Tracing the trajectory of my familial roots has exposed a trend towards the less traditional, enhanced with each passing generation. I’ve come to recognize the rebellious streak indelibly shaping genes at the heart of my being – perhaps not quite as radical in the eyes of my peers, but certainly drastic within the context of my world. Having grown up in a traditionally orthodox Jewish home, situated near Chabad Lubavitch headquarters, it may appear as though I am an inevitable product of an old-fashioned system far outdating my millennial, enlightened attitude. All stories, however, deserve to be told. Removed from expectation, a story exists in its own right, constructing a universe within which it can thrive, educate, and expand.
My story grabs the corners of the earth and folds them in towards me; my roots branch out from Russia, spring from Africa, snake in from Israel, and crawl towards America. A starting point, therefore, is entirely arbitrary, and Israel is as good a place as any to set the scene. My paternal grandfather was a native Israeli, born into a Chabad family as I was and defiantly committed to the ideologies that accompany such a lifestyle. Chabad Lubavitch is a prominent Orthodox Jewish movement founded in 1775 – and existing today as one of the largest Chassidic movements – with intellectual keystones of wisdom, understanding, and knowledge. I mention this as a key factor to foster a fundamental understanding of both my story and his. Although he attended Chabad institutes of higher learning within Israel after completing high school, he later chose to attend a school diametrically opposed to Chabad ideology, unsupported by his parents. My grandfather was merely seeking intellectual stimulation, and has always remained devoted to his Chabad lifestyle. He therefore wanted to work in the religious sector, first serving as a rabbi and later opening a shop of religious books, which he could not maintain due to financial constraints and lack of support from the Lubavitcher Rebbe (the leader of the Chabad movement from 1950-1994). Having moved to South Africa after marrying my grandmother, he then turned to gems, opening a successful business in pearls with his new wife.
Interestingly, marrying my grandmother proved to be yet another manifestation of his obstinacy – she did not grow up within Chabad and led a more secular lifestyle than him. She had grown up in Cape Town, South Africa, having moved from Poland at the age of four and narrowly escaping the devastation of the Holocaust. Despite radically different upbringings, she adopted his traditions through marriage and raised my father with the same Chabad upbringing his father had. Due to Chabad being a relatively insular community, attending college has long been considered deviant behavior, practically antithetical to adopting an all-encompassing worldview that potentially held all of the answers. Despite being subjected to these expectations as well as those imposed on women in general, my grandmother pursued a degree in criminal psychology from UNISA (University of South Africa) after she had a few children. My grandfather fully supported her pursuits, though she claims she did it because she was bored and not because she truly desired external education. Artistically talented, she later directed musicals in local high schools and spent her days writing poetry or letters to her grandchildren spread out over four of the seven continents.
Jumping continents and lineage, my maternal grandfather was born and raised in Georgia, Russia. Also growing up within Chabad circles, he did not attend a traditional college and rather chose to learn at an institute of advanced Torah study known as Tomchei Tmimim. He has long served as a teacher in similar schools – continuing his chosen profession in Brooklyn schools as well. Aside from occupying these paid positions, my noble grandfather also serves as a member of the chevra kadisha, or group of individuals who see to it that deceased Jews are properly buried according to tradition and with all required rituals. This service is purely voluntary and often a thankless job; my grandfather would prefer to do the community good than live on a bigger budget. His financial sacrifices have often served as moral lessons for me, pointing me towards appropriate values and priorities. His wife, the only born and bred Brooklynite of my grandparents, values kindness, faith, and family above all else. She, too, did not attend college, though that is due to the similar lack of expectation and accepted traditions previously mentioned. Having grown up in a family of educators, she worked for her father, the principal of a local girls’ high school, and taught Torah classes. Today, my grandmother still works in the high school, serving as a loving mentor to all those who pass through.
Unsurprisingly, neither of my parents attended a traditional college – my mother did not attend at all and my father attended the Rabbinical College of America in Morristown, New Jersey, studying to receive rabbinical certification. To attend, my father left his home in Johannesburg, South Africa at the age of 17 and traveled to America. Studying in such an institution was expected of young men within the Chabad community and remains the case today. Although college was not even considered in their cases, financial difficulties also held my mother back from pursuing further education, such as attending a religious seminary. In my eyes, my parents are extremely successful in what they have pursued.
Although he did not receive ‘proper’ training, my father developed a strong love of music from a young age – his mother often tells stories of him humming perfectly on key before he could talk. Eventually, he built himself up to work in the music industry, skillfully arranging, composing, and orchestrating impressive pieces. When first starting out, he played at community events, accepting the nomadic life of an artist and living on unreliable income. One particularly striking instance of his community service within the realm of music took place in the late 90s. There had been violent, fatal riots between the Jewish and African-American communities in Crown Heights. Subsequently, my father joined forces with black and Jewish musicians to create Project CURE – intending to bridge the gap and promote racial understanding through music. I believe his efforts were influenced by his upbringing as a white person in apartheid era South Africa – he consciously strives to reduce racism to the best of his ability.
Five years into his career, my father attended the Gemological Institute of America on his own financial resources, intending to work in pearls with his father. However, he was not able to finish due to his desire for creative outlets as well as to being colorblind and therefore restricted in his gemological analysis. My mother, on the other hand, worked directly out of high school as a teacher in Florida for three years, supporting herself as soon as she moved out. When my parents married and had children, my mother poured all of her energies into raising my two brothers and I, thriving off of motherhood and offering us a wonderful childhood. She did not work again until a few years ago when she accepted a position as an executive assistant to a high powered educator. Her work focuses on supporting efforts to revolutionize education, efforts that have made significant impact in the community.
Given all of my background, I am somewhat of an anomaly as a college-going young adult. I believe this significantly reduces the inevitable stress accompanying the experience – there is no standard to live up to other than my own. I am not under pressure to stay in school though I must primarily rely on my own motivation to make it through. Due to these circumstances, I often question whether I’ve made the right choice for me. It is still not normalized in my mind and I often wonder whether my energies would be better directed elsewhere. I am not currently studying a particular discipline in college and therefore cannot speak to the last point. The fact that I’m in college at all is antithetical to the community’s standards and typical life trajectory.
Like my ancestors, I’m connected with the Chabad Lubavitch community in Crown Heights, a community that extends worldwide due to ideological factors, practically offering me a home wherever I choose to go. Despite being ethnically Jewish, most consider me white and therefore afford me all of the requisite privileges. However, the community I live in expects me to marry young, have children, and stay home to take care of the house and kids. I don’t know whether I want to live that reality, but am not left with much room to explore alternatives. I may sound bitter, but am far from it. My family doesn’t have much money; we aren’t present in corporate or academic spheres. What we do have is each other. We have support and encouragement, laughter and warmth. We have faith to carry us through.
