His black friends hated me; at first I wasn't sure if it was because I was white or because I was Jewish, but then I realized that either was sufficient, really.
I dated a black man in college, because that is what some of us Jewish college girls did, we dated a black man or pretended to be a lesbian for awhile. I dated a lesbian briefly too, but that's not germane to this subject.
His black friends hated me; at first I wasn't sure if it was because I was white or because I was Jewish, but then I realized that either was sufficient, really.
At first I thought we shared something, that we were both outsiders to most of society, but he explained that blacks were outsiders with no power, while Jews were outsiders that had too much power. I asked him what power did I have over him -- I was barely a hundred pounds -- and he laughed and said "white pussy." Which is what I liked about him, he had a nice sense of humor when he wasn't trying to act militant in front of his friends.
After awhile he would affectionately call me his 'Jewish white pussy', except then he sometimes said it when he wasn't being affectionate, and I could see where this was going.
We were drinking cheap college-student wine one night at his apartment, talking the things you talk about when you're in college and drinking cheap college-student wine, and I asked him if he referred to me as 'Jewish white pussy' with his friends. He took a slow breath, then replied "Sometimes, yeah."
There was uncomfortable silence for a few moments, then he began explaining how American slavery was a Holocaust, too. And this was kind of Godwin's Law: when you're Jewish, eventually the subject is going to turn to the Holocaust. Then he put on Coltrane's "A Love Supreme", which I don't think he really enjoyed, but he liked being thought of the kind of black man who listens to Coltrane.
I left in the morning with a bit of a hangover, and we didn't see each other again for a few days. When we did run into each other we said our 'Hellos' but it was obvious that we had broken up, even though we never said anything like that to each other, we just both knew.
A year or so later I saw him on the commons, handing out flyers for a black student group's upcoming event; he was wearing an army jacket with patches that included the flag of Ghana. He nodded at me, but didn't take off his sunglasses. I took a flyer and left.
His black friends hated me; at first I wasn't sure if it was because I was white or because I was Jewish, but then I realized that either was sufficient, really.
At first I thought we shared something, that we were both outsiders to most of society, but he explained that blacks were outsiders with no power, while Jews were outsiders that had too much power. I asked him what power did I have over him -- I was barely a hundred pounds -- and he laughed and said "white pussy." Which is what I liked about him, he had a nice sense of humor when he wasn't trying to act militant in front of his friends.
After awhile he would affectionately call me his 'Jewish white pussy', except then he sometimes said it when he wasn't being affectionate, and I could see where this was going.
We were drinking cheap college-student wine one night at his apartment, talking the things you talk about when you're in college and drinking cheap college-student wine, and I asked him if he referred to me as 'Jewish white pussy' with his friends. He took a slow breath, then replied "Sometimes, yeah."
There was uncomfortable silence for a few moments, then he began explaining how American slavery was a Holocaust, too. And this was kind of Godwin's Law: when you're Jewish, eventually the subject is going to turn to the Holocaust. Then he put on Coltrane's "A Love Supreme", which I don't think he really enjoyed, but he liked being thought of the kind of black man who listens to Coltrane.
I left in the morning with a bit of a hangover, and we didn't see each other again for a few days. When we did run into each other we said our 'Hellos' but it was obvious that we had broken up, even though we never said anything like that to each other, we just both knew.
A year or so later I saw him on the commons, handing out flyers for a black student group's upcoming event; he was wearing an army jacket with patches that included the flag of Ghana. He nodded at me, but didn't take off his sunglasses. I took a flyer and left.
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