While Chinatown can certainly be comparable to Italian Harlem and Crown Heights in terms of its insularity, the nature of its insularity is actually what most likely sets it apart from other minority communities. Whereas East Harlem and Crown Heights are separated religiously and culturally, Chinatown is primarily isolated from the larger society as a result of its political distinctions. Chinatown has its own governmental structure (the Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Association), which not only has the power to tax its members, but also has its own constitution and an “unofficial mayor,” all of which serve the interest of the elites. Although this informal political structure of Chinatown has evolved over the years and is no longer as strong as it once was, the mere fact that such a political system still exists in American society today is baffling, especially since this system is one with rather undemocratic origins. With that said, the government’s passivity towards Chinatown is quite disconcerting. How might one define a unified country if not by the core political ideologies and laws it encompasses, as well as the rights it protects? To ignore the workings of Chinatown when they do not affect the peace and security of American society at large is to forfeit the neighborhood as US territory.

Peter Kwong writes that the internal workings of isolated ethnic communities are rarely studied because “organizational structures within an immigrant community are seen as cultural baggage to be left behind, something not worth detailed analysis.” Clearly, Chinatown is worthy of detailed analysis, yet there is little attention paid to its organizational structure by the public. Perhaps the reason for this is because, as Kwong states, social scientists are more concerned with the integration of immigrants into American society than they are with the institutions that make up their community. However, I also believe that little attention is paid to Chinatown because while its residents are faced with clear and present dangers, like those of tongs, they are more or less accepting of their situation, perhaps even defensive. If outsiders were to speak about tongs, they would be accused of exaggerating the problem and tarnishing the image of Chinese communities (just as Year of Dragons was). Public exposure is blocked under the pretext of opposing stereotypes – and the self-perpetuating cycle continues.

Up until now, we have defined citizenship solely as a matter of legality. While describing civilian crime prevention on the Lower East Side, Jessica R. Cattelino expands this definition by highlighting the moral and performative aspects of one’s membership in a society. It becomes quite clear then that “citizenship” is not confined to a mere document, but is rather subjective.

So what exactly does it mean to be a citizen? According to some civilian crime-prevention participants, to be a good citizen is to be an active participant in the community. To them, “citizenship” is synonymous with “involvement” and the upholding of moral duties and civic responsibilities. In this sense, civilian crime fighting can be considered an American ideal. Poorer participants of color, however, characterize citizenship as a matter of exercising and asserting rights, specifically the right to protection. To them, civilian crime fighting is not so much an ideal as it is a necessary evil in a society where there exists unjust police neglect.

With that said, it seems as though it is quite difficult to reach a universal understanding of citizenship. Even so, is it not possible for multiple interpretations to coexist at once? Whether these participants function as “active” or “passive” citizens, are they not all united under shared social and political actions aimed at crime prevention? Despite their common goals, however, there exists a tension between these two groups. And while this tension is exacerbated by unequal allocations of resources (among other causes of friction), the core of this difference lies, in actuality, in the concept of citizenship, as it is distinctly – and strictly – defined. As Cattelino concludes, the emphasis on participation widens the gap between those who “partake of the moral good of active citizenship” and those who are viewed as “merely (and immorally) taking from the state,” a gap that is formed in the name of citizenship.

It is interesting to note that parades serve as more than just a display of ethnic or religious pride. In truth, parades also reflect certain social and political issues relevant to ethnic subgroups in America. For example, Slyomovics points out that parades can sometimes be a demonstration of Americanness (which resides in dual identification), but they can also serve as political acts of confrontation or challenges to accepted social norms. It seems as though the Muslim Day Parade is unique in that it embodies both of these intents. While it certainly resembles your archetypal New York City ethnic parade by including an Irish marching band, among other “American” subtleties (depending on how you define the term), the Muslim Day Parade also seems to stray from conformity by temporarily rejecting the Manhattan street grid during prayers, emphasizing the role of signs, and chanting the takbir. Slyomovics asserts, however, that despite its supposed boldness, the Muslim Day Parade is actually subject to certain unspoken restrictions. As Slyomovics concludes, “What Muslims in America articulate ritually about Islam in public should be heard as friendly, accommodating, and familiar, it should not be overheard, and at best, it should still be heard only among their own.” How much more so would these regulations be apparent today, post 9/11, when American wariness towards Muslims has grown substantially?

This leads me to another question I have in response to something Naomi brought up in her post. After addressing the idea that parade routes indicate the power of an ethnic group, she writes, “it makes sense that the more powerful the group is, the more likely they are able to get permission to block off a major street.” This indeed makes sense, but who, or rather what, decides how powerful an ethnic group is? Is more “power” given to Irish, Jews, and Italians because they have been around longer? Is it because these ethnicities are more familiar to American culture? Does one necessarily lead to the other? And finally, what exactly does this mean for the future of Muslims in America?

Much like married women in the Italian domus structure, Jewish mothers are considered to be the foundation of the home, responsible for “the perpetuation of the very foundations of Jewish existence.” In this sense, women have a very powerful role in maintaining Jewish practice and identity. Goldschmidt does not mention, however, that much like Italian women, they are also limited in this power and confined to certain religious expectations. It is unheard of, for example, for a woman to become a Rabbi in the orthodox community. Women are also bound by certain rules of dress, which do not apply to men. These restrictions are due to the Jewish emphasis on modesty. Similar to the “good woman” ideal of Italian culture, Judaism calls for a “modest woman” and her power ultimately lies in her strict dedication to these religious demands. Of course, as a Jewish female myself, I do not consider these demands to be restrictive of freedom and I certainly do not feel any resentment towards my religion for reasons that go beyond the confines of this discussion.

Perhaps this emphasis on modesty, in addition to the Chasidic emphasis on religious insularity, can be connected to their strong distinction between private and public spaces. I find it interesting that the insularity of Jews in Crown Heights sets them apart, yet also paradoxically unites them with other New Yorkers who also embrace the anonymity of urban life. But if this is so, why must the Lubavitch Chasidim be singled out for their insularity when it is something all urban dwellers practice to a certain extent?

It seems as though the answer lies in the varying reasons for insularity. Whereas the isolation of individuals in NYC is a result of urban culture, Jewish isolation is a result of religious factors. People often equate religion with culture, but Goldschmidt’s lengthy discussion of Kashrus highlights major differences between the two. While both cultural and kosher foods help construct collective identities, cultural food is the product of social forces, whereas kosher food is the product of God’s commandments and, therefore, transcends the constraints of the social world. For this reason, culinary exchange between blacks and Jews will not bring harmony to Crown Heights, but perhaps the ability to understand the significance behind their culinary differences will.

Last class, we ended our discussion with a question as to whether or not suffering was intrinsic to Italian culture. Orsi describes the Italians’ suffering as a willing sacrifice. By embracing pain, Italians had some form of control over their destinies. They were, therefore, declaring pride, self worth, and freedom through their religious experiences. Of course, one cannot just ignore the masochistic aspect of this self-inflicting behavior. Orsi seems to argue that Italians harmed themselves as a physical outlet for their frustration. Self-inflicted pain certainly connotes masochism in this respect, but the Italians’ suffering can also be regarded as an act of selflessness.

After reading this section, it occurred to me that suffering was just another practice in which Italians sacrificed themselves for a greater good. From a young age, children were brought up to selflessly surrender their individual desires for the sake of the domus. Women, too, had to selflessly obey the demands of the domus (and endure a strict confinement to their own power within it). As Orsi writes, “The identity of Italian American women was to suffer.” In truth, the identity of Italian Americans, both men and women, was to suffer – in other words, to sacrifice everything for a greater whole and to endure the aftermath of their selflessness. In this sense, suffering was indeed intrinsic to Italian culture, both as a religious practice, as well as an everyday experience.

Why were Italian Americans so fearful of material success? According to Orsi, Italians feared that success would make a man into a “cafone,” someone who was rude, boorish, and above all, selfish. Individual prosperity, they feared, would lead a man to go against their fundamental value of sacrifice. The festa was a way in which Italian immigrants confronted this fear of materialism, reminding them to “set their goals in the larger moral context of the family.” Whereas work suggested an individual obligation, the festa emphasized mutual responsibility. Reflecting the chief morals and values of Italian culture, the festa was, first and foremost, a celebration of giving, self-sacrifice, and to a certain extent, suffering.

Once again, Orsi brings to light the complexities of gender roles within the domus. Although married women with children served as a source of power and authority within the domus, they were also confined by the community’s definition of the “good woman.” As Orsi writes, “Their power, although it is real, is also their powerlessness.” Despite their private role as an all-powerful matriarch, women (both single and married) were subject to a much higher authority: the demands of Italian culture. By threatening the reputation of women, especially those who were unmarried, men were able to use this public ideal to wield control over those who dominated the life of the home and, therefore, the domus. To call this system a “private-public dichotomy” seems like an oversimplification of what is truly going on here. The authority of men may have been merely theatrical, but it is important to note that power within the domus was actually quite diffuse. Power was everywhere, yet it was also nowhere at the same time.  

The Madonna served an important role for women by providing a means of expression for their fears and concerns. For the entire Italian community, however, the Madonna provided much more than a means of expression.  It reflected their home values, helped them overcome distance, and overall maintained their sanity. Contrary to the idea that the devotion was merely an act of self-deception, the festa was actually a reorientation of Italian tradition and values. Perhaps the devotion can be considered self-deception in the sense that it gave Italian immigrants the illusion of still being in their hometowns. More accurately, however, the festa was a way in which people were able to resituate themselves morally and reintegrate themselves culturally. It was a process of rejuvenation.  One may even be so bold as to describe it as a process of purification. It purified people of thoughts and emotions that threatened their fundamental beliefs. This not only refers to conflicting thoughts originating from American culture, but also to feelings of resentment that originated from within the domus itself. As Orsi explains, healing stories were “cathartic,” ultimately evoking feelings of attachment to the domus, despite people’s frustration with it.