A Temporary Victim

In 2017, Indian comedian Hari Kondabolu released a documentary called "The Problem with Apu," detailing the racist depiction of the character. Eventually, due to negative publicity, "The Simpsons" removed the character from the show. 

But not all Indians felt the same. Akaash Singh, also a comedian, has a special called "Bring Back Apu." In a NY Times article, he explains why he is pro-Apu. The article opens with a quote from his special:  

Here is a brown man married to a beautiful brown woman, owns his own business, selling overpriced products to unwitting white people. Apu is not racist. He’s the American dream.

But he explains his perspective further: 

Singh is quick to compliment Kondabolu, who he said reached out to him after hearing him on a podcast. “He said I implied he didn’t work hard and I said I don’t think that at all,” Singh said, praising Kondabolu’s joke writing and work ethic. “My issue is with your mentality,” Singh said he told his fellow comic. “The victimhood mentality. The mentality weakens us as a people.”

There was an organization that's purpose used to be enlightening frei Jews as to what being frum meant. It did so cheerfully, educating readers without being insulted by the oddball assumptions they had to clarify. 

But as the various minorities began to clamber up their soapboxes, they also shifted. Now, with furrow-browed intent, they focus on misrepresentations in media, demanding for change. 

When Singh talked about victimhood, it occurred to me why I found the change in attitude disconcerting. 

As you know, I'm a descendant of survivors. Not only did they survive the war (dayenu!) they then had to flee their rebuilt lives 10 years later when the die-hard communists came to power. They had to move to a new country and start again, again. 

It was not right, on any level, what they had to go through. But if they had stopped to focus only on their injustice, they would not have achieved anything. 

If you kvetch too much, no one will want to be around you. Including your own family. And you don't get anywhere. 

My grandparents were well within their rights to collapse into helpless mush. But they didn't. They were victims once. They didn't stay victims forever. 

Constantly focusing on those who have sinned against you isn't healthy. Nor does it accomplish anything. 

This organization could still do the work they do . . . with a little more humor. Less "this has to stop!!!" Rabid racists won't change their mind anyway, and most people are simply misinformed, not malicious. 

I'm not saying they aren't right. But being right isn't always enough.

“There’s merit to both sides,” Singh said. “I’m not completely right, as much as I would love to be.”

IG Woes

As I confessed, I've actually downloaded Instagram. 

I'm very careful with it. I know it can be a gateway to self-loathing due to comparison, so I am discerning with those I follow. 

I prefer accounts where they share something funny or useful. Recipe developers, makeup artists, dermatologists, snarky mommy memes, comic strips, exercises for postpartum stomachs. If one person posts a picture of herself in a bikini, I unfollow her account. I am not here to feel bad about myself, or to assuage the neediness of another to be admired for her thigh gap. 

I think it's brilliant, social media, the way any person can promote their business or career without the need for someone on the inside.  Some accounts are for support, like @iwassupposedtohaveababy, which I think does an amazing service. 

But people take it too far, and I find it concerning.

I blame, to some extent, the constant messaging girls get in school that tznius means covered elbows and knees. Hatzneiya leches im Hashem is also about behavior. 

I squirm when someone posts about her anniversary, sharing multiple photos of her squeezing her boo, gushing about what a wonderful man he is. I shift when someone posts pictures of her perfectly coiffed children. What I find particularly irritating is when someone does the now standard "now don't think my life is perfect, cause it's not" post, but uses a pretty darn perfect photo to accompany that statement (how could someone look THAT good one month after having a baby???)

I remember, quite clearly, the envy that would overtake me anytime I saw a pic online of a new couple or a married couple or a couple with their kids when I was single. My lack of couplehood was so consuming that even if you told me your life wasn't perfect, I would roll my eyes: but you have a husband. You have children. Of course it isn't perfect. But you have what I don't and what I want.

There is a concept not to do PDA in public, lest it make others jealous (I forget the exact term). 

Additionally, when I see some IG accounts in person, they seem to not remember that they are being pretty open with themselves over the internet. They can't see their followers, they can't see their faces. They seem to think they are in a safe, enclosed bubble, when it is actually the opposite. The internet, let's not forget, is the domain of creepy men in a variety of basements.

I'm not saying it should be banned—far from it. But it should be navigated with caution, with restraint. Even I have fantasies of creating an IG account, but one that would not show my face, so I don't think it would be very popular (only @chezchaya managed to pull that off). 

And if there is an account that bums you out with her perfection, feel free to unfollow it. You'll be happier.

The Friend Quest

While once upon a time I used to rail against the evils of smartphones (not in a frum capacity, but rather as constant distractions and time wasters), I've turned to the dark side. I just need something to keep me awake when I'm feeding a baby at 1a.m.

I like mindlessly scrolling through Facebook and Instagram for this. It's the right level of non-awakening stimulation to get the job done. 

I belong to a number of groups on Facebook. A recurring thing in one of them is about how difficult it is to make friends. The poster has actually tried to by joining chessed activities and such, but nothing's happening. 

I'm also in that situation. Well, I currently do have one friend, who was also on a search for a friend herself. Fortuitously, we bumped into each other, made a point to put out some chatty feelers, and it worked. We meet up usually once a week. That was after weeks, nay, months, more like years, of failed connection attempts. 

But I'm concerned about the fragility of the relationship only in terms of possible relocation. She's trying to find a house for her growing family, and is looking out of state. Once she leaves, we'll both be back at square one unless she moves near someone she knows. 

I try to be open, make small talk in the park (although it's usually babysitters, not mothers), and while they smile politely, maybe chat back, it usually stalls there. Twice I met lovely women in the park, and hoped to take it further, but twice I fumbled the ball. I haven't seen them there again. 

Sigh. 

It's hard making new friends. What people don't realize is that many people have that same challenge, when they walk past each other on the street. 

It's also not enough just to meet someone new; you have to have the right chemistry. Some people may just not get your humor, for instance, or may be so consumed with her own insecurities that she cannot be present for you. In my case, I'd rather not have a friend than deal with drama. 

Whenever I've tried to make a friend, it usually is a fail. Expending effort and seeing no return is demoralizing, and frankly after ten years of dating I am done with that. 

So what I do now is try to be open. That is it. I smile if I can. I'll reciprocate conversation if it is offered. And if I feel as though the other party is on the same page, well, there you go. 

Maybe one day, if the Lord is kind, Ben will come home with a new friend who has a great mother.