Jack Salzman, Cornel West Struggles in the Promised

Blacks, Jews, and Gender \\ 399
Another difference was emotional: at first we were all feisty and bold, but as
time progressed, the Black women remained willing to express their anger while
the Jewish women seemed afraid to let theirs out. I'm not sure if this was because
the Blacks had more to be angry about, or if we Jews felt our complaints to be less
legitimate. But I do know that when one side believes itself less entitled than the
other to take ownership of its feelings, the integrity of the dialogue process is
fatally compromised.
Something else ripped the scales: The Jewish women were willing to be critical
of Jewish leaders and to condemn any Jew whose position on Black/Jewish
issues seemed misguided. (Sometimes we got too wrapped up in arcane Jewish
community politics, as if these "inside baseball" stories were of interest to everyone.)
The Black women, on the other hand, always closed ranks around Black
leaders. While they were candid about their community's problems, they all
seemed to hold the same lockstep views on incidents that involved Blacks and
Jews, and they defended any African American with whom the Jewish world
found fault. Or, if they had an ideological dispute among themselves—whether
on Tawana Brawley or Crown Heights—they chose not to reveal it to us. After
a while, we Jews found this united front hard to believe and somewhat disconcerting.
Most important, I think the group ran out of steam because each side came in
with fundamentally different expectations. The Blacks may have been ready to
move from dialogue to action that would address the needs of African Americans,
while for Jews, dialogue itself is the need—it's a short term cure for Jewish insecurity.
If Blacks are still talking to us, we tell ourselves, maybe the liberal alliance
is not dead, maybe we don't have to fear Black Christians as much as white
Christians, maybe they won't all gang up on us.
I think we could have addressed the needs of both groups if we'd found ways
to put our skills and experience to use in the community. Together, we could have
tackled a single social issue—perhaps working to combat violence against
women, a problem that crosses lines of race, ethnicity, and class. We could have
helped start other dialogue groups around the city. We could have gone out in
pairs and given talks in schools, churches, and synagogues. We might have traveled
together to Israel and Africa, or at least to the Holocaust Museum in
Washington, D. C., and the Schomberg Center for Research on Black Culture in
Harlem. And we should have worked harder to place joint op-eel pieces to counteract
the barrage of stories emphasizing Black/Jewish enmity. (Two of us coauthored
such a piece in support of David Dinkins' candidacy, but after the New
York Times turned us down, we never pursued it further)
At this point, coulda-woulda-shoulda is a futile exercise. Suffice it to say, I
miss our group enormously and I'd join another Black/Jewish women's dialogue
in a minute regardless of the Sturm und Drang that inevitably would repeat itself
with a new cast of characters.
Why do Jews and African Americans seem to lock horns more than other