is this tendency to kind of try to move on and not really speak about how we got here. And it's really a shame, because I think that this is the only way we'll ever find a way out of this tragic cycle of violence, is if we learn how we got here, the forces that continue to drive this conflict after a century, and you know, the people who brought us here. Not only the Grand Mufti, but also, you know, the leaders today who are very much capitalizing on fear and religion, exploiting religion for their own, their own interests, and utilizing disinformation to remain in power. And I think that, you know, we can't afford not to speak about these things and not to know about our own history. It's really telling that, you know, even in Jewish communities, where people know so much about Israel and about this conflict, there is just a complete lack of knowledge of, you know, the very bedrock of this conflict. And I think without that knowledge, we'll never get out of this mess. Manya Brachear Pashman: Yardena, thank you so much. This is such a wonderful book, and congratulations on writing it.  Yardena Schwartz: Thank you so much.  Manya Brachear Pashman: If you missed last week's episode, be sure to tune in for my conversation with Dr Laura Shaw Frank, Director of AJC Center for Education Advocacy. We discussed the delicate balance between combating antisemitism, safeguarding free speech, and ensuring campuses remain safe for all students.  Thank you for listening. This episode is brought to you by AJC. Our producer is Atara Lakritz. Our sound engineer is TK Broderick. You can subscribe to People of the Pod on Apple podcasts, Spotify or Google podcasts, or learn more at ajc.org/PeopleofthePod. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC. We'd love to hear your views and opinions or your questions. You can reach us at PeopleofthePod@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to tell your friends. 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As many Jews deepen their sense of Jewish identity, Dr. Mijal Bitton joins the podcast to explore the significance of our Jewish heritage, texts, and peoplehood and what it means as we enter the Hanukkah season. Bitton is a sociologist, storyteller, podcast host, and Jewish advocate who also serves as the spiritual leader of the Downtown Minyan in Manhattan.  As one of the first Sacks Scholars, she helps young people reclaim and reimagine Jewish traditions. In this week's episode, Dr. Bitton discusses  Sephardic Jewry, Jewish peoplehood, academia, the needs of young Jews, and the realities of intergroup and interfaith after October 7. Resources: The Morality and Ethics of Global Jewish Advocacy: Lessons from Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks - AJC Advocacy Anywhere Jewish Unpacked - Wondering Jews podcast, with guest AJC CEO Ted Deutch Listen – AJC Podcasts: The Forgotten Exodus: with Hen Mazzig, Einat Admony, and more. People of the Pod:  The Next Chapter in Catholic-Jewish Relations What's Next for the Abraham Accords Under President Trump? Honoring Israel's Lone Soldiers This Thanksgiving: Celebrating Service and Sacrifice Away from Home The ICC Issues Arrest Warrants: What You Need to Know Follow People of the Pod on your favorite podcast app, and learn more at AJC.org/PeopleofthePod You can reach us at: peopleofthepod@ajc.org If you've appreciated this episode, please be sure to tell your friends, and rate and review us on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. __ Transcript of Conversation with Mijal Bitton: Manya Brachear Pashman:   Dr. Mijal Bitton is a sociologist, storyteller and Jewish advocate. As the spiritual leader of the Downtown Minyan in Manhattan and one of the first Sacks Scholars, she helps young people reclaim and reimagine Jewish traditions.  Michal is no stranger to our AJC audiences. Earlier this month, she delivered a powerful Advocacy Anywhere to commemorate Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, for which the Sacks Scholars are, of course named.  And as co-host of Jewish Unpacked's podcast Wondering Jews, she and Jewish educator Noah Weisman explore questions we all ask about the Jewish experience, from the mundane to the miraculous. In fact, just recently, they interviewed AJC CEO Ted Deutch. The podcast has covered topics spanning from how summer camp shapes Jewish lives, how to constantly juggle joy and pain, the impact of the Jewish vote in the most recent election, and in turn, the impact of Trump's resulting victory on Jewish America. Mijal is with us now in our Midtown Manhattan studio to rehash a little of that, but also to discuss what led her to take on her many roles, including her newest project. Mijal, welcome to People of the Pod. Mijal Bitton:  Thank you, thank you for having me. Manya Brachear Pashman:   If you could please share with our listeners about your heritage, about your upbringing. You were born in Argentina, correct?  Mijal Bitton: I was born in Argentina. My father's family moved to Argentina from Morocco and Syria. My mother is from Spain. And part of what shaped my interest in Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, is that when we moved to America, we moved to a Persian Jewish community. So that was like my introduction to American Jews, this very tight knit Persian community in Long Island.  Eventually, I met my husband, who is a Syrian Jew, with Egyptian and Iraqi background, and I wrote my PhD on the Syrian Jewish community in Brooklyn, which all just shows you a little bit my fascination. It's not just an identity, it's a tradition that I draw from and that I believe can actually give us very powerful tools right now. Manya Brachear Pashman:  Now, is this a Syrian Jewish community from Aleppo or Damascus?  Mijal Bitton: Historically, there is a big difference. I would say that a lot of these communities, you can think of them as pre-immigration and then new settlement in America. Right now in America, it's one community. The differences between Aleppo and Damascus are not that pronounced, maybe like when you cook a little bit the recipe that you use, or slightly different songs that you might have, depending where your family is from. Manya Brachear Pashman:  You are, in fact, a visiting researcher at NYU, and you are the director of the National Study of the Sephardic and Mizrahi in the United States. What is that study all about? Mijal Bitton: Yeah. So when I wanted to do a PhD at NYU, which I did, on Syrian Jews, and I wanted to study Sephardic Jews, what I realized very quickly, and you might have seen this from your other podcast, is that there is very little good scholarship, good literature to explain to us who these Jews are. This is a problem, both in terms of historical research, and for me, I'm really interested in contemporary Jewish life.  There was a huge gap of not having resources to understand Sephardic Jews in the United States. So I had to do my PhD, kind of trying to reconstruct, you know, even, like the categories of study, how do we think about Jewish observance and really religiosity with Jews from the Middle East. So this study is an early attempt by early I mean, we hope it's the first of many studies to begin to tease out the main pillars of what we need to know to understand Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews roughly.  And again, we'll go into this more in the actual report, which will come out in a couple of months, roughly 10% of American Jews are Sephardic or Mizrahi, very similar to, let's say, the Orthodox Jewish population, the Russian-speaking Jewish population, but much less understood, much less studied. So it's an important first attempt to begin to lay out the foundations of knowledge. Manya Brachear Pashman:  So would you say that study is overdue?  Mijal Bitton: Yes, very much overdue. I think it's overdue for many reasons. One of them is that in the American Jewish community we've had for many years now, conversations around diversity, around inclusion and the like. And Sephardic Jews have not really been part of this conversation. Or let me say this with more precision, they have not been part of this conversation in terms that they would want to be part of this conversation. Maybe I'll be a little bit more explicit as to what I mean.  Many of the Jews that we've cited that I know tend to reflect more socially conservative, Middle Eastern forms of Jewish life, and these communities don't fit in very neatly in diversity efforts that tend to align with progressive understandings of diversity. So that means that there's been a real gap in how Sephardic Jews are included or not included in many spaces that are trying to be more inclusive. So we really believe that diversity is not easy, and that it begins with listening and understanding, who are the individuals and communities that we want to include.  Manya Brachear Pashman:  I mean, how does kind of a deeper and broader knowledge of one's Jewish identity, one's Jewish history, how does your deeper and broader knowledge of your identity and history help you be a better advocate? And how can it help others be better Jewish advocates? Mijal Bitton: That's a great question. So you know, you mentioned before that I started a weekly Jewish wisdom Substack. It's called Committed and I'll be grateful to share the link with everyone. The first piece that I wrote there on Genesis was actually about Jewish pride, and it was an idea that I had been thinking for a long time about, and it was that, especially since October 7, I have been in all of these spaces with people who are newly reawakened, energized, outraged about what's been happening. And they speak constantly about the need for Jewish pride, Jewish pride. We need more Jewish pride, more Jewish pride, more Jewish pride.  And on the one hand, I love that. I love that awakening. It resonates with me strongly. On the other hand, I had like this little voice whispering to me, because, as a sociologist, I've actually done research that talks about pride as something, I want to try to say this carefully, as something that is sometimes the last thing a group holds on to before assimilating fully.  So in very simplistic terms, if you think about Italian Americans or Irish Americans right over three or four generations in this country, they will slowly lose a lot of their communal elements. They will move away from their neighborhoods. They will stop only cooking Italian food. They will stop working in certain professions. But they will still have a little bit of that Irish pride in St Patrick's Day.  So I have been concerned when we speak about Jewish pride, that Jewish pride can be seen as unsustainable if we don't know what we are proud of. There is a world of a difference between someone who says there's something here, that seems really good, and I think I'm proud. I'm proud. And it's different that if you're standing there and you say, I am proud of a heritage spanning 1000s of years, I stand on the shoulders of giants. I am continuing a legacy of Jews who have survived persecutions, who've survived assimilation, who've survived living in different countries and in different times, and I am holding all of this when I stand up as a Jew. That, to me, is the kind of confident pride that can help us as advocates when we are facing challenges, because we are facing challenges and we're going to continue to face challenges. So we desperately need that sense of Jewish history, that sense of spiritual sustenance. We have to know what we are proud of, what we are fighting for. Manya Brachear Pashman:  You wrote a piece shortly after October 7, and it was titled, The Pain You're Feeling is Peoplehood. And it was incredibly powerful. It went viral. Because it so perfectly captured what so many Jews were feeling at that moment. And for those who haven't read it, can you share what led you to write it and kind of summarize it for our listeners. Mijal Bitton: I lead a community, I'm the spiritual leader of a community called the Downtown Minyan. And like many spiritual leaders and clergy on that Simchat Torah. I had to, you know, I'm not saying anything new. Here I was, I was heartbroken, reeling. I don't use a phone on Shabbat didn't always happening. My family in Israel, the reports that were coming in, I felt like my soul, my heart was being ripped. I think many of us felt this. And I had a Shul to run, and I had to figure out, like, what Jewish wisdom can I use right now? And it was very primal and instinctive.  There was a teaching that I had taught before because I thought it was important, but at that moment, it felt essential, and it just like, came out. I stood in front of my community who were in pain, and I wanted to give them names to explain what was happening. And I described, I use a very famous teaching by Rav Soloveichik, who speaks about who asked the question, can we still speak of ourselves as Jewish people, even with all of our diversity and differences and disagreements?  And it brings up a Talmudic question about, if you have a man of two heads, is this considered one person or two? And it's a complicated question, if you take it seriously, and he offers a gruesome test to figure this out. You pour boiling water on one head, and then you look at the other, and if it cries out in pain, it is one people. If it doesn't, it is two. The reason that this teaching was important for me to say, and I think the reason you said it went viral is because, you know. I haven't said this like this before, so I am expressing this now, thinking with you. I think for very long, for us Jews in America, we have been pushed and compelled to think of Judaism along Protestant religious terms.  What I mean by this, it's a faith, it's a set of beliefs, it's a value system. It has to fit in like some universalistic framework, and that pain that we felt on October 7 was different. It was a reminder that to be a Jew is to be part of a family. That it doesn't matter how different we are from each other, how much we disagree. When your relative is in pain, you cry with them. And it's almost like that pain, to me was like a way of saying we are reminded that we're part of a family. And there's something. I don't have the right words here. There's something almost to treasure about the pain, because it reminds us that we are connected to each other, committed to each other, responsible for each other.  And I think we all felt it, and it took away some of the layers of conditioning that many of us have had, to pretend like we aren't a family. That's what I think was one of the things that were so powerful about the tragedy that we all experienced. Manya Brachear Pashman:  Yeah, because we're so trained to be individuals, right, especially here in America, right, that individual spirit, and that's, that's not part of peoplehood. Or is it? I don't know. Maybe that's not the point.  Mijal Bitton: Yeah, listen, I think our tradition is amazing and complex, and there's strands of faith that brings up individualism and agency, but there's powerful strengths that talk about us as a family, as a collective, as a tribe, and there's powerful elements in our culture that have been pushing against that. And in many parts of our community, I think we drank the Kool Aid and we said we are not like, you know, that's backwards. That's not who we are anymore.  And then we were reminded that there's something there that we all felt was true. It existed before October 7, but I think October 7 kind of like woke it up. When I've shared this metaphor of the two headed men with people, many of them have offered an objection, and they've said, how awful is it for us to speak about who we are based on antisemitism? It shouldn't have to be like that. But, I mean, I would agree with that critique on theoretical terms. On sociological human terms, there is nothing that is more potent than having a shared enemy, a shared tragedy. Think about a family again, how tragedy brings us together.  So I think that unfortunately, the fact that there is still antisemitism vibrant in our societies and our streets has served to continue to reinforce that initial sense that we had after October 7. Of course, there are rifts. We can talk about debates that are happening. We are not as united as right after the tragedy. But, you know, I wrote a piece for CNN basically saying that the virulent anti semitism in the anti-Zionist movement is creating more Zionists. It's creating more Jewish solidarity. And it hasn't gone away. I am a religious woman. When I pray to God, I ask God that God should give us the challenge of having to remain connected in good times. I prefer that, but being that we don't have that right now, I do think that we have to double down on what our response is. Manya Brachear Pashman:  You wrote another piece for CNN that had to do with the anti-Israel protests on university campuses and the fear that it was inducing in so many Jewish young people, and the solidarity that was coming out of that. So with that in mind, one thing that the Jewish communal world is experiencing, we're certainly seeing it here at AJC, is an influx in involvement. Not just solidarity, but activism and advocacy, people who want to be more involved. Have you given any thought to this influx, and whether or not the infrastructure is in place here in America especially, to kind of sustain that, that level of involvement and activism.  Mijal Bitton: So one of the things that I've seen, and I'll be honest, that I'm still trying to understand it, but one of the things that I'm seeing is, there's, there's the thing called the organized Jewish community, okay? And it's a powerful ecosystem, you know, with lovers of power and influence. And I'm also privy, partially because of my work with young Jews, to a whole world of people who are wanting to be active, but who either don't have the access or the orientation to do so, you know, within the organized Jewish community And for me, part of what's still missing are the bridges between these different ecosystems. There's all of these people who are active on social media, right? The world of influencers, there's these groups of young Jews who are creating pop up Shabbat dinners, like all over the place, and like creating new clubs to celebrate Shabbat with each other and Jewish identity. And there is a lot of energy there. And what I'm trying to figure out is, I'm thinking of this as almost two powerful ecosystems, and I think that they would both be more powerful if they're in better conversation with each other.  So that, to me, again, it's a little bit abstract. I'm still thinking it through. I am a scholar in residence at the Maimonides Fund, and this is one of the questions that I have right now in this post-October 7 world: what would it mean to better bridge between these different ecosystems? Manya Brachear Pashman:  We just talked about the campus protests and the solidarity that they fuel, and we've also talked about the lack of research and scholarship out there about Jews in the Middle East and and North Africa and the diversity of the Jewish community. Do you think if young people had a better grasp of the thousands of years of history, of Jewish history in the Middle East, do you think that would shift the conversation at all, that education? And I don't mean obviously just within the Jewish community, I mean more broadly. Mijal Bitton: I mean, broadly speaking, yeah. So I would say two things I take to heart with my friend Haviv Retig Gur, who's a brilliant analyst. He speaks a lot about the fact that Jews, we don't know our own story. And I do think there is, like, huge lack of literacy in understanding that there were nearly 1 million Jews all across the Middle East and North Africa, and they left, fled, or were expelled in like massive Arab nationalist, anti-Zionist regimes that were propped up across the region. So I do think that for people to know these stories would be incredibly powerful.  I do want to note something, though, as someone who has been active in academia, I still have one foot there. I think that in many places, and we need to not be naive. In many places, people have vested interest in certain narratives, and they are emotionally attached to this narrative, and they have no incentive to change them, no matter how many counterfactuals you provide to them.  So there are definitely many parts in academia that want to think of the world as divided between the oppressors and the oppressed, and who want to think of Jews and Israel and Zionists as aligned with the oppressors, who they equate to Europeans and white and Westerners. And no matter how many counterfactuals you will give to them, they will find a way again, and I'm happy to explain this. They will find ways to make it fit into their narrative.  So we need a multi-pronged approach. One approach is to give the literacy to those who are seeking it as a way to have greater strength and intellectual tools at their disposal. Also, there's like a huge middle to convince, you know that can be moved. And when it comes to those ideologues, we have to battle their narratives. Manya Brachear Pashman:  In other words, offering that literacy to the Jewish community first, to those who actually want it, who are curious enough to want it, that's step one.  Mijal Bitton: Yeah, Jewish community, friends of the Jewish community, people who are intellectually honest and want to have a better discourse around Israel, the Middle East and current reality. Manya Brachear Pashman:  So Mijal, I am curious how your conversations have changed and evolved since October 7. Initially I wanted to ask you about interfaith dialog, but maybe intercultural dialog is a better way to put it. But did you have more intercultural dialog before October 7 or after October 7, or is your work really immersed in the Jewish community and Jewish dialog? Mijal Bitton: Yeah, so I would say like this: I think before October 7, I had spent many years focused on interfaith work. I think that the interfaith work was often anchored in more liberal and progressive spaces, and many of those efforts really imploded. And I think that I represent, because I've heard this from so many people who basically said, we've invested years into showing up for others and into relationships. And then if I can't get someone to say that–you don't need to like Israel, you don't need to like Netanyahu, but just that Hamas raping and murdering is wrong and evil–then what am I doing here? So I think that definitely, I have been affected by that, by seeing that.  And right now, I think we're in a place a year out when there is new energy in trying to figure out, okay, like, who are those people that we can still talk to, and they exist. And also I think that, and this is like work that is ongoing, there is a real sense that we need to re-examine the work that we were doing. Perhaps we were investing in the wrong interfaith relationships and spaces. Which doesn't mean interfaith work is bad, but maybe we need to invest in other parts of interfaith work. Manya Brachear Pashman:  Can you expand on that a little bit? Mijal Bitton: I mean, yeah, this is like, personal. I am not going to be spending time in interfaith work with people who give Hamas a pass. I'll just say this, you know, like that. And I think there's a lot for me. I am much more interested right now in pursuing relationships with socially conservative leaders of other faiths, that perhaps in the past, we wouldn't have been in the same tables around interfaith work and who have spoken up with clarity when it comes to defending Jews and speaking up against antisemitism.  This doesn't mean, again, I don't want to imply that we should walk away from spaces you said before, it's important to have people fighting in many different areas. I think the real question we have to ask ourselves is, what are the lines, that if they are crossed, we walk away? Because I think too many Jews, for too long, have stayed in spaces where our basic story, dignity and humanity, was trampled, and we accepted that price. And that is not something we can do anymore.  So we have to figure out, how do we reconfigure relationships? How do we stand up for ourselves in different ways? How do we, and I'll say this: in many places Jews showed up and agreed to, you know, like, pound their chest about, like, their white Jewish privilege as a price of entry into coalitions and relationships in ways that just were not honest. We need to fight all of this. Manya Brachear Pashman:  You recently hosted AJC CEO Ted Deutch on your podcast Wondering Jews, and I'm curious what you learned from that exchange with him, both on and off the air. Mijal Bitton: Yeah, it was wonderful. I co-host the podcast Wondering Jews with Noam  Weissman, and it was really nice. I mentioned this on that episode, but I have a very fond personal memory of my first encounter with Ted. It was the March in Washington. I was one of their earliest featured speakers at the March. You know, 300,000 people in person, many watching live. And I was very nervous. And I was like, pacing behind backstage. And I see Ted.  I've never met him before, but I had read about him. And when I read about him, I was very curious. I'm like, who leaves sitting Congress to go and work for the Jews? So I was already, fascinated by like, who would make this career switch? And then I saw him, and I don't know why, I turned to him, and I asked him if I could practice with him. And he literally had me practice my speech. I memorized it, and I practiced, and he gave me some feedback, and I changed some of the words, and his wife lent me a hostage tag necklace because I wanted to have one on stage. And it was early days, I didn't have one.  So my first encounter with him was that it felt like a very personal one, and that's what came across, I think, in the in the podcast, that Ted is this, you know, was a member of Congress, like runs AJC, but he just, he's so warm, and it is so obvious in everything that he says, that this is not like a job for him, but it is a passion and a life's mission. And the way that he spoke about just his love for the Jewish people, for spirituality, for what it means to stand up in the world, his hope and optimism. He speaks about relationships that you can insist on and make sure that you can have right now. It's very moving to find leaders who are running institutions and who themselves are able to embody a very powerful sense of conviction. We need more leaders like that. Manya Brachear Pashman:  So tell us about your newest project.  Mijal Bitton: Yeah, it's called Committed. That's the name of the Substack. I started it on Simchat Torah. I'm still tinkering with it. Like you know, how long it should be, the tone, this, that. I'm very lucky to have a lot of readers and students who eagerly give me feedback as to what works and what doesn't, which is lovely, because I love learning Torah with them. But really, as many conversations that I've had with people about anti semitism and advocacy and Zionism on campus, as many conversations that I've been having around like antisemitism and Israel and politics, I have been having the same number of conversations about Judaism and spirituality and the soul and what it means to be part of this magnificent tradition.  I have been taken aback that often in my my classes and lectures, it will end with people coming to me afterwards and wanting to speak about their Jewish journeys, what it means to raise Jewish children, what it means to learn Torah, if you didn't grow up learning Torah, and now you want to what it means to to know that we are souls with bodies, as opposed to bodies with souls, all of these things.  I have felt that it's really important to try to to have weekly touch points that we can have to ask big questions and to be able to address them using Jewish tradition. So I've in my Substack so far, I've explored, like I mentioned before, Jewish pride, what it means to have Jewish pride. I've explored what it means to have, using the stories of Abraham and Rebecca, what it means to, when the world is burning, to know that we have multiple modes of responses. One of them is to provide justice, put out the flame.  Another mode is to help those who have burn marks and to just show care to them and be with them in times of need. The one that I wrote that I think went the farthest. One was around sacrifice, the binding of Isaac, which I wrote about what it means to from America. Look at Israeli parents and know that they are raising children who are willing to sacrifice in a way that American children are just not being taught.  I use the story of Jacob and Esau, and I did a beautiful thought experiment. What would have happened if a Chabad emissary would have met the bad twin of Jacob? And there's all of this text that actually allow us to imagine that Esau could have become a leader of the Jewish people if he would have been shown the kind of love that Chabad emissaries give. So I think there's amazing ways to approach Jewish tradition and to use those as and use Jewish tradition as a way to ask the most critical questions about what it means to live as a Jew today.  Manya Brachear Pashman: I imagine you'll be lighting candles soon for Hanukkah. Any other special traditions? Mijal Bitton The one thing I would say that I love that we do in our Sephardic communities, we light a little bit differently. And this is a traditional way. There's some Sephardic Jews that have changed this a little bit, but traditionally we light one Hanukkiah (menorah) as a family. So in many Ashkenazic communities, each individual lights their own. Classically, in the Sephardic tradition, a family has one Hanukkiah, and we try to light it either by a window or, even better, outside. So my family, my parents, my siblings, they have a special Hanukkiah with glass panels, and we always light it outside the house, facing the streets in a very real way.  And I think that's an important symbol for us, what it means to insist on our lights in public spaces, what it means to fight for public spaces, and what it means, I would say . . . you know, Hanukkah has become such a commercialized holiday in America that, like lives alongside Christmas, and that feels good.  And it's become not just a watered down version of its original premise, but in many ways the opposite, because what the Maccabees did is they took on not just the Greek Empire in military terms. They took on the Greek Empire in cultural and spiritual terms, and they resisted assimilation with everything they had. So in a funny way, in America, to fit in, we've remade Hanukkah in terms that have been opposite in its original meaning.  And I think this last year asked us to reconsider what Hanukkah should look like, and what would it mean, you know, we shouldn't, I'm not saying we should be like the Maccabees exactly. You know, they're a complicated story as well. But what would it mean to make sure that we're not only lighting a light outside, but that we are expressing our Judaism in Jewish terms, even when it's a little bit uncomfortable for others.  Manya Brachear Pashman:  Mijal, thank you so much for joining us.  Mijal Bitton: Thank you for having me. Really great to be here. 

Christians in Syria, Bible education, and the “bad guys” of NYC. Find us on Youtube. Clarissa, Mike, and Russell welcome Hadeel Oeuis to talk about Christians in Syria and their response to the fallen Assad regime. Then, Beth Moore joins us to talk about the “bad guys” of NYC: Elphaba, Daniel Penny, and Luigi Mangione. Finally, Beth sticks around in a discussion about Bible education, both in public-school classrooms and in Sunday school.    GO DEEPER WITH THE BULLETIN: Email us with your favorite segment from today's show at podcasts@christianitytoday.com. Grab some Bulletin merch in our holiday store! Find us on YouTube. Rate and review the show in your podcast app of choice. ABOUT THE GUESTS:  Hadeel Oueis is a writer and journalist focusing on the Middle East and a research fellow at the Philos Project. She majored in political studies, and in 2011, at the age of 18, was arrested by the Assad regime for playing a key role in the early days of Syrian protests. In 2012, the US delegation in Geneva met with Oueis and helped her relocate to the United States. She currently analyzes US policies in the Middle East for major Arabic networks. Oueis reported for years through the JIMENA platform about Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews and has been an active voice in calling for peace in the Middle East. Beth Moore is a dynamic teacher whose conferences take her across the globe. She has written numerous best-selling books and Bible studies. She is also the founder and visionary of Living Proof Ministries, based in Houston.  ABOUT THE BULLETIN: The Bulletin is a weekly (and sometimes more!) current events show from Christianity Today hosted and moderated by Clarissa Moll, with senior commentary from Russell Moore (Christianity Today's editor in chief) and Mike Cosper (director, CT Media). Each week, the show explores current events and breaking news and shares a Christian perspective on issues that are shaping our world. We also offer special one-on-one conversations with writers, artists, and thought leaders whose impact on the world brings important significance to a Christian worldview, like Bono, Sharon McMahon, Harrison Scott Key, Frank Bruni, and more. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

What is the importance of developing personal relationships with people across lines of difference? How can Jewish people indoctrinated in Zionism learn more about the historical and present-day harm done to Palestinians by the state of Israel? In this series on healthcare and social disparities, Dr. Jill Wener, a board-certified Internal Medicine specialist, anti-racism educator, meditation expert, and tapping practitioner, interviews experts and gives her own insights into multiple fields relating to social justice and anti-racism. In this episode, Jill interviews Dr. Ilise Cohen, a Sephardi-Mizrahi Jewish scholar-activist. They talked about Dr. Cohen's anti-Zionist activism journey and the harmful ways that Jews are indoctrinated in Zionism. Listen to discover some of the ways that we can have hope when fighting against systemic oppression. Dr. Ilise Benshushan Cohen is a long time scholar and activist on Palestine/Israel, AFSC middle east program director, and board chair of first iteration of Eyewitness Palestine and delegation leader for over 17 years. Now part of the BIJOCSM network, Dr. Cohen is involved in SEDQ: Global Jewish Network for Justice. She holds a Ph.D. in Postcolonial Anthropology specifically focused on state violence toward Mizrahi Jews in Israel and the relationship to Palestinian experiences. Currently, Dr. Cohen is helping to raise funds for people to aid in Palestine solidarity and protective presence in the West Bank. LINKS ilise.cohen@gmail.com ** Our website www.consciousantiracism.com You can learn more about Dr. Wener and her online meditation and tapping courses at www.jillwener.com, and you can learn more about her online social justice course, Conscious Anti Racism: Tools for Self-Discovery, Accountability, and Meaningful Change at https://theresttechnique.com/courses/conscious-anti-racism. If you're a healthcare worker looking for a CME-accredited course, check out Conscious Anti-Racism: Tools for Self-Discovery, Accountability, and Meaningful Change in Healthcare at www.theresttechnique.com/courses/conscious-anti-racism-healthcare Join her Conscious Anti-Racism facebook group: www.facebook.com/groups/307196473283408 Follow her on: Instagram at jillwenerMD LinkedIn at jillwenermd

“It's quite clear to me that he was trying to recreate the hillside of Haifa with the gardens... It comes from somebody being ripped out from their home.” Syrian Jewish Playwright Oren Safdie, son of world-renowned architect Moshe Safdie, who designed Habitat 67 along with much of modern Jerusalem, knows loss, regret, and longing. Oren and his father explore their Syrian heritage and their connection to the Jewish state that has developed since Moshe's father left Aleppo, Syria and moved, in the mid-20th century, to what is modern-day Israel. Oren also knows that being Jewish is about stepping up. Describing his frustrations with modern anti-Israel sentiments and protests that harken back to 1943, Oren is passionately combating anti-Israel propaganda in theater and academia.  Abraham Marcus, Associate Professor Emeritus at University of Texas at Austin, joins the conversation with historical insights into Jewish life in Syria dating back to Roman times. —- Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Al Fadimem, Bir Demet Yasemen, Fidayda; all by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Aleppo Bakkashah  Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Oud Nation”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Haygaz Yossoulkanian (BMI), IPI#1001905418 “Arabic (Middle Eastern Music)”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Andrei Skliarov, Item ID #152407112 “Fields Of Elysium”; Publisher: Mysterylab Music; Composer: Mott Jordan; ID#79549862 “Middle Eastern Dawn”: Publisher: Victor Romanov, Composer: Victor Romanov; Item ID #202256497 “Ney Flute Melody 01”: Publisher: Ramazan Yuksel; Composer: Ramazan Yuksel; P.R.O. Track: BMI 00712367557 “Uruk”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Marcus Bressler; Item ID: 45886699 “Suspense Middle East” Publisher: Victor Romanov, Composer: Victor Romanov; Item ID: 196056047 ___ Episode Transcript: OREN SAFDIE:  I've sort of wanted to shine a light on North American Jews being hypercritical of Israel. Because I've spent a lot of time in Israel. And I know what it is. It's not a simple thing. And I think it's very easy for Americans in the comfort of their little brownstones in Brooklyn, and houses in Cambridge to criticize, but these people that live in Israel are really standing the line for them. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in the Middle East and North Africa in the mid-20th century. Welcome to the second season of The Forgotten Exodus, brought to you by American Jewish Committee. This series explores that pivotal moment in history and the little-known Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations. As Jews around the world confront violent antisemitism and Israelis face daily attacks by terrorists on multiple fronts, our second season explores how Jews have lived throughout the region for generations despite hardship, hostility, and hatred, then sought safety and new possibilities in their ancestral homeland. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore untold family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience from this transformative and tumultuous period of history for the Jewish people and the Middle East.  The world has ignored these voices. We will not.  This is The Forgotten Exodus. Today's episode: leaving Aleppo. MANYA: Playwright and screenwriter Oren Safdie has had just about enough of the anti-Israel sentiments on stage and screen. And what irks him the most is when it comes from Jewish artists and celebrities who have never spent time in the Middle East's one and only democracy. Remember film director Jonathan Glazer's speech at the 2024 Academy Awards? JONATHAN GLAZER: Right now, we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October the … [APPLAUSE] MANYA: Yeah, Oren didn't much appreciate his own Jewishness being hijacked in that moment. Drawing a moral equivalence between the Nazi regime and Israel never really sits well with him. OREN: I do feel like they're very selective in their criticism of Israel. You know, it's very easy to say, ‘Oh, well, they didn't do that. They don't do this.' But it's a complicated situation. And to simplify it, is just to me beyond, especially if you're not somebody who has spent a lot of time in Israel. MANYA: Oren Safdie has penned more than two dozen scripts for stages and screens around the world. His latest film, Lunch Hour, starring Alan Cumming, is filming in Minnesota.  Meanwhile, The Man Who Saved the Internet with A Sunflower, another script he co-wrote, is on the festival circuit. And his latest play Survival of the Unfit, made its North American debut in the Berkshires this summer, is headed to Broadway. And by the way, since an early age, Oren Safdie has spent quite a bit of time in Israel. His father Moshe Safdie is the legendary architect behind much of modern Jerusalem, Ben-Gurion International Airport, and the Yad Vashem Holocaust History Museum.  Oren's grandfather, Leon, emigrated from Syria. OREN: I'm sort of a synthesis of the two main parts that established Israel because my mother came from Poland, escaped the Holocaust. And my father's family came from Syria. So, I'm a half breed.  I've never been asked about my Sephardic side, even though that was really the dominant side that I grew up with. Because my mother's family was quite small. I grew up in Montreal, it was much more in the Syrian tradition for holidays, food, everything like that. My grandfather was from Aleppo, Syria, and my grandmother was from Manchester, England, but originally from Aleppo. Her family came to Manchester, but two generations before, had been from Aleppo. So, they're both Halabi Jews.  MANYA: Halabi refers to a diverse group of Jews from Aleppo, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world that has gone by several names. The oldest? Haleb.  Halabi Jews include Mizrahi Jews -- the name for Jews who call the Middle East or North Africa home; and Sephardi Jews, who fled to the region after being expelled from Spain in the 15th Century.  Jews are believed to have been in what is now Syria since the time of King David and certainly since early Roman times. ABRAHAM MARCUS: It's a community that starts, as far as we can record, in the Greco-Roman period. And we see the arrival of Islam. So the Jews were really the indigenous people when Arabs arrived. MANYA: Abraham Marcus, born to parents from Aleppo, is an internationally renowned authority on the city. He served as director of the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at the University of Texas at Austin. For the past 16 years, he has been working on a book about the history of Aleppo's Jews that goes well beyond what has been previously published. As part of his research, he examined thousands of documents from the Syrian national archive and the Ottoman archive in Istanbul. He also did extensive fieldwork on the ground in Aleppo, documenting the synagogues, cemeteries, residential districts, and workplaces.  MARCUS: One of the synagogues, the famous ancient synagogue of Aleppo, which dates to the 5th Century, meaning it predates the arrival of Arabs. It is a remarkable structure. Unfortunately, what is left of it now is really a skeleton. MANYA: Abraham is referring to the Great Synagogue or Central Synagogue of Aleppo, which functioned as the main house of worship for the Syrian Jewish community for more than 1,600 years. For 600 of those years, its catacombs safeguarded a medieval manuscript believed to be the oldest, most complete, most accurate text of the Hebrew Bible, known as the Aleppo Codex. The codex was used by Maimonides as a reference for his magnum opus, the Mishneh Torah, or Jewish religious legal code. In the 7th Century, Aleppo was conquered by Arab Muslims and a Great Mosque was built. For the next four centuries, the Byzantine Empire, Crusaders, and various Muslim rulers fought to gain control of Aleppo and the surrounding region. A savage Mongol invasion, a bout of the Black Death and another invasion took its toll on the city, and its Jews.  For most of this time, Muslim rulers treated them as dhimmis, or second-class citizens.  MARCUS: There were restrictions on dress, which were renewed time and again. They could not carry arms. They could not ride horses. MANYA: After half of Spain's Jews converted to Christianity following the pogroms of 1391, the Catholic monarchs issued the Alhambra Decree of 1492 – an edict that expelled any remaining Jews from the Iberian Peninsula to ensure their descendants didn't revert back to Judaism.  As Jews fled, many made their way to parts of the Ottoman Empire. In 1516, Aleppo became part of that empire and emerged as a strategic trading post at the end of the Silk Road, between the Mediterranean Sea and Mesopotamia, or modern-day Iraq. As was the case in other parts of the Ottoman Empire, Jews lived relatively comfortably, serving as merchants and tax collectors.  MARCUS: The policy of the Ottoman Empire was to essentially welcome the Sephardic Jews. The Sultan at the time is reputed to have said, ‘I don't understand the King of Spain. But if he's thinking at all, giving up all this human capital, essentially, we can take it.'  Many of the successful Jews in Aleppo and Damascus–in business, as leaders, as rabbis–were Sephardic Jews. They revived these communities, they brought new blood and new energy to them, a new wealth. MANYA: This was not always the case throughout Ottoman Syria as persecution and pogroms erupted at times.  By the mid-19th Century, Aleppo's Jewish population was slightly smaller than that of Baghdad, by about 2,000. In 1869, the opening of the Suez Canal shifted trade away from the route through Syria. Aleppo lost much of its commercial edge, motivating many Jews to seek opportunity elsewhere. MARCUS: The story of Aleppo is one of a society gradually hemorrhaging, losing people. They went to Beirut, which was a rising star. And Egypt became very attractive. So they went to Alexandria and Cairo. And many of the rabbis from the 1880s began to move to Jerusalem where there were yeshivot that were being set up. And in effect, over the next several decades, essentially the spiritual center of Aleppo's Jews was Jerusalem and no longer Aleppo.  MANYA: Another turning point for Aleppo came in World War I when the Ottoman Empire abandoned its neutral position and sided with the Central Powers–including Bulgaria, Austria-Hungary and Germany.  Many wealthy Jews had acquired foreign nationalities from countries that were not allies. Now considered enemy citizens, they were deported and never came back. In addition, Jews and Christians up to that point could pay a special tax to avoid serving in the army. That privilege ended in 1909. MARCUS: Because of the Balkan Wars, there was a sense that the empire is going to collapse if they don't essentially raise a large force to defend it. And there was a kind of flight that really decimated the community by 1918, when the war ended. MANYA: Besides those two wartime exceptions, Abraham says the departure of Jews from Syria was almost always motivated by the promise of better opportunities. In fact, opportunity might have been what drew the Safdie family to and from Aleppo. MANYA: Originally from Safed, as their name suggests, the Safdie family arrived in Aleppo sometime during the 16th or 17th centuries. By that time, the Jewish community in Safed, one of the Four Holy Cities in Judaism located in modern-day Israel, had transformed it into a lucrative textile center. So lucrative that the sultan of the ruling Ottoman Empire ordered the forced deportation of 1,000 Jewish families to Cyprus to boost that island's economy.  It's not clear if those deportations or the decline that followed pushed the Safdie family north to Aleppo. Most of them stayed for roughly three centuries–through World War One and France's brief rule during the Interwar period. But in 1936, amid the Great Depression, which affected Syria as well, Leon Safdie, the ninth of ten children born to textile merchants, moved to Haifa and set up his own trading business. Importing textiles, woolens, and cottons from England and fabrics from Japan and India.  A year later, he met his wife Rachel who had sailed from Manchester to visit her sister in Jerusalem. She spoke English and a little French. He spoke Arabic and French. They married a month later. OREN: My grandfather lived in Haifa, he was a merchant like many Syrian Jews were. He imported textiles. He freely went between the different countries, you know, there weren't really so many borders. A lot of his people he worked with were Arab, Druze, Christian, Muslim. Before independence, even though there was obviously some tension, being somebody who is a Syrian Jew, who spoke Arabic, who spoke French, he was sort of just one of the region. MANYA: Moshe Safdie was born in 1938. He says the onset of the Second World War created his earliest memories – hosting Australian soldiers in their home for Shabbat and making nightly trips into air raid shelters. Every summer, the family vacationed in the mountain resorts of Lebanon to visit aunts and uncles that had moved from Aleppo to Beirut. Their last visit to Lebanon in the summer of 1947 culminated with all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins piling into three Chrysler limousines and caravanning from Beirut to Aleppo to visit their grandmother and matriarch, Symbol. MOSHE: I remember sort of the fabric of the city. I have vague memories of the Citadel of Aleppo, because it was an imposing structure. I remember her – a very fragile woman, just vaguely. MANYA: While most of Moshe's memories of Aleppo are vague, one memory in particular is quite vivid. At that time, the United Nations General Assembly was debating the partition plan that would divide what was then the British Mandate of Palestine between Jews and Arabs. Tensions ran high throughout the region. When Moshe's uncles noticed Moshe wearing his school uniform on the streets of Aleppo, they panicked.  MOSHE: They were terrified. We were walking in the street, and we had khaki shirts and khaki pants. And it had stitched on it, as required in our school, the school badge, and it said, ‘Thou shalt be humble' in Hebrew. And they saw that, or at least they noticed we had that, and they said: ‘No, this is very dangerous!' and they ripped it off.' MANYA: It would be the first and last time Moshe Safdie visited Aleppo. On the 29th of November, the UN voted on a resolution to divide Palestine into two states, one Arab and one Jewish. The news arrived in Aleppo the following morning. MARCUS: This was New York time, in the evening, when the decision was made. So already, people started planning demonstrations for the next day, in support of the Palestinians. And that next day began with what was a peaceful demonstration of students, and then all kinds of people joined in and before long it became an attack on Jewish property. The synagogues were set ablaze. Many Jewish homes were burned, businesses were looted. And so the day ended with the Jews really in a state of fright.  MANYA: The mob looted the Jewish quarter and burned the Great Synagogue, scattering and desecrating the pages of the Aleppo Codex. The caretaker of the synagogue and his son later returned to the ashes to salvage as much as they could. But most of the community's leadership took a train to Beirut and never looked back.  Of course, as previously mentioned, Aleppo had already witnessed a steep decline in its Jewish population. The numbers vary widely, depending on the source, but by 1947, on the eve of the Jewish exodus from Syria, Iraq, and other Arab countries, Aleppo had anywhere between 6,000 and 15,000 Jews, whereas Baghdad had between 75 and 90,000. MARCUS: More than half the population left within a month. The community after that, in the next two, three weeks, was in a situation in which some people decided that was the end.  They took possessions that they could, got on buses and left for Beirut. That was the safe destination to go to. And there was traffic between the two areas.  Some people decided to stay. I mean, they had business, they had interest, they had property that they didn't want to leave. You can imagine the kind of dilemmas face people suddenly, the world has changed, and what do I do? Which part of the fork do I go?  MANYA: Those who left effectively forfeited their property to the Syrian government. To this day, the only way to reclaim that property and be allowed to sell it is to return and become Syrian citizens. Those who stayed were trapped. Decimated and demoralized, Aleppo's Jews came under severe travel restrictions, unable to travel more than four kilometers from their homes without permission from the government, which tracked their comings and goings. MARCUS: The view was that if they leave, they'll end up in what's called the Zionist entity and provide the soldiers and aid to the enemy. So the idea was to keep them in.  So there's a reality there of a community that is now stuck in place. Unable to emigrate. That remained in place until 1970, when things began to relax. It was made possible for you to leave temporarily for a visit. But you have to leave a very large sum as a deposit. The other option was essentially to hire some smugglers to take you to the Turkish or the Lebanese border, and basically deliver you to another country where Jews had already networked. The Mossad had people who helped basically transfer them to Israel. But that was very risky. If you were caught, it's prison time and torture.  Over the next 45 years, many of the young left gradually, and many of them left without the parents even knowing. They will say ‘I'm going to the cinema and I'll come back'. MANYA: On May 14, 1948, Israel declared independence. But the socialist politics of the new Jewish state did not sit well with Leon Safdie who much preferred private enterprise. He also felt singled out, as did many Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews in Israel at the time.  OREN: In some ways, it almost created some tension for him on several fronts, right? First of all, between him and his clients, who he had been doing business with in the Arab world, for many years. All of a sudden, those relationships are called into question. And as my grandfather was an importer of textiles, it was considered a luxury good. And when you're in wartime, there were rations.  The high tariffs really killed my grandfather's business. So, he wanted to stay in Israel. He helped with the war effort. He really loved the country and he knew the people, but really for three years, he sat idle and just did not have work. He was a man that really needed to work, had a lot of pride. MANYA: In 1953, Leon and Rachel sought opportunity once again – this time in Montreal – a move Moshe Safdie would forever resent. When in 1959 he married Oren's mother Nina, an Israeli expat who was trying to return to Israel herself, they both resolved to return to the Jewish state. Life and phenomenal success intervened. While studying architecture at McGill University, Moshe designed a modern urban apartment building [Habitat 67] that incorporated garden terraces and multiple stories. It was built and unveiled during the 1967 World's Fair in Montreal, and Moshe's career took off.  OREN: It's quite clear to me that he was trying to recreate the hillside of Haifa with the gardens. And it's something that has sort of preoccupied him for his whole career. It comes from somebody being ripped out from their home. Those kinds of things I think stay with you. MANYA: Eventually, in 1970, Moshe opened a branch of his architecture firm in Jerusalem and established a second home there. Oren recalls visiting every summer – often with his grandfather Leon.   OREN: And I remember going with him when he'd come to Israel when I was there, because we used to go pretty much every summer. He would love to go down to Jericho. And we'd sit at the restaurants. I mean, there was a period of time, you know, when it was sort of accepted that Jews could travel to the West Bank, to Ramallah and everything. And he loved to just speak with the merchants and everything, he loved that. He felt so at home in that setting. It was not dangerous, as it is today, obviously. I think everyone back then thought it was a temporary situation. And obviously, the longer it goes, and the more things happen, it feels more permanent. And of course, that's where we are today. But that time, in my head, sort of just is a confirmation that Jews and Arabs have a lot more in common and can get along … if the situation was different. MANYA: As the son of an Israeli citizen, Oren is considered an Israeli citizen too. But he concedes that he is not fully Israeli. That requires more sacrifice. In 1982, at the age of 17, he signed up for Chetz V'Keshet, at that time a 10-week program run in conjunction with the Israel Defense Forces for American and Canadian teens and designed to foster a connection to Israel. The program took place during the First Lebanon War, Israel's operation to remove terrorists from southern Lebanon, where they had been launching attacks against Israeli civilians. OREN: So this was a mix of basic training, where we trained with artillery and things and did a lot of war games. And from there, you know, their hope was that you would join the military for three years. And I did not continue.  I guess there's a part of me that regrets that. Even though I'm an Israeli citizen, I can't say I'm Israeli in the way that Israelis are. If the older me would look back, then I would say, ‘If you really want to be connected to Israel, the military is really the only way. I'd say at that young age, I didn't understand that the larger picture of what being Jewish, what being Israeli is, and it's about stepping up. MANYA: Now in his early 50s, Oren tries to step up by confronting the anti-Israel propaganda that's become commonplace in both of his professional worlds: theater and academia. In addition to writing his own scripts and screenplays, he has taught college level playwriting and screenwriting. He knows all too often students fall prey to misinformation and consider anything they see on social media or hear from their friends as an authoritative source.  A few years ago, Oren assigned his students the task of writing a script based on real-life experience and research. One of the students drafted a script about bloodthirsty Israelis killing Palestinian children. When Oren asked why he chose that topic and where he got his facts, the student cited his roommate.  Oren didn't discourage him from pitching the script to his classmates, but warned him to come prepared to defend it with facts. The student turned in a script on an entirely different topic. OREN: You know, there were a lot of plays that came up in the past 10 years that were anti-Israel. You'd be very hard-pressed to find me one that's positive about Israel. No one's doing them. MANYA: Two of his scripts have come close. In 2017, he staged a play at the St. James Theatre in Old Montreal titled Mr. Goldberg Goes to Tel Aviv– a farce about a gay Jewish author who arrives in Tel Aviv to deliver a blistering attack on the Israeli government to the country's left-leaning literati.  But before he even leaves his hotel room, he is kidnapped by a terrorist. Investors lined up to bring it to the silver screen and Alan Cumming signed on to play Mr. Goldberg. But in May 2021, Hamas terrorists launched rockets at Israeli civilians, igniting an 11-day war. The conflict led to a major spike in antisemitism globally.  OREN: The money people panicked and said, ‘We can't put up a comedy about the Middle East within this environment. Somebody is going to protest and shut us down,' and they cut out. MANYA: Two years later, an Israeli investor expressed interest in giving the movie a second chance. Then on October 7 [2023], Hamas launched a surprise attack on 20 Israeli communities -- the deadliest attack on the Jewish people since the Holocaust. More than 1,200 Israelis have been killed, thousands of rockets have been fired on Israel, and more than 100 hostages are still in captivity. OREN: Mr. Goldberg Goes to Tel Aviv collapsed after October 7th. I don't think anybody would have the appetite for a comedy about a Hamas assassin taking a left-wing Jew hostage in a hotel room. MANYA: Another play titled “Boycott This” was inspired by Oren's visit to a coffee shop in Oaxaca, Mexico in 2011. The walls of the cafe were plastered with posters urging boycotts of Israel and accusing it of blood libel. Oren and his daughter created their own posters and stood outside the coffee shop calling on customers to boycott the cafe instead. But the father and daughter's impromptu protest is just one of three storylines in the play, including one about the 1943 boycott of Jews in Poland–where his mother spent part of her childhood in hiding during the Holocaust.  The third storyline takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where Iran has succeeded in wiping Israel off the map. A Jewish woman has been forced to become one of the enemy's wives – a threat some hostages taken on October 7 have reported hearing from their captors.  OREN: It was really my attempt to try and show how the boycotts of Israel today, in light of, you know, 1943, were really not different.  MANYA:  Even now, Oren has not been able to convince a college or theater to stage “Boycott This,” including the Jewish museum in Los Angeles that hosted his daughter's bat mitzvah on October 7, 2023.    OREN: I've sort of wanted to shine a light on North American Jews being hypercritical of Israel, which I guess ties into BDS. Because I've spent a lot of time in Israel. And I know what it is. It's not a simple thing. And I think it's very easy for Americans in the comfort of their little brownstones in Brooklyn, and houses in Cambridge to criticize, but these people that live in Israel are really standing the line for them. MANYA: When Presidents George Bush and Bill Clinton finally secured a legal way for Syrian Jews to leave between 1992 and 1994, most did. The last Jews of Aleppo were evacuated from the city in October 2016. MARCUS: They took all the siddurim and everything, put them in boxes. It was just essentially closing shop for good. They knew they're not coming back. MANYA: The food, liturgy, music, the traditions of hospitality and social welfare endure, but far from the world of which it was part. Walk into any synagogue in the Aleppo tradition after sundown on Shabbat and be treated to a concert until dawn – a custom called baqashot. MANYA: Before Oren's grandmother Rachel passed away, his cousin Rebecca did a piece for Canadian Broadcast News featuring their 95-year-old grandmother in the kitchen.  RACHEL SAFDIE: When we were children, we used to love all these dishes. My mother used to make them all the time and it's very, very tasty. Anything made, Middle East food, is very tasty. OREN: It's 10 minutes for me to see my grandmother again, in video, cooking the mehshi kusa, which is sort of the stuffed eggplant with the apricots and the meat. And there's really a great moment in it, because they're doing it together and they put it in the oven, and at the end of this 10-minute movie, they all come out of the oven, and like they're looking at it and they're tasting, and my grandmother points … RACHEL: I know which ones you did. You did this one.  CBN INTERVIEWER: How do you know?  RACHEL: I know. And this recipe has been handed down from generation to generation. OREN: It's so much like my grandmother because she's sort of a perfectionist, but she did everything without measuring. It was all by feel. The kibbeh, beans and lamb and potatoes and chicken but done in a different way than the Ashkenaz. I don't know how to sort of describe it.  The ka'ake, which were like these little pretzels that are, I'd say they have a taste of cumin in them. MARCUS: Stuffed aubergine, stuffed zucchini, tomatoes, with rice, pine nuts and ground beef and so forth. Meatballs with sour cherries during the cherry season. MANYA: Oren would one day like to see where his ancestors lived. But according to Abraham, few Aleppo Jews share that desire. After the Civil War and Siege of Aleppo in 2012 there's little left to see. And even when there was, Aleppo's Jews tended to make a clean break. MARCUS: People did not go back to visit, the second and third generations did not go back. So you see, for example, here Irish people of Irish origin in the United States, they still have families there. And they go, and they take the kids to see what Ireland is like. Italians, they do the same, because they have a kind of sense, this is our origin.  And with Aleppo, there wasn't. This is a really unusual situation in terms of migrations of people not going back to the place. And I think that probably will continue that way. MANYA: Syrian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who, in the last century, left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations.  Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Oren and Moshe for sharing their story. You can read more in Moshe's memoir If Walls Could Speak: My Life in Architecture. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they'd never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to ask those questions. Find your stories. Atara Lakritz is our producer. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Nicole Mazur, Sean Savage, and Madeleine Stern, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible.  You can subscribe to The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can learn more at AJC.org/theforgottenexodus.  The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts or Spotify to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

On this edition of Parallax Views, the Jewish Telegraphic Agency's Asaf Elia-Shalev joins the show to discuss his riveting book, Israel's Black Panthers. This episode uncovers the untold story of Israel's Black Panthers, a radical Mizrahi movement from the 1970s, drawing critical parallels between the FBI's COINTELPRO and the Israeli security state's targeting of the Panthers. The discussion highlights the intense conflicts between Israel's Black Panthers and figures like Meir Kahane, Golda Meir, and the police, including the significant events of The Night of the Panthers and Operation Milk. Listeners will gain insights into the racism faced by Mizrahi Jews, the internal conflict between Mizrahi and Ashkenazi Jews, and how the Mizrahi community's political alignment shifted towards the right-wing Likud Party under Menachem Begin. The episode also explores the complex relationship between Israel's Black Panthers and Palestinians, and shines a spotlight on Reuven Abergel, one of the movement's key co-founders. Essential listening for anyone interested in Middle Eastern history, social justice, and the dynamics of political activism.

Until 1948, around 800,000 Jews lived as an organic and inseparable part of the Arab Middle East and North Africa. But political shifts in the mid-20th century upended this reality. The violent creation of the State of Israel, and the rise of an increasingly exclusivist Arab nationalism, fueled anti-Jewish hostility that led to the exodus of all but a few thousand Jews from the region. The rich Arab-Jewish life that had characterized prior centuries was lost, and the vast majority of Arab Jews ended up in Israel, becoming active participants in the country's regime of domination over Palestinians. But neither Mizrahi Jews' enthusiastic embrace of Zionism nor the collapse of Jewish life in the broader Middle East were historical inevitabilities—and these processes did not go unchallenged. Instead, Arab-Jewish thinkers throughout the 20th century drew on their own experiences to offer alternatives to Zionism as well as other kinds of ethnonationalism.In June, Jewish Currents fellow Jonathan Shamir attended a first-of-its-kind retreat for Arab Jews organized by activist Hadar Cohen and historian Avi Shlaim, where contemporary thinkers came together to figure out how to build on these past efforts. In the latest episode of On the Nose, Shamir speaks with three scholars from the retreat—Hana Morgenstern, who studies Middle Eastern literature; Yaël Mizrahi-Arnaud, a co-founder of the diaspora anti-Zionist group Shoresh; and Moshe Behar, a senior lecturer in Israel/Palestine studies and co-founder of the Mizrahi Civic Collective—about the history of Arab-Jewish political thought and organizing, and its possibilities and limits for our time.Thanks to Jesse Brenneman for producing and to Nathan Salsburg for the use of his song “VIII (All That Were Calculated Have Passed).”Texts Mentioned and Further Reading and Listening:On the Arab-Jew, Palestine, and Other Displacements: Selected Writings by Ella ShohatThe Arab Jews: A Postcolonial Reading of Nationalism, Religion, and Ethnicity by Yehouda ShenhavModern Middle Eastern Jewish Thought: Writings on Identity, Politics, & Culture, 1893-1958, edited by Moshe Behar and Zvi Ben-Dor BeniteThree Worlds: Memoirs of an Arab-Jew by Avi ShlaimIraqi Jewish Writers (Banipal Magazine of Modern Arab Literature), Shimon Ballas, Sami Michael, Samir Naqqash, et al. "An Archive of Literary Reconstruction after the Palestinian Nakba," Hana Morgenstern, MERIP“Were There—and Can There Be—Arab Jews? (With Afterthoughts on the IHRA Definition of Antisemitism and Palestinian Jews),” Moshe Behar“Weeping for Babylon,” Zvi Ben-Dor Benite and Avi Shlaim, Jewish Currents“Toward a Democratic State in Palestine,” Palestine National Liberation Movement"The 'Friends of the IDF' Gala Was Like a Rich Kid's Bar Mitzvah—Until the Protest Started," Sophie Hurwitz, The Nation“A Democratic Mizrahi Vision,” the Mizrahi Civic Collective

One message this podcast has tried time and time again to explain... Jews come in all shapes and colors. The Jews from the Middle East are called Mizrahi Jews and they are just as culturally tied as Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews are.  Tal Oran, better known as The Travelling Clatt, steps away from his travel vlogging to share the full overview of Mizrahi Jewish culture. Chaz Volk, host of Bad Jew, goes through a learning curve to uncover the impactful contribution Mizrahi Jews have had on all of us and embraces the personal survival story of the Oran family. 00:00 Decade of travel, YouTube success, pro-Israel advocate. 05:12 Mizrahi Jews struggle with silencing and race 08:36 Challenged the portrayal of Jewish culture in media 12:12 Mizrahi Jews from Iraq and Azerbaijan bond 14:24 Iraqi Jewish dialect is separate language from Iraqi 17:44 Mizrahi cuisine 21:10 The long history of violence 23:35 Family fled Iraq to Iran, then Israel 26:47 Christians, Jews, and peace throughout history (myth) 30:56 Moroccan celebration Mimouna embraced by diverse cultures 31:36 Moroccan music, food, and traditional attire About Tal Oran: Tal makes content about Israel, Palestine, The Holy Land, Religions, and what makes us all come together or go apart. He wants to make peace and show love. His journey can be seen on his Instagram and YouTube channel where he produces content full time. Follow Tal Oran: Ig: @thetravellingclatt   YT: @thetravellingclatt TT: thetravellingclatt Connect with Bad Jew: BadJew.co https://linktr.ee/badjew BadJewPod@gmail.com Ig @BadJewPod TikTok @BadJewPod

What insights into Israel/Palestine, and what visions for the region, were articulated by Edward Said? Under what conditions did the Palestinian-American scholar, critic, and activist believe reconciliation and a just coexistence are possible? Jonathan Graubart considers a number of Said's assertions; he also brings up Ella Shohat's claims about Zionism's impact on Mizrahi Jews. (Encore presentation.) Jonathan Graubart, Jewish Self-Determination beyond Zionism: Lessons from Hannah Arendt and Other Pariahs Temple University Press, 2023 The post Edward Said's Vision appeared first on KPFA.

In the latest Z3 podcast episode Rabbi Amitai Fraiman, our host and head of Z3, is joined by Dr. Mijal Bitton, who serves as the Rosh Kehilla (communal leader) of the Downtown Minyan community in Lower Manhattan. Examining the effects of the Oct. 7 massacre on the Jewish communities in Israel and America, they dig into what the role of grief plays in the Jewish response to tragedy and how it can connect us and also empower us to action. They also discuss the ways in which different types of support are needed for different areas of communities: how do we support Israelis who were directly impacted and still suffer accutely? How do we support young people on campuses who are now facing rising levels of antisemitism? All this and more in this episode. More about Dr. Mijal Bitton: Mijal is a Visiting Researcher at NYU Wagner and the Director of the first national study of Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews in the United States. She earned her doctorate from New York University, is an alumna of the Wexner Graduate Fellowship, and was featured in the New York Jewish Week's “36 under 36” in 2018 as a “public intellectual” with ‘public values.” Mijal is a fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America, a Sacks Scholar, a Maimonides Fund fellow, and a New Pluralist Field Builder. Follow Z3 here: Instagram - instagram.com/z3project/ TikTok - tiktok.com/@z3project LinkedIn- linkedin.com/company/z3-project Facebook - facebook.com/Z3Project/ Twitter - twitter.com/Z3_Project Website - z3project.org/

Penny Rabiger and Eylan Ezekiel explore the definitions, histories, and experiences of Jews of Mizrahi heritage.A transcript is available here.Wikipedia article about Mizrahi JewsOrientalism - Edward SaidThe Wandering JewDhimmiMalawach Israeli Black PanthersDoes Israel still discriminate against Mizrahi Jews? - Jerusalam Post articleHen Mazzig - activist and author of The Wrong Kind of Jew: A Mizrahi ManifestoJowan Safadi - To be an Arab - YouTube video - Challenging, funny, catchy. Stick around for the last line!More about Eylan Ezekiel here and More about Penny Rabiger hereThe podcast is on Bluesky, Facebook, and even X/ Twitter too; where we are sharing interesting articles and posts on related topics. If you'd like to be involved in our projects, such as being a guest on the podcast, please contact us here Incredible artwork and design by Emily Theodore - Thanks so much Emily!!!!Music by Aleksafor utransndr Karabanov from PixabaySound Effect by Sergei Chetvertnykh from Pixabay Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Prof. Hillel Cohen, historian of the Middle East at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, discusses his new book Enemies, a love story: Mizrahi Jews, Palestinian Arabs and Ashkenazi Jews from the Rise of Zionism to the Present, an attempt to define Mizrahi politics in historical and contemporary contexts. This episode is made possible by the Israel office of Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, which promotes peace, freedom, and justice through political education.

Today's guest is Avi Shlaim, Professor Emeritus of International Relations at St. Antony's College at the University of Oxford. His most recent book, Three Worlds: Memoirs of an Arab Jew, discusses his childhood in Baghdad and his family's flight to Israel, interwoven with the history of the Jews in Iraq in the early 20th century. In this episode, we discuss this book, including Arab-Jewish harmony in Iraq until 1948 and both of their personal experiences of childhoods in Baghdad, the relationship between Ashkenazi and Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews in Israel in history until today, and current prospects, if any, for an Israeli-Palestinian peace. Full bio Avi Shlaim is an Emeritus Fellow of St Antony's College and a former Professor of International Relations at the University of Oxford. He was elected Fellow of the British Academy in 2006. His main research interest is the Arab-Israeli conflict. He is author of Collusion across the Jordan: King Abdullah, the Zionist Movement, and the Partition of Palestine (1988); The Politics of Partition (1990 and 1998); War and Peace in the Middle East: A Concise History (1995); The Iron Wall: Israel and the Arab World (2000, second edition 2014); Lion of Jordan: King Hussein's Life in War and Peace (2007); and Israel and Palestine: Reappraisals, Revisions, Refutations (2009). He is co-editor of The Cold War and the Middle East (1997); The War for Palestine: Rewriting the History of 1948 (2001, second edition 2007); and The 1967 Arab-Israeli War: Origins and Consequences (2012). Professor Shlaim is a frequent contributor to the newspapers and commentator on radio and television on Middle Eastern affairs.

The early 1970s saw the rise of the Israeli Black Panthers — a movement of young Mizrahi Jews fed up with systematic inequality and social discrimination that left Jews from the Middle East and North Africa lagging behind the Ashkenazi Jews of Europe. The met their match in Prime Minister Golda Meir, whose disapproval only fueled their efforts to wake Israeli society up to their plight.

Thousands attended the funeral of fallen IDF soldier Sgt. First Class David Yehuda Yitzhak who was killed during the Jenin operation; the Israeli border police officer who shot and killed special needs Iyad al-Hallak has been acquitted & A man named Rabbi Elhanan Miller is preserving the stories of Mizrahi Jews from Arab countries. Plus! A Torah thought for inspiration.  Support the show here: https://linktr.ee/israeldailynews Israel Daily News Roundtable: http://patreon.com/shannafuld Music: 7 Days a Week; Daniel Jacob https://open.spotify.com/track/14cgjdeKqxQF3pe5S5kPI6 --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/israeldailynews/support

In this episode, Contending Modernities editor and writer Josh Lupo and Professor Atalia Omer, Co-Director of Contending Modernities, interview three contributors to their edited volume, Religion and Broken Solidarities: Feminism, Race, and Transnationalism. The volume explores distinct moments in time across various geopolitical settings when solidarity failed to be realized between marginalized communities because of differences of race, nationalism, religion, and/or ethnicity. These contributions are intended to open up paths for imagining new forms of solidarity now and in the future.    In conversation with Ruth Carmi (Ph.D. '23), the editors discuss the reasons why alliances between Mizrahi Jews and Palestinians have been so difficult to achieve, in spite of both groups' marginalization by the Israeli government. With Brenna Moore, they reflect upon Black Catholic attempts to create transnational partnerships that challenged the White Protestant status quo in early twentieth-century geopolitics. Finally, with Melani McAlister, they consider the role of the literary imagination in helping us contemplate paths beyond the trappings of our current political order.   In each of these exchanges, the authors also reflect on their findings in light of the current political moment, rather it be in the recent challenges to the authority of the supreme court in Israel, the Black Lives Matter protests of Summer 2020 following the murder of George Floyd, or in the growing calls to substantively address the threat of climate change. What is revealed in these conversations is that challenging the structures that marginalize the most vulnerable in our society requires an intersectional analysis that refuses to treat any marker of identity or belonging as siloed off from others. 

Since the earliest years of the modern state of Israel, Jews from Arab and Muslim lands, known as Mizrahim, have had to fight for equal rights and opportunities. Mizrahi Jews were looked down upon by the Zionist establishment as primitive–in many ways the very opposite of the image of the New, Western-style Jew that the establishment hoped to foster. And so, Mizrahi activists have for decades struggled to be recognized as full and equal members of Israeli society. But often lost among the larger struggle are the voices and experiences of Mizrahi women, who fought not only for Mizrahi rights but also for the rights of Mizrahi women to prosper and determine the course of their own lives. This episode of Frankely Judaic features Yali Hashash, a social historian and head of the gender and criminology program at Or Yehuda College in Israel, and a fellow at the Frankel Center for Advanced Judaic Studies at the University of Michigan. Hashash's book, Whose Daughter Are You? Ways of Speaking Mizrahi Feminism, explores the lives of Mizrahi women throughout the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries. The 2022-2023 fellowship year at the Frankel Institute for Advanced Judaic Studies, "Mizrahim and the Politics of Ethnicity," includes scholars from the United States and Israel who explore Mizrahi (Arab-Jewish) society and culture as an interdisciplinary and intersectional field of study.

Mizrahiyut, or Mizrahi identity and consciousness, is an Israeli phenomenon, born in the decades after hundreds of thousands of Jews from Arab and North African lands immigrated to Israel. But recently, a version of Mizrahi identity has taken root in the United States among the sons and daughters of Mizrahi Jews who have relocated to America. In this episode of Frankely Judaic, scholar and Frankel Institute fellow Gal Levy discussed this burgeoning of Mizrahi identity in the US, exploring how and why it developed and what it means for the evolution of Jewish identity in America. The 2022-2023 fellowship year at the Frankel Institute for Advanced Judaic Studies, "Mizrahim and the Politics of Ethnicity," includes scholars from the United States and Israel who explore Mizrahi (Arab-Jewish) society and cultural as an interdisciplinary and intersectional field of study.

Prof. Hillel Cohen, historian of the Middle East at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, discusses his new book Enemies, a love story: Mizrahi Jews, Palestinian Arabs and Ashkenazi Jews from the Rise of Zionism to the Present, an attempt to define Mizrahi politics in historical and contemporary contexts. This episode is made possible by the Israel office of Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, which promotes peace, freedom, and justice through political education.

Too few people know that parts of the Arab world and Iran were once home to large Jewish communities. This Mizrahi Heritage Month, let's change the story, with the final episode of the first season of The Forgotten Exodus, the first-ever narrative podcast series devoted exclusively to the rich, fascinating, and often-overlooked history of Mizrahi and Sephardic Jewry. Thank you for lifting up these stories to celebrate Mizrahi Heritage Month. If you enjoy this episode, be sure to listen to the rest of The Forgotten Exodus, wherever you get your podcasts.   __ Home to one of the world's oldest Jewish communities, the story of Jews in Iran has been one of prosperity and suffering through the millennia. During the mid-20th century, when Jews were being driven from their homes in Arab lands, Iran assisted Jewish refugees in providing safe passage to Israel. Under the Shah, Israel was an important economic and political ally. Yet that all swiftly changed in the 1979 Iranian Revolution, which ushered in Islamic rule, while chants of “Death to Israel” and “Death to America” rang out from the streets of Tehran.   Author, journalist, and poet Roya Hakakian shares her personal story of growing up Jewish in Iran during the reign of the Shah and then Ayatollah Khomeini, which she wrote about in her memoir Journey From the Land of No. Joining Hakakian is Dr. Saba Soomekh, a professor of world religions and Middle Eastern history who wrote From the Shahs to Los Angeles: Three Generations of Iranian Jewish Women between Religion and Culture. She also serves as associate director of AJC Los Angeles, home to America's largest concentration of Persian Jewish immigrants.  In this sixth and final episode of the season, the Hakakian family's saga captures the common thread that has run throughout this series – when the history of an uprooted community is left untold, it can become vulnerable to others' narratives and assumptions, or become lost forever and forgotten. How do you leave behind a beloved homeland, safeguard its Jewish legacy, and figure out where you belong? __ Show notes: Listen to The Forgotten Exodus and sign up to receive updates about future episodes.  Song credits:  Chag Purim · The Jewish Guitar Project Hevenu Shalom · Violin Heart Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Oud Nation”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Haygaz Yossoulkanian (BMI), IPI#1001905418 “Persian”: Publisher: STUDEO88; Composer: Siddhartha Sharma “Meditative Middle Eastern Flute”: Publisher: N/; Composer: DANIELYAN ASHOT MAKICHEVICH (IPI NAME #00855552512), UNITED STATES BMI Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Persian Investigative Mystery”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Peter Cole (BMI), IPI#679735384 “Persian Wind”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Sigma (SESAC); Composer: Abbas Premjee (SESAC), IPI#572363837 “Modern Middle Eastern Underscore”: Publisher: All Pro Audio LLC (611803484); Composer: Alan T Fagan (347654928) “Persian Fantasy Tavern”: Publisher: N/A; Composer: John Hoge “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. ___ Episode Transcript: ROYA HAKAKIAN: In 1984, when my mother and I left and my father was left alone in Iran, that was yet another major dramatic and traumatic separation. When I look back at the events of 1979, I think, people constantly think about the revolution having, in some ways, blown up Tehran, but it also blew up families. And my own family was among them.  MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience. This is The Forgotten Exodus.  Today's episode: Leaving Iran MANYA: Outside Israel, Iran has the largest Jewish population in the Middle East. Yes, the Islamic Republic of Iran. In 2022. Though there is no official census, experts estimate about 10,000 Jews now live in the region previously known as Persia.  But since the 1979 Iranian Revolution, Jews in Iran don't advertise their Jewish identity. They adhere to Iran's morality code: women stay veiled from head to toe and men and women who aren't married or related stay apart in public. They don't express support for Israel, they don't ask questions, and they don't disagree with the regime. One might ask, with all these don'ts, is this a way of living a Jewish life? Or a way to live – period?  For author, journalist, and poet Roya Hakakian and her family, the answer was ultimately no. Roya has devoted her life to being a fact-finder and truth-teller. A former associate producer at the CBS news show 60 Minutes and a Guggenheim Fellow, Roya has written two volumes of poetry in Persian and three books of nonfiction in English, the first of which was published in 2004 – Journey From the Land of No, a memoir about her charmed childhood and accursed adolescence growing up Jewish in Iran under two different regimes.  ROYA: It was hugely important for me to create an account that could be relied on as a historic document. And I did my best through being very, very careful about gathering, interviewing, talking to, observing facts, evidence, documents from everyone, including my most immediate members of my family, to do what we, both as reporters, but also as Jews, are called to do, which is to bear witness. No seemed to be the backdrop of life for women, especially of religious minorities, and, in my own case, Jewish background, and so I thought, what better way to name the book than to call it as what my experience had been, which was the constant nos that I heard. So, Land of No was Iran. MANYA: As a journalist, as a Jew, as a daughter of Iran, Roya will not accept no for an answer. After publishing her memoir, she went on to write Assassins of the Turquoise Palace, a meticulously reported book about a widely underreported incident. In 1992 at a Berlin restaurant, a terrorist attack by the Iranian proxy Hezbollah targeted and killed four Iranian-Kurdish exiles. The book highlighted Iran's enormous global footprint made possible by its terror proxies who don't let international borders get in the way of silencing Iran's critics.   Roya also co-founded the Iran Human Rights Documentation Center, an independent non-profit that reports on Iran's human rights abuses.  Her work has not prompted Ayatollah Khameini to publicly issue a fatwa against her  – like the murder order against Salman Rushdie issued by his predecessor. But in 2019, one of her teenage sons answered a knock at the door. It was the FBI, warning her that she was in the crosshairs of the Iranian regime's operatives in America. Most recently, Roya wrote A Beginner's Guide to America: For the Immigrant and the Curious about the emotional roller coaster of arriving in America while still missing a beloved homeland, especially one where their community has endured for thousands of years. ROYA: I felt very strongly that one stays in one's homeland, that you don't just simply take off when things go wrong, that you stick around and try to figure a way through a bad situation. We came to the point where staying didn't seem like it would lead to any sort of real life and leaving was the only option. MANYA: The story of Jews in Iran, often referred to as Persia until 1935, is a millennia-long tale. A saga of suffering, repression, and persecution, peppered with brief moments of relief or at least relative peace – as long as everyone plays by the rules of the regime. SABA SOOMEKH: The history of Jews in Iran goes back to around 2,700 years ago. And a lot of people assume that Jews came to Iran, well at that time, it was called the Persian Empire, in 586 BCE, with the Babylonian exile. But Jews actually came a lot earlier, we're thinking 721-722 BCE with the Assyrian exile which makes us one of the oldest Jewish communities.  MANYA: That's Dr. Saba Soomekh, a professor of world religions and Middle Eastern history and the author of From the Shahs to Los Angeles: Three Generations of Iranian Jewish Women between Religion and Culture. She also serves as associate director of American Jewish Committee in Los Angeles, home to America's largest concentration of Persian Jewish immigrants. Saba's parents fled Iran in 1978, shortly before the revolution, when Saba and her sister were toddlers. She has devoted her career to preserving Iranian Jewish history.   Saba said Zoroastrian rulers until the 7th Century Common Era vacillated between tolerance and persecution of Jews. For example, according to the biblical account in the Book of Ezra, Cyrus the Great freed the Jews from Babylonian rule, granted all of them citizenship, and permitted them to return to Jerusalem to rebuild their Temple.  The Book of Esther goes on to tell the story of another Persian king, believed to be Xerxes I, whose closest adviser called Haman conspires to murder all the Jews – a plot that is foiled by his wife Queen Esther who is Jewish herself. Esther heroically pleads for mercy on behalf of her people – a valor that is celebrated on the Jewish holiday of Purim.  But by the time of the Islamic conquest in the middle of the 7th Century Common Era, the persecution had become so intense that Jews were hopeful about the new Arab Muslim regime, even if that meant being tolerated and treated as second-class citizens, or dhimmi status. But that status had a different interpretation for the Safavids. SABA: Really things didn't get bad for the Jews of the Persian Empire until the 16th century with the Safavid dynasty, because within Shia Islam in the Persian Empire, what they brought with them is this understanding of purity and impurity. And Jews were placed in the same category as dogs, pigs, and feces. They were seen as being religiously impure, what's referred to as najes. MANYA: Jews were placed in ghettos called mahaleh, where they wore yellow stars and special shoes to distinguish them from the rest of the population. They could not leave the mahaleh when it rained for fear that if water rolled off their bodies into the water system, it would render a Shia Muslim impure. For the same reason, they could not go to the bazaars for fear they might contaminate the food. They could not look Muslims in the eye. They were relegated to certain artisanal professions such as silversmithing and block printing – crafts that dirtied one's hands.  MANYA: By the 19th century, some European Jews did make their way to Persia to help. The Alliance Israélite Universelle, a Paris-based network of schools founded by French Jewish intellectuals, opened schools for Jewish children throughout the Middle East and North Africa, including within the mahalehs in Persia.  SABA: They saw themselves as being incredibly sophisticated because they were getting this, in a sense, secular European education, they were speaking French. The idea behind the Allianz schools was exactly that. These poor Middle Eastern Jews, one day the world is going to open up to them, their countries are going to become secular, and we need to prepare them for this, not only within the context of hygiene, but education, language.  And the Allianz schools were right when it came to the Persian Empire because who came into power was Reza Pahlavi, who was a Francophile. And he turned around and said, ‘Wow! Look at the population that speaks French, that knows European philosophy, etc. are the Jews.' He brought them out of the mahaleh, the Jewish ghettos, and said ‘I don't care about religion. Assimilate and acculturate. As long as you show, in a sense, devotion, and nationalism to the Pahlavi regime, which the Jews did—not all Jews—but a majority of them did. MANYA: Reza Pahlavi took control in 1925 and 16 years later, abdicated his throne to his son Muhammad Reza Pahlavi. In 1935, Persia adopted a new name: Iran. As king or the Shah, both father and son set Iran on a course of secularization and rapid modernization under which Jewish life and success seemed to flourish. The only condition was that religious observance was kept behind closed doors. SABA: The idea was that in public, you were secular and in private, you were a Jew. You had Shabbat, you only married a Jew, it was considered blasphemous if you married outside of the Jewish community. And it was happening because people were becoming a part of everyday schools, universities.  But that's why the Jewish day schools became so important. They weren't learning Judaism. What it did was ensure that in a secular Muslim society, that the Jewish kids were marrying within each other and within the community. It was, in a sense, the Golden Age. And that will explain to you why, unlike the early 1950s, where you had this exodus of Mizrahi Jews, Arab Jews from the Arab world and North Africa, you didn't really have that in Iran.  MANYA: In fact, Iran provided a safe passage to Israel for Jewish refugees during that exodus, specifically those fleeing Iraq. The Pahlavi regime considered Israel a critical ally in the face of pan-Arab fervor and hostility in the region. Because of the Arab economic boycott, Israel needed energy sources and Iran needed customers for its oil exports.  A number of Israelis even moved to Tehran, including farmers from kibbutzim who had come to teach agriculture, and doctors and nurses from Hadassah Hospital who had come to teach medicine.  El Al flew in and out of Tehran airport, albeit from a separate terminal. Taking advantage of these warm relations between the two countries, Roya recalls visiting aunts, uncles, and cousins in Israel.  ROYA: We arrived, and my mom and dad did what all visiting Jews from elsewhere do. They dropped to their knees, and they started kissing the ground. I did the same, and it was so moving. Israel was the promised land, we thought about Israel, we dreamed about Israel. But, at the same time, we were Iranians and, and we were living in Iran, and things were good.  This seems to non-Iranian Jews an impossibility. But I think for most of us, it was the way things were. We lived in the country where we had lived for, God knows how many years, and there was this other place that we somehow, in the back of our minds thought we would be going to, without knowing exactly when, but that it would be the destination. MANYA: Relations between the Shah and America flourished as well. In 1951, a hugely popular politician by the name of Mohammad Mosaddegh became prime minister and tried to institute reforms. His attempts to nationalize the oil industry and reduce the monarchy's authority didn't go over well. American and British intelligence backed a coup that restored the Shah's power. Many Iranians resented America's meddling, which became a rallying cry for the revolution. U.S. officials have since expressed regret for the CIA's involvement.  In November 1977, President Jimmy Carter welcomed the Shah and his wife to Washington, D.C., to discuss peace between Egypt and Israel, nuclear nonproliferation, and the energy crisis.  As an extension of these warm relations, the Shah sent many young Iranians to America to enhance their university studies, exposing them to Western ideals and values.  Meanwhile, a savvy fundamentalist cleric was biding his time in a Paris basement. It wouldn't be long before relations crumbled between Iran and Israel, Iran and the U.S,. and Iran and its Jews.  Roya recalls the Hakakian house at the corner of Alley of the Distinguished in Tehran as a lush oasis surrounded by fragrant flowers, full of her father's poetry, and brimming with family memories. Located in the heart of a trendy neighborhood, across the street from the Shah's charity organization, the tall juniper trees, fragrant honeysuckle, and gold mezuzah mounted on the door frame set it apart from the rest of the homes.  Roya's father, Haghnazar, was a poet and a respected headmaster at a Hebrew school. Roya, which means dream in Persian, was a budding poet herself with the typical hopes and dreams of a Jewish teenage girl.  ROYA: Prior to the revolution, life in an average Tehran Hebrew Day School looked very much like life in a Hebrew Day School anywhere else. In the afternoons we had all Hebrew and Jewish studies. We used to put on a Purim show every year. I wanted to be Esther. I never got to be Esther. We had emissaries, I think a couple of years, from Israel, who came to teach us how to do Israeli folk dance. MANYA: There were moments when Roya recalls feeling self-conscious about her Jewishness, particularly at Passover. That's when the family spent two weeks cleaning, demonstrating they weren't najes, or dirty Jews. The work was rewarded when the house filled with the fragrance of cumin and saffron and Persian dishes flowed from the kitchen, including apple and plum beef stew, tarragon veal balls stuffed with raisins, and rice garnished with currants and slivers of almonds.  When her oldest brother Alberto left to study in America, a little fact-finding work on Roya's part revealed that his departure wasn't simply the pursuit of a promising opportunity. As a talented cartoonist whose work had been showcased during an exhibition in Tehran, his family feared Alberto's pen might have gone too far, offending the Pahlavi regime and drawing the attention of the Shah's secret police.  Reports of repression, rapid modernization, the wide gap between Tehran's rich and the rest of the country's poor, and a feeling that Iranians weren't in control of their own destiny all became ingredients for a revolution, stoked by an exiled cleric named Ruhollah Khomeini who was recording cassette tapes in a Paris basement and circulating them back home.  SABA: He would just sit there and go on and on for hours, going against the Shah and West toxification. And then the recordings ended up in Iran. He wasn't even in Iran until the Shah left. MANYA: Promises of democracy and equality galvanized Iranians of all ages to overthrow the Shah in February 1979. Even the CIA was surprised.  SABA: I think a lot of people didn't believe it. Because number one, the Shah, the son, was getting the most amount of military equipment from the United States than anyone in the Middle East and in the Persian Gulf. And the idea was: you protect us in the Gulf, and we will give you whatever you need. So they never thought that a man with a beard down to his knee was able to overthrow this regime that was being propped up and supported by America, and also the Europeans. Khomeini comes in and represents himself as a person for everyone. And he was brilliant in the way he spoke about it. And the reason why this revolution was also successful was that it wasn't just religious people who supported Khomeini, there was this concept you had, the men with the turbans, meaning the religious people, and the you know, the bow ties or the ties, meaning the secular man, a lot of them who were sent by the Shah abroad to Europe and America to get an education, who came back, saw democracy there, and wanted it for their country.  MANYA: Very few of the revolutionaries could predict that Tehran was headed in the opposite direction and was about to revert to 16th Century Shia Islamic rule. For almost a year, Tehran and the rest of the nation were swept up in revolutionary euphoria.  Roya recalls how the flag remained green, white, and red, but an Allah insignia replaced its old sword-bearing lion. New currency was printed, with portraits bearing beards and turbans. An ode to Khomeini became the new national anthem. While the Shah had escaped on an Air France flight, corpses of his henchmen graced the front pages of newspapers alongside smiling executioners. All celebrated, until the day one of the corpses was Habib Elghanian, the Jewish philanthropist who supported all of Iran's Hebrew schools. Charged and convicted as a Zionist spy.  Elders in the community remembered the insurmountable accusations of blood libel during darker times for Iran's Jews. But younger generations like Roya's, who had not lived through the eras of more ruthless antisemitism and persecution, continued to root for the revolution, regardless of its victims. Meanwhile, Roya's Jewish day school was taken over by a new veiled headmistress who replaced Hebrew lessons with other kinds of religious instruction, and required robes and headscarves for all the students.  ROYA: In the afternoons, from then on, we used to have lessons in a series of what she called: ‘Is religion something that you inherit, or is it something that you choose?' And so I think the intention, clearly, was to convince us that we didn't need to inherit our religions from our parents and ancestors, that we ought to consider better choices. MANYA: But when the headmistress cut short the eight-day Passover break, that was the last straw for Roya and her classmates. Their revolt got her expelled from school.  Though Jews did not universally support Khomeini, some saw themselves as members of the Iranian Communist, or Tudeh Party. They opposed the Shah and the human rights abuses of his monarchy and cautiously considered Khomeini the better option, or at least the lesser of two evils. Alarmed by the developments such as Elghanian's execution and changes like the ones at Roya's school, Jewish community leaders traveled to the Shia holy city of Qom to assure the Supreme Leader of their loyalty to Iran.  SABA: They did this because they wanted to make sure that they protected the Jewish community that was left in Iran. Khomeini made that distinction: ‘I am not against Jews, I'm against Zionists. You could be Jewish in this country. You cannot be a Zionist in this country.'  MANYA: But that wasn't the only change. Right away, the Family Protection Law was reversed, lifting a law against polygamy, giving men full rights in divorce and custody, and lowering the marriage age for girls to nine. Women were banned from serving as judges, and beaches and sports events were segregated by gender.  But it took longer to shut down universities, albeit for only two years, segregate public schools by gender, and stone to death women who were found to have committed adultery. Though Khomeini was certainly proving that he was not the man he promised to be, he backed away from those promises gradually – one brutal crackdown at a time. As a result, the trickle of Jews out of Iran was slow.  ROYA: My father thought, let's wait a few years and see what happens. In retrospect, I think the overwhelming reason was probably that nobody believed that things had changed, and so drastically. It seemed so unbelievable. I mean, a country that had been under monarchy for 2,500 years, couldn't simply see it all go and have a whole new system put in place, especially when it was such a radical shift from what had been there before. So I think, in many ways, we were among the unbelievers, or at least my father was, we thought it could never be, it would not happen. My father proved to be wrong, nothing changed for the better, and the conditions continued to deteriorate. So, so much catastrophe happened in those few years that Iran just simply was steeped into a very dark, intense, and period of political radicalism and also, all sorts of economic shortages and pressures. And so the five years that we were left behind, that we stayed back, changed our perspective on so many things. MANYA: In November 1979, a group of radical university students who supported the Iranian Revolution, took over the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, seized hostages, and held them for 444 days until President Ronald Reagan's inauguration on January 20, 1981. During the hostages' captivity, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein invaded Iran. The conflict that ensued for eight years created shortages on everything from dairy products to sanitary napkins. Mosques became distribution centers for rations. ROYA: We stood in line for hours and hours for eggs, and just the very basic things of daily life. And then it became also clear that religious minorities, including Jews, would no longer be enjoying the same privileges as everyone else. There were bombings that kept coming closer and closer to Tehran, which is where we lived. It was very clear that half of my family that was in the United States could not and would not return, because they were boys who would have been conscripted to go to war. Everything had just come apart in a way that was inconceivable to think that they would change for the better again. MANYA: By 1983, new laws had been passed instituting Islamic dress for all women – violations of which earned a penalty of 74 lashes. Other laws imposed an Islamic morality code that barred co-ed gatherings. Roya and her friends found refuge in the sterile office building that housed the Jewish Iranian Students Association. But she soon figured out that the regime hadn't allowed it to remain for the benefit of the Jewish community. It functioned more like a ghetto to keep Jews off the streets and out of their way. Even the activities that previously gave her comfort were marred by the regime. Poetry books were redacted. Mountain hiking trails were arbitrarily closed to mourn the deaths of countless clerics.  SABA: Slowly what they realize, when Khomeini gained power, was that he was not the person that he claimed to be. He was not this feminist, if anything, all this misogynistic rule came in, and a lot of people realize they, in a sense, got duped and he stole the revolution from them. MANYA: By 1984, the war with Iraq had entered its fourth year. But it was no longer about protecting Iran from Saddam Hussein. Now the Ayatollah wanted to conquer Baghdad, then Jerusalem where he aspired to deliver a sermon from the Temple Mount. Meanwhile, Muslim soldiers wounded in the war chose to bleed rather than receive treatment from Jewish doctors. Boys as young as 12 – regardless of faith – were drafted and sent on suicide missions to open the way for Iranian troops to do battle.  SABA: They were basically used as an army of children that the bombs would detonate, their parents would get a plastic key that was the key to heaven. And the bombs would detonate, and then the army would come in Iranian army would come in. And so that's when a lot of the Persian parents, the Jewish parents freaked out. And that's when they were like: we're getting out of here.  MANYA: By this time, the Hakakian family had moved into a rented apartment building and Roya was attending the neighborhood school. Non-Muslim students were required to take Koran classes and could only use designated water fountains and bathrooms.  As a precaution, Roya's father submitted their passports for renewal. Her mother's application was denied; Roya's passport was held for further consideration; her father's was confiscated.  One night, Roya returned home to find her father burning her books and journals on the balcony of their building. The bonfire of words was for the best, he told her. And at long last, so was leaving. With the help of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, Roya and her mother, Helen, fled to Geneva, and after wandering in Europe for several months, eventually reunited with her brothers in the United States. Roya did not see her father again for five years. Still unable to acquire a passport, he was smuggled out of Iran into Pakistan, on foot.  ROYA: My eldest brother left to come to America in the mid-70s. There was a crack in the body of the family then. But then came 1979, and my two other brothers followed. And so we were apart for all those very, very formative years. And then, in 1984, when my mother and I left and my father was left alone in Iran, that was yet another major dramatic and traumatic separation. So, you know, it's interesting that when I look back at the events of 1979, I think, people constantly think about the revolution having, in some ways, blown up Tehran, but it also blew up families. And my own family was among them.  MANYA: While her father's arrival in America was delayed, Roya describes her arrival in stages. She first arrived as a Jewish refugee in 1985 and found her place doing what she had always done – writing in Persian – rebuilding a body of work that had been reduced to ashes.  ROYA: As a teen I had become a writer, people were encouraging me. So, I continued to do it. It was the thing I knew how to do. And it gave me a sense of grounding and identity. So, I kept on doing it, and it kind of worked its magic, as I suppose good writing does for all writers. It connected me to a new community of people who read Persian and who appreciated what I was trying to do. And I found that with each book that I write, I find a new tribe for myself.  MANYA: She arrived again once she learned English. In her first year at Brooklyn College, she tape-recorded her professors to listen again later. She eventually took a course with renowned poet Allen Ginsberg, whose poetry was best known for its condemnation of persecution and imperial politics and whose 1950s poem “Howl” tested the boundaries of America's freedom of speech.  ROYA: When I mastered the language enough to feel comfortable to be a writer once more, then I found a footing and through Allen and a community of literary people that I met here began to kind of foresee a possibility of writing in English. MANYA: There was also her arrival to an American Jewish community that was largely unaware of the role Jews played in shaping Iran long before the advent of Islam. Likewise, they were just as unaware of the role Iran played in shaping ancient Jewish life. They were oblivious to the community's traditions, and the indignities and abuses Iranian Jews had suffered, continue to suffer, with other religious minorities to keep those traditions alive in their homeland.   ROYA: People would say, ‘Oh, you have an accent, where are you from?' I would say, ‘Iran,' and the Jews at the synagogue would say, ‘Are there Jews in Iran?' MANYA: In Roya's most recent book A Beginner's Guide to America, a sequel of sorts to her memoir, she reflects on the lessons learned and the observations made once she arrived in the U.S. She counsels newcomers to take their time answering what might at first seem like an ominous or loaded question. Here's an excerpt: ROYA: “In the early days after your arrival, “Where are you from?” is above all a reminder of your unpreparedness to speak of the past. You have yet to shape your story – what you saw, why you left, how you left, and what it took to get here. This narrative is your personal Book of Genesis: the American Volume, the one you will sooner or later pen, in the mind, if not on the page. You must take your time to do it well and do it justice.” MANYA: No two immigrants' experiences are the same, she writes. The only thing they all have in common is that they have been uprooted and the stories of their displacement have been hijacked by others' assumptions and agendas. ROYA: I witnessed, as so many other Iranian Jews witness, that the story of how we came, why we came, who we had been, was being narrated by those who had a certain partisan perspective about what the history of what Jewish people should be, or how this history needs to be cast, for whatever purposes they had. And I would see that our own recollections of what had happened were being shaded by, or filtered through views other than our own, or facts other than our own. MANYA: As we wrap up this sixth and final episode of the first season of The Forgotten Exodus, it is clear that the same can be said about the stories of the Jewish people. No two tales are the same. Jews have lived everywhere, and there are reasons why they don't anymore. Some fled as refugees. Some embarked as dreamers. Some forged ahead without looking back. Others counted the days until they could return home. What ties them together is their courage, perseverance, and resilience–whether they hailed from Eastern Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, or parts beyond. These six episodes offer only a handful of those stories–shaped by memories and experiences. ROYA: That became sort of an additional incentive, if not burden for me to, to be a witness for several communities, to tell the story of what happened in Iran for American audiences, to Jews, to non-Iranian Jews who didn't realize that there were Jews in Iran, but also to record the history, according to how I had witnessed it, for ourselves, to make sure that it goes down, as I knew it. MANYA: Iranian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left their homes in the Middle East to forge new lives for themselves and future generations.  Many thanks to Roya for sharing her family's story and for helping us wrap up this season of The Forgotten Exodus. If you're listening for the first time, check out our previous episodes on Jews from Iraq, Yemen, Egypt, Libya, and Sudan. Go to ajc.org/theforgottenexodus where you'll also find transcripts, show notes, and family photos. There are still so many stories to tell. Stay tuned in coming months. Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions and memories alive. Call 212.891.1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Tune in every Friday for AJC's weekly podcast about global affairs through a Jewish lens, People of the Pod, brought to you by the same team behind The Forgotten Exodus.  Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed the episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

Hillel Cohen discusses his new book on Mizrahim, Arabs, and Asheknazim in Israel The prominence of Mizrahi Jews as perpetrators of violent acts against Palestinians that have topped the headlines in recent years was the starting point of my recent study. The media coverage and public denunciation of these incidents are usually accompanied by reference to the attackers' Mizrahi origins, frequently invoking controversy among the commentators: Does ‘Mizrahi culture' generate excessive violence towards Palestinians? Are the Israeli media racist, denouncing Mizrahi Jews more than they do others? Or maybe this violence has to do with class and religious perceptions rather than ethnic origin? In this talk I will start with suggesting a definition to Mizrahi acts, i.e., what makes a certain act or view (violent or otherwise) to be defined as ‘Mizrahi'; then move on to present Mizrahi views and acts regarding the ‘Palestinian Question' from the outset of Zionism to present. The changes over time will be discussed in the light of the influence of the Ashkenazi-Zionist hegemony over Mizrahim and Arabs alike, as well as vis-à-vis Palestinian acts and ideas regarding ethnic relations within the Yishuv and the Jewish society in Israel.

Home to one of the world's oldest Jewish communities, the story of Jews in Iran has been one of prosperity and suffering through the millennia. During the mid-20th century, when Jews were being driven from their homes in Arab lands, Iran assisted Jewish refugees in providing safe passage to Israel. Under the Shah, Israel was an important economic and political ally. Yet that all swiftly changed in the 1979 Iranian Revolution, which ushered in Islamic rule, while chants of “Death to Israel” and “Death to America” rang out from the streets of Tehran.   Author, journalist, and poet Roya Hakakian shares her personal story of growing up Jewish in Iran during the reign of the Shah and then Ayatollah Khomeini, which she wrote about in her memoir Journey From the Land of No. Joining Hakakian is Dr. Saba Soomekh, a professor of world religions and Middle Eastern history who wrote From the Shahs to Los Angeles: Three Generations of Iranian Jewish Women between Religion and Culture. She also serves as associate director of AJC Los Angeles, home to America's largest concentration of Persian Jewish immigrants.  In this sixth and final episode of the season, the Hakakian family's saga captures the common thread that has run throughout this series – when the history of an uprooted community is left untold, it can become vulnerable to others' narratives and assumptions, or become lost forever and forgotten. How do you leave behind a beloved homeland, safeguard its Jewish legacy, and figure out where you belong? ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Chag Purim · The Jewish Guitar Project Hevenu Shalom · Violin Heart Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Oud Nation”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Haygaz Yossoulkanian (BMI), IPI#1001905418 “Persian”: Publisher: STUDEO88; Composer: Siddhartha Sharma “Meditative Middle Eastern Flute”: Publisher: N/; Composer: DANIELYAN ASHOT MAKICHEVICH (IPI NAME #00855552512), UNITED STATES BMI Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Persian Investigative Mystery”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Peter Cole (BMI), IPI#679735384 “Persian Wind”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Sigma (SESAC); Composer: Abbas Premjee (SESAC), IPI#572363837 “Modern Middle Eastern Underscore”: Publisher: All Pro Audio LLC (611803484); Composer: Alan T Fagan (347654928) “Persian Fantasy Tavern”: Publisher: N/A; Composer: John Hoge “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833.   ___ Episode Transcript: ROYA HAKAKIAN: In 1984, when my mother and I left and my father was left alone in Iran, that was yet another major dramatic and traumatic separation. When I look back at the events of 1979, I think, people constantly think about the revolution having, in some ways, blown up Tehran, but it also blew up families. And my own family was among them.  MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience. This is The Forgotten Exodus.  Today's episode: Leaving Iran MANYA: Outside Israel, Iran has the largest Jewish population in the Middle East. Yes, the Islamic Republic of Iran. In 2022. Though there is no official census, experts estimate about 10,000 Jews now live in the region previously known as Persia.  But since the 1979 Iranian Revolution, Jews in Iran don't advertise their Jewish identity. They adhere to Iran's morality code: women stay veiled from head to toe and men and women who aren't married or related stay apart in public. They don't express support for Israel, they don't ask questions, and they don't disagree with the regime. One might ask, with all these don'ts, is this a way of living a Jewish life? Or a way to live – period?  For author, journalist, and poet Roya Hakakian and her family, the answer was ultimately no. Roya has devoted her life to being a fact-finder and truth-teller. A former associate producer at the CBS news show 60 Minutes and a Guggenheim Fellow, Roya has written two volumes of poetry in Persian and three books of nonfiction in English, the first of which was published in 2004 – Journey From the Land of No, a memoir about her charmed childhood and accursed adolescence growing up Jewish in Iran under two different regimes.  ROYA: It was hugely important for me to create an account that could be relied on as a historic document. And I did my best through being very, very careful about gathering, interviewing, talking to, observing facts, evidence, documents from everyone, including my most immediate members of my family, to do what we, both as reporters, but also as Jews, are called to do, which is to bear witness. No seemed to be the backdrop of life for women, especially of religious minorities, and, in my own case, Jewish background, and so I thought, what better way to name the book than to call it as what my experience had been, which was the constant nos that I heard. So, Land of No was Iran. MANYA: As a journalist, as a Jew, as a daughter of Iran, Roya will not accept no for an answer. After publishing her memoir, she went on to write Assassins of the Turquoise Palace, a meticulously reported book about a widely underreported incident. In 1992 at a Berlin restaurant, a terrorist attack by the Iranian proxy Hezbollah targeted and killed four Iranian-Kurdish exiles. The book highlighted Iran's enormous global footprint made possible by its terror proxies who don't let international borders get in the way of silencing Iran's critics.   Roya also co-founded the Iran Human Rights Documentation Center, an independent non-profit that reports on Iran's human rights abuses.  Her work has not prompted Ayatollah Khameini to publicly issue a fatwa against her  – like the murder order against Salman Rushdie issued by his predecessor. But in 2019, one of her teenage sons answered a knock at the door. It was the FBI, warning her that she was in the crosshairs of the Iranian regime's operatives in America. Most recently, Roya wrote A Beginner's Guide to America: For the Immigrant and the Curious about the emotional roller coaster of arriving in America while still missing a beloved homeland, especially one where their community has endured for thousands of years. ROYA: I felt very strongly that one stays in one's homeland, that you don't just simply take off when things go wrong, that you stick around and try to figure a way through a bad situation. We came to the point where staying didn't seem like it would lead to any sort of real life and leaving was the only option. MANYA: The story of Jews in Iran, often referred to as Persia until 1935, is a millennia-long tale. A saga of suffering, repression, and persecution, peppered with brief moments of relief or at least relative peace – as long as everyone plays by the rules of the regime. SABA SOOMEKH: The history of Jews in Iran goes back to around 2,700 years ago. And a lot of people assume that Jews came to Iran, well at that time, it was called the Persian Empire, in 586 BCE, with the Babylonian exile. But Jews actually came a lot earlier, we're thinking 721-722 BCE with the Assyrian exile which makes us one of the oldest Jewish communities.  MANYA: That's Dr. Saba Soomekh, a professor of world religions and Middle Eastern history and the author of From the Shahs to Los Angeles: Three Generations of Iranian Jewish Women between Religion and Culture. She also serves as associate director of American Jewish Committee in Los Angeles, home to America's largest concentration of Persian Jewish immigrants. Saba's parents fled Iran in 1978, shortly before the revolution, when Saba and her sister were toddlers. She has devoted her career to preserving Iranian Jewish history.   Saba said Zoroastrian rulers until the 7th Century Common Era vacillated between tolerance and persecution of Jews. For example, according to the biblical account in the Book of Ezra, Cyrus the Great freed the Jews from Babylonian rule, granted all of them citizenship, and permitted them to return to Jerusalem to rebuild their Temple.  The Book of Esther goes on to tell the story of another Persian king, believed to be Xerxes I, whose closest adviser called Haman conspires to murder all the Jews – a plot that is foiled by his wife Queen Esther who is Jewish herself. Esther heroically pleads for mercy on behalf of her people – a valor that is celebrated on the Jewish holiday of Purim.  But by the time of the Islamic conquest in the middle of the 7th Century Common Era, the persecution had become so intense that Jews were hopeful about the new Arab Muslim regime, even if that meant being tolerated and treated as second-class citizens, or dhimmi status. But that status had a different interpretation for the Safavids. SABA: Really things didn't get bad for the Jews of the Persian Empire until the 16th century with the Safavid dynasty, because within Shia Islam in the Persian Empire, what they brought with them is this understanding of purity and impurity. And Jews were placed in the same category as dogs, pigs, and feces. They were seen as being religiously impure, what's referred to as najes. MANYA: Jews were placed in ghettos called mahaleh, where they wore yellow stars and special shoes to distinguish them from the rest of the population. They could not leave the mahaleh when it rained for fear that if water rolled off their bodies into the water system, it would render a Shia Muslim impure. For the same reason, they could not go to the bazaars for fear they might contaminate the food. They could not look Muslims in the eye. They were relegated to certain artisanal professions such as silversmithing and block printing – crafts that dirtied one's hands.  MANYA: By the 19th century, some European Jews did make their way to Persia to help. The Alliance Israélite Universelle, a Paris-based network of schools founded by French Jewish intellectuals, opened schools for Jewish children throughout the Middle East and North Africa, including within the mahalehs in Persia.  SABA: They saw themselves as being incredibly sophisticated because they were getting this, in a sense, secular European education, they were speaking French. The idea behind the Allianz schools was exactly that. These poor Middle Eastern Jews, one day the world is going to open up to them, their countries are going to become secular, and we need to prepare them for this, not only within the context of hygiene, but education, language.  And the Allianz schools were right when it came to the Persian Empire because who came into power was Reza Pahlavi, who was a Francophile. And he turned around and said, ‘Wow! Look at the population that speaks French, that knows European philosophy, etc. are the Jews.' He brought them out of the mahaleh, the Jewish ghettos, and said ‘I don't care about religion. Assimilate and acculturate. As long as you show, in a sense, devotion, and nationalism to the Pahlavi regime, which the Jews did—not all Jews—but a majority of them did. MANYA: Reza Pahlavi took control in 1925 and 16 years later, abdicated his throne to his son Muhammad Reza Pahlavi. In 1935, Persia adopted a new name: Iran. As king or the Shah, both father and son set Iran on a course of secularization and rapid modernization under which Jewish life and success seemed to flourish. The only condition was that religious observance was kept behind closed doors. SABA: The idea was that in public, you were secular and in private, you were a Jew. You had Shabbat, you only married a Jew, it was considered blasphemous if you married outside of the Jewish community. And it was happening because people were becoming a part of everyday schools, universities.  But that's why the Jewish day schools became so important. They weren't learning Judaism. What it did was ensure that in a secular Muslim society, that the Jewish kids were marrying within each other and within the community. It was, in a sense, the Golden Age. And that will explain to you why, unlike the early 1950s, where you had this exodus of Mizrahi Jews, Arab Jews from the Arab world and North Africa, you didn't really have that in Iran.  MANYA: In fact, Iran provided a safe passage to Israel for Jewish refugees during that exodus, specifically those fleeing Iraq. The Pahlavi regime considered Israel a critical ally in the face of pan-Arab fervor and hostility in the region. Because of the Arab economic boycott, Israel needed energy sources and Iran needed customers for its oil exports.  A number of Israelis even moved to Tehran, including farmers from kibbutzim who had come to teach agriculture, and doctors and nurses from Hadassah Hospital who had come to teach medicine.  El Al flew in and out of Tehran airport, albeit from a separate terminal. Taking advantage of these warm relations between the two countries, Roya recalls visiting aunts, uncles, and cousins in Israel.  ROYA: We arrived, and my mom and dad did what all visiting Jews from elsewhere do. They dropped to their knees, and they started kissing the ground. I did the same, and it was so moving. Israel was the promised land, we thought about Israel, we dreamed about Israel. But, at the same time, we were Iranians and, and we were living in Iran, and things were good.  This seems to non-Iranian Jews an impossibility. But I think for most of us, it was the way things were. We lived in the country where we had lived for, God knows how many years, and there was this other place that we somehow, in the back of our minds thought we would be going to, without knowing exactly when, but that it would be the destination. MANYA: Relations between the Shah and America flourished as well. In 1951, a hugely popular politician by the name of Mohammad Mosaddegh became prime minister and tried to institute reforms. His attempts to nationalize the oil industry and reduce the monarchy's authority didn't go over well. American and British intelligence backed a coup that restored the Shah's power. Many Iranians resented America's meddling, which became a rallying cry for the revolution. U.S. officials have since expressed regret for the CIA's involvement.  In November 1977, President Jimmy Carter welcomed the Shah and his wife to Washington, D.C., to discuss peace between Egypt and Israel, nuclear nonproliferation, and the energy crisis.  As an extension of these warm relations, the Shah sent many young Iranians to America to enhance their university studies, exposing them to Western ideals and values.  Meanwhile, a savvy fundamentalist cleric was biding his time in a Paris basement. It wouldn't be long before relations crumbled between Iran and Israel, Iran and the U.S,. and Iran and its Jews.  Roya recalls the Hakakian house at the corner of Alley of the Distinguished in Tehran as a lush oasis surrounded by fragrant flowers, full of her father's poetry, and brimming with family memories. Located in the heart of a trendy neighborhood, across the street from the Shah's charity organization, the tall juniper trees, fragrant honeysuckle, and gold mezuzah mounted on the door frame set it apart from the rest of the homes.  Roya's father, Haghnazar, was a poet and a respected headmaster at a Hebrew school. Roya, which means dream in Persian, was a budding poet herself with the typical hopes and dreams of a Jewish teenage girl.  ROYA: Prior to the revolution, life in an average Tehran Hebrew Day School looked very much like life in a Hebrew Day School anywhere else. In the afternoons we had all Hebrew and Jewish studies. We used to put on a Purim show every year. I wanted to be Esther. I never got to be Esther. We had emissaries, I think a couple of years, from Israel, who came to teach us how to do Israeli folk dance. MANYA: There were moments when Roya recalls feeling self-conscious about her Jewishness, particularly at Passover. That's when the family spent two weeks cleaning, demonstrating they weren't najes, or dirty Jews. The work was rewarded when the house filled with the fragrance of cumin and saffron and Persian dishes flowed from the kitchen, including apple and plum beef stew, tarragon veal balls stuffed with raisins, and rice garnished with currants and slivers of almonds.  When her oldest brother Alberto left to study in America, a little fact-finding work on Roya's part revealed that his departure wasn't simply the pursuit of a promising opportunity. As a talented cartoonist whose work had been showcased during an exhibition in Tehran, his family feared Alberto's pen might have gone too far, offending the Pahlavi regime and drawing the attention of the Shah's secret police.  Reports of repression, rapid modernization, the wide gap between Tehran's rich and the rest of the country's poor, and a feeling that Iranians weren't in control of their own destiny all became ingredients for a revolution, stoked by an exiled cleric named Ruhollah Khomeini who was recording cassette tapes in a Paris basement and circulating them back home.  SABA: He would just sit there and go on and on for hours, going against the Shah and West toxification. And then the recordings ended up in Iran. He wasn't even in Iran until the Shah left. MANYA: Promises of democracy and equality galvanized Iranians of all ages to overthrow the Shah in February 1979. Even the CIA was surprised.  SABA: I think a lot of people didn't believe it. Because number one, the Shah, the son, was getting the most amount of military equipment from the United States than anyone in the Middle East and in the Persian Gulf. And the idea was: you protect us in the Gulf, and we will give you whatever you need. So they never thought that a man with a beard down to his knee was able to overthrow this regime that was being propped up and supported by America, and also the Europeans. Khomeini comes in and represents himself as a person for everyone. And he was brilliant in the way he spoke about it. And the reason why this revolution was also successful was that it wasn't just religious people who supported Khomeini, there was this concept you had, the men with the turbans, meaning the religious people, and the you know, the bow ties or the ties, meaning the secular man, a lot of them who were sent by the Shah abroad to Europe and America to get an education, who came back, saw democracy there, and wanted it for their country.  MANYA: Very few of the revolutionaries could predict that Tehran was headed in the opposite direction and was about to revert to 16th Century Shia Islamic rule. For almost a year, Tehran and the rest of the nation were swept up in revolutionary euphoria.  Roya recalls how the flag remained green, white, and red, but an Allah insignia replaced its old sword-bearing lion. New currency was printed, with portraits bearing beards and turbans. An ode to Khomeini became the new national anthem. While the Shah had escaped on an Air France flight, corpses of his henchmen graced the front pages of newspapers alongside smiling executioners. All celebrated, until the day one of the corpses was Habib Elghanian, the Jewish philanthropist who supported all of Iran's Hebrew schools. Charged and convicted as a Zionist spy.  Elders in the community remembered the insurmountable accusations of blood libel during darker times for Iran's Jews. But younger generations like Roya's, who had not lived through the eras of more ruthless antisemitism and persecution, continued to root for the revolution, regardless of its victims. Meanwhile, Roya's Jewish day school was taken over by a new veiled headmistress who replaced Hebrew lessons with other kinds of religious instruction, and required robes and headscarves for all the students.  ROYA: In the afternoons, from then on, we used to have lessons in a series of what she called: ‘Is religion something that you inherit, or is it something that you choose?' And so I think the intention, clearly, was to convince us that we didn't need to inherit our religions from our parents and ancestors, that we ought to consider better choices. MANYA: But when the headmistress cut short the eight-day Passover break, that was the last straw for Roya and her classmates. Their revolt got her expelled from school.  Though Jews did not universally support Khomeini, some saw themselves as members of the Iranian Communist, or Tudeh Party. They opposed the Shah and the human rights abuses of his monarchy and cautiously considered Khomeini the better option, or at least the lesser of two evils. Alarmed by the developments such as Elghanian's execution and changes like the ones at Roya's school, Jewish community leaders traveled to the Shia holy city of Qom to assure the Supreme Leader of their loyalty to Iran.  SABA: They did this because they wanted to make sure that they protected the Jewish community that was left in Iran. Khomeini made that distinction: ‘I am not against Jews, I'm against Zionists. You could be Jewish in this country. You cannot be a Zionist in this country.'  MANYA: But that wasn't the only change. Right away, the Family Protection Law was reversed, lifting a law against polygamy, giving men full rights in divorce and custody, and lowering the marriage age for girls to nine. Women were banned from serving as judges, and beaches and sports events were segregated by gender.  But it took longer to shut down universities, albeit for only two years, segregate public schools by gender, and stone to death women who were found to have committed adultery. Though Khomeini was certainly proving that he was not the man he promised to be, he backed away from those promises gradually – one brutal crackdown at a time. As a result, the trickle of Jews out of Iran was slow.  ROYA: My father thought, let's wait a few years and see what happens. In retrospect, I think the overwhelming reason was probably that nobody believed that things had changed, and so drastically. It seemed so unbelievable. I mean, a country that had been under monarchy for 2,500 years, couldn't simply see it all go and have a whole new system put in place, especially when it was such a radical shift from what had been there before. So I think, in many ways, we were among the unbelievers, or at least my father was, we thought it could never be, it would not happen. My father proved to be wrong, nothing changed for the better, and the conditions continued to deteriorate. So, so much catastrophe happened in those few years that Iran just simply was steeped into a very dark, intense, and period of political radicalism and also, all sorts of economic shortages and pressures. And so the five years that we were left behind, that we stayed back, changed our perspective on so many things. MANYA: In November 1979, a group of radical university students who supported the Iranian Revolution, took over the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, seized hostages, and held them for 444 days until President Ronald Reagan's inauguration on January 20, 1981. During the hostages' captivity, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein invaded Iran. The conflict that ensued for eight years created shortages on everything from dairy products to sanitary napkins. Mosques became distribution centers for rations. ROYA: We stood in line for hours and hours for eggs, and just the very basic things of daily life. And then it became also clear that religious minorities, including Jews, would no longer be enjoying the same privileges as everyone else. There were bombings that kept coming closer and closer to Tehran, which is where we lived. It was very clear that half of my family that was in the United States could not and would not return, because they were boys who would have been conscripted to go to war. Everything had just come apart in a way that was inconceivable to think that they would change for the better again. MANYA: By 1983, new laws had been passed instituting Islamic dress for all women – violations of which earned a penalty of 74 lashes. Other laws imposed an Islamic morality code that barred co-ed gatherings. Roya and her friends found refuge in the sterile office building that housed the Jewish Iranian Students Association. But she soon figured out that the regime hadn't allowed it to remain for the benefit of the Jewish community. It functioned more like a ghetto to keep Jews off the streets and out of their way. Even the activities that previously gave her comfort were marred by the regime. Poetry books were redacted. Mountain hiking trails were arbitrarily closed to mourn the deaths of countless clerics.  SABA: Slowly what they realize, when Khomeini gained power, was that he was not the person that he claimed to be. He was not this feminist, if anything, all this misogynistic rule came in, and a lot of people realize they, in a sense, got duped and he stole the revolution from them. MANYA: By 1984, the war with Iraq had entered its fourth year. But it was no longer about protecting Iran from Saddam Hussein. Now the Ayatollah wanted to conquer Baghdad, then Jerusalem where he aspired to deliver a sermon from the Temple Mount. Meanwhile, Muslim soldiers wounded in the war chose to bleed rather than receive treatment from Jewish doctors. Boys as young as 12 – regardless of faith – were drafted and sent on suicide missions to open the way for Iranian troops to do battle.  SABA: They were basically used as an army of children that the bombs would detonate, their parents would get a plastic key that was the key to heaven. And the bombs would detonate, and then the army would come in Iranian army would come in. And so that's when a lot of the Persian parents, the Jewish parents freaked out. And that's when they were like: we're getting out of here.  MANYA: By this time, the Hakakian family had moved into a rented apartment building and Roya was attending the neighborhood school. Non-Muslim students were required to take Koran classes and could only use designated water fountains and bathrooms.  As a precaution, Roya's father submitted their passports for renewal. Her mother's application was denied; Roya's passport was held for further consideration; her father's was confiscated.  One night, Roya returned home to find her father burning her books and journals on the balcony of their building. The bonfire of words was for the best, he told her. And at long last, so was leaving. With the help of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, Roya and her mother, Helen, fled to Geneva, and after wandering in Europe for several months, eventually reunited with her brothers in the United States. Roya did not see her father again for five years. Still unable to acquire a passport, he was smuggled out of Iran into Pakistan, on foot.  ROYA: My eldest brother left to come to America in the mid-70s. There was a crack in the body of the family then. But then came 1979, and my two other brothers followed. And so we were apart for all those very, very formative years. And then, in 1984, when my mother and I left and my father was left alone in Iran, that was yet another major dramatic and traumatic separation. So, you know, it's interesting that when I look back at the events of 1979, I think, people constantly think about the revolution having, in some ways, blown up Tehran, but it also blew up families. And my own family was among them.  MANYA: While her father's arrival in America was delayed, Roya describes her arrival in stages. She first arrived as a Jewish refugee in 1985 and found her place doing what she had always done – writing in Persian – rebuilding a body of work that had been reduced to ashes.  ROYA: As a teen I had become a writer, people were encouraging me. So, I continued to do it. It was the thing I knew how to do. And it gave me a sense of grounding and identity. So, I kept on doing it, and it kind of worked its magic, as I suppose good writing does for all writers. It connected me to a new community of people who read Persian and who appreciated what I was trying to do. And I found that with each book that I write, I find a new tribe for myself.  MANYA: She arrived again once she learned English. In her first year at Brooklyn College, she tape-recorded her professors to listen again later. She eventually took a course with renowned poet Allen Ginsberg, whose poetry was best known for its condemnation of persecution and imperial politics and whose 1950s poem “Howl” tested the boundaries of America's freedom of speech.  ROYA: When I mastered the language enough to feel comfortable to be a writer once more, then I found a footing and through Allen and a community of literary people that I met here began to kind of foresee a possibility of writing in English. MANYA: There was also her arrival to an American Jewish community that was largely unaware of the role Jews played in shaping Iran long before the advent of Islam. Likewise, they were just as unaware of the role Iran played in shaping ancient Jewish life. They were oblivious to the community's traditions, and the indignities and abuses Iranian Jews had suffered, continue to suffer, with other religious minorities to keep those traditions alive in their homeland.   ROYA: People would say, ‘Oh, you have an accent, where are you from?' I would say, ‘Iran,' and the Jews at the synagogue would say, ‘Are there Jews in Iran?' MANYA: In Roya's most recent book A Beginner's Guide to America, a sequel of sorts to her memoir, she reflects on the lessons learned and the observations made once she arrived in the U.S. She counsels newcomers to take their time answering what might at first seem like an ominous or loaded question. Here's an excerpt: ROYA: “In the early days after your arrival, “Where are you from?” is above all a reminder of your unpreparedness to speak of the past. You have yet to shape your story – what you saw, why you left, how you left, and what it took to get here. This narrative is your personal Book of Genesis: the American Volume, the one you will sooner or later pen, in the mind, if not on the page. You must take your time to do it well and do it justice.” MANYA: No two immigrants' experiences are the same, she writes. The only thing they all have in common is that they have been uprooted and the stories of their displacement have been hijacked by others' assumptions and agendas. ROYA: I witnessed, as so many other Iranian Jews witness, that the story of how we came, why we came, who we had been, was being narrated by those who had a certain partisan perspective about what the history of what Jewish people should be, or how this history needs to be cast, for whatever purposes they had. And I would see that our own recollections of what had happened were being shaded by, or filtered through views other than our own, or facts other than our own. MANYA: As we wrap up this sixth and final episode of the first season of The Forgotten Exodus, it is clear that the same can be said about the stories of the Jewish people. No two tales are the same. Jews have lived everywhere, and there are reasons why they don't anymore. Some fled as refugees. Some embarked as dreamers. Some forged ahead without looking back. Others counted the days until they could return home. What ties them together is their courage, perseverance, and resilience–whether they hailed from Eastern Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, or parts beyond. These six episodes offer only a handful of those stories–shaped by memories and experiences. ROYA: That became sort of an additional incentive, if not burden for me to, to be a witness for several communities, to tell the story of what happened in Iran for American audiences, to Jews, to non-Iranian Jews who didn't realize that there were Jews in Iran, but also to record the history, according to how I had witnessed it, for ourselves, to make sure that it goes down, as I knew it. MANYA: Iranian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left their homes in the Middle East to forge new lives for themselves and future generations.  Many thanks to Roya for sharing her family's story and for helping us wrap up this season of The Forgotten Exodus. If you're listening for the first time, check out our previous episodes on Jews from Iraq, Yemen, Egypt, Libya, and Sudan. Go to ajc.org/theforgottenexodus where you'll also find transcripts, show notes, and family photos. There are still so many stories to tell. Stay tuned in coming months. Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions and memories alive. Call 212.891.1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Tune in every Friday for AJC's weekly podcast about global affairs through a Jewish lens, People of the Pod, brought to you by the same team behind The Forgotten Exodus.  Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed the episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

Financier, philanthropist, and longtime president of the World Sephardi Federation Nessim Gaon was proud of the Sudanese birthright that made him part of a long lineage of Jews from Arab lands. However, with growing antisemitism in Sudan, he also believed Israel offered the only safe haven for Jews around the world and devoted his life to constantly improving the Zionist project.  Gaon's oldest grandchild, Dr. Alexandra Herzog, deputy director of Contemporary Jewish Life for American Jewish Committee, shares the story of her grandfather's flight from Sudan, his quest for equality in Israel, and his pursuit of peace between the Jewish state and Arab nations that led to the historic 1979 accord between Israel and Egypt. Along with Dr. Herzog, oral historian Daisy Abboudi describes great changes in Sudan that take place during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which saw the country emerge from a period of Islamic extremism to a land of possibilities for Jewish pioneers. However, this brief window of openness closes once again as Gaon's cousins, Diana Krief and Flore Eleini, describe how following Israel's victory in the 1967 Six-Day War, Sudan once again became a terrifying place to be a Jew.  ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Saza Niye Glemedin; Penceresi Yola Karsi: all by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Hatikvah (National Anthem Of Israel, Electric Guitar)”; Composer: Composer: Eli Sibony; ID#122561081 “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. “A Middle East Lament”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Dan Cullen (PRS), IPI#551977321 “Mystic Anatolia”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Okan Akdeniz (MSG), IPI#37747892568 “Modern Middle Eastern Underscore”: Publisher: All Pro Audio LLC (611803484); Composer: Alan T Fagan (347654928) “Fields Of Elysium”; Publisher: Mysterylab Music; Composer: Mott Jordan; ID#79549862 ___ Episode Transcript: ALEXANDRA HERZOG: Oftentimes, I asked him, would you want to go visit Sudan? If you could, would you? And you know, he would tell me, ‘Well, I have this image in my head. And I want to keep it that way.' And I think that it was so loaded for him in terms of memories, in terms of, you know, vibrancy of life and I think he wanted to keep it as this frozen image. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience.  This is The Forgotten Exodus. Today's episode: Leaving Sudan MANYA: When Diana Krief and her 95-year-old mother Flore Eleini look back on their family's life in Sudan, they conjure dark memories. Flore remembers enjoying afternoon tea outside with her mother-in-law when soldiers armed with bayonets stormed the garden. FLORE ELEINI: Life was normal, life was good. And then, little by little. it deteriorated. We were the very, very last Jews to stay in the Sudan. And then, after the Six Day War, of course, they came, you know, in the street, they were shouting, kill, kill, kill, kill the Jews, kill, kill, kill the Jews. And one day, I thought it was our end. MANYA: Her daughter Diana remembers soldiers raiding their house and posters of decapitated Jews outside their home. DIANA KRIEF: It's actually by others that I came to know that I was Jewish, that I was a Jew, you know, born in a Jewish family. They used to come in front of the house with posters of Jews in the Mediterranean Sea with their heads cut off, and blood everywhere. That's the first time I had actually seen the land of Israel. I didn't know that we had a land before.  And it was “itbah” the whole time. And even when we would put the radio on, they would sing“itbah itbah al yahud.” That means “slaughter, slaughter the Jews”. And this always stayed in my memory. MANYA: In 1968, Flore and Diana were among the last Jews to flee Khartoum, the capital city of Sudan. They followed a path to Geneva blazed by Flore's cousin, Nessim Gaon, a financier and philanthropist born and raised in Sudan who had moved from Khartoum to Switzerland a decade earlier.  Gaon, who died in May 2022 at the age of 100, was a legend in modern Jewish history. As a longtime president of the World Sephardi Federation, he worked to raise the profile of Sephardic Jews around the world and level the playing field for them in Israel – where Arabic speaking Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews were often looked down upon.  On the contrary, Gaon believed they offered Israel a gift – a link between the Jewish state and their former homes in the Arab world. Gaon himself offered a shining example. He persuaded his dear friend, Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin to meet with Egyptian President Anwar el-Sadat, which led to the historic 1979 accord between Israel and Egypt – the first peace treaty between Israel and an Arab nation. ALEXANDRA: For him when Israel was built, it really was like a miracle. He really, truly believed in the possibilities that Israel could offer. He also realized that Sephardic Jews could play a role in creating a bridge between Israel and the Arab countries, and that they would be able to help in creating peace or at least creating dialogue between some of those countries. And that's really what he did in his conversations with Anwar el-Sadat and Menachem Begin.  MANYA: That's Gaon's oldest grandchild, Dr. Alexandra Herzog, who now serves as the deputy director of Contemporary Jewish Life for American Jewish Committee. As her last name indicates, her mother Marguerite, Gaon's daughter, married into the Herzog dynasty. Alexandra's paternal grandfather was former Israeli president Chaim Herzog, and her uncle Isaac Herzog, is the Israeli president today.  But in addition to that proud legacy, Alexandra is especially proud of the impact her maternal grandfather made in helping Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews – a slight majority of Israel's Jewish population, but a significant majority of its Jewish poor – thrive, succeed, and lead in the Jewish state. Gaon was the driving force behind Project Renewal, an initiative launched in the 1970s to rehabilitate some of Israel's most distressed neighborhoods and improve education and social services there. He developed a bar mitzvah program that provided the education, ceremony, and gifts for thousands of underprivileged boys. And tens of thousands of young Sephardi leaders from impoverished neighborhoods received university scholarships. ALEXANDRA: A lot of the people who came out of this program are actually mayors or members of the Knesset – important people in Israel who actually have, as a ripple effect, a strong impact on the lives of other people as well. MANYA: The history of Sudan's once tiny and tight-knit Jewish community is limited to the late 19th and early 20th centuries – a brief window when it was safe to be Jewish in that Northeast African country. But the Sudanese diaspora's connection to that country runs unusually deep.  Sudan, Egypt's neighbor to the south, was much more than a waystation during the age of migration. It was a land of possibilities. Even if their forefathers spent centuries elsewhere, their descendants today often identify with the fleeting generations spent in Sudan. DAISY ABBOUDI: If you speak to people who were there, and you say, where are you from, they will say, Sudan, in a very proud, but definitive way. MANYA: That's Daisy Abboudi, a London-based oral historian of Sudanese Jewish history, who began her career by interviewing her own grandparents. DAISY: Sudanese is very much part of their identity and their descendants kind of focus on Sudan. And I know, there's this kind of phenomena from around the Middle East – a kind of nostalgia of looking back. There's kind of an inherited nostalgia that exists as well. But it's particularly strong in Sudan for a country where people didn't have thousands of years of roots. And I'm kind of always wondering, why? Why has it got this pull? MANYA: The reason could be embedded in the history of Sudan and the pioneering spirit of the Jews who landed in this rustic pocket of Northeast Africa, where the Blue and White Nile Rivers converged, the constellations shone brightly in the night sky, and the scent of jasmine and gardenia floated in the air. In the early 19th century, Sudanese and Egyptian residents lived under Ottoman rule. Jews in Egypt – and the few there might have been in Sudan – faced harsh taxes. But that changed toward the end of the 19th century, as the Ottoman Empire fell, and British forces took over Egypt, before moving south. With them came Christian missionaries who intended to “civilize” the tribes there. An opposition and independence movement began to build, led by a self-proclaimed Mahdi, who claimed to be the foretold redeemer of the Islamic nation. The 1966 epic film, Khartoum, depicts the infamous 1884 Siege of Khartoum, in which the Mahdi, portrayed by Hollywood superstar Laurence Olivier, defeated the popular British General Charles Gordon, played by another Hollywood legend of Ten Commandments fame, Charlton Heston. DAISY: When this independence movement starts, it's led by a man who calls himself the Mahdi, which means the kind of chosen one, and he wins, basically. He conquers Sudan quite quickly and then promptly dies of malaria and his successor takes over. But this period of independence, once it was established, is called the Mahdia, after the Mahdi.  It was an Islamic state, basically in that it was quite extremist. All the non-Muslim people living in Sudan had to convert to Islam. This was a law that was targeted at the missionaries who were there, but of course these Jews that were living there got caught up in that policy. MANYA: When the British conquered the Mahdi in 1898, that conversion law was revoked, and some converts reverted back to Judaism. The British built a railway line to supply the army and connect Egypt to Khartoum, the capital of the dual British-Egyptian colony. And soon, Sudan became a destination for Jewish families who sought to build economic opportunities from the ground up. DAISY: It was a kind of a mercantile community, a lot of shops, import-exports, cloth, gum Arabic, hibiscus. A couple of families grew and then traded hibiscus, which was like the main ingredient in cough syrup at the time. Don't forget, at that time, Sudan was very new – Khartoum especially, in terms of on the map in terms of European consciousness, obviously not new in terms of how long it's actually been there. But it was kind of seen or perceived as this new frontier. It was a bit off the beaten track.  There wasn't the mod cons or luxuries even of the day. So, it was people who were willing to take a little bit of a risk and dive into the unknown who would actually go to Sudan. MANYA: According to historian Naham Ilan, though the community was deeply traditional, it was largely secular and introduced many of Sudan's modern conveniences.  Morris Goldenberg from Cairo was the first optician in Khartoum. Jimmy and Toni Cain, refugees from Germany, ran a music hall and cabaret. Jewish students attended private Christian schools. By 1906, the Jewish community of Egypt invited Rabbi Solomon Malka, a Moroccan rabbi who was ordained in British Mandate Palestine, to lead Sudan's Jewish community. He was supposed to stay for only a few years, but instead stayed and purchased his own manufacturing plants, producing sesame oil and macaroni. His son Eli would later write the foundational history of the community titled Jacob's Children in the Land of the Mahdi: Jews of the Sudan. DAISY: When Rabbi Malka came, he was the shochet, he was the mohel, he was the rabbi. He was everything, it was a one-man band. The community was already kind of focused in Khartoum in 1928 when the synagogue was built. The club was built in 1947. I think the peak in terms of numbers of the community was early to mid-1950s. And that was about 250 families. So even at its peak, it was a very small community. MANYA: Community is the key word. Everyone knew each other, looked out for each other, and when Israel was created in 1948, they raised money to help some of their fellow Jews seek opportunities in that new frontier. Those who left weren't fleeing Sudan – not yet. That shift didn't happen for at least another decade. When things did start to turn, Nessim Gaon would lead the exodus. He had seen what could happen when Jews ignored warning signs and stayed where they were unwelcome for too long. Gaon's family arrived in the early 20th Century when his father got a job working as a clerk for the British governor of Port Sudan. Gaon was born in Khartoum in 1922. ALEXANDRA: As for a lot of Sephardi families, they basically moved with opportunities and changes of power in different countries. So they went from Spain, to Italy, back to Spain. And then they went into the Arab lands. So I know that they went into Iraq, then they went into Turkey. And they spent quite some time actually in Turkey, until they finally went to Sudan and Egypt. MANYA: As a young man, Gaon left to attend the London School of Economics. Shortly after he returned, he encountered British officers recruiting soldiers to fight for Winston Churchill's campaign against the Nazis.  ALEXANDRA: He just went in, signed up, and the next day, he was sent to the front. His family was not so excited about that. And he was actually under age, he wasn't really supposed to be able to sign up at that time. But when they figured out his age, you know, in the army, it was already too late. He just felt that he needed to be useful and do something. And that's what he did.  MANYA: Though he knew about the uneasy life for Jews in Sudan preceding his family's arrival there, what Gaon witnessed during World War II while stationed in places like Iraq ensured he would never take for granted his safety as a Jew. ALEXANDRA: Even though he never spoke about all of the things that he saw in great detail, he did a lot after the war, to help survivors go to Israel. It was very important to him to try to help those who had survived to actually go into a place of safety. He knew what it meant to be a Jew in danger. MANYA: Gaon and his future wife of 68 years, Renee [Tamman], exchanged letters every day when he was away at war and kept every single one. And after his return, from that point on, they never spent more than three days apart. The couple soon began to build their family. But because of rudimentary medical care in Sudan, it was difficult. Three of their children died before their daughter Marguerite was born in 1956. They were buried in Khartoum's Jewish cemetery. Sudan became independent in 1956. But the ties to Egypt ran deep. Later that year, when French, British, and Israeli forces attacked Egypt over Gamel Abdel Nasser's nationalization of the Suez Canal, the anti-Jewish tensions trickled south. DAISY: The Suez Crisis, in the end of 1956, kind of spikes a bit of antisemitism. There is a talk in the newspapers about antisemitism, Zionist things, plots. There were a few things that made life slightly more difficult, but not in a very impactful way on daily life. MANYA: There were other signs too. When the winner of the Miss Khartoum beauty pageant was discovered to be Jewish, she lost her crown. When Jews had matza imported from London for Passover, it had to be packaged in plain boxes without a Magen David. Given what Gaon had witnessed in World War II, that was enough to leave. He, his wife, and only daughter at the time went to Geneva. ALEXANDRA: That was a blooming community, they were happy, they were together. And they were able to create and expand on their Jewish life. And I think that, at some point, when it became clear, when they saw the signs of that antisemitism coming their way again, they just felt like, “OK, we've seen this before, not just in Sudan, but also from the history of the Holocaust. And we need to take proactive measures, and make sure that we're safe. MANYA: When they left, Gaon and his wife told no one. They packed only enough bags for a vacation. They even left the doors unlocked and food in the refrigerator so no one dropping by their home would get suspicious. ALEXANDRA:  My grandmother always told us how some part of her broke a little when they just left the house. They really pretended that they were just going out and they would come back. They would tell us how hard it was when they turned and they looked at the house the last time and they knew that they had left most of their things. That they had a whole history there. That they had children there who were still going to be there and it was really difficult. And so, they took everything [with] them, left to Switzerland, and made a life there. MANYA: The decade that followed was particularly tumultuous in Sudan. The country had its first coup of many, and a military government took over. In 1960, all of the Jews who had left Sudan had their citizenship revoked. Another revolution in 1964 restored civilian rule.  DAISY: It's at that time, that a lot of the north-south tension kind of comes into things. And there was a lot of violence in that revolution, a lot of rioting. And the violence was tribal, north-south tribalism, a lot of violence against southern tribes, people from the South in Sudan.  But that scared the Jewish community that there would be violence and murders in the streets, and that signaled that this was no longer this stable country that they had been living in. And that's when more people start to leave. MANYA: By this point, acquiring an exit visa had become difficult for Jews, especially those who owned businesses and properties. Much like Gaon and his wife had left under cover of vacation, people began acquiring tourist visas with return tickets they never used. In the summer of 1967, the Six-Day War became a flashpoint in Khartoum. DAISY: There was a lot of rhetoric against Jews, in the newspapers, accusations of Zionism, Zionist spies, slurs, the lot. The Jewish young men who didn't know the right people to avoid it, were arrested for the duration of the war, and then released subsequently. And then after the Six Day War, the Arab League Summit, and the declaration of the three Nos. That actually happened in Khartoum, so you can imagine the atmosphere in Khartoum at that time was not pleasant. MANYA: The Three Nos. No peace with Israel, No recognition of Israel, No negotiations with Israel. These were the pillars of the Khartoum Resolution, the Arab world's proclamation denying self-determination for the Jewish people in their biblical homeland. The Arab League Summit convened in Khartoum on August 29, 1967 and the resolution was adopted days later. Flore recalls how Muslim friends and colleagues suddenly turned on them. Returning home from a trip, her husband Ibrahim's business partner brought back a framed picture and insisted that Ibrahim read its engraved inscription out loud: “The world will not have peace until the last Jew is put to death by stoning,” it said. Another friend asked Flore one day where she hid the device she used to communicate with Israel, implying she was a spy. During a visit to Geneva, Ibrahim was warned not to return because there was a price on his head. Flore said their delayed departure was a source of tension between her and her husband, who even for years afterward, couldn't believe his beloved Sudan had betrayed them. But the time had come for most Jews, including the extended family that Nessim Gaon had left behind, to abandon their homes and fortunes in Sudan and join him. FLORE: My husband had confidence in them. And we had a lot of problems between my husband and me because of this. Because I said ‘Ibrahim, this is not a country for us.' He says: ‘You don't know anything. They won't harm us. They won't do that.' He had confidence, he couldn't believe it. Until my husband became very old. He died at the age of 94. And he always, always, in his heart, he said that they cannot harm us. But he had illusions. He had illusions. MANYA: The Gaons also could not return. It was simply too dangerous. But in the 1970s, when Nessim Gaon learned vandals might have desecrated the Jewish cemetery in Khartoum, he resolved to retrieve their children and other family members who were buried there. From a distance, he coordinated an airlift for several prominent Sudanese families, including Rabbi Malka's descendants, to transfer the remains of their loved ones out of Sudan to be reburied in Jerusalem where he knew they would be safer. It was this sincere belief about the promise of Israel and the promise of peace in the region that led Gaon to encourage and attend a meeting between Menachem Begin and Anwar el-Sadat in 1977. ALEXANDRA: He saw opportunities there to create a peace with Egypt and he told Menachem Begin we can create peace with the Arab countries. And so Menachem Begin took him to meet with Anwar el-Sadat. They had a meeting and they hit it off right away, because they spoke the same language, they came from the same place.  MANYA: Over the next two years, Gaon worked discreetly in the background to ease both of their minds, find common ground, and reach a consensus. When the two leaders were ready to sign a treaty in 1979, Gaon gave them both the Swiss pens they used to make it official.  ALEXANDRA: They actually called him first thing after signing, and told him: ‘Nessim, it happened. We did it.' And, you know, it was something that he was very proud of, but that we were not really allowed to talk about in the outside.  He truly believed in the possibilities, in the outcome. That's what he focused on. He wanted to better the lives of people both in Israel and in Egypt, and he cared about, you know, the Sephardi Jews that were part of that narrative as well. MANYA: Sudan was one of only two Arab nations who supported the accord. Egypt was suspended from the Arab League for ten years and el-Sadat was assassinated in 1981.  Still, Gaon never stopped trying to pave the way for more peace negotiations. In fact, much later Israel tapped him to meet privately with Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat. Unfortunately, the outcome was not the same. ALEXANDRA: We did not really want him to go and meet with Arafat because we were worried. I mean, Arafat had a long history of terrorism and we were a little bit scared. Arafat actually told him that at some point, there was a murder order on his head. They were considering killing my grandfather. And they decided not to, because he realized that he was an Arab like him. When my grandfather told us about this, we all went like, [gasp], what are you saying? But he was very calm about it. And he said: ‘You know, I, I stood there and Arafat told [me], I knew that you were doing a lot of good things. And you know, you were not doing anything bad towards the Arab populations. And you are very respectful. This is your background as well. And so we decided not to go ahead with it.' But I think my grandfather found it very difficult to talk to Arafat. And Arafat was not ready to make peace. MANYA: By this time Gaon had become a grandfather, Alexandra's Nono – the one who taught her how to whistle and play backgammon. The one who blessed her before long trips. The one who taught her his first language, Arabic. The one who passed down his love for the beauty of Sephardic Jewry and his concern about it being overshadowed and undervalued around the world and in Israel. ALEXANDRA: He was so idealistic about Israel, and really believed in it and thought it was such an important project. He also was very critical of it in terms of its treatment of Sephardic Jews. He was very sensitive to it, and he really worked hard to change that.  He was a little bit darker skinned. And he came from Sudan, he was born there. So he saw himself really, as a Sephardic Jew who had the opportunity here to educate this new country and to help this new country understand how Sephardic Jews could actually help and be positive agents within the country. MANYA: He also believed that the Jewish world must acknowledge and respect its own rich diversity for the benefit of everyone – Jewish, non-Jewish, Israeli or Diaspora. As president of the World Sephardi Federation, he traveled the world to encourage others to step up and show that Jewish history is not just an Eastern European, Ashkenazi narrative. ALEXANDRA: The more you're open to people who come from a different background, the more you also know how to interact with non-Jews and with countries that are maybe antagonistic to you. I think that it was a way for him to sort of bridge conflict to say: if you make an effort within the Jewish people, then you learn how to talk to everybody. MANYA: Daisy Abboudi said telling the stories of Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews is complicated. Are they migrants? Are they refugees? What do they want to be called, and why? And then there's the ambivalence some Israelis have had about welcoming all Jews, some of whom still feel affection for nations that wish Israel did not exist. In their eyes, it's a fine line between affection and loyalty. DAISY: It's not an easily packaged short story. It feeds into so many different kinds of strands and politics and it's such a messy period of history anyway, with colonialism and the end of colonialism and nationalism, and, and, and, and. I think it is too big and too much for people to kind of get their heads around. And so people just don't. MANYA: But Gaon believed that leveling the playing field and making sure everyone has equal opportunities to education and leadership is where it starts. As part of Project Renewal, he often walked the streets of the most distressed neighborhoods in Israel to hear firsthand what residents there needed and advocated for them. In addition to the scholarships, bar mitzvah programs, and Project Renewal initiative, Gaon also held court at the King David Hotel whenever he traveled to Jerusalem. Sephardi residents would line up around the block to meet the man who invested and believed in them. ALEXANDRA: Years later, when he was quite influential, he got a letter from the Sudanese government to tell him that they would love it if he took back the nationality. At the time, he decided not to.  He wanted to keep the memories and the life that he had in Sudan and all of the legacy of Sudan without specifically being connected to a government or a political situation that he disagreed with and that was difficult and unpleasant to Jews. I know that oftentimes, I asked him, would you want to go visit Sudan? If you could, would you? And you know, he would tell me, ‘Well, I have this image in my head. And I want to keep it that way.' And I think that it was so loaded for him in terms of memories, in terms of, you know, vibrancy of life and what he experienced, and I think he wanted to leave it that way, and not be sort of surprised or sad, or, shocked by the changes possibly. I think he wanted to keep it as this frozen image. I hope that one day I can go both to Sudan and to Egypt and see those places myself and get a sense of putting the pieces of the puzzle together and getting a sense of what life might have been. MANYA:  It's unclear when it will be safe for Jews to travel to Sudan again. Between November 1984 and January 1985, Sudanese, Israeli and U.S. officials worked with Gaon and Alexandra's father, Joel Herzog, to facilitate an airlift of thousands of Ethiopian Jews from refugee camps in Sudan to Israel. Operation Moses, as it was called, ended abruptly in January 1985 as soon as Sudan's Arab allies caught wind of the joint effort, stranding many Ethiopian Jews there. Some were eventually rescued, but not all.  ALEXANDRA: He not only helped fund the mission, which was very secretive, but he also took care of all of the details of the infrastructure from making sure that they could take a bus, to the plane, to a ship. He really took care of all of the details. And it was important to him because he wanted to make sure that fellow Jews would be in a place of safety. MANYA: Tribal conflict and civil wars also have continued. Feeling neglected by Khartoum, the largely agrarian South Sudan gained independence in 2011 after two civil wars. Warring factions within the South agreed to a coalition government in 2020.  Meanwhile, since 2003, millions of Darfuri men, women and children from three different ethnic groups have been targeted in what is considered the first genocide of the 21st Century – atrocities that continue today.  In 2019, Sudanese dictator Omar al-Bashir was pushed out of office by a series of peaceful protests. The following year, Sudan's fledgling civilian government announced its intentions to join the Abraham Accords as part of a larger effort to engage with the international community and secure international assistance. This included an agreement by the United States to remove Sudan from its state sponsor of terrorism list. But yet another military coup in 2021 derailed any efforts toward diplomacy and that plan was put on hold until a civilian government is restored.  Gaon died before seeing it become a reality.  ALEXANDRA: He really saw Sudan as his home. That was the place that he knew, that he grew up in. And I mean, again, he had gone to London before to study, he still came back to Sudan. You know, he went to war, he came back to Sudan and came with a lot of different layers of understanding of what it meant to be a Jew, in a lot of different countries, a lot of different places.  MANYA: Alexandra said he carried those layers and lessons with him throughout his life, as well as immense pride that he came from a long lineage of people living in Arab lands. For Nessim Gaon, the Jewish tradition was and always should be a big, diverse, inclusive tent. ALEXANDRA: One of the memories that really sticks with me is how during the Kohanim prayers at the synagogue, my grandfather would take his tallit, his prayer shawl, and put it on top of all of his children and grandchildren. And my grandmother would do the exact same thing with us in the women's section.  And of course, from time to time I would peek and look at this beautiful tent that was extended above all of my family members. And what was really special to me, was how we knew at that moment that we were being blessed by both my grandparents and that if someone was around and looked completely alone, they were welcomed under our tent.  And this really represents for me, what my grandparents were, they were warm. They were inclusive, loving and generous. And really they extended the tent, our family tent, to all the Jewish people. MANYA: Sudanese Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations. Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Alexandra, Flore, and Diana for sharing their families' stories. Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions and memories alive. Call 212.891-1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Tune in every Friday for AJC's weekly podcast about global affairs through a Jewish lens, People of the Pod, brought to you by the same team behind The Forgotten Exodus.  Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed the episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.  

Throughout most of her life, Giulietta Boukhobza rarely talked about the life she left behind in Libya when she was 16. However, today, with antisemitism on the rise and Israel under constant threat, she shares her family's story of their harrowing escape from Libya as part of an effort to raise awareness for future generations. Joining Boukhobza is filmmaker Vivienne Roumani-Denn, the creator of “The Last Jews of Libya,” a documentary about how her family and others were forced out of their North African homeland, who provides the historical backdrop for Boukhobza's story, illustrating how life was never easy for Jews in Libya, but it was still home.  Boukhobza's story is also one of triumph. Together with her husband David Harris, the longtime CEO of American Jewish Committee, they demonstrate that speaking up and fighting for what you believe is the only option.  ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  "Enta Omri" (live) by Umm Kulthum Kamar Barik; Gushe Cheman; Rampi Rampi; Aksaray'in Taslari; all by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. “Middle Eastern Arabic Oud”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989 “A Middle East Lament”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Dan Cullen (PRS), IPI#551977321 “Mystic Anatolia”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Okan Akdeniz (MSG), IPI#37747892568 “Modern Middle Eastern Underscore”: Publisher: All Pro Audio LLC (611803484); Composer: Alan T Fagan (347654928) ___ Episode Transcript: GIULIETTA BOUKHOBZA: My family was in Libya for many, many years. You were a second-class citizen, but you didn't know better. You knew that if somebody hits you in the street, you don't go to the police, because the police will take the side of the Arab. They didn't care. You were just a Jew and a Zionist.  MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel.  I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience.  This is The Forgotten Exodus.  Today's episode: Leaving Libya. GIULIETTA: We were all hiding in our houses, all the Jews. And there were news about buildings, that they were burned. We didn't know at the time that they had killed some families. And my particular family, we were able to leave, actually the famous Quatorze Juillet, the 14th of July, the Bastille Day. So it was freedom for us too, and we ended up, we went to Italy. MANYA: Until recently, Guilietta Boukhobza never talked about the life she left behind in Libya at the age of 16, and for many years her children rarely inquired. Only recently, her oldest son has started to ask his mother what happened to her family, their family, more than 50 years ago. What prompted her parents to leave everything behind, besides what each family member could fit inside a suitcase? GIULIETTA: One suitcase. So we were eight children, and a mother and a father. Each one got his suitcase. I don't even remember what we put in it. I have no memory. It's so funny. I don't remember making the bag. I vaguely remember getting into this kind of truck, arriving at the airport.  I remember arriving in Rome and starting to cry. Because I was saying, and it's true, we were very, very happy to get out of there, but still there is trauma. That you just leave there, you arrive to a train station and you start crying and you say ‘I want to go home.' What the hell is home? They'll kill you there. MANYA: Her father's favorite wool blanket. A handmade rug her mother treasured. The journals Giulietta had kept since the age of ten. Though she doesn't remember any of these items going into a suitcase, these are the mementos that over the years have reminded Giulietta of her childhood in Misrata and Tripoli. The contents of those suitcases mattered very little at the time.  GIULIETTA: In my family they came, they almost killed us. I mean, I still remember coming, and we're alive by a miracle so, we are grateful that we were not killed. MANYA: World events, ignorance about history, and the naïveté that often accompanies that ignorance also propel Giulietta to share her story. She is bewildered and alarmed by the rising tide of antisemitism and anger toward Israel. Israel is not perfect. Not by any stretch. But neither is America, the country that has given her freedoms and opportunities that she never knew existed for Jews growing up in Libya.   Giulietta has a unique vantage point. She is married to the longtime CEO of American Jewish Committee, David Harris, who has shown her that speaking up and fighting for what you believe is the only option.  In 2017, David wrote Letter from a Forgotten Jew, a column stylistically written from a first-person perspective based on the stories he had heard from Jews that fled Arab countries such as Iraq and Libya. In reality, it was an ode to his wife whose experience had been ignored for too long. Since then, Giulietta has shared pieces of her story and occasionally picks up her own pen to offer her perspective on world events.   GIULIETTA: Now, everything that happened to me I see in a different light. It's not any more about me. I was just, how do you say, I just happened to be at the wrong time at the wrong place. So, I don't want you to feel bad for me or feel sorry for me. I talk like almost as if it is not me. I'm talking about the third person. And, and I don't even have so much pity for this third person because this third person survived and thrived in a way.   When I look at my story now, I see it in relation to what I see around me – the growing antisemitism, the stupidity of the West, the ignorance towards history, the indifference and almost embarrassment of some Jews who should be proud of who they are and what they achieved. You almost envy these people who never had the trauma that you have. Now, I feel almost privileged that I had that because I can understand more and see the danger of what can happen when people don't know history or whatever. MANYA: The Libyan Jewish community goes back thousands of years, to the Third Century before the Common Era, even before Roman times. Of course, it wasn't called Libya at the time. Over millennia, Jews lived in Cyrenaica, the region next to Egypt, and Tripolitania, the region bordering Tunisia. They lived under Roman, Ottoman, Italian, Spanish, British and, eventually, Libyan rule.   Who was in charge at the time determined Jews' comfort, their livelihood, and oftentimes their survival. Under some regimes, Jews were treated as a protected minority who paid special taxes and faced certain restrictions.  Under some, they held government positions. And yet under others, they feared for their lives. In fact, after the 18th Century, Jews in Tripoli– when there were still Jews in Tripoli– celebrated two additional Purims to mark their deliverance from two separate attempts to annihilate them. VIVIENNE ROUMAINI-DENN: Even in the best of times, they lived uneasily. On an individual basis there was that full trust. But at the same time, when there were pogroms, you just never knew when somebody would save you, or kill you. And both happened. You found Arabs who really risked their life to save you and you found others who actually just killed you.  MANYA: That's filmmaker Vivienne Roumani-Denn, the creator of “The Last Jews of Libya,” a documentary about how her family was forced out of their North African homeland. The documentary was inspired by a manuscript her mother left behind, which Vivienne discovered only after her death.  A librarian by training, Vivienne began conducting oral histories, interviewing dozens of Jewish refugees who once called Libya home. She also created the first website to curate stories and conversations in the Libyan Jewish community.  In 1999, she became the founding director of the Sephardic Library and Archives of the American Sephardi Federation at the Center for Jewish History in New York. She later served as the federation's executive director.  Meanwhile, her older brother Maurice Roumani, a professor of politics and international relations, wrote the seminal scholarly work on Libya's modern Jewish history titled, “The Jews of Libya.”  VIVIENNE: At the end of the Ottoman period, there was a thriving Jewish school. Many Jewish children learned Hebrew so well that they would speak it in the street. It's a nice little glimpse of the Ottoman rule in Libya, which was before anybody is currently living. MANYA: Indeed, Jewish life flourished in Libya for centuries. Shabbat tables featured chraime, fish simmered in a spicy tomato sauce, and mafrum, vegetables stuffed with meat. In Tripoli, by the 1940s, men could walk to one of 44 synagogues every Saturday morning. The beat of the goblet drum, or darbouka, signaled the impending nuptials of a bride and groom. And when the bride emerged on her wedding day with her hands and head exquisitely painted with henna, she was a sight to behold.  In 1911, the Italians conquered the Ottoman rulers and at first, Jews fared well.  VIVIENNE: Life under Italian rule was calm, and even when fascism first came about, it was almost like just another form of government. But a major change happened when Mussolini aligned himself with Hitler. MANYA: Benito Mussolini instituted racial laws in 1938 that required Jews to open their stores on Shabbat or face severe punishment. Eventually, Jews were barred from holding government positions. A sfollamento, or process of removing Libya's Jews, commenced. In 1940, the African campaign of the Second World War was unfolding in the eastern Libyan desert, adjacent to Egypt. The British captured Benghazi twice.  The first time, Jews welcomed them. But Germany pushed the British out. Shortly after, anti-Jewish riots destroyed homes and businesses. When the British were pushed back a second time, many Jews with British passports fled with the British soldiers. Those who stayed were rounded up and sent to detention camps in Italy.  VIVIENNE: Some were later sent to Bergen-Belsen. They all survived. But this is a little-known part of the Holocaust history. In 1942, Mussolini ordered the expulsion of all Jews in Cyrenaica because of their interaction with the British. Those with French or French protectorate passports were sent to Tunisia and Algeria.  Those without foreign passports, and a small number with Italian passports were sent to an Italian-run detention camp in Giado, in the mountains of Tripolitania. The conditions there were very harsh. Families required to live in cramped quarters, separated only by a sheet. They had lice-borne typhus everywhere. Food was very scarce. The interviewees told me how they had to carve out all these lice from a teeny piece of dried bread. And about one-fourth perished.  MANYA: Giulietta's father was a young man then and later told stories of time spent in a concentration camp. She believes it was Giado.  The Jews of Giado were liberated after the British conquered Tripolitania in 1943. But two years later, in 1945, brutal pogroms unfolded across Tripoli and other cities across Tripolitania, sparked by soccer fans coming from a stadium about one kilometer from the city's Jewish quarter. The British did not intervene for three days. VIVIENNE: The spread throughout Tripolitania was too rapid to have been coincidental. 129 Jews were killed. Some of the descriptions of the atrocities that I recorded in the oral histories are horrifying. I'll never forget one interview, when she opened the door to greet me, in tears. She said, ‘I've waited 50 years for you.' I've never met that woman before. And she said . . . she just unburdened herself of the most horrific memories.  MANYA: Another pogrom in 1948, a month after Israel declared independence, took fewer Jewish lives because the community was more prepared to defend itself. But both the pogroms in '45 and '48 became rallying cries for Israel. Between 1949 and 1951, 95% of Libyan Jews left when aliyah became possible. For those who stayed, like Giulietta's family, the situation continued to deteriorate. GIULIETTA: My family was in Libya for many, many years. I don't know how many generations my family was there. But we were there many years. MANYA: Giulietta was born in 1951, the same year Libya gained its independence. By then, a fierce nationalism expressed through anti-Israeli and anti-Jewish policies had swept the region. At that time, her family lived in Misrata, a coastal city in northwestern Libya where mass riots took place on the day of Libya's first-ever election.  Giulietta recalls that they were the only Jewish family left in Misrata at that time. The others had gone to Tripoli. The family lived in an apartment at the center of town. The Libyans' distaste and distrust for Jews was especially evident when King Idris came to visit Misrata. GIULIETTA: When the king will come, we have all these policemen in our house. And then the shades will be down. And we as children weren't allowed to see. And I never understood, I never asked my parents, ‘Were they there because we were the only Jewish family, and they didn't trust us? Or were the police there because that was a very good location to see if there were snipers or something against the king?' If I had to guess, I think because we were Jewish. MANYA: At the age of eight, Giulietta's family moved to Tripoli where her father worked in human resources for the Volkswagen corporation. Most of the schools in Libya were still Italian Catholic. Giulietta knew all the prayers, all the sacraments. By then, there were unspoken rules about being Jewish. You kept it quiet, even though people still knew. GIULIETTA: First of all, you have to realize that when you don't know any different, your abnormal becomes normal. And so, if you ask me about growing up, we went to schools. We went to the beach. Some people were able to travel. The whole family couldn't leave. You always have to leave somebody there. This kind of blackmail, because they were afraid that you will escape and go to Israel. So basically life was, let's say normal for us, because we didn't know. For example, you knew you don't advertise the fact that you're Jewish even though we had synagogues.  As an example, even though we went to Italian school with Italian books. Sometimes the books about geography, they will come late because they will arrive from Italy. And why they will arrive late? Because they will have to remove the page if there was a picture of Israel. If in the thing you see in the Middle East there was Egypt, Jordan, etc, Libya, they had to remove it. MANYA: When a new law in 1961 required a special permit to prove Libyan citizenship, most Jews were denied. Jews could not open businesses unless they had an Arab partner who owned more than half. Jews could not vote. GIULIETTA: You were a second-class citizen, but you didn't know better. You just knew not to do things. You knew that if somebody hits you in the street, you don't go to the police, because the police will take the side of the Arab.  You thought things were relatively normal, and then they will turn on a dime on you. They didn't care. You were just a Jew and a Zionist. You went to the movie, and you see the newsreel,  and you see they were completely brainwashed by Egypt. And the famous phrase was ‘aleaduu alsuhyuniu' [in Arabic: العدو الصهيوني] -- the Zionist enemy, the Zionist enemy, the Zionist enemy. We were there generations before them. We never went to Israel, but it was always, this is how they brainwashed you. Then in ‘67, during the Six Day War, that is where everything exploded, and we had to leave. MANYA: Tension started to build days before Egypt, Jordan, and Syria began battling Israel. Giulietta remembers young men on the side of the street drawing their hands across their throats when she and her sister walked by. Her school closed and her father started staying home from work.  GIULIETTA: We were on the phone with other Jewish families, and we could hear that things were burning. They killed . . . We didn't know. That's what helped us to keep our sanity. When we left, we knew – that they also killed people. MANYA: Then one night, the mob arrived at her family's house. Remember, her father worked in human resources. That detail spared their lives. GIULIETTA: I remember this group of people coming toward us, we had a garden. They could have been 500. Or they could have been 1,000. Or they could have been just 70. But in my eyes, there were so, so many. And they wanted to burn us alive. My mother, she knew them. She knew the mentality. So, she pushed my father away, and she went there and basically, she started pleading with them saying ‘What did we do to you? And it happened that the guy that worked for my father, and he was supposed to be fired, my father decided not to fire him. And he turned to them, and he said to them and said, ‘These are good Jews. Let's don't kill them.' Sorry if I laugh. So they took the, how do you say, the match. They put it back and they left.  But we knew we were not safe. The Arabs, the Muslims, these were our enemies. We're in their country. We are the Jews. They wanted us dead. I never want to think of what would have happened if they got hold of us. MANYA: The government set a curfew to curb the violence. Still, afraid for their lives, Giulietta's mother reached out to a Muslim family with whom they were close and asked for help. They agreed to hide the whole family – Giulietta's mother, father, and eight children.   GIULIETTA: This wonderful man. He sent us his driver, with this big car. And I remember we all dressed as Arabs. I think maybe even my father, he covered himself. And he took us all to that house. And we stayed there for about two weeks. MANYA: Men occupied one corner of the house, watching television, and listening to BBC, which was reporting on Israel's victories over the Egyptian Air Force and its capture of the Sinai Peninsula and Gaza Strip. The women lived in the other wing, listening to Arabic radio, which told a very different story. One day, Giulietta crossed over to the other side of the house to visit her father for a kosher lunch of boiled potatoes, eggs, and tuna, drizzled with olive oil.  GIULIETTA: I said to my father, ‘How are you doing on the other side?' I said, ‘We are OK. But mama is crying, crying, crying.' And he said, ‘Why? We are safe.' I said, ‘Because we're listening to the news, she had brothers in Israel, and the Arab news was saying that every Jew in Israel was killed. That they won the war, and everybody's dying. And he told me, ‘Go to your mother and whisper to her, that this is bullshit, that Israel was the biggest victor in the history, and the Egyptians are running in the desert without shoes.'  MANYA: But after two weeks, Giulietta's mother became suspicious of their hosts. She still trusted the adults in the family. But not necessarily their teenage sons.  Vivienne Roumani-Denn said older generations of Libyans tended to appreciate what Jews had contributed to society over the years and respect that. Younger Libyans were more easily swept up by the nationalistic and antisemitic fervor, regardless of the nation's Jewish heritage.  GIULIETTA: My mother told my father, ‘I feel it in my bones, his sons are going to sell us. So, let's go home. We'd rather die in our own home. It's also dangerous for them.' So, we went home. MANYA: Not long after, the King of Libya gave the Jews an impossible choice. They could go to an internment camp where they would supposedly be protected, or each person could pack a bag, take no more than 30 sterling, and abandon their homes, the lives that generations of their family had built in this country – forever.  There were too many tales of families and neighbors accepting so-called offers of protection from authorities, only to be led to their death. Giulietta's family and thousands of others packed their bags. An Italian airlift transported 6,000 Jews to safety. GIULIETTA: The reason why we went to Italy is because the Italian ambassador at that time in Libya decided that he had to help the Jews. And there was something for which we could all go to Italy. I just remember they took us in this kind of truck to the airport. And then from there, we went to Rome and the feeling of freedom when we arrived in Rome. But I heard stories of people who the police wouldn't take them, or they left them somewhere and they were saved by a miracle. So, you couldn't trust anybody. MANYA: The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, or HIAS, encouraged them to go to the States. Her father wanted to go to Israel. Her mother wanted to stay in Italy. That's what they did.  GIULIETTA: Every country that took the Libyan Jews, and I can say that with a lot of pride, we just added to the country. We either opened businesses, or, you understand? We were never parasites. They accepted us, but we never relied on them. At the contrary, we added whatever it was to business to, to whatever. And we are always grateful. I mean, to me, Italy is one of my most favorite countries, I will always be grateful.  MANYA: With only a fourth-grade education, Giulietta's mother became an Arabic-Italian translator for hospitals and doctors across Rome. But her father struggled. Educated at Alliance Israel Francaise, French-run Jewish schools across the Middle East, he was erudite and ambitious.  GIULIETTA: My father basically, I never saw him as a worker. He was a man that was always reading and studying languages. He was a dreamer in a way.  When he got to Italy, he tried to find a job and he couldn't. It was terrible to see that. But it was not easy. My father was never able to become who he was basically. He always felt like a failure. He was an idealist. He loved, he wanted to go to Israel all his life. He always used to say ‘I'd rather die young in the land of Israel than old anywhere else' and he died old somewhere else. But you know, in life, you cannot always have what you … He's buried in Israel, yeah. MANYA: While her father dreamed of going to Israel, her mother dreamed of going back home to Libya. Even though she worked hard to settle the family and become part of the fabric of Italian society, Italy was only a temporary refuge.  In fact, Giulietta's parents did go back, in 1969, hoping to reclaim some of the possessions they had left behind. While they were there, King Idris was overthrown in a military coup led by Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. Giulietta's parents were prisoners in their former home for about a year before they could return to their new home in Rome. They recovered very little. Gaddafi confiscated all Jewish property. GIULIETTA: My mother thought eventually she'll go back to Libya. That was always her home. That was her country. That was her house.  Maybe in the last 10 years before she died, she realized there was no hope and she saw all the, forgive me, the bestiality, all the things of terrorism and she said ‘[I could] never go back there.' But she always dreamed of going back. MANYA: Instead, Libya has lived on in their everyday lives – their recipes, their superstitions, and their deepest memories. To this day, guests at Giulietta's Shabbat and holiday tables eat rice, couscous, chraime, mafrum, and a special dish of white beans called lubya. When Giulietta's sons or daughters-in-law send her photographs of grandchildren, she responds with the emojis of a fish and a hand, to ward off the evil eye. The hand, or hamsa, is a symbol originated by Muslims, but embraced and redefined by the Mizrahi Jews who once lived among them.  And when Giulietta's mother was in the final stage of Alzheimer's, that ruthless disease that strips one's memories, Giulietta would turn on Umm Kulthum, a popular Egyptian singer who, despite being a raging antisemite, was beloved by Arabs and Jews.  GIULIETTA: You will hardly meet any Arab, any Jew, from North Africa or the Middle East who doesn't know Umm Kulthum. The only thing that she would remember, and I would put on Umm Kulthum. And I will tell her, I pretend to say ‘Mama, I cannot understand Arabic. Can you translate it to me?' And she would translate the words, which were always: You are my life. You are my eyes, I love you. You know, the melodrama of songs. MANYA: Roumani-Denn said for Jews in Libya, the antisemitism, no matter how rabid, no matter how pervasive, did not steal the love and sense of belonging we all have, or long for in the place we call home.  VIVIENNE: You know, it's home. It's not home, you were never made to feel at home. But it was . . . there were some really good times. Every time I interviewed anybody, they said, ‘Life was good. They hated us.' And I said, ‘Isn't there a contradiction here?' And the thing is, you know, … life in Libya revolved around family and faith, and extended family and friends. So, there was all this warmth on the one hand. MANYA: Giulietta has no desire to return to the land she once called home. When she thinks about what she misses most, it's her childhood. She left that behind when she boarded the plane to Italy, and it would not be waiting for her if she went back. It's gone.  GIULIETTA: The country can go to hell. Sorry. I have no interest. No sympathy. Where can they give you back the money? The place is bankrupt. They don't even have . . . they're going to give it to the Jews? Some people are still fighting, ‘it's our money.' Some people left so much, so much. But that happened also to the Jews all over the world. MANYA: She also knows now what was missing from that childhood. Leaving Libya introduced her to liberties she never knew existed for Jews. And for women. She wouldn't want to return to a life without rights and freedom. Wherever they landed in Italy, the States, or Israel, she, her parents, and her seven siblings encountered new opportunities and seized them.  After two years of freedom in Rome, Giulietta's younger sister Liliana at the age of 16 moved to Israel to finish high school and become a lone soldier. A soldier in the Israel Defense Forces with no family in Israel to support them, only their comrades and their countrymen.  GIULIETTA: It was horrible to be kicked out, we lost all our money. And we all say it was the best thing that happened to us. It was the best thing that happened to us, being kicked out, because finally we have what we never had before.   MANYA: Landing in Italy when she did not only introduced her to unexpected freedoms. In 1975, her cousin introduced her to a co-worker at HIAS, an American son of Holocaust survivors who had landed in Rome after being expelled from the Soviet Union for helping persecuted Jews. He became Giulietta's husband and the CEO of AJC, David Harris. In 1979, they moved to the States where David became CEO 11 years later. In that role, he has expanded the organization's reach in the Arab world. Meanwhile, Giulietta taught Italian and raised their three sons in the kind of home she could not have growing up in Libya – one that was openly and proudly Jewish. Inspired by his wife's journey, David has sought justice for Jews around the world by urging nations to fight antisemitism with more than just words and ceremonies to remember the Holocaust. He has encouraged them to see the fuller picture of Jews after the Holocaust, including those forced from their homes in Arab nations and Iran, the crucial role Israel has played for thousands of refugees, and the hope it offers for millions of others, should the need ever arise. GUILIETTA: I feel blessed, because he understood. He understood. I mean, it's his job. He went to Russia. He went to Rome. He helped the Russian Jews to come. He studied our history.  And to be honest with you, a lot of American Jews, they live in a bubble. It's like if being born in freedom, and in a democracy, they cannot envision anything that is different than what they have. MANYA: They cannot envision a world where Jews had to celebrate life cycle events quietly, could not travel or pursue their dreams, or feared for their lives. They cannot envision a world without Israel, or worse, they can, and they believe the world would be better for it. They don't understand why Israel exists, what purpose it served for millions of Jews, thousands from across the Arab world, including Libya. But Giulietta knows why Israel exists.  GIULIETTA: When you come from this country, and things happen to you like [they] happened to me, to the Egyptian Jews, to the Iraqi Jews, even to the Russian Jews. We see something which is sad: that people who lived in freedom lost the ability to think rationally.  MANYA: There are no more Jews left in Libya. The Great Synagogue in Tripoli has been boarded up. When in 2011, a Libyan Jew returned from exile and broke through the boards to go inside, armed vigilantes surrounded the site. He was lucky to leave alive.  Giulietta remembers no matter how discreet Libyan Jews were about their Judaism, they never missed a High Holiday service at that synagogue and the men went there every Saturday morning. Bar mitzvahs were done quietly, unlike in the States where her three sons' bar mitzvahs weren't a concern. GIULIETTA: I see my oldest son, who is 42, who every now and then he says, ‘Mom, can you please tell me how it happened, what happened?' And it's funny they ask, because today, when I knew you were coming, I said, there are so many questions I didn't ask my parents. MANYA: I asked Giulietta why her family stayed in Libya after the pogroms of '45 and '48. Many of her aunts, uncles, cousins fled Tripoli for Israel before she was even born. Why did her parents move to Tripoli and try to stay?  GIULIETTA: I wouldn't know how to answer because you think they will always be alive, you think, and then they disappear, and you realize there are things you don't know. I never asked. I think, I think, they thought … I never asked. MANYA: Libyan Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations. Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Giulietta for sharing her story. Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because, like Giulietta, they never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions alive and memories alive as well. Call 212.891-1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Tune in every Friday for AJC's weekly podcast about global affairs through a Jewish lens, People of the Pod,brought to you by the same team behind The Forgotten Exodus.  Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed the episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

One of the top Jewish podcasts in the U.S., American Jewish Committee's (AJC) The Forgotten Exodus, is the first-ever narrative podcast to focus exclusively on Mizrahi and Sephardic Jews. In this week's episode, we feature Jews from Egypt.   In the first half of the 20th century, Egypt went through profound social and political upheavals culminating in the rise of President Gamal Abdel Nasser and his campaign of Arabization, creating an oppressive atmosphere for the country's Jews, and leading almost all to flee or be kicked out of the country. Hear the personal story of award-winning author André Aciman as he recounts the heart-wrenching details of the pervasive antisemitism during his childhood in Alexandria and his family's expulsion in 1965, which he wrote about in his memoir Out of Egypt, and also inspired his novel Call Me by Your Name.  Joining Aciman is Deborah Starr, a professor of Near Eastern and Jewish Studies at Cornell University, who chronicles the history of Egypt's Jewish community that dates back millennia, and the events that led to their erasure from Egypt's collective memory. Aciman's modern-day Jewish exodus story is one that touches on identity, belonging, and nationality: Where is your home when you become a refugee at age 14? Be sure to follow The Forgotten Exodus before the next episode drops on August 22. ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Rampi Rampi, Aksaray'in Taslari, Bir Demet Yasemen by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. “Middle Eastern Arabic Oud”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989 ___ Episode Transcript: ANDRÉ ACIMAN: I've lived in New York for 50 years. Is it my home? Not really. But Egypt was never going to be my home. It had become oppressive to be Jewish. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience.  This is The Forgotten Exodus. Today's episode: leaving Egypt. Author André Aciman can't stand Passover Seders. They are long and tedious. Everyone gets hungry long before it's time to eat. It's also an unwelcome reminder of when André was 14 and his family was forced to leave Egypt – the only home he had ever known. On their last night there, he recounts his family gathered for one last Seder in his birthplace. ANDRÉ: By the time I was saying goodbye, the country, Egypt, had essentially become sort of Judenrein.  MANYA:  Judenrein is the term of Nazi origin meaning “free of Jews”. Most, if not all of the Jews, had already left. ANDRÉ: By the time we were kicked out, we were kicked out literally from Egypt, my parents had already had a life in Egypt. My mother was born in Egypt, she had been wealthy. My father became wealthy. And of course, they had a way of living life that they knew they were abandoning. They had no idea what was awaiting them. They knew it was going to be different, but they had no sense. I, for one, being younger, I just couldn't wait to leave. Because it had become oppressive to be Jewish. As far as I was concerned, it was goodbye. Thank you very much. I'm going. MANYA: André Aciman is best known as the author whose novel inspired the Oscar-winning film Call Me By Your Name – which is as much a tale of coming to terms with being Jewish and a minority, as it is an exquisite coming of age love story set in a villa on the Italian Riviera.  What readers and moviegoers didn't know is that the Italian villa is just a stand-in. The story's setting– its distant surf, serpentine architecture, and lush gardens where Elio and Oliver's romance blooms and Elio's spiritual awakening unfolds – is an ode to André's lost home, the coastal Egyptian city of Alexandria.  There, three generations of his Sephardic family had rebuilt the lives they left behind elsewhere as the Ottoman Empire crumbled, two world wars unfolded, a Jewish homeland was born, and nationalistic fervor swept across the Arab world and North Africa. There, in Alexandria, his family had enjoyed a cosmopolitan city and vibrant Jewish home. Until they couldn't and had to leave.  ANDRÉ: I would be lying if I said that I didn't project many things lost into my novels. In other words, to be able to re-experience the beach, I created a beach house. And that beach house has become, as you know, quite famous around the world. But it was really a portrait of the beach house that we had lost in Egypt.  And many things like that, I pilfer from my imagined past and dump into my books. And people always tell me, ‘God, you captured Italy so well.' Actually, that was not Italy, I hate to tell you. It was my reimagined or reinvented Egypt transposed into Italy and made to come alive again. MANYA: Before he penned Call Me By Your Name, André wrote his first book, Out of Egypt, a touching memoir about his family's picturesque life in Alexandria, the underlying anxiety that it could always vanish and how, under the nationalization effort led by Egypt's President Gamel Abdel Nassar, it did vanish. The memoir ends with the events surrounding the family's last Passover Seder before they say farewell.   ANDRÉ: This was part of the program of President Nasser, which was to take, particularly Alexandria, and turn it into an Egyptian city, sort of, purified of all European influences. And it worked.  As, by the way, and this is the biggest tragedy that happens to, particularly to Jews, is when a culture decides to expunge its Jews or to remove them in one way or another, it succeeds. It does succeed. You have a sense that it is possible for a culture to remove an entire population. And this is part of the Jewish experience to accept that this happens. MANYA: Egypt did not just expunge its Jewish community. It managed to erase Jews from the nation's collective memory. Only recently have people begun to rediscover the centuries of rich Jewish history in Egypt, including native Egyptian Jews dating back millennia. In addition, Egypt became a destination for Jews expelled from Spain in the 15th Century. And after the Suez Canal opened in 1869, a wave of more Jews came from the Ottoman Empire, Italy, and Greece. And at the end of the 19th Century, Ashkenazi Jews arrived, fleeing from European pogroms. DEBORAH STARR: The Jewish community in Egypt was very diverse. The longest standing community in Egypt would have been Arabic speaking Jews, we would say now Mizrahi Jews. MANYA: That's Deborah Starr, Professor of Modern Arabic and Hebrew Literature and Film at Cornell University. Her studies of cosmopolitan Egypt through a lens of literature and cinema have given her a unique window into how Jews arrived and left Egypt and how that history has been portrayed. She says Jews had a long history in Egypt through the Islamic period and a small population remained in the 19th century. Then a wave of immigration came. DEBORAH: We have an economic boom in Egypt. Jews start coming from around the Ottoman Empire, from around the Mediterranean, emigrating to Egypt from across North Africa. And so, from around 5,000 Jews in the middle of the 19th century, by the middle of the 20th century, at its peak, the Egyptian Jews numbered somewhere between 75 and 80,000. So, it was a significant increase, and you know, much more so than just the birth rate would explain. MANYA: André's family was part of that wave, having endured a series of exiles from Spain, Italy, and Turkey, before reaching Egypt. DEBORAH: Egypt has its independence movement, the 1919 revolution, which is characterized by this discourse of coexistence, that ‘we're all in this together.' There are images of Muslims and Christians marching together.  Jews were also supportive of this movement. There's this real sense of a plurality, of a pluralist society in Egypt, that's really evident in the ways that this movement is characterized. The interwar period is really this very vibrant time in Egyptian culture, but also this time of significant transition in its relationship to the British in the various movements, political movements that emerge in this period, and movements that will have a huge impact on the fate of the Jews of Egypt in the coming decades. MANYA: One of those movements was Zionism, the movement to establish a Jewish state in the biblical homeland of the Jews. In 1917, during the First World War, the British government occupying Egypt at the time, issued a public statement of support for the establishment of a "national home for the Jewish people" in Palestine, still an Ottoman region with a small minority Jewish population. That statement became known as the Balfour Declaration. DEBORAH: There was certainly evidence of a certain excitement about the Balfour Declaration of 1917. A certain amount of general support for the idea that Jews are going to live there, but not a whole lot of movement themselves. But we also have these really interesting examples of people who were on the record as supporting, of seeing themselves as Egyptians, as part of the anti-colonial Egyptian nationalism, who also gave financial support to the Jewish project in Palestine. And so, so there wasn't this sense of—you can't be one or the other. There wasn't this radical split. MANYA: Another movement unfolding simultaneously was the impulse to reclaim Egypt's independence, not just in legal terms – Egypt had technically gained independence from the British in 1922 – but suddenly what it meant to be Egyptian was defined against this foreign colonial power that had imposed its will on Egypt for years and still maintained a significant presence. DEBORAH: We also see moves within Egypt, toward the ‘Egyptianization' of companies or laws that start saying, we want to, we want to give priority to our citizens, because the economy had been so dominated by either foreigners or people who were local but had foreign nationality. And this begins to disproportionately affect the Jews.  Because so many of the Jews, you know, had been immigrants a generation or two earlier, some of them had either achieved protected status or, you know, arrived with papers from, from one or another of these European powers. MANYA: In 1929, Egypt adopted its first law giving citizenship to its residents. But it was not universally applied. By this time, the conflict in Palestine and the rise of Zionism had shifted how the Egyptian establishment viewed Jews.   DEBORAH: Particularly the Jews who had lived there for a really long time, some of whom were among the lower classes, who didn't travel to Europe every summer and didn't need papers to prove their citizenship, by the time they started seeing that it was worthwhile for them to get citizenship, it was harder for Jews to be approved. So, by the end, we do have a pretty substantial number of Jews who end up stateless. MANYA: Stateless. But not for long. In 1948, the Jewish state declared independence. In response, King Farouk of Egypt joined four other Arab nations in declaring war on the newly formed nation. And they lost.  The Arab nations' stunning defeat in that first Arab-Israeli War sparked a clandestine movement to overthrow the Egyptian monarchy, which was still seen as being in the pocket of the British. One of the orchestrators of that plot, known as the Free Officers Movement, was Col. Gamel Abdel Nassar. In 1952, a coup sent King Farouk on his way to Italy and Nassar eventually emerged as president. The official position of the Nassar regime was one of tolerance for the Jews. But that didn't always seem to be the case. DEBORAH: Between 1948 and ‘52, you do have a notable number of Jews who leave Egypt at this point who see the writing on the wall. Maybe they don't have very deep roots in Egypt, they've only been there for one or two generations, they have another nationality, they have someplace to go. About a third of the Jews who leave Egypt in the middle of the 20th century go to Europe, France, particularly. To a certain extent Italy. About a third go to the Americas, and about a third go to Israel. And among those who go to Israel, it's largely those who end up stateless. They have no place else to go because of those nationality laws that I mentioned earlier, have no choice but to go to Israel. MANYA: Those who stayed became especially vulnerable to the Nassar regime's sequestration of businesses. Then in 1956, Egypt nationalized the Suez Canal, a 120-mile-long waterway that connected the Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean by way of the Red Sea – that same waterway that created opportunities for migration in the region a century earlier. DEBORAH: The real watershed moment is the 1956 Suez conflict. Israel, in collaboration with France, and Great Britain attacks Egypt, the conflict breaks out, you know, the French and the British come into the war on the side of the Israelis. And each of the powers has their own reasons for wanting, I mean, Nasser's threatening Israeli shipping, and, threatening the security of Israel, the French and the British, again, have their own reasons for trying to either take back the canal, or, just at least bring Nassar down a peg. MANYA: At war with France and Britain, Egypt targeted and expelled anyone with French and British nationality, including many Jews, but not exclusively. DEBORAH: But this is also the moment where I think there's a big pivot in how Jews feel about being in Egypt. And so, we start seeing larger waves of emigration, after 1956. So, this is really sort of the peak of the wave of emigration.  MANYA: André's family stayed. They already had endured a series of exiles. His father, an aspiring writer who copied passages by Marcel Proust into his diary, had set that dream aside to open a textile factory, rebuild from nothing what the family had lost elsewhere, and prepare young André to eventually take over the family business. He wasn't about to walk away from the family fortune – again. DEBORAH: André Aciman's story is quite, as I said, the majority of the Jewish community leaves in the aftermath of 1956. And his family stays a lot longer. So, he has incredible insights into what happens over that period, where the community has already significantly diminished. MANYA: Indeed, over the next nine years, the situation worsened. The Egyptian government took his father's factory, monitored their every move, frequently called the house with harassing questions about their whereabouts, or knocked on the door to issue warrants for his father's arrest, only to bring him in for more interrogation. As much as André's father clung to life in Egypt, it was becoming a less viable option with each passing day. ANDRÉ: He knew that the way Egypt was going, there was no room for him, really. And I remember during the last two years, in our last two years in Egypt, there wAs constantly references to the fact that we were going to go, this was not lasting, you know, what are we going to do? Where do we think we should go? And so on and so forth. So, this was a constant sort of conversation we were having. MANYA: Meanwhile, young André encountered a level of antisemitism that scarred him deeply and shaped his perception of how the world perceives Jews. ANDRÉ: It was oppressive in good part because people started throwing stones in the streets. So, there was a sense of ‘Get out of here. We don't want you here.' MANYA: It was in the streets and in the schools, which were undergoing an Arabization after the end of British rule, making Arabic the new lingua franca and antisemitism the norm. ANDRÉ: There's no question that antisemitism was now rooted in place. In my school, where I went, I went to a British school, but it had become Egyptian, although they taught English, predominantly English, but we had to take Arabic classes, in sort of social sciences, in history, and in Arabic as well. And in the Arabic class, which I took for many years, I had to study poems that were fundamentally anti-Jewish. Not just anti-Israeli, which is a big distinction that people like to make, it doesn't stick. I was reading and reciting poems that were against me. And the typical cartoon for a Jew was a man with a beard, big tummy, hook nose, and I knew ‘This is really me, isn't it? OK.' And so you look at yourself with a saber, right, running through it with an Egyptian flag. And I'll never forget this. This was, basically I was told that this is something I had to learn and accept and side with – by the teachers, and by the books themselves.  And the irony of the whole thing is that one of the best tutors we had, was actually the headmaster of the Jewish school. He was Jewish in very sort of—very Orthodox himself. And he was teaching me how to recite those poems that were anti-Jewish. And of course, he had to do it with a straight face. MANYA: One by one, Jewish neighbors lost their livelihoods and unable to overcome the stigma, packed their bags and left. In his memoir, André recalls how prior to each family's departure, the smell of leather lingered in their homes from the dozens of suitcases they had begun to pack. By 1965, the smell of leather began to waft through André's home. ANDRÉ: Eventually, one morning, or one afternoon, I came back from school. And my father said to me, ‘You know, they don't want us here anymore.' Those were exactly the words he used. ‘They don't want us here.' I said, ‘What do you mean?' ‘Well, they've expelled us.'  And I was expelled with my mother and my brother, sooner than my father was. So, we had to leave the country. We realized we were being expelled, maybe in spring, and we left in May. And so, for about a month or so, the house was a mess because there were suitcases everywhere, and people. My mother was packing constantly, constantly. But we knew we were going to go to Italy, we knew we had an uncle in Italy who was going to host us, or at least make life livable for us when we arrived. We had obtained Italian papers, obtained through various means. I mean, whatever. They're not exactly legitimate ways of getting a citizenship, but it was given to my father, and he took it. And we changed our last name from Ajiman, which is how it was pronounced, to Aciman because the Italians saw the C and assumed it was that. My father had some money in Europe already. So that was going to help us survive. But we knew my mother and I and my brother, that we were now sort of functionally poor. MANYA: In hindsight, André now knows the family's expulsion at that time was the best thing that could have happened. Two years later, Israel trounced Egypt in the Six-Day War, nearly destroying the Egyptian Air Force, taking control of the Gaza Strip and the entire Sinai Peninsula, as well as territory from Egypt's allies in the conflict, Syria and Jordan. The few remaining Jews in Egypt were sent to internment camps, including the chief rabbis of Cairo and Alexandria and the family of one of André's schoolmates whose father was badly beaten. After three years in Italy, André's family joined his mother's sister in America, confirming once and for all that their life in Egypt was gone. ANDRÉ: I think there was a kind of declaration of their condition. In other words, they never overcame the fact that they had lost a way of life. And of course, the means to sustain that life was totally taken away, because they were nationalized, and had their property sequestered, everything was taken away from them. So, they were tossed into the wild sea. My mother basically knew how to shut the book on Egypt, she stopped thinking about Egypt, she was an American now. She was very happy to have become a citizen of the United States.  Whereas my father, who basically was the one who had lost more than she had, because he had built his own fortune himself, never overcame it. And so, he led a life of the exile who continues to go to places and to restaurants that are costly, but that he can still manage to afford if he watches himself. So, he never took cabs, he always took the bus. Then he lived a pauper's life, but with good clothing, because he still had all his clothing from his tailor in Egypt. But it was a bit of a production, a performance for him.  MANYA: André's father missed the life he had in Egypt. André longs for the life he could've had there. ANDRÉ: I was going to study in England, I was going to come back to Egypt, I was going to own the factory. This was kind of inscribed in my genes at that point. And of course, you give up that, as I like to say, and I've written about this many times, is that whatever you lose, or whatever never happened, continues to sort of sub-exist somewhere in your mind. In other words, it's something that has been taken away from you, even though it never existed.  MANYA: But like his mother, André moved on. In fact, he says moving on is part of the Jewish experience. Married with sons of his own, he now is a distinguished professor at the Graduate Center of City University of New York, teaching the history of literary theory. He is also one of the foremost experts on Marcel Proust, that French novelist whose passages his father once transcribed in his diaries. André's own novels and anthologies have won awards and inspired Academy Award-winning screenplays. Like Israel opened its doors and welcomed all of those stateless Egyptian Jews, America opened doors for André. Going to college in the Bronx after growing up in Egypt and Italy? That introduced him to being openly Jewish.  ANDRÉ: I went to Lehman College, as an undergraduate, I came to the States in September. I came too late to go to college, but I went to an event at that college in October or November, and already people were telling me they were Jewish.  You know, ‘I'm Jewish, and this and that,' and, and so I felt ‘Oh, God, it's like, you mean people can be natural about their Judaism? And so, I began saying to people, ‘I'm Jewish, too,' or I would no longer feel this sense of hiding my Jewishness, which came when I came to America. Not before. Not in Italy. Not in Egypt certainly. But the experience of being in a place that was fundamentally all Jewish, like being in the Bronx in 1968, was mind opening for me, it was: I can let everything down, I can be Jewish like everybody else. It's no longer a secret. I don't have to pretend that I was a Protestant when I didn't even know what kind of Protestant I was. As a person growing up in an antisemitic environment. You have many guards, guardrails in place, so you know how not to let it out this way, or that way or this other way. You don't speak about matzah. You don't speak about charoset. You don't speak about anything, so as to prevent yourself from giving out that you're Jewish. MANYA: Though the doors had been flung open and it felt much safer to be openly Jewish, André to this day cannot forget the antisemitism that poisoned his formative years. ANDRÉ: I assume that everybody's antisemitic at some point. It is very difficult to meet someone who is not Jewish, who, after they've had many drinks, will not turn out to be slightly more antisemitic than you expected. It is there. It's culturally dominant. And so, you have to live with this. As my grandmother used to say, I'm just giving this person time until I discover how antisemitic they are. It was always a question of time. MANYA: His family's various displacements and scattered roots in Spain, Turkey, Egypt, Italy, and now America, have led him to question his identity and what he calls home. ANDRÉ: I live with this sense of: I don't know where I belong. I don't know who I am. I don't know any of those things. What's my flag? I have no idea. Where's my home? I don't know. I live in New York. I've lived in New York for 50 years. Is it my home? Not really. But Egypt was never going to be my home. MANYA: André knew when he was leaving Egypt that he would one day write a book about the experience. He knew he should take notes, but never did. And like his father, he started a diary, but it was lost. He started another in 1969.  After completing his dissertation, he began to write book reviews for Commentary, a monthly American magazine on religion, Judaism and politics founded and published, at the time, by American Jewish Committee.  The editor suggested André write something personal, and that was the beginning of Out of Egypt. In fact, three chapters of his memoir, including The Last Seder, appeared in Commentary before it was published as a book in 1994.  André returned to Egypt shortly after its release. But he has not been back since, even though his sons want to accompany him on a trip. ANDRÉ: They want to go back, because they want to go back with me. Question is, I don't want to put them in danger. You never know. You never know how people will react to . . . I mean, I'll go back as a writer who wrote about Egypt and was Jewish. And who knows what awaits me? Whether it will be friendly, will it be icy and chilly. Or will it be hostile? I don't know. And I don't want to put myself there. In other words, the view of the Jews has changed. It went to friendly, to enemy, to friendly, enemy, enemy, friendly, and so on, so forth. In other words, it is a fundamentally unreliable situation.  MANYA: He also doesn't see the point. It's impossible to recapture the past. The pictures he sees don't look familiar and the people he used to know with affection have died. But he doesn't want the past to be forgotten. None of it. He wants the world to remember the vibrant Jewish life that existed in Cairo and Alexandria, as well as the vile hatred that drove all but a handful of Jews out of Egypt. Cornell Professor Deborah Starr says for the first time in many years, young Egyptians are asking tough questions about the Arabization of Egyptian society and how that affected Egyptian Jews. Perhaps, Israel and Zionism did not siphon Jewish communities from the Arab world as the story often goes. Perhaps instead, Israel offered a critical refuge for a persecuted community. DEBORAH: I think it's really important to tell the stories of Mizrahi Jews. I think that, particularly here we are speaking in English to an American audience, where the majority of Jews in North America are Ashkenazi, we have our own identity, we have our own stories. But there are also other stories that are really interesting to tell, and are part of the history of Jews in the 20th and 21st centuries. They're part of the Jewish experience. And so that's some of what has always motivated me in my research, and looking at the stories of coexistence among Jews and their neighbors in Egypt. MANYA: Professor Starr says the rise of Islamist forces like the Muslim Brotherhood has led Egyptians to harken back toward this period of tolerance and coexistence, evoking a sense of nostalgia. DEBORAH: The people are no longer living together. But it's worth remembering that past, it's worth reflecting on it in an honest way, and not, to look at the nostalgia and say: oh, look, these people are nostalgic about it, what is it that they're nostalgic for? What are some of the motivations for that nostalgia? How are they characterizing this experience? But also to look kind of critically on the past and understand, where things were working where things weren't and, and to tell the story in an honest way. MANYA: Though the communities are gone, there has been an effort to restore the evidence of Jewish life. Under Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi, Egypt's president since 2014, there have been initiatives to restore and protect synagogues and cemeteries, including Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue in Alexandria, Maimonides' original yeshiva in old Cairo, and Cairo's vast Jewish cemetery at Bassatine. But André is unmoved by this gesture. ANDRÉ: In fact, I got a call from the Egyptian ambassador to my house here, saying, ‘We're fixing the temples and the synagogues, and we want you back.' ‘Oh, that's very nice. First of all,' I told him, ‘fixing the synagogues doesn't do anything for me because I'm not a religious Jew. And second of all, I would be more than willing to come back to Egypt, when you give me my money back.' He never called me again. MANYA: Anytime the conversation about reparations comes up, it is overshadowed by the demand for reparations for Palestinians displaced by the creation of Israel, even though their leaders have rejected all offers for a Palestinian state. André wishes the Arab countries that have attacked Israel time and again would invest that money in the welfare of Palestinian refugees, help them start new lives, and to thrive instead of using them as pawns in a futile battle.  He will always be grateful to HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, for helping his family escape, resettle, and rebuild their lives. ANDRÉ: We've made new lives for ourselves. We've moved on, and I think this is what Jews do all the time, all the time. They arrive or they're displaced, kicked out, they refashion themselves. Anytime I can help a Jew I will. Because they've helped me, because it's the right thing to do for a Jew. If a Jew does not help another Jew, what kind of a Jew are you? I mean, you could be a nonreligious Jew as I am, but I am still Jewish.  And I realize that we are a people that has historically suffered a great deal, because we were oppressed forever, and we might be oppressed again. Who knows, ok? But we help each other, and I don't want to break that chain. MANYA: Egyptian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations. Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to André for sharing his story. You can read more in his memoir Out of Egypt and eventually in the sequel which he's working on now about his family's life in Italy after they left Egypt and before they came to America.  Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they had never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions alive and memories alive as well. Call 212.891-1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

In the first half of the 20th century, Egypt went through profound social and political upheavals culminating in the rise of President Gamal Abdel Nasser and his campaign of Arabization, creating an oppressive atmosphere for the country's Jews, and leading almost all to flee or be kicked out of the country. Hear the personal story of award-winning author André Aciman as he recounts the heart-wrenching details of the pervasive antisemitism during his childhood in Alexandria and his family's expulsion in 1965, which he wrote about in his memoir Out of Egypt, and also inspired his novel Call Me by Your Name.  Joining Aciman is Deborah Starr, a professor of Near Eastern and Jewish Studies at Cornell University, who chronicles the history of Egypt's Jewish community that dates back millennia, and the events that led to their erasure from Egypt's collective memory. Aciman's modern-day Jewish exodus story is one that touches on identity, belonging, and nationality: Where is your home when you become a refugee at age 14? ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Rampi Rampi, Aksaray'in Taslari, Bir Demet Yasemen by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. “Middle Eastern Arabic Oud”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989 ___ Episode Transcript: ANDRÉ ACIMAN: I've lived in New York for 50 years. Is it my home? Not really. But Egypt was never going to be my home. It had become oppressive to be Jewish. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience.  This is The Forgotten Exodus. Today's episode: leaving Egypt. Author André Aciman can't stand Passover Seders. They are long and tedious. Everyone gets hungry long before it's time to eat. It's also an unwelcome reminder of when André was 14 and his family was forced to leave Egypt – the only home he had ever known. On their last night there, he recounts his family gathered for one last Seder in his birthplace. ANDRÉ: By the time I was saying goodbye, the country, Egypt, had essentially become sort of Judenrein.  MANYA:  Judenrein is the term of Nazi origin meaning “free of Jews”. Most, if not all of the Jews, had already left. ANDRÉ: By the time we were kicked out, we were kicked out literally from Egypt, my parents had already had a life in Egypt. My mother was born in Egypt, she had been wealthy. My father became wealthy. And of course, they had a way of living life that they knew they were abandoning. They had no idea what was awaiting them. They knew it was going to be different, but they had no sense. I, for one, being younger, I just couldn't wait to leave. Because it had become oppressive to be Jewish. As far as I was concerned, it was goodbye. Thank you very much. I'm going. MANYA: André Aciman is best known as the author whose novel inspired the Oscar-winning film Call Me By Your Name – which is as much a tale of coming to terms with being Jewish and a minority, as it is an exquisite coming of age love story set in a villa on the Italian Riviera.  What readers and moviegoers didn't know is that the Italian villa is just a stand-in. The story's setting– its distant surf, serpentine architecture, and lush gardens where Elio and Oliver's romance blooms and Elio's spiritual awakening unfolds – is an ode to André's lost home, the coastal Egyptian city of Alexandria.  There, three generations of his Sephardic family had rebuilt the lives they left behind elsewhere as the Ottoman Empire crumbled, two world wars unfolded, a Jewish homeland was born, and nationalistic fervor swept across the Arab world and North Africa. There, in Alexandria, his family had enjoyed a cosmopolitan city and vibrant Jewish home. Until they couldn't and had to leave.  ANDRÉ: I would be lying if I said that I didn't project many things lost into my novels. In other words, to be able to re-experience the beach, I created a beach house. And that beach house has become, as you know, quite famous around the world. But it was really a portrait of the beach house that we had lost in Egypt.  And many things like that, I pilfer from my imagined past and dump into my books. And people always tell me, ‘God, you captured Italy so well.' Actually, that was not Italy, I hate to tell you. It was my reimagined or reinvented Egypt transposed into Italy and made to come alive again. MANYA: Before he penned Call Me By Your Name, André wrote his first book, Out of Egypt, a touching memoir about his family's picturesque life in Alexandria, the underlying anxiety that it could always vanish and how, under the nationalization effort led by Egypt's President Gamel Abdel Nassar, it did vanish. The memoir ends with the events surrounding the family's last Passover Seder before they say farewell.   ANDRÉ: This was part of the program of President Nasser, which was to take, particularly Alexandria, and turn it into an Egyptian city, sort of, purified of all European influences. And it worked.  As, by the way, and this is the biggest tragedy that happens to, particularly to Jews, is when a culture decides to expunge its Jews or to remove them in one way or another, it succeeds. It does succeed. You have a sense that it is possible for a culture to remove an entire population. And this is part of the Jewish experience to accept that this happens. MANYA: Egypt did not just expunge its Jewish community. It managed to erase Jews from the nation's collective memory. Only recently have people begun to rediscover the centuries of rich Jewish history in Egypt, including native Egyptian Jews dating back millennia. In addition, Egypt became a destination for Jews expelled from Spain in the 15th Century. And after the Suez Canal opened in 1869, a wave of more Jews came from the Ottoman Empire, Italy, and Greece. And at the end of the 19th Century, Ashkenazi Jews arrived, fleeing from European pogroms. DEBORAH STARR: The Jewish community in Egypt was very diverse. The longest standing community in Egypt would have been Arabic speaking Jews, we would say now Mizrahi Jews. MANYA: That's Deborah Starr, Professor of Modern Arabic and Hebrew Literature and Film at Cornell University. Her studies of cosmopolitan Egypt through a lens of literature and cinema have given her a unique window into how Jews arrived and left Egypt and how that history has been portrayed. She says Jews had a long history in Egypt through the Islamic period and a small population remained in the 19th century. Then a wave of immigration came. DEBORAH: We have an economic boom in Egypt. Jews start coming from around the Ottoman Empire, from around the Mediterranean, emigrating to Egypt from across North Africa. And so, from around 5,000 Jews in the middle of the 19th century, by the middle of the 20th century, at its peak, the Egyptian Jews numbered somewhere between 75 and 80,000. So, it was a significant increase, and you know, much more so than just the birth rate would explain. MANYA: André's family was part of that wave, having endured a series of exiles from Spain, Italy, and Turkey, before reaching Egypt. DEBORAH: Egypt has its independence movement, the 1919 revolution, which is characterized by this discourse of coexistence, that ‘we're all in this together.' There are images of Muslims and Christians marching together.  Jews were also supportive of this movement. There's this real sense of a plurality, of a pluralist society in Egypt, that's really evident in the ways that this movement is characterized. The interwar period is really this very vibrant time in Egyptian culture, but also this time of significant transition in its relationship to the British in the various movements, political movements that emerge in this period, and movements that will have a huge impact on the fate of the Jews of Egypt in the coming decades. MANYA: One of those movements was Zionism, the movement to establish a Jewish state in the biblical homeland of the Jews. In 1917, during the First World War, the British government occupying Egypt at the time, issued a public statement of support for the establishment of a "national home for the Jewish people" in Palestine, still an Ottoman region with a small minority Jewish population. That statement became known as the Balfour Declaration. DEBORAH: There was certainly evidence of a certain excitement about the Balfour Declaration of 1917. A certain amount of general support for the idea that Jews are going to live there, but not a whole lot of movement themselves. But we also have these really interesting examples of people who were on the record as supporting, of seeing themselves as Egyptians, as part of the anti-colonial Egyptian nationalism, who also gave financial support to the Jewish project in Palestine. And so, so there wasn't this sense of—you can't be one or the other. There wasn't this radical split. MANYA: Another movement unfolding simultaneously was the impulse to reclaim Egypt's independence, not just in legal terms – Egypt had technically gained independence from the British in 1922 – but suddenly what it meant to be Egyptian was defined against this foreign colonial power that had imposed its will on Egypt for years and still maintained a significant presence. DEBORAH: We also see moves within Egypt, toward the ‘Egyptianization' of companies or laws that start saying, we want to, we want to give priority to our citizens, because the economy had been so dominated by either foreigners or people who were local but had foreign nationality. And this begins to disproportionately affect the Jews.  Because so many of the Jews, you know, had been immigrants a generation or two earlier, some of them had either achieved protected status or, you know, arrived with papers from, from one or another of these European powers. MANYA: In 1929, Egypt adopted its first law giving citizenship to its residents. But it was not universally applied. By this time, the conflict in Palestine and the rise of Zionism had shifted how the Egyptian establishment viewed Jews.   DEBORAH: Particularly the Jews who had lived there for a really long time, some of whom were among the lower classes, who didn't travel to Europe every summer and didn't need papers to prove their citizenship, by the time they started seeing that it was worthwhile for them to get citizenship, it was harder for Jews to be approved. So, by the end, we do have a pretty substantial number of Jews who end up stateless. MANYA: Stateless. But not for long. In 1948, the Jewish state declared independence. In response, King Farouk of Egypt joined four other Arab nations in declaring war on the newly formed nation. And they lost.  The Arab nations' stunning defeat in that first Arab-Israeli War sparked a clandestine movement to overthrow the Egyptian monarchy, which was still seen as being in the pocket of the British. One of the orchestrators of that plot, known as the Free Officers Movement, was Col. Gamel Abdel Nassar. In 1952, a coup sent King Farouk on his way to Italy and Nassar eventually emerged as president. The official position of the Nassar regime was one of tolerance for the Jews. But that didn't always seem to be the case. DEBORAH: Between 1948 and ‘52, you do have a notable number of Jews who leave Egypt at this point who see the writing on the wall. Maybe they don't have very deep roots in Egypt, they've only been there for one or two generations, they have another nationality, they have someplace to go. About a third of the Jews who leave Egypt in the middle of the 20th century go to Europe, France, particularly. To a certain extent Italy. About a third go to the Americas, and about a third go to Israel. And among those who go to Israel, it's largely those who end up stateless. They have no place else to go because of those nationality laws that I mentioned earlier, have no choice but to go to Israel. MANYA: Those who stayed became especially vulnerable to the Nassar regime's sequestration of businesses. Then in 1956, Egypt nationalized the Suez Canal, a 120-mile-long waterway that connected the Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean by way of the Red Sea – that same waterway that created opportunities for migration in the region a century earlier. DEBORAH: The real watershed moment is the 1956 Suez conflict. Israel, in collaboration with France, and Great Britain attacks Egypt, the conflict breaks out, you know, the French and the British come into the war on the side of the Israelis. And each of the powers has their own reasons for wanting, I mean, Nasser's threatening Israeli shipping, and, threatening the security of Israel, the French and the British, again, have their own reasons for trying to either take back the canal, or, just at least bring Nassar down a peg. MANYA: At war with France and Britain, Egypt targeted and expelled anyone with French and British nationality, including many Jews, but not exclusively. DEBORAH: But this is also the moment where I think there's a big pivot in how Jews feel about being in Egypt. And so, we start seeing larger waves of emigration, after 1956. So, this is really sort of the peak of the wave of emigration.  MANYA: André's family stayed. They already had endured a series of exiles. His father, an aspiring writer who copied passages by Marcel Proust into his diary, had set that dream aside to open a textile factory, rebuild from nothing what the family had lost elsewhere, and prepare young André to eventually take over the family business. He wasn't about to walk away from the family fortune – again. DEBORAH: André Aciman's story is quite, as I said, the majority of the Jewish community leaves in the aftermath of 1956. And his family stays a lot longer. So, he has incredible insights into what happens over that period, where the community has already significantly diminished. MANYA: Indeed, over the next nine years, the situation worsened. The Egyptian government took his father's factory, monitored their every move, frequently called the house with harassing questions about their whereabouts, or knocked on the door to issue warrants for his father's arrest, only to bring him in for more interrogation. As much as André's father clung to life in Egypt, it was becoming a less viable option with each passing day. ANDRÉ: He knew that the way Egypt was going, there was no room for him, really. And I remember during the last two years, in our last two years in Egypt, there wAs constantly references to the fact that we were going to go, this was not lasting, you know, what are we going to do? Where do we think we should go? And so on and so forth. So, this was a constant sort of conversation we were having. MANYA: Meanwhile, young André encountered a level of antisemitism that scarred him deeply and shaped his perception of how the world perceives Jews. ANDRÉ: It was oppressive in good part because people started throwing stones in the streets. So, there was a sense of ‘Get out of here. We don't want you here.' MANYA: It was in the streets and in the schools, which were undergoing an Arabization after the end of British rule, making Arabic the new lingua franca and antisemitism the norm. ANDRÉ: There's no question that antisemitism was now rooted in place. In my school, where I went, I went to a British school, but it had become Egyptian, although they taught English, predominantly English, but we had to take Arabic classes, in sort of social sciences, in history, and in Arabic as well. And in the Arabic class, which I took for many years, I had to study poems that were fundamentally anti-Jewish. Not just anti-Israeli, which is a big distinction that people like to make, it doesn't stick. I was reading and reciting poems that were against me. And the typical cartoon for a Jew was a man with a beard, big tummy, hook nose, and I knew ‘This is really me, isn't it? OK.' And so you look at yourself with a saber, right, running through it with an Egyptian flag. And I'll never forget this. This was, basically I was told that this is something I had to learn and accept and side with – by the teachers, and by the books themselves.  And the irony of the whole thing is that one of the best tutors we had, was actually the headmaster of the Jewish school. He was Jewish in very sort of—very Orthodox himself. And he was teaching me how to recite those poems that were anti-Jewish. And of course, he had to do it with a straight face. MANYA: One by one, Jewish neighbors lost their livelihoods and unable to overcome the stigma, packed their bags and left. In his memoir, André recalls how prior to each family's departure, the smell of leather lingered in their homes from the dozens of suitcases they had begun to pack. By 1965, the smell of leather began to waft through André's home. ANDRÉ: Eventually, one morning, or one afternoon, I came back from school. And my father said to me, ‘You know, they don't want us here anymore.' Those were exactly the words he used. ‘They don't want us here.' I said, ‘What do you mean?' ‘Well, they've expelled us.'  And I was expelled with my mother and my brother, sooner than my father was. So, we had to leave the country. We realized we were being expelled, maybe in spring, and we left in May. And so, for about a month or so, the house was a mess because there were suitcases everywhere, and people. My mother was packing constantly, constantly. But we knew we were going to go to Italy, we knew we had an uncle in Italy who was going to host us, or at least make life livable for us when we arrived. We had obtained Italian papers, obtained through various means. I mean, whatever. They're not exactly legitimate ways of getting a citizenship, but it was given to my father, and he took it. And we changed our last name from Ajiman, which is how it was pronounced, to Aciman because the Italians saw the C and assumed it was that. My father had some money in Europe already. So that was going to help us survive. But we knew my mother and I and my brother, that we were now sort of functionally poor. MANYA: In hindsight, André now knows the family's expulsion at that time was the best thing that could have happened. Two years later, Israel trounced Egypt in the Six-Day War, nearly destroying the Egyptian Air Force, taking control of the Gaza Strip and the entire Sinai Peninsula, as well as territory from Egypt's allies in the conflict, Syria and Jordan. The few remaining Jews in Egypt were sent to internment camps, including the chief rabbis of Cairo and Alexandria and the family of one of André's schoolmates whose father was badly beaten. After three years in Italy, André's family joined his mother's sister in America, confirming once and for all that their life in Egypt was gone. ANDRÉ: I think there was a kind of declaration of their condition. In other words, they never overcame the fact that they had lost a way of life. And of course, the means to sustain that life was totally taken away, because they were nationalized, and had their property sequestered, everything was taken away from them. So, they were tossed into the wild sea. My mother basically knew how to shut the book on Egypt, she stopped thinking about Egypt, she was an American now. She was very happy to have become a citizen of the United States.  Whereas my father, who basically was the one who had lost more than she had, because he had built his own fortune himself, never overcame it. And so, he led a life of the exile who continues to go to places and to restaurants that are costly, but that he can still manage to afford if he watches himself. So, he never took cabs, he always took the bus. Then he lived a pauper's life, but with good clothing, because he still had all his clothing from his tailor in Egypt. But it was a bit of a production, a performance for him.  MANYA: André's father missed the life he had in Egypt. André longs for the life he could've had there. ANDRÉ: I was going to study in England, I was going to come back to Egypt, I was going to own the factory. This was kind of inscribed in my genes at that point. And of course, you give up that, as I like to say, and I've written about this many times, is that whatever you lose, or whatever never happened, continues to sort of sub-exist somewhere in your mind. In other words, it's something that has been taken away from you, even though it never existed.  MANYA: But like his mother, André moved on. In fact, he says moving on is part of the Jewish experience. Married with sons of his own, he now is a distinguished professor at the Graduate Center of City University of New York, teaching the history of literary theory. He is also one of the foremost experts on Marcel Proust, that French novelist whose passages his father once transcribed in his diaries. André's own novels and anthologies have won awards and inspired Academy Award-winning screenplays. Like Israel opened its doors and welcomed all of those stateless Egyptian Jews, America opened doors for André. Going to college in the Bronx after growing up in Egypt and Italy? That introduced him to being openly Jewish.  ANDRÉ: I went to Lehman College, as an undergraduate, I came to the States in September. I came too late to go to college, but I went to an event at that college in October or November, and already people were telling me they were Jewish.  You know, ‘I'm Jewish, and this and that,' and, and so I felt ‘Oh, God, it's like, you mean people can be natural about their Judaism? And so, I began saying to people, ‘I'm Jewish, too,' or I would no longer feel this sense of hiding my Jewishness, which came when I came to America. Not before. Not in Italy. Not in Egypt certainly. But the experience of being in a place that was fundamentally all Jewish, like being in the Bronx in 1968, was mind opening for me, it was: I can let everything down, I can be Jewish like everybody else. It's no longer a secret. I don't have to pretend that I was a Protestant when I didn't even know what kind of Protestant I was. As a person growing up in an antisemitic environment. You have many guards, guardrails in place, so you know how not to let it out this way, or that way or this other way. You don't speak about matzah. You don't speak about charoset. You don't speak about anything, so as to prevent yourself from giving out that you're Jewish. MANYA: Though the doors had been flung open and it felt much safer to be openly Jewish, André to this day cannot forget the antisemitism that poisoned his formative years. ANDRÉ: I assume that everybody's antisemitic at some point. It is very difficult to meet someone who is not Jewish, who, after they've had many drinks, will not turn out to be slightly more antisemitic than you expected. It is there. It's culturally dominant. And so, you have to live with this. As my grandmother used to say, I'm just giving this person time until I discover how antisemitic they are. It was always a question of time. MANYA: His family's various displacements and scattered roots in Spain, Turkey, Egypt, Italy, and now America, have led him to question his identity and what he calls home. ANDRÉ: I live with this sense of: I don't know where I belong. I don't know who I am. I don't know any of those things. What's my flag? I have no idea. Where's my home? I don't know. I live in New York. I've lived in New York for 50 years. Is it my home? Not really. But Egypt was never going to be my home. MANYA: André knew when he was leaving Egypt that he would one day write a book about the experience. He knew he should take notes, but never did. And like his father, he started a diary, but it was lost. He started another in 1969.  After completing his dissertation, he began to write book reviews for Commentary, a monthly American magazine on religion, Judaism and politics founded and published, at the time, by American Jewish Committee.  The editor suggested André write something personal, and that was the beginning of Out of Egypt. In fact, three chapters of his memoir, including The Last Seder, appeared in Commentary before it was published as a book in 1994.  André returned to Egypt shortly after its release. But he has not been back since, even though his sons want to accompany him on a trip. ANDRÉ: They want to go back, because they want to go back with me. Question is, I don't want to put them in danger. You never know. You never know how people will react to . . . I mean, I'll go back as a writer who wrote about Egypt and was Jewish. And who knows what awaits me? Whether it will be friendly, will it be icy and chilly. Or will it be hostile? I don't know. And I don't want to put myself there. In other words, the view of the Jews has changed. It went to friendly, to enemy, to friendly, enemy, enemy, friendly, and so on, so forth. In other words, it is a fundamentally unreliable situation.  MANYA: He also doesn't see the point. It's impossible to recapture the past. The pictures he sees don't look familiar and the people he used to know with affection have died. But he doesn't want the past to be forgotten. None of it. He wants the world to remember the vibrant Jewish life that existed in Cairo and Alexandria, as well as the vile hatred that drove all but a handful of Jews out of Egypt. Cornell Professor Deborah Starr says for the first time in many years, young Egyptians are asking tough questions about the Arabization of Egyptian society and how that affected Egyptian Jews. Perhaps, Israel and Zionism did not siphon Jewish communities from the Arab world as the story often goes. Perhaps instead, Israel offered a critical refuge for a persecuted community. DEBORAH: I think it's really important to tell the stories of Mizrahi Jews. I think that, particularly here we are speaking in English to an American audience, where the majority of Jews in North America are Ashkenazi, we have our own identity, we have our own stories. But there are also other stories that are really interesting to tell, and are part of the history of Jews in the 20th and 21st centuries. They're part of the Jewish experience. And so that's some of what has always motivated me in my research, and looking at the stories of coexistence among Jews and their neighbors in Egypt. MANYA: Professor Starr says the rise of Islamist forces like the Muslim Brotherhood has led Egyptians to harken back toward this period of tolerance and coexistence, evoking a sense of nostalgia. DEBORAH: The people are no longer living together. But it's worth remembering that past, it's worth reflecting on it in an honest way, and not, to look at the nostalgia and say: oh, look, these people are nostalgic about it, what is it that they're nostalgic for? What are some of the motivations for that nostalgia? How are they characterizing this experience? But also to look kind of critically on the past and understand, where things were working where things weren't and, and to tell the story in an honest way. MANYA: Though the communities are gone, there has been an effort to restore the evidence of Jewish life. Under Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi, Egypt's president since 2014, there have been initiatives to restore and protect synagogues and cemeteries, including Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue in Alexandria, Maimonides' original yeshiva in old Cairo, and Cairo's vast Jewish cemetery at Bassatine. But André is unmoved by this gesture. ANDRÉ: In fact, I got a call from the Egyptian ambassador to my house here, saying, ‘We're fixing the temples and the synagogues, and we want you back.' ‘Oh, that's very nice. First of all,' I told him, ‘fixing the synagogues doesn't do anything for me because I'm not a religious Jew. And second of all, I would be more than willing to come back to Egypt, when you give me my money back.' He never called me again. MANYA: Anytime the conversation about reparations comes up, it is overshadowed by the demand for reparations for Palestinians displaced by the creation of Israel, even though their leaders have rejected all offers for a Palestinian state. André wishes the Arab countries that have attacked Israel time and again would invest that money in the welfare of Palestinian refugees, help them start new lives, and to thrive instead of using them as pawns in a futile battle.  He will always be grateful to HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, for helping his family escape, resettle, and rebuild their lives. ANDRÉ: We've made new lives for ourselves. We've moved on, and I think this is what Jews do all the time, all the time. They arrive or they're displaced, kicked out, they refashion themselves. Anytime I can help a Jew I will. Because they've helped me, because it's the right thing to do for a Jew. If a Jew does not help another Jew, what kind of a Jew are you? I mean, you could be a nonreligious Jew as I am, but I am still Jewish.  And I realize that we are a people that has historically suffered a great deal, because we were oppressed forever, and we might be oppressed again. Who knows, ok? But we help each other, and I don't want to break that chain. MANYA: Egyptian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations. Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to André for sharing his story. You can read more in his memoir Out of Egypt and eventually in the sequel which he's working on now about his family's life in Italy after they left Egypt and before they came to America.  Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they had never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions alive and memories alive as well. Call 212.891-1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

Jewish Diaspora Report - Episode 28On this episode of the Jewish Diaspora Report, Host Mike Jordan discusses how the creation and existence of the modern state of Israel caused the Middle-East refugee crisis. Where these refugee camps are located and who is responsible for the poor treatment of the refugees. We will also look into why these camps still exist today and who is funding them.Explore these challenging issues and join the Jewish Diaspora Report for future episodes on issues of Politics, Culture, Current Events and more! Check us out on Instagram @jdr.podcast

"If you are able to cook the food you grew up with, you can recreate home wherever you go. " -Annabel Rabiyah In the final installment of our series on A Fence Around The Torah we're joined by two artists who were part of a four-person group multimedia installation for the exhibit titled “I mean…how do you define safety?” Annabel Rabiyah and Arielle Tonkin discuss Jewish Iraqi food, recipes as family heirlooms, assimilation, the roles of food and ritual objects in pushing back against cultural erasure for Mizrahi Jews and more. Here's what the artists behind "I mean...how do you define safety" said about the installation in their artist statement.   “I mean…how do you define safety?” is a multimedia exhibit of oral history, visual art, and nourishment. It explores what “safety” means for Jews from Arab lands, who after hundreds to thousands of years of relative safety in the region, were torn from their homes, customs, languages, and ancestral roots upon the establishment of the state of Israel. This piece explores the questions, longing, and desires of the women who are descendants of those who left. Although much was lost, stolen, and erased – remnants of our food, language, and other anchors connect us to our ancestors.”   Annabel Rabiyah (she/they) is an urban farmer, chef, and cofounder of Awafi Kitchen, an Iraqi Jewish cultural food initiative based in Boston. Through sharing recipes and making meals, Awafi pays tribute to a lesser-known culinary heritage. In addition to their social media presence, Awafi Kitchen hosts pop-up restaurant events, virtual cooking demos and presentations on Iraqi-Jewish history. Awafi Kitchen is a platform centered on building community between members of the Iraqi diaspora, Jews with lesser-known histories, and anyone interested in the history and stories behind food. Arielle Tonkin (they/she) is a queer mixed ashkesephardimizrahi artist living on Ohlone land in the so-called San Francisco Bay Area. Arielle works to dismantle white supremacy through art practice, arts and culture organizing, and Jewish and interfaith education work. The Muslim-Jewish Arts Fellowship, Arts Jam for Social Change, Tzedek Lab, SVARA, and Atiq: Jewish Maker Institute are among their networks of accountability, collective power, creative collaboration and care.

“I identify as an Arab Jew,” Hadar Cohen recently wrote in +972 Magazine. “My family has lived in Jerusalem for over 10 generations, and my other ancestral cities include Aleppo in Syria, Baghdad in Iraq, and Shiraz in Iran, along with a small village in Kurdistan.” And yet, the Zionist project has no place for Mizrahi Jews like Cohen. “There is no space for Arabness in Zionism. I need to repress, erase, and hide my Arab lifestyle and assimilate into European notions of Jewishness.”In the first segment of this week's Marc Steiner Show, we bring you the latest installment of our ongoing series “Not in Our Name,” which highlights the diverse voices of Jewish activists, artists,intellectuals, and others who are speaking out against the Israeli occupation. In this installment, Marc talks with Cohen about living as an Arab Jew in Israel's “racial caste system,” and about the crisis ofspirituality underpinning Israel's militarist occupation. Hadar Cohen is a Mizrahi feminist multi-media artist, Jewish mystic, healer, and educator. She is the founder of Feminism All Night, a project that designs communal immersive learning experiences about feminism and spirituality.

“I identify as an Arab Jew,” Hadar Cohen recently wrote in +972 Magazine. “My family has lived in Jerusalem for over 10 generations, and my other ancestral cities include Aleppo in Syria, Baghdad in Iraq, and Shiraz in Iran, along with a small village in Kurdistan.” And yet, the Zionist project has no place for Mizrahi Jews like Cohen. “There is no space for Arabness in Zionism. I need to repress, erase, and hide my Arab lifestyle and assimilate into European notions of Jewishness.”In the first segment of this week's Marc Steiner Show, we bring you the latest installment of our ongoing series “Not in Our Name,” which highlights the diverse voices of Jewish activists, artists, intellectuals, and others who are speaking out against the Israeli occupation. In this installment, Marc talks with Cohen about living as an Arab Jew in Israel's “racial caste system,” and about the crisis ofspirituality underpinning Israel's militarist occupation. Hadar Cohen is a Mizrahi feminist multi-media artist, Jewish mystic, healer, and educator. She is the founder of Feminism All Night, a project that designs communal immersive learning experiences about feminism and spirituality.

Ruben Shimonov and I discuss the multiple layers of his identity, the ways in which they influence his work in the sphere of non-profit organizations and community outreach, and the movement of the Sephardic and Mizrahi Q Network (SMQN). It is my absolute pleasure to spread awareness about this much-needed beautiful organization that fills the often overlooked gap in representation of the queer experience within the Bukharian community. I'm honored to be able to provide a platform for Ruben to share his story and his continued dedication to creating a more inclusive world for Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews. If you or a loved one is seeking a safe space to explore and discuss the multidimensional experiences of being LGBTQ+ and Bukharian (or other Sephardic & Mizrahi identities), please do not hesitate to reach out to the SMQN community. www.smqn.org You can contact them through their website, or reach out to them via social media: on Facebook or on Instagram, @smqnetwork. They host numerous events for LGBTQ+ members of the Sephardic and Mizrahi world, and welcome anyone who wants to share in lifting up and celebrating the rich experiences of queer Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews. Over the past 4 years they have engaged with a community of nearly 800 members and would love nothing more than to continue broadening their reach.

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/israel-studies

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/jewish-studies

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/performing-arts

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/middle-eastern-studies

Naphtaly Shem-Tov's book Israeli Theatre: Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation (Routledge, 2021) introduces readers to the stagecraft produced by Mizrahi (Middle Eastern Jewish) directors and artists. Describing the work of Yemenite, Iraqi, Moroccan and other minorities whose trauma was represented on Israeli stages, dramaturgy known to local Israeli audiences is made known to readers through this monograph. This book draws on the theoretical insights Israeli directors who theorized their philosophies of community-based theatre, while drawing on the work of W.E.B. DuBois, Frantz Fanon and African-American theorists of aesthetic self-representation. This book will appeal to readers in Israel Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, Jewish Studies, Aesthetics and Performing Arts. Ari Barbalat holds a PhD in International Relations from the University of California in Los Angeles. He lives in Toronto with his family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Israel began as a socialist nation. Dr. Rabbi Daniel Gordis explores Israel's socialism including the kibbutz, utilities and medicine. Dr. Gordis also discusses the status of Israeli Arabs and the military authority over Israeli Arabs between 1948-1966 as well as the status of Mizrahi Jews and intellectual life of the country during its early years.

00:00 When your latino immigrant driver listens to Alex Jones 02:00 African immigrant surge into Mexico heading north, https://www.unz.com/isteve/and-so-it-begins-5/ 03:00 How Private Money From Facebook's CEO Saved The 2020 Election, https://www.npr.org/2020/12/08/943242106/how-private-money-from-facebooks-ceo-saved-the-2020-election 08:00 Covid origins 10:00 Wet markets smeared 11:00 Remember when the media said we can't trust the vaccines developed by Trump? 10:50 How Zuckerberg Millions Paid for Progressives to Work With 2020 Vote Officials Nationwide, https://www.realclearinvestigations.com/articles/2021/05/26/how_zuckerberg_millions_paid_for_progressives_to_work_with_2020_vote_officials_nationwide_778300.html 38:20 Micro Sociological Ingredients of Charismatic Leadership, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuxdvRcMVlM 43:00 "Fact-Checking" Takes Another Beating, https://taibbi.substack.com/p/fact-checking-takes-another-beating 50:00 United Facts of America Day 2: Dr. Fauci talks about misinformation, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1xBa4-KX0U 1:16:00 Randall Collins | Contemporary Sociological Theory Today, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGrzIMpYJx4 1:20:00 How the Liberal Media Dismissed the Lab-Leak Theory and Smeared Its Supporters, https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2021/05/lab-leak-liberal-media-theory-china-wuhan-lab-cotton-trump.html 1:30:00 ASSAULT ON THE CAPITOL: 2021, 1917, 1792, http://sociological-eye.blogspot.com/2021/01/assault-on-capitol-2021-1917-1792.html 1:40:00 Mizrahi Jews, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mizrahi_Jews 1:41:00 Russian Jews, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_Jews_in_Russia 1:52:30 Jan. 5, 2021: FBI & FAA are looking into a breach of air traffic control frequencies, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lf54af_ZTUc 2:18:15 TWITCH CAMEL TOES, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OB6LmhCn32A 2:22:00 Interaction Ritual Chains, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=139572 2:37:30 Monogamy & Marriage After 10 Years (Analysis), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X27tQGy-zk8 2:43:00 KMG on trans regrets, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9v9BRRdMw4I 2:45:00 JF Gariepy talks to Mama JF about escaping civilization, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kXC8s720ic 2:48:00 Brion McClanahan: Ep. 449: All Your Base Are Belong To Us, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0U6-h_IkCvU 2:51:40 Tucker Carlson says Biden has developed a mild curiosity about the origins of Covid 3:10:00 By Way Of Deception by Victor Ostrovsky, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=68514 3:12:00 Nick Fuentes on encouraging women to have babies, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqqL_M6ZJH4 3:14:00 Nick Fuentes on women in politics 3:17:40 What do you like about being white? https://vdare.com/posts/what-do-you-like-about-being-white Join this channel to get access to perks: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSFVD7Xfhn7sJY8LAIQmH8Q/join https://odysee.com/@LukeFordLive, https://lbry.tv/@LukeFord, https://rumble.com/lukeford https://dlive.tv/lukefordlivestreams Listener Call In #: 1-310-997-4596 Superchat: https://entropystream.live/app/lukefordlive Bitchute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/lukeford/ Soundcloud MP3s: https://soundcloud.com/luke-ford-666431593 Code of Conduct: https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=125692 https://www.patreon.com/lukeford http://lukeford.net Email me: lukeisback@gmail.com or DM me on Twitter.com/lukeford Support the show | https://www.streamlabs.com/lukeford, https://patreon.com/lukeford, https://PayPal.Me/lukeisback Facebook: http://facebook.com/lukecford Feel free to clip my videos. It's nice when you link back to the original.

This week Amer Zahr joins the Palestine Pod and tells us how he uses comedy as a means of expression, advocacy for Palestinian rights, healing, and art. He shares with us some of his comedy icons and admits what he really thinks about white male comedians (sorry Michael). Commenting on the recent storming of the capitol and attempted coup of the US, Amer contemplates how “unbelievably awesome” whiteness is. Amer reflects on his viral video “Akhaduha Mafroosheh” (Arabic for "they took it fully furnished" referring to the Zionist takeover of Palestine as the theft of a fully furnished land, society, and culture) including scenes that did not make it into the final cut. Amer tells us what “Akhaduha Mafroosheh” meant to his family by describing the displacement of his mother's family from Akka, Palestine: “Israel is a lot more than ethnic cleansing. It is ethnic replacement. They literally moved into our grandparents' houses.” By relying on the findings of researchers Ronald Ranta and Yonatan Mendel, Lara dispels the common myth that dishes claimed by “Israeli cuisine” like hummus, falafel, and knafeh are the gifts of Mizrahi Jews coming to Israel from Yemen and Iraq. In fact, these foods were taken from the local indigenous Palestinians who were eating these foods on the land of Palestine for centuries upon centuries. As Amer says, “it's not that hard. Go to a Israeli hummus place […] and then go to a Palestinian hummus place in Ramallah and […] they taste pretty much the same and guess what - the Ramallah guy has been there for 200 years and the Tel Aviv guy just got there. So you figure it out. They are copying our hummus […] the food of the land and of course they are.” Lara asks Amer to tell us some of his favorite Palestinian food memories from his “older than Israel” grandmother. A fierce bamya debate breaks out between Lara and Amer (thanks Michael).  

Rabbi Spiro takes us on a journey about the history of Sephardic Jewry, Mizrahi Jews and how the Golden Age of Spain created vibrant and lasting Jewish communities around the world. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/jfi-remember-whats-next/message

Tal Shamur presents his work on the melancholic protest of Hatikva residents. While the concept of citizenship is often related to legal status within the nation state, the actual expression of the concept is defined by one’s standing within the political community and develops questions of inclusion and belonging where spaces of citizenship extend to the city level. According to this perspective, although people may be included in the collective by law of the nation state, they may also be, in actual fact, excluded by the unwritten spatial law. This law dictates the life conditions of minorities and creates symbolic and physical boundaries that pushes “others” to the city margins where marginalized citizens and noncitizens contest their exclusions. Whereas public demonstration of discriminated citizens emerging at the urban periphery might be seen as reactionary and as a raging outbursts, closer examination reveals they are also a site of sadness and melancholy. following this line of thought, Tal Shamur will suggest the concept of “melancholic citizenship” to describe the emotion of sadness aroused among a discriminated group of citizens in light of a process that highlights their social and urban marginality. The case study explored is the struggle of old-time Mizrahi (Jews who immigrated to Israel from Arab countries) residents of the HaTikva neighborhood – a lower income neighborhood of south Tel Aviv – against the inflow of African migration to the area. Based on anthropological field work he conducted in the neighborhood he argues that the struggle of the long-standing residents aroused melancholic feelings among them when they realized that the global migration is a current indication of their discrimination as lower-income Mizrahim who inhabit the city periphery and are located at the margins of Israeli society. Tal Shamur is an ISEF Foundation International Fellow in the Department of Social Anthropology, at the University of Cambridge. He wrote his PhD in Cultural Anthropology in Haifa University. His work focuses on questions of belonging and identification within the urban sphere. His Book titled: Hope and Melancholy on an Urban Frontier: Ethnicity, Space and Gender in the Hatikva Neighborhood, Tel-Aviv was recently published in Haifa University of press (2020, in Hebrew). His articles were published in the journals Emotion Space and Society (2019) and Citizenship Studies (2018).

Sima Shine, former head of the Mossad’s research division and current senior researcher at Israel’s Institute for National Security Studies (INSS), joins us to discuss recent developments related to Iran, including the recent death of Mohsen Fakhrizadeh, who headed the country’s nuclear weapons program. Then, AJC Los Angeles Associate Director Saba Soomekh talks about the importance of telling the stories of Mizrahi Jews, Manya Brachear Pashman shares the story of a very important menorah, and Seffi Kogen delves into the political rumblings happening in Israel this week. _____ Episode Lineup: [1:20] Sima Shine [13:50] Saba Soomekh [17:53] Manya Brachear Pashman [21:42] Seffi Kogen _____ Show Notes: The Forgotten Jewish Refugees: Three Personal Stories – AJC Advocacy Anywhere: https://www.ajc.org/news/the-forgotten-jewish-refugees-three-personal-stories-ajc-advocacy-anywhere

Tyler Alderson talks with Dr. Bea Lewkowicz and Daisy Abboudi from Sephardi Voices UK, records the oral histories of the Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews from the Middle East, North Africa and Iran who settled in the UK. While narratives of history often paint with a wide brush, individual oral histories create a stunning portrait of everyday life amid the upheavals of the 20th century. The episode also includes clips from various interviews in the Sephardi Voices UK archives. 91 minutes.

The police shot an unarmed member of a discriminated group, riots followed, and a social change movement spread throughout the country. Not the United States in 2020, but Israel in 1959. In the ongoing miracle that was Israel, the Mizrahi — Jews from the Middle East and North Africa — were falling behind. It exposed a fault line in relations between “two Israels.”

Hey everybody, Worldwide Jew here and on this episode of the Worldwide Jew Podcast we are concluding the 2 part episode on talking about Mizrachi Jews. Here is some time stamps and links for further reading. Time Stamps Mizrachi Jewish relationship to Israel/Mizrachi Jewish Refugee Migration and Stories- 00:00:45 Bonus Section- 00:54:05 Personal Experiences/Conclusion- 01:22:32 Links for further reading Mizrachi Jews in Israel- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mizrahi_Jews_in_Israel Transition Camps- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ma%27abarot Immigrant Camps- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immigrant_camps_(Israel) Development Towns- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Development_town Day to Mark Expulsion of Jews from the Arab countries and Iran- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Day_to_Mark_the_Departure_and_Expulsion_of_Jews_from_the_Arab_Countries_and_Iran Israel's Great Divide- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xv_0JUBk3fI&t=20s JIMENA- https://www.jimena.org/ JJAC- http://www.justiceforjews.com/index.html Diarna- https://diarna.org/about/intro/ Harif- http://harif.org/ LGBTQ Sephardic and Mizrachi Jews- http://jewcy.com/jewish-religion-and-beliefs/queer-mizrahi-jews Alliance Israelity Universelle- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alliance_Isra%C3%A9lite_Universelle, https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/alliance-israelite-universelle and https://www.aiu.org/en/alliance-israelite-universelle Jewish Mizrachi Exile Wikipedia Article- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jewish_exodus_from_Arab_and_Muslim_countries Matti Friedman- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matti_Friedman

In this episode, Millie and Natalie talk coronavirus and the effects it's taken on their lives and the Persian community. They also talk about boomer humor, weird overly sexual adult memes, fake news via whatsapp/groupchats, Persians who hide having covid-19 for the sake of aberoo, tensions between Ashkenazi and Mizrahi Jews, facetime dating, and speculations of the length of the quarantine. Natalie's recommendations for covid-19 include staying home and having chicken soup till it goes away. Millie recommends taking a billion vitamins and herbs from earthbar and dancing at home in your favorite outfit.Millie's unsolicited herbal recommendations for helping your immune system: 1) 2000-4000 mg of Vit C daily 2) 50-100 mg Zinc daily 3) Irrigate your sinuses (neilmed) and also use natural eye drops to flush your eyes4) Elderberry extract is anti-viral 5) Immune boost with shitake, reishi, Ganoderma capsules 6) A few drops of oregano oil diluted in water for dry/sore throat Natalie's Rabbi's cure for Covid-19:1) 2 spoon cinnamon 2) 1/4 spoon cardamom 3) 1/2 cloves4) 1/2 ginger5) 8oz water

Dr. Saba Soomekh, American Jewish Committee–LA, speaking at Kehillat Israel’s annual Israel Matters speaker event on November 19, 2019. The event is introduced and moderated by Rick Entin, past Chair of Israel Matters programming at KI. Dr. Soomekh discusses some of the most pressing issues confronting American Jewish support for Israel including: political divisiveness in America, the rise in Anti-Semitism and Anti-Zionism, and the changing demographic landscape in Israel. Saba Soomekh, PhD is the Assistant Director of Interreligious and Intercommunity Affairs at American Jewish Committee (“AJC”) -LA and a lecturer at UCLA, where she teaches Religious Studies, Middle Eastern History, and Women’s Studies courses. She received her BA in Religious Studies from the University of California, Berkeley. Her Masters in Theological Studies from Harvard Divinity School and her Ph.D. in Religious Studies from the University of California, Santa Barbara. Dr. Soomekh teaches and writes extensively on World Religions, Women and Religion, intersectionality and its impact on the Jewish community, and the geo-politics of the Middle East. In the summer of 2019, Dr. Soomekh was a Scholar-in-Residence at Oxford University with the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy. Professor Soomekh is the editor of the book Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews in America (Purdue University Press, 2016) and the author of the book From the Shahs to Los Angeles: Three Generations of Iranian Jewish Women between Religion and Culture (SUNY Press, 2012). Her book was awarded the Gold Medal in the 2013 Independent Publisher Book Award in the Religion category. Besides giving numerous scholarly and public presentations on the Middle East, world religions and women in the developing world, she is also a member of the city of Los Angeles’ Human Resource Commission where she is involved in numerous interfaith and intercultural projects and she is a consultant for numerous schools in Los Angeles focusing on creating honest dialogue about cultural issues. Dr. Soomekh was the Exhibition Coordinator of the exhibition at the Fowler Museum at UCLA entitled: Light and Shadows: The Story of Iranian Jews. She was a consultant and participant for PBS’ documentary “Iranian Americans,” which aired on PBS on Dec. 18, 2012. She was also featured in an NPR story on Iranian Jews in America, and the Times of Israel wrote a piece on her entitled “Iranian Scholar Breaks Stereotypes While Studying Them”. Rick Entin is a long-time member of Kehillat Israel where he formerly served as a Board Trustee and Chair of its Israel Matters Committee. Rick’s past leadership positions in the Los Angeles community include Chairman of the Board of Hillel 818 and Chair of the Real Estate and Construction Division of the Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles. He is currently on the LA Leadership Counsel of Birthright. Rick is also a fellow of the Wexner Heritage Foundation. He was recently certified as a facilitator by Resetting the Table, an organization dedicated to creating courageous communication across divides. Rick was also recently selected to participate in a two-year Leadership Summit with the Wexner Foundation to explore key challenges facing the North American Jewish Community and the State of Israel.

In the American Jewish imagination, the story of Israel’s founding is a story of East European pioneers, socialist kibbutzim, and a Jewish state rising from the ashes of the Holocaust. And all of these things are indispensable elements of Israel’s early history. But they are not the whole picture. After the founding of the state, Israel absorbed a massive influx of Jews from Middle Eastern lands—Mizrahim—who came from a society and culture vastly different from that of their East European co-religionists. These Jews are also part of the story of the Jewish state’s beginnings; today they represent over half of Israel’s Jewish population, profoundly shaping the culture, religion, and politics of 21st-century Israel. In 2014, author and journalist Matti Friedman penned an essay in Mosaic titled, “Mizrahi Nation,” in which he tells the story of these Jews from Arab lands and explains how one simply cannot understand contemporary Israel without understanding that it has been profoundly shaped by the Mizrahim. Israel, Friedman argues, is a much more Middle Eastern country than many Jews in the West imagine it to be. In this podcast, Friedman joins Jonathan Silver to reflect on his essay. They discuss the long and remarkable history of Mizrahi Jews, how they have shaped the Jewish state, and how understanding their role in Israel’s past and present can give us a clearer picture of the nation’s future. Musical selections in this podcast are drawn from the Quintet for Clarinet and Strings, op. 31a, composed by Paul Ben-Haim and performed by the ARC Ensemble, as well as the original Broadway cast recording of Fiddler on the Roof and "Above the Ocean" by Evan MacDonald.

Spies, sex, and comedy! Our Jewish guest is journalist Matti Friedman, whose newest book, 'Spies of No Country: Secret Lives at the Birth of Israel', explores the little-known story of four Mizrahi Jews who went undercover as Arabs during the time of the country's founding. He tells us how the story of these young Jewish men from Arab countries, who risked their lives as part of a ragtag intelligence unit, adds texture to the overwhelmingly Ashkenazi narrative of Israel's founding. Our gentile of the week is Pete Holmes, who talks to us about his new book, 'Comedy Sex God', his HBO show Crashing, and his journey from being raised Evangelical Christian to becoming a follower of spiritual teacher Ram Dass. Join us Wednesday, May 29 at 8 p.m. at the Hollis Hills Bayside Jewish Center for a live taping with Leon Neyfakh, host of the podcasts Slow Burn and the forthcoming FIASCO, and FiveThirtyEight writer and podcaster Clare Malone. Get your tickets here. We’re heading to Chicago! See us live Wednesday, June 26 at 7 p.m. at the Logan Square Auditorium with special guest Blair Braverman, who recently became the second Jewish woman to complete the Iditarod. Presented with Hadassah Chicago-North Shore. Get your tickets here. Subscribe to our weekly newsletter to get new episodes, photos, and more. Email us at Unorthodox@tabletmag.com or leave a message at our listener line: 914-570-4869. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram, and join our Facebook group. This episode is sponsored by Unpacked, a new series of Jewish educational videos from Jerusalem U that offer a complete history of modern day Israel, 10 minutes at a time. Check it out at unpacked.media/unorthodox. We're also sponsored by FindYourSummer.org, with nearly 400 summer programs for Jewish teens to choose from, ranging from domestic and international travel to internships and more. New York-area teens are eligible for scholarships to select programs. Find your program at FindYourSummer.org. Additional support comes from Harry's. Get your free trial shave set at Harrys.com/UNORTHODOX. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Long before the Mossad became known as one of the world’s greatest intelligence agencies; before the capture of Eichmann and the raid of Iran’s nuclear archive; before Eli Cohen and Rafi Eitan; before Fauda captured audiences around the world, Israel’s first spies were dispatched to Beirut without so much as a radio to contact home. In the spring on 1948, before the State of Israel had even been declared, a handful of young Mizrahi Jews were recruited to serve in the Palmach’s Arab Section and charged with going undercover among the Arab population of Palestine and neighboring countries. Sent back into the Arab lands they had left behind, these brave Jews risked their lives to become spies for a country that was yet to be born. In Spies of No Country: Secret Lives at the Birth of Israel, journalist and author Matti Friedman tells the story of these mista'aravim, Jews who went uncover as Arabs. Focusing on the lives of four of these men, Friedman transports us back to a world without a State of Israel or an IDF, where the fate of Palestine’s Jews remained uncertain and the project of Jewish statehood hung in the balance. This was the world of Israel’s first spies, the unsung heroes of the nation’s founding. In this podcast, Matti Friedman joins Jonathan Silver to talk about his new book. They discuss the challenges and risks the spies faced while undercover, the complex identities of these Mizrahi Jews who had to pose as Arabs, and the importance of telling the stories of these Jewish heroes from Middle Eastern lands. Musical selections in this podcast are drawn from the Quintet for Clarinet and Strings, op. 31a, composed by Paul Ben-Haim and performed by the ARC Ensemble as well as “Great Feeling” by Alex Kizenkov.

Between 1948 and 1954, several thousand babies born to Mizrahi immigrants to Israel were separated from their parents and were claimed by Ashkenazi authorities to have mysteriously and suddenly died. Was this really the case or was this part of a larger conspiracy affecting Mizrahi Jews from Yemen, Iraq, and other parts of Africa, Asia, and the Middle East? This episode of Adventures in Jewish Studies looks at these disappearances, known as the Yemenite Children Affair, to illustrate the story of the Mizrahi Jewish experience in the development of Israel. The state of Israel was created as a safe haven for world Jewry, and Jews from all corners of the world came together to form a new and harmonious society. In reality, though, Israeli society was far from unified. From its earliest days, modern Israeli society was divided by ethnic tensions between Jews of European origins (Ashkenazim), who controlled the Zionist establishment, and Jews of North African, Middle Eastern, and Asian origins (Mizrahim), who were relegated to second-class status.  Join host Jeremy Shere and Jewish Studies guest scholars as they discuss the Mizrahi struggle for civil rights in the Jewish state – from the Yemenite Children Affair to the Wadi Salib riots, from the Israeli Black Panther Protests to the ongoing efforts of the Mizrahim to participate as full members of Israeli society.

Allison Kaplan Sommer, Noah Efron, and Don Futterman discuss three topics of incomparable importance and end with an anecdote about something in Israel that made them smile this week. Become a patron and gain access to our weekly extra special, special extra segments. Bullshit Solutions to Bullshit Problems? Is the election campaign about anything that matters (or anything at all)? The Change We Seek MK Dov Khenin resigned on the grounds that there are better ways to bring political change than the Knesset. Is he on to something? Some Jews are Arabs, Too An appeal has been brought before the Supreme Court to overturn the Nation-State Law on the grounds that downgrading Arabic also discriminates against Mizrahi Jews. Is this the winning argument against the bill? Extra Segment Rosanne Barr and Shmueli Boteach barnstorm Israel to make the point that Israel rocks and anti-semites suck. But to what end? Music Benaia Barabi Boker Tov (בוקר טוב) Tel Aviv ba-Laila (תל אביב בלילה) Mishehu Iti Kan (מישהו איתי כאן) Me-ha-Kfar el ha-Ir (מהכפר אל העיר)

Noah Efron, Allison Kaplan Sommer, and Bradley Burston discuss three topics of incomparable importance and end with an anecdote about something in Israel that made them smile this week.   This week's extra segment is available to our patrons on www.patreon.com/promisedpodcast   Gaza: A Moment Before Israeli politicians and military brass have begun sounding the alarm about the humanitarian crisis in the Gaza Strip, where electricity is available for four to eight hours a day and where municipal services are being cut in half. While the military threat form Gaza appears containable, it is less clear that Israel can contain the ramifications of a total humanitarian collapse in Gaza. How can and should Israel act to forestall or prevent the humanitarian crisis that is about to swallow Gaza whole?   Show Me a Hero (and I’ll Write You a Tragedy) Mizrahi journalists and activists, are calling for the name of journalist Aryeh Gelblum name to be stripped from a cul-de-sac, which was named after him after his death in 1991. That's because wrote that immigrants from Arab and North African lands possessed a "superlative primitiveness." Should Israel purge the names of those who described Mizrahi Jews as ignorant from the public sphere?   Judaism: The Theme Park A massive new project is being planned for the relatively remote Israeli city of Dimona: the "Park of Wonders", a theme park based on Judaism. “The park will have the same rides and the same layout [as Disney World] but with content,” the project's CEO says. What, if anything, does it say about the place of Judaism in Israel, in Zionism, in the hearts and minds of Jews, in the 21st century?   Music: Omer Adam, in honor of this week selling out his May 24 concert Sami Ofer Stadium in Haifa, in less than 3 hours (including 40,000 folks signing up for the waiting list): Aharei kol ha-shanim itach  Mahapecha shel simha (with Lior Narkis) Az halachti  Matzati ba-Aron 

We spoke with Tom Pessah, an activist & academic based in Tel Aviv. We talked about his work with Amram, a group working to expose the truth about Israel’s mass kidnapping of Yemenite, Mizrahi and Balkan children in the 1950s. We spoke about the racism that led to these kidnappings and his investigation into JIMENA, the largest group representing Mizrahi Jews in the US. Show Notes: https://www.treyfpodcast.com/2017/12/31/tom-pessah/

On this week's episode, host Marcela Sulak takes us on a small excursion to Musrara, a neighborhood in Jerusalem, with poems by Liat Kaplan as our guide. Musrara was founded by upper class Christian Arabs in the late 19th century when people began to live outside the Old City of Jerusalem. During the War of Independence, the residents fled or were expelled. The neighborhood - inhabited by new olim from North Africa -was frequently exposed to snipers until 1967. In 1971, a second generation of Mizrahi Jews founded the Israeli Black Panther movement in the town. Today, the neighborhood is a symbol for the city's complexity and home to a vibrant cultural center. This is an exerpt from Kaplan's poem On What is Outside the Photograph: "When photographed, Mussrara is almost composed of the sum of her details, various types of enclosures: asbestos, containers, radiance among leaves, cages, barriers, plants, walls, trees, bushes. Doors, partitions, trapped sun rays, fences and cracks, ramparts, balconies, roofs. Cactuses. And more details: laundry, construction refuse, scaffoldings. Outside the photograph it has no existence. Now, while we look there is no existence outside the photograph." Liat Kaplan was born on a Kibbutz and currently lives in Tel Aviv. She is the author of six collections of poetry, and her work has been widely anthologized. She frequently collaborates with painters, photographers, and composers. Kaplan has also worked as poetry editor for the Bialik Institute, Helicon, Pardes, Am Oved, and Carmel Publishers. She has worked as director, teacher, and workshop instructor at the Helicon School of poetry. Text: Reading on Kaplan's poetry About Musrara Music:Ibrahim Maalouf - Illusions Ibrahim Maalouf - Movement Ibrahim Maalouf - Verdict Between Waters and Waters, Ittai Rosenbaum and Liat Kaplan

In the Bus/Purim Eve: "Little kids in costume giggle happilyreal flower childrenand Margalit Tzan’ani sings'The Honey in the Groove'" Today, host Marcela Sulak takes an unusual approach to Purim, reading excerpts from Tikva Levi’s "Purim Sequence," translated by Ammiel Alcalay. We intersperse the first parts of Levi's poem, a Purim bus journey, with excerpts from Itzik Manger’s "Songs of the Megillah" — a retelling of the Purim story in the Book of Esther. Tikva Levi was a feminist activist Mizrahi Jew, born in Ashkelon of Iraqi parents. She died in 2012, at the age of 52. Her life was devoted to the educational rights of Mizrahi Jews in Israel. Text:Keys to the Garden. New Israeli Writing. Edited by Ammiel Alcalay. City Lights Books, 1996. Music:Songs of the Megilla - Itzik MangerNafas - Rabih Abou-Khalil

In the Bus/Purim Eve: Little kids in costume giggle happily real flower children and Margalit Tzan’ani sings “The Honey in the Groove” Today, host Marcela Sulak takes an unusual approach to Purim, reading excerpts from Tikva Levi’s Purim Sequence, translated by Ammiel Alcalay. We intersperse the first parts of Levi's poem, a Purim bus journey, with excerpts from Itzik Manger’s 'Megillah' — a retelling of the Purim story in the Book of Esther. Tikva Levi was a feminist activist Mizrahi Jew, born in Ashkelon of Iraqi parents. She died in 2012, at the age of 52. Her life was devoted to the educational rights of Mizrahi Jews in Israel.   Text: Keys to the Garden. New Israeli Writing. Edited by Ammiel Alcalay. City Lights Books, 1996. Music: Songs of the Megilla - Itzik Manger Nafas - Rabih Abou-Khalil

This week's links:JIMENAJustice for Jews from Arab CountriesWikipedia entry for Mizrahi Jews