The theme of this year’s Inside the Activists’ Studio is “Finding Your Voice in a Global Movement,” and we know how challenging it can be to match your skills and passion to actual change-making. But we also know it’s a lot easier to find your voice with community support, and that’s why we’ve brought together a group of outstanding panelists to share their own experiences this Sunday. As a preview, check out some of their answers below to the question:

How do you amplify your voice for change?

Phil Aroneanu: I’ve been an activist on climate change nearly all my adult life. Since I first learned about the climate crisis from a goofy high school physics teacher, and throughout the next decade, I’ve felt that climate change encompasses a whole range of environmental and social justice issues that I feel passionately about. At first, I wasn’t much of an organizer–my first effort in high school was to organize a “No Car Day” with some friends. We got the local bagel shop to donate bagels and cream cheese, which we handed out to all the kids who biked, skateboarded or walked to school. It felt good, and we got a write up in the local paper, but in some sense it was ineffective. Even if I “raised awareness” about climate change and transportation, how many people who received a bagel would actually think twice about getting in a car the next day? More importantly, it taught me to think bigger than myself; I wasn’t going to solve the climate crisis by trying to change personal behavior. That’s certainly a part of the solution, but to solve the climate crisis, we really need to change the way the world produces and uses energy, which is a much, much larger, multi-faceted challenge.

Changing one mind at a time is nice, but it won’t add up to the severity and speed of the problem, nor become a force for sanity in a politics dominated by the power and money of the fossil fuel industry–the richest corporations in the history of money. It takes a push for real justice–what we call climate justice–to put people before corporate profits. It takes a solidarity model of activism, or as my friend Joshua Kahn Russel calls it, “Power with, not power over.”

That’s why nearly all the work I’ve done since high school has been focused on empowering others to amplify their voices. In our successful campaign to stop the Keystone XL pipeline, those voices included Indigenous leaders from tar sands producing areas in Canada, ranchers and farmers from Nebraska, students from around the country, and ordinary climate activists from around the country. To my mind, amplifying my voice means not putting myself at the center of attention–it means developing leader-full networks who are able to push our agenda together. It’s what separates activists from organizers. 

Dasi Fruchter: I’ve learned along the road as an activist that though I am actually quite loud, one voice is not enough. For me, amplifying my voice is about building surprising coalitions across difference that truly empower those struggling for change. No matter how many people will listen to the sound of my voice, they weren’t really going to hear what I was going to say unless they were a part of the amplification process. I’ve seen this play out literally in Occupy Wall Street–in the “People’s Mic”–but more importantly, in all other activist efforts where strong coalitions are weaved together in a gorgeous tapestry of types of people–different textures and layers make for a richer sound that ultimately speaks to the most people. 

Karen Abravanel: I seek out and collaborate with organizations that share my values and goals. My voice is louder and more effective when backed by the weight of an established organization. Plus, I can build on the organization’s contacts and access to increase my opportunities to be heard.

This post originally appeared on the Where Do You Give? blog.

 
We just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

It’s time to announce our Grand Prize Winners! Not to mention our Student Track Winners and some Honorable Mentions who we just had to recognize for their amazing work.

Make sure to congratulate them in the comments below!!!

GRAND PRIZE WINNERS:
Tzedakah Box Category:
Doug Burnett is an art director from Chicago, IL. His “Vending Box” paints a dystopic picture of our current spending and donor habits. As Doug explains in his artist statement, “We buy a soda without batting an eye but, ironically, we turn a blind eye toward a $1 donation.” After inserting a coin, participants choose a beneficiary. A screen on the back side of the box shows a video of that individual and the benefit he or she will receive as a direct result of the donation.

Out of the Box Category: 
Lily Feinberg is a graphic designer from Atlanta, GA who currently lives in Washington, D.C. Her large-scale sculpture functions both as a receptacle for tzedakah and as a catalyst for community engagement in local causes and reflection on the act of giving. The structure physically spells out the word “change,” a word that indicates its contents as well as its ultimate function. The dual meaning of this word prompts tzedakah givers to associate more closely the act of physically giving money to the impact it actually can have.

Web/Interactive Category:
Michael Cohn Moreau is a software engineer from Nashville, TN. Michael’s “Discover Needs” tags are QR codes meant for grocery stores. Shoppers scan the codes to learn about issues that are directly connected to the products they’re buying. For example, a shopper purchasing insect repellant can scan the QR code to learn about malaria in the developing world. Then, the shopper can be immediately directed to learning about organizations that are working to fight malaria, and can choose to donate to that organization right then and there, or save the information to learn more later.

SPECIAL JURY PRIZE:
Sam Holleran is an artist living in New York. His tzedakah box “acknowledges the sometimes tenuous place that charity holds in our lives. While some money will inevitably fall out of this box the vast majority of the coins will cling together due to their mass. This leaves most of the ‘deposit’ intact for the intended recipient of the giving but it also allows for some monies to slip out. The coins that pass through the cracks are not ‘lost’ but volunteered to those who need help but may be too proud to ask. In some cases these may be the very folks who donated in the first place. Just as a family in need is apt to dip into their own piggy bank this design features a built-in safety valve—a way to get money out without breaking the whole.”

HONORABLE MENTION:
Grace Robinson-Leo and Rob Matthews are both graduate students in the Graphic Design Program at Yale University. Their “Charity Plan” uses an online platform for paying your phone bills (something most of us already use) as a way to create a habit and awareness of giving. Mobile phone users choose to pay one cent per minute of these otherwise free calls to charities of their choosing, based on who they are speaking with. For example, a user might choose to donate to a breast cancer charity everytime they talk to their mother. As the designers note, “Talking is our most social interaction. What if it was also socially beneficial? What if the conversations we had about philanthropy were philanthropy?”

STUDENT TRACK WINNERS:
Beth F., age 15 from LaGuardia High School in NY
Ari G. age 16 from Gann Academy in MA
Samantha S. age 16 from Great Valley High School in PA

On Sunday, May 20, Pursuers in NYC will gather for Inside the Activists’ Studio: Finding Your Voice in a Global Movement. The event will feature an incredible array of local Jewish change-makers speaking on a panel, presenting workshops, or performing. As a sneak peek, we chatted with workshop presenter Emily Saltzman:

What inspires you to work on issues of allyship (being an ally)?

Mutual learning and meaningful connection inspire me to do this work.  Learning from and reflecting on personal relationships is one of the main ways that I have seen myself grow over the years. I find human connection to be incredibly powerful, so I hope to work toward removing barriers that would prevent that connection from occurring. For me, true allyship is an integral part of organizing for folks who hold privileged identities and should not be taken lightly. I do this work because one of the effects of oppression is that it dehumanizes us. It prevents us from connecting to each other in meaningful ways or it can stop us from connecting at all.

Many of us have heard of stories where folks–typically white–work in mixed-race spaces in hopes of delving into their own experience in their privileged identity. This can most certainly be helpful and challenge folks to think deeply about the spaces that they occupy, although many times it falls on the folks of subjugated identities to educate the others. It is for exactly this reason that folks with privileged identities need to also have space to process their experience, socialized ideas and internalized superiority. There are feelings, values, thoughts and hurtful language that needs to be processed and challenged prior to and alongside all-identity organizing. While these spaces can be incredibly helpful and transformative, they can become problematic if not done alongside organizing in spaces where a variety of identities are present.

Allyship is taking a stand–both internally and externally–where we can use our privileged identity (or identities) to elevate an issue that is often silenced. Developing an ally identity allows us to challenge ourselves internally while also providing space to challenge other members of our privileged identity group externally. A large part of ally identity development is knowing when to step back and simply be present, which can be quite a challenge. The allyship development process is constantly evolving and non-linear in nature, which can also cause us to want to “give up” or “check out.” We need to take the necessary measures to support our development and connect with folks that can nourish this process while simultaneously holding us accountable.

How does your Jewish identity relate to what you do?

Growing up in the suburbs of Minneapolis, I was not connected to a Jewish community, and I didn’t learn how to integrate Jewish values into my social justice work until moving to New York City. I felt drawn to issues of social justice, equality and equity from a young age, but I did not have strong Jewish leaders that modeled this work for me. My family was one of a handful of Jewish families in my suburb, and I was often treated as an anomaly by friends and teachers. While I did not experience overt anti-Semitism until college, I did feel isolated and alone at times. I was commonly used as the “token Jewish person” in class to discuss the young adult classics like Number the Stars and The Devil’s Arithmetic. At the time I felt special and excited that my classmates and teachers wanted to discuss a section of Jewish history but, looking back, the support was empty and fleeting once the reading unit was over.

I mention this all to say that seeing the world through a Jewish lens has greatly affected my career and organizing path. To be seen as an “other”–overtly and covertly–allows one to begin noticing the social hierarchy. Fortunately I was never harassed to the point of violence, but these formative experiences stayed with me into adulthood.

When I moved to New York, I was bombarded with so many different illustrations of Jews and Judaism that it was difficult to tease out what felt right for me. Participating in AVODAH allowed me to see the connection between Judaism and social justice for the first time. My experience in AVODAH was unique in that I took part in very few Jewish learning opportunities prior to becoming a Corps member, so nearly everything we discussed in AVODAH was new to me. I was so intrigued–and thrilled–that there were younger Jews like me who had figured out a way to integrate Jewish culture, values and traditions into social justice work. After leaving AVODAH, I continued to pursue social justice ventures through my graduate program and noticed that so many of the folks I met were also queer-identified Jews. The active queer and trans community of Jewish organizers continues to support my journey. The resiliency and creativity that stems from this intersection inspires me both personally and spiritually to do this work.

What are you most excited about at Inside the Activists’ Studio?

I am thrilled to be part of such an energizing and exciting event! I have been disconnected from Jewish-based organizing for a while and I’m very much looking forward to learning from my peers and re-awakening this piece of myself. Oh, and I’m also looking forward to the delicious treats from Adamah!

Why should folks come to your IAS workshop?  

Folks should join Erin and I if they are feeling stuck in their current ally identity journey, want to think deeply about how they wish to take a stand (internally and externally), are interested in learning from others’ experiences, are looking to form connections with folks doing similar work, and are interested in developing an accountable space to support this dialogue.

Two weeks ago, The JOIN for Justice summit brought together an amazing group of folks on April 29th and 30th at Hebrew Union College in New York to sharpen their organizing skills, develop relationships with like-minded peers throughout the country, and articulate an growing vision of the movement of Jews committed to social change. The summit was a whirlwind of workshops, relational meetings, one-on-ones, and inspirational speeches. The sessions I attended, “Building Young Adult Jewish Power, Inside and Outside of Mainstream Jewish Institutions,” “Organizing and Mindfulness,” and “Community/Labor Coalitions and Domestic Workers Rights” re-charged me in my passion as an organizer and connected me to some amazing allies in discussions of building a stronger base of power of young Pursue-type folks to move the Jewish community in the directions we hope to see. 

In the opening session, Nancy Kaufman, CEO of the National Council for Jewish Women, gave an anecdote on the long-term movement building work the Jewish community so that something like the JOIN for Justice summit was possible, saying that in 1990, it was a very lonely place in the Jewish community for those working for social justice. Sitting in a crowd of 230 self-identified Jewish organizers, 90% of us under the age of 35–and 100% standing in affirmation of the belief that the Jewish community should be organizing for justice in the world–it was moving for me to be reminded of how far the Jewish community has come in organizing for social justice. As an alum of AVODAH and AJWS, this gathering of organizers, activists, clergy, non-profit professionals, and allies is the Jewish community that I have come of age in. Many of us young summit participants have been trained for leadership through fellowships, seminars, service-learning programs, one-on-ones, and conferences since we were in high school. We are ready for leadership; we are ready to attempt to responsibly wield the power of American Jewry.

Looking around the room, I realized that this was not just a rag-tag group of Jews on the fringe fighting for a slice a pie, but the possibility of the future of the mainstream.

To read more about the summit, check out Leah Kagan’s post on Global Voices, the blog of AJWS, and the article Saul Alinsky’s Moment? in the Jewish Week.

Micah Weiss is the assistant director at Etgar 36, leading experiential education trips for Jewish teenagers that teach about history, politics, and activism, but will be moving back to New York in one month to attend Yeshivat Hadar. Last year, Micah was an AVODAH Corps member in Brooklyn where he worked as an anti-gun violence community organizer and inter-group facilitator at the Crown Heights Community Mediation Center. Micah graduated from Wesleyan University in 2010 with a degree in Religion and African American Studies. Micah grew up in Atlanta, GA and is a southerner at heart although most of his activities and interests would not indicate as such.

• Mother’s Day is this Sunday, and people around the country are marking the holiday with celebrations, remembrances of loss, and questions about what motherhood means in today’s world. For a connection to justice, Jewish Women’s International links the holiday to its work on domestic violence. For another perspective, the Jewish Women’s Archive published a reflective blog post, “Toward an inclusive celebration of Jewish motherhood.” What do you think: is Mother’s Day a Hallmark holiday or a fulfillment of the mitzvah to “Honor thy mother”?
   
• President Obama made waves this week when he voiced his support for same-sex marriage in an ABC news interview. Many Jewish groups welcomed the President’s public statement, with some exceptions, but given the timing of his announcement—a day after North Carolina became the 30th state banning same-sex marriage—the question remains: what will be the real impact of the President’s words?
   
• Workers owed back pay and other compensation from Flaum Appetizing Corp. in Brooklyn achieved a major victory this week: the kosher food company agreed to pay a settlement of $577,000 to the 20 workers. A JTA article portrays the pivotal role that Uri L’Tzedek played in this struggle, which was led by the workers through Brandworkers’ Focus on the Food Chain campaign. For more extensive coverage of the work that went into this victory—and the ensuing celebrations—visit Uri L’Tzedek’s press page.
   
• Bend the Arc’s interfaith Community Organizing Residency (COR) was in the news twice this week, highlighting the key role that organizers of faith are playing in local struggles. The New York Times profiled Faiza Ali, a COR participant who now works as a community organizer with Brooklyn Congregations United, describing her work in support of legislation for banks to increase their local investment. The Portland Business Journal included a quote from participant Reverend Geoffrey Nelson Blake about his role in local protests calling on Wells Fargo to hold another annual meeting after protesting shareholders at the recent meeting were shut out of voting.

Giving doesn’t look like it used to. Our sense of community is evolving and expanding. We give globally as much as locally and the technology of giving has certainly gone beyond doling out coins.

Earlier this year, American Jewish World Service brought together talented designers nationwide to translate the concept of tzedakah - Judaism’s imperative to give to those in need – into compelling, relevant design. The Where Do You Give? National Design Competition challenged designers, artists and conceptual thinkers to create a 21st century icon inspired by the values and imagery of the traditional tzedakah box that reflects our increasingly interconnected, global and technologically accelerated world.

Join us on June 20 as we kick off a national exhibit of winning designs from the competition and celebrate a new movement toward thoughtful, imaginative and inspired giving.

Wednesday, June 20
7:00 to 9:00 p.m.
92YTribeca
200 Hudson Street
New York, NY

Speakers include Rebecca Stone, Karen Pittelman, Ryan Clifford. Facilitated by Sasha Feldstein.

RSVP here.

This event is co-hosted by Pursue and AJWS Global Circle.

Speakers:

Rebecca Stone: Rebecca currently serves as the Director of Community Engagement for Encounter, overseeing fundraising, communications, and VIP recruitment. Before joining Encounter, Rebecca spent three and a half years in major gifts fundraising at American Jewish World Service (AJWS), growing a portfolio from $300,000 to over $2 million. A grad­uate of Yeshiva University (YU), Rebecca received the Presidential Fellowship and spearheaded student-led social justice initiatives for both YU students and the modern Orthodox community at large. Rebecca served as co-chair of Limmud NY’s marketing committee and has served as the fundraising chair of AJWS’s Global Circle. Rebecca is currently enrolled in a three-year training to practice an integrated psychology and neuroscience-based approach to trauma healing and is passionate about philanthropy, social justice and peace building.

Karen Pittelman: Karen Pittelman is the author of Resource Generation’s Classified: How to Stop Hiding Your Privilege and Use It For Social Change and co-author of Creating Change Through Family Philanthropy. In 1999, at the age of 25, she dissolved her $3 million trust fund to co-found the Chahara Foundation, a fund run by and for low-income women activists in Boston. She’s been organizing people with class privilege ever since. She lives in Brooklyn where she works as a writer and a writing coach, and sings with her country band Karen & The Sorrows.

Ryan Clifford: Ryan Clifford served as a judge for the Where Do You Give? National Design Competition. Ryan Clifford teaches in MICA’s undergraduate Graphic Design program, is Faculty Director of the MICA Design Coalition and is graduate faculty in the Master of Arts in Social Design program. He serves as the Associate Director of MICA’s Center for Design Practice, a multi-disciplinary studio dedicated to preparing the next generation of design leaders through socially conscious projects using design to translate ideas into tangible outcomes with the goal of changing behaviors and making a positive impact on society. He is an advisor for Project M, an international social design initiative which is committed to helping young designers use their skills to create positive change in the world. His work has been recognized by the National Paperbox Association and the Rochester Advertising Foundation and in the following publications: How International Design Annual, Print Regional Design Annual and the book Indie Publishing.

Facilitator, Sasha Feldstein: Sasha Feldstein works in the department of education and community engagement at American Jewish World Service, and is the project manager for Where Do You Give? Prior to working at AJWS, she participated in AJWS’s Volunteer Corps by living and volunteering with Heshima Kenya in Nairobi.

On May 22, AVODAH will honor three extraordinary change-makers at its New York Partners in Justice event: Rabbi/Cantor Angela Buchdahl, City Council Member Brad Lander, and alumna Denny Marsh. We spoke with Denny below to learn more about her work and her experience with AVODAH – click here to find out the details for the event and how you can join in celebrating her accomplishments!

What was your journey to Neighbors Together?

I first came to Neighbors Together in 2004, when I moved from a small town in rural Iowa to Brooklyn to participate in AVODAH: The Jewish Service Corps. After growing up and attending college in the Midwest, I was ready to try city living for a while. I knew that I wanted to work on anti-poverty issues and live intentionally alongside others who were engaged in social justice work. It also felt important to be able to explore my relationship to Judaism in the context of a supportive and diverse Jewish community.

AVODAH was a perfect fit–I was placed at Neighbors Together for one year as a full-time volunteer advocate, working with low-income people in the Ocean Hill/Brownsville neighborhood of Brooklyn to connect to critical resources such as housing, food stamps, employment training, health and mental health care. I had no idea how transformative that year would be, and eight years later I’m still hooked.

What does a typical day look like for you at Neighbors Together?

Neighbors Together is a spirited and vibrant place–as a community-based soup kitchen, social service and advocacy center working with hundreds of people every day, things are always busy here! I became the Executive Director of Neighbors Together last fall, so every day is different as I learn the rhythm of this new role. Amid this challenging recession, the need for emergency food and comprehensive services is increasing, while financial support from government and private funders is decreasing. The majority of my energy is going toward grant writing, board and donor communication, and other fundraising related efforts to ensure our ability to provide strong support to our members during this particularly painful time for low-income New Yorkers.

What is your personal theory of change? How does Neighbors Together fit into that picture?

I believe that change–both personal and systemic–is an active, analytical, and reflective practice. Change happens through an intentional deepening of our relationship with ourselves and with others. Creating social justice involves working on personal and systemic levels: relieving individual suffering and ending structural oppression. Addressing change through this lens is a process that asks us to think critically about the places in our lives where we stand in privilege and the places where we stand in oppression, and to look closely at the choices that we make given the power that we have.  

At Neighbors Together, we believe that our mission of ending hunger and poverty cannot be achieved without the active participation of low-income people in the policy making process. Because we know that providing meals and social services are critical yet insufficient responses to addressing the underlying structural conditions that create poverty, we are committed to community organizing as an essential part of being a soup kitchen. Our comprehensive approach towards individual and collective change is what I love most about Neighbors Together.  

The majority of our members spend an enormous amount of daily energy trying to meet basic survival needs (securing food, shelter, employment, etc). Most have never been invited to think critically about social structures and public policies. They are used to being isolated from each other and disconnected from the political process. Our goal is to bring our members together to build both their critical thinking skills as well as their ownership of Neighbors Together as an organization, and our organizing efforts in particular. Our social change work emphasizes combining direct service with organizing toward civic involvement because public policies will not adequately reflect the needs of low-income people until low-income people have an active voice in creating those policies.  

How do Jewish values relate to your work?

Judaism’s values of social justice, community building and rigorous questioning align strongly with Neighbors Together’s mission and programs, so it is not hard for me to feel and appreciate this connection. I struggle to actively engage with traditional Jewish practices and rituals, yet I have found that my deepest spiritual connections come from this very struggle. Anti-poverty work is also a struggle, and yet I find great possibility, energy, and joy in staying connected to the struggle for change. It is important to note that Judaism has shaped my values and led me to some of the most transformative experiences of my life. It has connected me to some of the most meaningful relationships and communities that I am grateful to be part of today, including AVODAH and the Neighbors Together community.

What is your advice for those taking on leadership in anti-poverty work?

One thing that has been really important for me this year is making time to directly connect with the people who turn to Neighbors Together for support. This may sound like a no-brainer, but it is so easy for me to get caught up in getting through the tasks on my to-do list that I miss opportunities to be continuously inspired by our work. When I take a few moments to connect directly with our members, I find myself re-energized, more grounded, and a stronger leader all around. My advice to those taking on leadership is to make intentional time to stay closely connected to the very source of this work, so that the roots of your passion remain an accessible energy source from which you can ground and strengthen your leadership.

“Our masters taught, “Sufficient for one’s need” means that you are obligated to maintain one at a basic level, but you wouldn’t be obligated to make that person rich; “in that which one is lacking” means the obligation would also include even a horse to ride on and servant to run alongside (if that’s what one was used to). They tell a story about Hillel the Elder that, for a certain man who had come from a rich family and was suddenly poor, Hillel bought him a horse to ride on and a servant to run alongside. When on one occasion he could not find a servant to run alongside, Hillel himself ran alongside a distance of three miles.” –Ketubot 67b

I have long found myself fascinated as well as perplexed by the above Talmudic discussion. With the pervasive poverty in the world and limited resources, it is challenging enough to “maintain one at a basic level.” Is it not a luxury to provide for anything beyond fundamental needs? While Rabbi Hillel’s efforts to prevent the rich man from falling from the level he was accustomed is admirable, is it really the best use of his attention? Are our resources not best directed to those in desperate need? Those who fall from a position of security should have their own safety net with a wealthy family or strong personal network. It always seemed clear to me that they should not require more community assistance than anyone else.

Yet, working with asylum seekers in Israel this year has raised a question that drastically complicates my understanding of this discussion: What if the individual’s fall from position is not primarily about financial resources? What if, as is the case with many asylum seekers in Israel, the change in situation actually increases access to financial resources, but severely restricts the opportunity to maintain a previously enjoyed way of life?

Asylum seekers come to Israel seeking refuge for a variety of reasons ranging from fear for physical safety to severe economic distress. Upon arrival, individuals are separated into two groups: those who qualify for a form of group protection due to the unstable conditions in their country of origin, such as Sudan, Eritrea, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and those who are eligible to apply for individual protection under international law. 

The living conditions for asylum seekers vary widely depending on to which group they belong. Individuals with group protection receive a renewable three-month visa that, while not officially a work visa, allows most refugees to find a sustainable source of income. Those designated for individual protection claims are generally not so fortunate. They receive a temporary visa, which does not include the right to work, while their application for asylum is under review. The process routinely takes between two and four years. Ultimately most are rejected, as Israel’s refugee acceptance rate remains well under 1%. At this point, individuals must make a choice to either return to their country of origin or remain in Israel without any legal status. 

While my work primarily focuses on individuals who apply for individual protection, perhaps counterintuitively, I have found myself equally, if not more disturbed by the plight of those holding group protection. Whether it is the pleading of a Congolese woman that “there is no way you can understand what it is like to go from traveling the world as a grassroots activist to cleaning apartments in Tel Aviv for 200 shekel a day,” or an Eritrean man’s description of “the ghost of my mind that is left from the type of work I have to do here,” it has become increasingly clear to me that a basic level of protection for those fleeing persecution is insufficient. The trauma of falling from one’s position and the subsequent estrangement from opportunities can be devastating, even when life saving physical protection is provided. 

It is significant that Rabbi Hillel did not simply provide the formerly rich man with a cash advance. As opposed to seeking to maintain the man’s economic position, Hillel ensures that he has the tools to which he is accustomed, maintaining his ability to pursue the opportunities formerly available to him. Why should our activism focus on anything less? Instead of concentrating exclusively on equitably distributing material resources, let us not forget to help maintain the hope of a brighter future that so often disappears when one’s reality changes in a drastic and unexpected way.

Jimmy Taber is a recent MA-MBA graduate from Brandeis University’s Hornstein Jewish Professional Leadership Program. He is spending the year in Jerusalem serving in the Joint Distribution Committee’s Jewish Service Corps on issues related to African refugees and migrant workers.

On Sunday, May 20, Pursuers in NYC will gather for Inside the Activists’ Studio: Finding Your Voice in a Global Movement. The event will feature an incredible array of local Jewish change-makers speaking on a panel, presenting workshops, or performing. As a sneak peek, we chatted with workshop presenter Erin Markman:

What inspires you to work on issues of allyship (being an ally)?

The pursuit of liberation and love! That might manage to sound both grandiose and trite, but I really, deeply, mean it. I want to work toward a world where we all strive to be allies to one another, recognizing the systemic oppressions that circumscribe our lives and the interpersonal oppressions we perpetuate, and working collaboratively to undo both. That’s what’s going to make our movements work. It’s what’s going to move us forward together.

I want to do my best every day to hold myself accountable in the domains in which I have institutional privilege—being white, or able-bodied, or cisgender, for example. I want to hold myself accountable for assumptions, for microaggressions, for the false histories I’ve been taught, for the “-isms” I enact, for the oppressions that live inside me. I want to hold myself accountable to speak up, to challenge systems, policies, and practices that perpetuate oppression, especially when that act of challenging feels frightening. And I want as many relationships as I can get that make allyship explicit. I want relationships with people who expect allyship from me, who feel they can hold me accountable when they want to, who feel they can call me out in the moment or send me an email after the fact. I want to be told when I’ve hurt someone unintentionally. I want to be told when someone feels I’m missing, or misunderstanding, or misrepresenting an idea because of my privilege. I want that kind of accountability not as an academic exercise but as a lived component of interpersonal relationships. And I want to be given permission to hold others accountable as well. I want that accountability because I think it’s necessary to move us all toward where we want to go.

I want this with the urgency and rage and pain that oppressive systems elicit, but I’m trying hard not to let my desire to be an ally be driven by guilt (though I certainly still grapple with guilt). I want it to be about love. Because I don’t think I can love fully without consistently being in the process of undoing and relearning, of fighting against policies and practices of oppression and also fighting what I’ve internalized. Pursuing an ally identity is always messy and often painful and never-ending, but it is also a process full of love. It’s how I’ve loved my friends the best, and it’s how they love me best as well.

Systems of oppression, including the ones that bestow privilege on us, contribute to a world that robs us all of our humanity. The act of fighting against those systems which benefit oneself is, in my mind, in the service of pursuing mutual liberation. Audre Lorde makes the point beautifully:

“I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own. And I am not free as long as one person of Color remains chained. Nor is any one of you.”

How does your Jewish identity relate to what you do?

My Jewish identity is something that I’m still in the process of building and shaping and probably always will be! Allyship informs that process a lot. I love working with my Jewish friends to cultivate a Jewish identity that is rooted in anti-oppressive thinking and action and in which allyship plays a central role. For example, I’ve loved using a haggadah at our Seders that we’ve worked together to modify—building in discussions of racism, LGBTQ identities, and liberation struggles around the world. For me, that’s how my Jewish identity grows, and it often feels very joyful and playful. But there are real challenges as well. I’ve seen Jewish identity arise in very complicated ways in conversations about white privilege, for example. I’m working to cultivate a Jewish identity that pushes me to examine my white privilege and how I can take action to be a white Jewish ally. I want a Jewish identity that pushes me to be an ally to Palestinians. I want a Jewish identity that pushes me to address Islamophobia in the U.S. I want a Jewish identity that pushes me to stand up against all oppressions, and to ask others to do the same, all while authentically challenging anti-Semitism as it arises. I’m not there yet, but all of this work is about process!   

What are you most excited about at Inside the Activists’ Studio?

I’m most excited about learning and building community. I love intentional spaces where we all come together to build and share. I’m very appreciative that the space has been organized—I know how hard that is—and I’m really looking forward to being a part of it.

Why should folks come to your workshop?   

Folks should come to challenge themselves to think deeply and broadly about what it means to be an ally and why allyship matters to our movements, our relationships, and our internal selves. And they should come to challenge me, too! Our workshop is designed to be a site of group learning, in which we as facilitators are also learning, and I’m really looking forward to that. So I hope that people come to learn with me, bringing their experiences and sharing their stories. I anticipate it will be challenging and dynamic and will allow people to bring their full selves to the space.

“Yoel thinks we’re crazy!” says Leora Mallach, founder of Ganei Beantown and organizer of the first Boston Jewish Food Conference. We are on a phone call trying to plot out dinner and we’re hitting a few snags along the way. Feeding 200 people is a task in and of itself; feeding 200 people on a budget, in a less-than-ideal kitchen, and accounting for an all-vegetarian meal and additional dietary needs furthers the challenges. We were attempting to do this within the constraints of using a Kosher caterer, while sourcing as many local and sustainable ingredients as possible… in April, in New England.

To say that we had our work cut out for us is an understatement. The seed for the Boston Jewish Food Conference was first planted in the spring of 2011 when Leora Mallach, Becca Weaver and Hannah Levine, inspired by the 2010 Hazon East Coast Food Conference, sat down over leftover Tova’s vegan spicy chocolate cake to consider a local gathering. As planning moved along, it became clear that our meal and all of our snacks needed to be certified Kosher in order to be inclusive of the wide range of beliefs and practices in our Jewish community. Because the conference focused on ethics in our food choices (our tagline for the conference is “Sowing the Seeds of Sustainability”) we also knew that we needed to role model this in the meal that we served. While Boston boasts multiple Kosher caterers and several caterers that focus on using locally-sourced and sustainable ingredients, there is no one that does both.

Armed with this knowledge, initial planning team members sought out a Kosher caterer who would be willing to work with us on planning this experimental meal of our dreams. Enter Yoel Konstantine, owner of Dushez Catering. Like most seasoned food professionals, Yoel has his preferred sources for ordering food, his time-tested menus, and a general sense of what everything will cost. Our event turned all of this on its head. “Yoel says that these eggs cost three times what he normally pays!” says Leora as we try to decide if makes sense to serve a quiche. In fact, quiche is not a typical dinner entrée option listed on the Dushez website, but our desire to keep things meatless meant thinking out of the box. With that philosophy in mind, we also requested a gluten-free quinoa salad adorned with only locally-available (i.e. no mealy off-season tomatoes!) produce.

In addition to the no-tomatoes verdict, we wanted all of our food, or as much as humanly possible, to be made or grown here in New England. For many of us, this was a pointed lesson in what food is truly available here and when. It turns out that, despite excitement over the burgeoning signs of spring, April is a particularly challenging time to eat locally in this area. It is simultaneously too early for our gorgeous spring and summer crops to bloom and too late to rely on the cold storage root vegetables that get us through out frigid winters. Conversations with farmers further explained our predicament: we were told that local apples are scarce and mealy-textured, lettuce was possible but not a definite, and even cold-storage carrots are hard to come by. Damage and flooding from Hurricane Irene in August 2011 also damaged the potential root crops for that winter that might have been available to us in other years.

This begs the question, “What do New Englanders eat in these in-between months?” Dairy and eggs are available all year-round, as is ethically raised meat. However, meat was not an option for this meal, and certified Kosher cheese from humanely raised cows is not prolific, but we were able to use eggs from locally and humanely-raised chickens for the finally-agreed-upon quiche. Though higher in cost than conventional eggs, and providing sticker shock to the food professionals who are unused to purchasing them, these eggs were still a cost-effective and tasty way to feed 200 people. The eggs, which were sourced via Mobile Market from Baffoni’s Poultry Farm in Johnston, RI highlights one of the most challenging issues in food justice conversations: sustainability versus cost. The idea of food access in regards to income was discussed in one of the conference workshops, “Food Access in Greater Boston.”

When discussing food access, people often bring up the fact that fresh produce is harder to come by in poorer urban areas and areas known as food deserts. We were able to have fresh produce incorporated into the conference meal and wanted to be selective about where it came from; our radishes, salad lettuce, dark greens, herbs, and potatoes were intentionally sourced from Market Mobile Farm-to-Biz Delivery in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Sometimes, our decisions meant choosing a second or third option when our best-case scenario was not available. For example, we were able to serve bread from the Kosher Kupel’s Bakery in Brookline, MA, but most of their flour is sourced from the Midwest. For dessert, we chose to serve an ice cream bar from J.P. Licks, a locally owned and Kosher business, and topped the ice cream with locally-grown cranberries, Marshmallow Fluff (locally produced and Kosher but not a natural food), and mass-produced, artificially colored sprinkles, which seemed a staple for any ice-cream sundae bar. Our original dessert aspiration of homemade beet brownies, though enticing, was more work than our team had capacity for. (We have high hopes to serve them at the 2013 conference!)

Compromises notwithstanding, we managed to serve an enjoyable and delicious meal that embodied the values of the conference while reflecting the questions that we had been asking all day in our workshops. Why is it so impossible for some people to have access to fresh produce? How do we eat locally and in-season in the New England climate? What compromises are we willing to make when it comes to our food choices? When I first saw the dishes that Yoel and his team at Dushez prepared to our exact specification laid out on cloth-covered tables at Hebrew College, I literally skipped and hopped with excitement. The food was beautiful, delicious, and best of all, it shifted a paradigm: it was possible to have Kosher, locally sourced, vegetarian food, in New England, in April.

As the questions and discussions and lessons of the day morphed into the sound of stomachs burbling with hunger, attendees lined up put to their values where their mouths were and eat the fruits of these important conversations.

Jessica Green is a life-long food lover, food writer, former restaurant owner, and activist. She is a proud member of the 2012 Boston Jewish Food Conference planning team and can be found at www.fedbyjess.com and on Twitter by the same name.