It seems strange to say about the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, but I’m actually excited for Tisha B’Av tonight.

This year we have thrown ourselves headfirst into the exploration of everything in this world that doesn’t work quite like we say it does. We have explored the history that has expanded the difference between the haves and the have-nots. We have run up against blatant examples of guilty-until-proven-innocent, and it’s-illegal-for-you-but-not-for-you, so many times that it has stopped seeming like an exception and started to look like the way justice actually works in this country. I have tried to help people navigate policies and programs that treat adults like children, or worse, vagrants, because they do not have a job or health insurance or stable housing or merely because they are a person of color. We have heard the stories of masses of people organized and protesting, only to be given 5 minutes to speak in City Hall while backroom deals overrule the civic engagement we’re so proud of in this country. I have been furious, absolutely furious, at what I was not taught in US History in high school, what is not on the AP test, what is not considered worthy of basic knowledge for a voting American citizen. I have been terrified to share my thoughts, my turmoil, my perspective, in a venue as public as a blog, because it seemed like everything I thought I knew was changing weekly. I didn’t want to be associated with last week’s Gillian.

And yet, throughout the whole year, I have managed to find unending inspiration and hope in the people around me; in my housemates and fellow AVODAHnikot, who came home each day and shared their stories, their frustrations, their fears, and their successes; in Ed and Vera and Jamilah and Ron, who all together have over a century of organizing experience and bring a wisdom to their work that always settled my fierce impatience and reminded me to look at things from different sides; in Rachel and Davida who finally gave me the history that contexualized what I was seeing.

Over the last few weeks, though, I’ve felt like Atlas finally collapsed. I’ve composed my own version of lamentations.

Every day the newspaper was filled with stories of the oil spill: how another attempt at stopping it had failed, how many fishermen out of work still hadn’t been hired to help in the cleanup, how we didn’t know what the dispersants would do, didn’t know how far the oil would spread, didn’t know how the bluefin tuna or pelicans or oysters would fare, didn’t know hardly anything. It was as though an entire region was holding its breath, the way a little kid counts the seconds between a lightning flash and the ensuing roll of thunder.

Soon other news started rolling in. One of New Orleans’s Rabbis sent us a plea to protest Israel’s Rotem bill, which would make the only conversions recognized in Israel Orthodox conversions—holding your rights as a “Jew” to a conservative standard of observance that most of us with Jewish mothers do not choose to keep and have the freedom not to. Rumors circulated –the development of a copper mine upstream from the town where I lived and worked in Panama had been sold to a Chinese company, with no guarantees that labor and environmental standards would be upheld. I received news that a friend in Panama had left our water sanitation project to work on the construction of a hydroelectric damn which he had opposed, because he needed the money. News that a partner agency here in New Orleans had lost a grant and had to lay off 2/3 of its staff. News that another friend here had been “surplused.” News that the Avondale shipyards, one of the bigger and better-paying employers on the Gulf Coast, are planning on closing.

And then came the meetings. Meetings and meetings and more meetings preparing for the switch in my clinic to sliding-scale. As post-Katrina funding dries up, the network of community health clinics that sprung up in this city is transitioning to a sliding-scale fee system. It is part of the requirements to receive some federal support. It is a sliding-scale fee system based on what the federal government says that you can pay, which maybe, just maybe, is not what you actually can afford to pay. The models we have built are suddenly back at the mercy of national and state policies—policies that favor big business subsidies over social support, policies that assume people are poor because they are lazy, policies that don’t work for everyone, policies that don’t always adapt to local realities. Yes, I know that we plan on engaging politicians, doctors, and patients to make sure that we can still do what we need to do to care for people. For now, though, my idealism has gotten caught in the cogs of our gigantic economic machine—a machine that might, itself, need a major upgrade.

I run through the stories, the injustices, the problems again and again in my personal lamentation. Sadness fills me, unbearable sadness at what has happened and what is happening. Helplessness overwhelms me. We seem like so few, arrayed against the mighty Roman armies, or defeated and crying by the waters of Babylon. I have felt so small.

So tonight, I’m excited to be sad with other people. I have heard people say that payer in Judaism is a roomful of people praying alone, together. I want to be with my community while I struggle with my fears. I want to attach my twenty-something self to a longer history, to remind myself that senseless, terrible things, things that crush the work of many hands into dust, have happened before, will happen again, and that good will still survive in this world. I want to step forward with other people through our pain into the period of comfort and rebuilding, so that I can move forward from this year into new, frustrating challenges. I hope for such a chance for all of us.

Some seeds of hope:

Prayer written by Rabbi David Seidenberg:

Elohei haruchot (God of all Spirit), you gave all living creatures a rainbow covenant, to not destroy the Earth because of human sins, and now we are drowning the seas of the Gulf of Mexico with oil that we have unleashed. Please give us wisdom and strength to heal the seas; please protect the lives touched by that oil. May the holy sparks that our hands have scattered be restored to the Tree of Life.  And may the whole of creation return to its original strength, so that we may see the rainbow, rejoicing and beautified with its colors.  Yashuv hakol l’eitano harishon, v’niratah hakeshet, sas umitpa’er b’govanin. Barukh chei ha’olamim.

Other Worlds, Beverly Bell:

You have to imagine something different to work towards it. This is a reminder that there is another way.

“AVODAH’s Board of Directors is proud to have Marilyn assume the helm. Marilyn has a long history of commitment to social justice issues, a deep attachment to her Judaism, and has been connected with AVODAH for many years.  I’m confident that she will take our organization to new heights,” said Steven Dow, AVODAH’s Board Chair.

Sneiderman has spent much of her life as a community and union organizer dedicated to fighting poverty. Prior to coming to AVODAH, Marilyn worked at B’nai Brith Youth Organization (BBYO) as Deputy Director and Chief Field Officer. During her tenure at BBYO she revamped their entire field organization to help transform BBYO into one of the country’s premier Jewish teenage leadership development organizations. Prior to joining BBYO, she directed the Department of Field Mobilization for the AFL-CIO from 1996-2005. Under Sneiderman’s leadership, she launched a national initiative designed to unite community, union, religious, and civil/immigrant rights groups regionally and nationally to campaign for decent jobs, better schools, and social and economic justice in communities around the country.

Sneiderman earned a Master’s Degree in Social Work from University of Wisconsin-Madison, and has served on the faculty at three universities:  Georgetown University Law School, the University of Illinois, and at Cornell University.  From 2003 to the present, she has served on the National Board of the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights Education Fund. She also co-authored a booklet entitled, Labor in the Pulpits with Kim Bobo of the National Interfaith Worker Justice.

“I am thrilled to be joining AVODAH and continue my passionate pursuit of social justice and service work in the Jewish community. I look forward to working with the staff to lead AVODAH into its next phase of growth,” said Sneiderman.

The Board of AVODAH selected Sneiderman following an extensive national search.

AVODAH: The Jewish Service Corps was founded in 1998 to strengthen the Jewish community’s fight against the causes and effects of poverty in the United States. AVODAH does this by engaging participants in service and community building that inspires them to become lifelong agents for social change whose work for justice is rooted in and nourished by Jewish values.

Each year AVODAH recruits young Jewish adults from across the US and Canada - and from the full spectrum of Jewish backgrounds - to spend a year working full-time at anti-poverty organizations in New York, Chicago, New Orleans, and Washington, DC.

The AVODAH experience continues after participants complete the year-long program. Pursue: Action for a Just World, a project of AVODAH and American Jewish World Service, offers alumni and other young Jews ongoing opportunities to make change together within and beyond the Jewish community. Pursue connects young people at the intersection where their Jewish values meet their passion for social justice, building a community that takes action to create social change.

Michal at the Common Ground Health Clinic's community garden

When I decided to do AVODAH in New Orleans, I was prepared for an extraordinary experience.  While each of the AVODAH cities has a distinctive history and culture, and its own manifestations of urban poverty, New Orleans is unique in the sense that every aspect of people’s lives here has been affected by Hurricane Katrina and the subsquent levee failures of 2005.

I knew this when I boarded a plane bound for Louis Armstrong International Aiprot back in August.  My AVODAH placement is with REACH NOLA, a local non-profit community health organization that focuses, among other things, on community wellness and mental health.  I prepared myself to deal with the depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder that so many are still struggling with several years after the flooding and devastation of the city.

What I didn’t prepare myself for was the added surge in mental health issues following another manmade disaster—the BP oil spill.  As public attention begins to shift away from prevention and toward the clean-up efforts, environmental and health effects of the spill are beginning to play a more prominent role in media and public discourse.  As a local community health organization, REACH NOLA, my AVODAH placement, has been contributing in significant ways to this conversation.
After Hurricane Katrina, one in three people from the affected area struggled with post-disaster depression, anxiety and/or post-traumatic stress disorder.  REACH NOLA was established largely in response to this mental health crisis.  From 2006 to the present, we have trained over 400 people from over 75 organizations in New Orleans to provide high quality services for stress, depression and PTSD, and our infrastructure support has paid for over 110,000 client visits

A healing drum circle with Project Rising Sun at the 7th Ward/Treme Community Resource Fair

It is because of this work in post-disaster mental health recovery that REACH NOLA is able to respond to the oil spill crisis by addressing the rising anxiety levels among communities impacted by the spill.  At a Community Wellness Conference on May 26 and 27,  REACH NOLA board members and affiliates spoke on a panel about the pending mental health impact on Gulf Coast residents as a result of the oil spill.

Some of the concerns include increases in domestic violence, suicide, and drug and alcohol abuse, in addition to depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder.  In order to cope, it is critical that fishermen and tourism workers and their families, and others who are impacted by the spill, have a strong support system.  This is the importance of the community part of “community health,” something I have learned a lot about in the past ten months of working at REACH NOLA.  Communities, too, can be healthy and resilient—and they are ones in which members are involved and connected to one another through multiple channels.  Churches, neighborhood organizations, and even networks of family and friends can fill this role.

In addition to addressing emerging mental health issues, REACH NOLA has played a role in supporting the cleanup efforts in the Gulf.  Though BP has attempted to employ local fishermen in the process, many of these fishermen are Vietnamese immigrants who speak little or no English.  Communication is difficult, and BP initially failed to have important documents, such as contracts and waivers, translated from English to Vietnamese.  This situation, like the mental health crisis, is familiar to us at REACH NOLA.

Through our Health and Language Access Program, we advocate for access to quality health care for individuals with limited English proficiency.  Growing communities of Spanish, Portuguese, and Vietnamese speakers in New Orleans struggle to find culturally sensitive health care services delivered in a language they can understand.  To this end, we provide training and support for medical and community interpreters through a course that covers the ethics and techniques of interpreting.

In May, my co-worker Katrina Badger trained 20 Vietnamese community members in Interpreting in Community Settings.  The course participants were bilingual Vietnamese community memebers, including fishermen and people working in the seafood industry, whose livelihoods were impacted by the spill.  Training prepares them to get jobs working for BP as interpreters, which will improve communication between BP and the Vietnamese community and will also reduce the likelihood that miscommunication will lead to accidents, injuries, or coercion of community members.

Through my work at REACH NOLA, I have come to understand the ways in which disasters, both manmade and natural, impact community health broadly, and mental health specifically.  In an article on community resilience as a strategy for disaster readiness, Fran H. Norris et al. discuss the concept of “community capacity,” defined as “the characteristics of communities that affect their abliity to…address social and public health problems.”  A community with strong community capacity is more resilient to the types of disaster that, unfortunately, have repeatedly struck the Gulf in the past few years—like Hurricanes Katrina and Rita and the BP oil spill.  One important aspect of community resilience is social capital, which includes “networks that are characterized by reciprocal links, frequent supportive interactions, overlap with other networks, the ability to form new associations, and cooperative decision-making processes.”  Social capital also includes social support, which “refers to social interactions that provide individuals with actual assistance and embed them into a web of social relationships perceived to be loving, caring, and readily available in times of need.”  Support is most effective when it is reciprocal.

Sound familiar?  This article, upon which we base a great deal of the work we do at REACH NOLA, also touches upon many aspects of our AVODAH community.  We have formed reciprocal links with one another, with AVODAH alumni living in New Orleans, and with others in the Jewish and social justice communities.  We have “frequent supportive interactions”—daily supportive interactions, in fact—in which we unpack the day’s frustrations and successes over a meal of stir-fried vegetables, or through check-ins at house meetings or the beginning of a program.  And speaking of house meetings, we’ve spent the past ten months perfecting the “cooperative decision-making process” that this article refers to.

Another dimension of community capacity is “sense of community,” described as “an attitude of bonding (trust and belonging) with other members of one’s gorup or locale, including mutual concerns and shared values.”  Groups with a strong sense of community show “high concern for community issues, respect for and service to others, sense of connection, and needs fulfillment.”  As my AVODAH placement strives to increase community capacity and resilience in post-disaster New Orleans through encouraging a strong sense of community, and as we redouble our efforts in response to the BP oil spill, I, too, feel surrounded by the characteristics of a healthy, robust community.  I feel a strong sense of community in New Orleans and in Metairie, in shuls and at the JCC, on the streets of Treme and uptown, at work, and above all, in the Bayit.

Ora Nitkin-Kaner (AVODAH ‘08-’09) is a former exoneree advocate with RAE.

RAE is hosting its first organizational fundraiser on June 19^th in New Orleans’ French Quarter to bring awareness of the issues of wrongful conviction to a larger audience. For more information, visit www.r-a-e.org

—

I returned home from Angola prison in May 2003. At the time, there was no compensation statute to ensure Louisiana would make reparations for my 14 years spent as an innocent man on death row. In May 2005, I filed a civil suit against the district attorney’s office. Months later, the state legislature passed a bill offering compensation of $15,000 per year of incarceration with a maximum payout of $150,000 to exonerees, with a statute requiring claimants to waive their right to sue the state in order to collect the paltry sum. Adele Bernhard, associate professor at Pace Law School, wrote that “the statute was designed primarily to indemnify the state from its own wrongdoing and only secondarily to assist the wrongly convicted.” Still, in 2006, I filed my own compensation claim. Today, seven years after my exoneration, my civil suit is awaiting hearing in the United States Supreme Court, and my compensation claim is awaiting hearing in the fall of 2010.

Since Louisiana’s 25 exonerees are primarily older men, our age and gender usually makes us ineligible for social service programs, especially job-training. And, because exonerees no longer have a conviction, we are also often excluded from traditional re-entry services offered to the formerly incarcerated. Suspended between when we file for compensation and when the system decides – if ever – to recognize our claims, we’re stuck with little chance of supporting ourselves. For these reasons, we created Resurrection After Exoneration (RAE), a non-profit run for and by exonerees that provides direct support while also encouraging exonerees to be agents promoting awareness and change. I and other exonerees from Louisiana travel around the country to educate citizens about wrongful incarceration.

Like my fellow exonerees, I’ve done my best to support myself with the skills I developed in prison; in my case, advocacy and the ability to speak on behalf of the voiceless. Most exonerees try to provide for themselves without relying on an absent government. But a prison record, regardless of whether the guilty verdict was actually correct, repeatedly closes us out of the few jobs we would otherwise be qualified for. Without options, we often tumble into depression, or drugs and alcohol, or return to the only relatively safe place we know: prison. Even after we’re exonerated from death or life sentences, our lives are on the line. Several of us have died in the months following our release from ill health, unable to pay for medical treatment.

At present, RAE’s exonerees are working with the Louisiana legislature to improve the 2005 compensation bill. A new bill, HB 505, asks for revision of the 2005 bill and adjustment to reflect the very real needs of exonerees. It passed through the House Criminal Justice committee with no objection, is now in House Appropriations and is headed to amendment on the House floor. If the state of Louisiana does its part to provide the means and opportunities for this population to do so, these men and women will not only work to support ourselves, but contribute to the culture and economy of this state in a unique and meaningful way. Through private support of organizations like RAE, and public support for bills like HB505, exonerees can make the first step – beyond a $5 handout – to get their lives started again.

Housemates Michal, Laura and Rachel on their morning run.

It is no secret that it has been a number of months since my last blog entry. I would love to say that this is because I am an incredibly busy and important person, whose days are simply too packed to be bothered with blogging, but…that would be lying. Yes, my caseload at Juvenile Regional Services keeps me pretty busy but I definitely could have written an entry.

I have actually started six different blogs and could not make myself finish them. Although they were all about important, socially conscious topics, I just could not finish an entry. With so many significant events in this city like the devastating oil spill or legislative sessions making huge decisions about the future of education in New Orleans, everything I wrote about felt like it didn’t measure up. It couldn’t possibly encompass everything that is happening here and everything that I want to convey to my friends and family members who are not here.

So, I found a solution and it fits nicely with the “This I believe” format that my beloved roommate Michal used a little while ago.

I believe in the simple, seemingly unimportant, undeniably beautiful occurrences that happen in the city of New Orleans.  I first realized that this is something I strongly believe in when two of my roommates and I started going to the JCC every morning to run. It is a great system because typically I would not choose to wake up an hour earlier than I need to and go for a fifteen minute walk in weather that is already in the triple digits. However, because we all rely on each other to be accountable and act as motivation, I do.After a few weeks of this routine, the crossing guard at the school that is up the street from our house started to remember us. He is a delightful man named Clarence who now always waves to us from across the street, and after a close call, he also promised to not let us get hit by cars (which is very helpful because at 6:55 am, I would not describe myself as alert nor would I say my eyes are totally open).

The people at the front desk of the JCC also started to recognize us. One woman in particular would always smile and comment about how great it was that we always came together. She was also very concerned if one of the three of us was missing, and always asked where the third musketeer was.  Last weekend, we actually saw her out on Frenchmen Street in the Quarter. She hugged all of us and told us that we brighten up her mornings because we are always so friendly and we were happy to tell her that we felt exactly the same way about her.

Who knew that a simple decision about running every morning would end up making us feel so connected to our neighborhood and so connected to this city? It is truly a testament to how special the people of New Orleans are. It is people like Clarence the crossing guard and our front desk friend that have made me fall so deeply in love with New Orleans and made me realize that I am certainly not ready to leave. I have decided to stay here indefinitely and I look forward to more everyday occurrences that make me realize how lucky I am to live in and love this city.

ENJOY THIS POST? HAVE A BONE TO PICK? PLEASE POST YOUR COMMENTS, COMPLIMENTS, QUESTIONS, ETC.

Dana Keren: Learn about her placement with the Tulane Community Health Center at Covenant House and donate on her firstgiving page.

Mollie Flink: Learn about her placement with the New Orleans Women’s Shelter.

Rachel Laing: Learn about her placement with Success Prep and donate on her firstgiving page.

Sarah Murray: Learn about her placement with Juvenile Regional Services and donate on her firstgiving page.

Elena Pinsky: Learn about her placement with the Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Action Center and donate on her firstgiving page.

Ross Peizer: Learn about his placement with Rebuilding Together New Orleans and donate on his firstgiving page.

Mitio Rothstein: Learn about his placement with New Orleans Food and Farm Network and donate on his firstgiving page.

Tamar Toledano: Learn about her placement with YA/YA and donate on her firstgiving page.

Leah Varsano: Learn about her placement with Jericho Road Episcopal Housing Initiative and donate on her firstgiving page.

Maggie Yates: Learn about her placement with Orleans Public Defenders and donate on her firstgiving page.

Corps Member Rachel Glicksman works on a community garden in Central City through her placement at Jericho Road

As anyone who knows me knows, I’m all about food. I love cooking, I love eating, I find farmers markets incredibly aesthetically pleasing, if I had the time I’d make my own yogurt and cheese and bake all of my own bread. So, this year I had a vision that my housemates would be fellow foodies and that we’d salivate collectively over the carrot taken out of our backyard garden, make jam on the weekends from fresh picked berries, and have long dinners of carefully prepared meals as we discuss our daily struggles. But, I’ve had to compromise some of my values for price, convenience, and living with nine people with different food values than mine: sometimes I have to eat bread with high fructose corn syrup in it, and twice this year I’ve greatly enjoyed a meal at Sonic with my housemates.

As I graduated college, with my thesis on Garden Based Youth programs coming to a close, I dreamed of a job allowing me to create sustainable food systems, to grow food in low income communities or do nutrition education classes in public schools. Much of this drive came from my frustration with the current food system. Those who have less money can more easily afford processed foods than fruits and vegetables. Furthermore, while many of those who fund food pantries and soup kitchens carefully parse the difference between local and organic or free range and grass fed, these institutions must choose between healthy food and feeding all their clients. In short, I sought to fight for food justice.

Instead, I settled for a job as a community organizer at an affordable housing and neighborhood revitalization organization. I figured I was trying something new, and I’d see how I liked it. While I was still struggling at home to get a little more local produce into our meager food budget, I was secretly harboring dreams at work that somehow I would be able to work my foodie-self into my job. From the very beginning I saw the smallest possibility of a community garden in our neighborhood and was trying to find sparks of interest in the neighborhood. However, at some point in the fall, I tried to let some of that dream behind, and focused on working with the community on holiday celebrations to bring the neighborhood closer together.

But I had difficulty seeing progress in the neighborhood, I doubted real resident buy-in, and I found it really difficult to see how a neighborhood Halloween celebration was going to solve blight. Furthermore, our neighborhood meetings were a struggle, we would have one, three, maybe five residents attend; I felt that I was failing as an organizer. We tried different tactics – dinners, conversations, meetings at our office, meetings at someone’s house, but still we seemed light-years away from the connected and revitalized neighborhood my organization envisioned.

In the midst of this frustration at work, and this extreme self-doubt about whether what I was doing was really worth it, I also realized that I was really frustrated with the type of Jewish social justice that I had participated in growing up. The soup kitchens I volunteered in that got me interested in creating food justice, and bringing healthy, affordable food to the masses, also frustrated me because of the simplicity in their social justice. As I was preparing my text study for my site visit in January, I happened upon a thought that has stuck with me: why do Jews, who focus so deeply on building our own community for the very basic ritual functions of our religion, not think about building up others’ community as a way to create social justice? The Jewish social justice I was exposed to involved clothing drives and food pantries, not organizing communities (ours and others) to fight for social change.

With these thoughts on the nature of Jewish social justice in my mind, I returned to organizing, and I renewed my faith in that work, focusing on the importance of listening to the needs of the neighborhood I was working in and helping them to carry out their neighborhood vision. However, over the course of one-on-one conversations, the basic tool of the organizer, a picture of a garden started appearing in my mind. One person wanted to have fruit trees in the neighborhood, another straight up suggested a garden, others wanted some activity to engage the youth, and many just liked gathering together.

Community members hard at work on a community garden in Central City

After a few memos swirled around our office and a budget way bigger than I dreamed of ever proposing was approved, I sat down in the beginning of February with a group of 8 neighbors and our seed of a garden was planted. Its been a long few months, and I’m still not sure where the garden will be in a few more months, but each day things seem a little brighter. This past weekend we built four garden beds, a fence was put up yesterday, and this coming weekend, on “Dirt Day” we intend to fill our raised beds with soil and begin planting some vegetables that will tolerate the summer heat. I can’t wait for a taste of our first okra and cherry tomatoes.

Somehow as I’ve found my way back to food and pursued my original passion, I’ve realized that the garden isn’t about the food, though it’s a part of it. The garden is about community. People who might never have met – the formerly homeless alcoholic and the retired bed and breakfast owners, are coming together at a meeting and discussing styles of raised beds and what kind of fruit trees to plant. In some way, while trying to build a just food system, I’ve really laid the seeds not only for growing fruits and vegetables, but also for growing a community.

I do not know where the Faubourg Delassize Community Garden will be in a year, much less in ten years, but I hope it will be a verdant place for growing fresh produce, the hub of a neighborhood, and the spark for community change. I know challenges will stand in the way: I’m not naïve enough to think that this garden will be the lone transformative force in a deeply troubled neighborhood. But for now, this garden has allowed me to explore the meaning of Jewish social justice, given me an outlet for my foodie desires, and maybe, just maybe, has built a lasting community framework for neighborhood change.

ENJOY THIS POST? HAVE A BONE TO PICK? PLEASE POST YOUR COMMENTS, COMPLIMENTS, QUESTIONS, ETC.

Mollie Flink

Mollie will be working as a Shelter Assistant at the New Orleans Women’s Shelter, a facility for women and children in the Upper 9th Ward of New Orleans that provides temporary emergency shelter and food. The shelter is a family-style transitional women and children’s home with a focus on helping women stabilize, obtain proper medical treatment and other locally available social services to move onto successful independent living.

Dana Keren, from Milwaukee, WI, graduated from the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee, where she majored in Women’s Studies and Linguistics, and earned a TESOL Certificate. Dana worked as the Development and Outreach Intern at B-Word Worldwide Media Organization, and has done in-home tutoring for low-income public school students. She is currently studying for certification as a support group facilitator and as a doula, birthing assistant.

Dana will serve as the Community Coordinator at the Tulane University Community Health Center at Covenant House, where she will manage outreach efforts to improve the value of the clinic for the community.  The Health Center was established in the days following Hurricane Katrina and provides continuous high-quality, holistic, accessible, community-centric care.

Rachel Laing grew up in Hastings on Hudson, NY, and attended Skidmore College, where she majored in International Affairs, with minors in Dance, Latin American Studies, and Spanish. She spent semesters abroad in both Buenos Aires, Argentina and Merida in Yucatan, Mexico. Rachel has extensive experience working with children as a camp counselor, nursery school assistant, nanny, and dance teacher.

As a Teaching Assistant at Success Preparatory Academy, Rachel will be working directly with underprivileged children and their families to ensure all students receive an education to prepare them for college, and to become the next generation of leaders in their communities and beyond. Success Prep is an open enrollment charter school, established in 2009 to meet the city’s need for high quality elementary education.

Sarah Murray, from Reisterstown, MD, earned Bachelor’s degrees in Philosophy and Psychology from Goucher College, and was nominated to participate in the Leaders Encouraging Action and Development mentoring program. She has volunteered as a performer in therapeutic plays for children with developmental disabilities, as a reading and writing tutor for first and second graders, and as an assistant in the Infant Unit of a Baltimore hospital.

As a youth advocate at Juvenile Regional Services, Sarah will work directly with youth in the juvenile justice system who are on probation and parole. She will provide support to clients by connecting them to educational, vocational, and/or medical programs, advocating for services on their behalf, and providing guidance and support as necessary. JRS provides comprehensive legal services to indigent children accused of delinquency.

Ross Peizer, from Seattle, WA, attended Boston University, where he majored in Communication, with concentrations in Public Relations and Psychology. Ross visited New Orleans during an Alternative Spring Break trip, and has participated in two service trips to Israel, volunteering at a soup kitchen. He has also served as a Corps member in the Southwest Conservation Corps, maintaining and building nature trails, and has volunteered with other young Jewish professionals through the MenschWorks program of the Jewish Federation of Seattle.

Ross will serve as the Intake Assistant at Rebuilding Together New Orleans, helping homeowners through the application system so they can receive assistance and finally get their homes rebuilt. Ross will function as the primary point of contact with homeowners and will act as an advocate on their behalf, both within the organization and with other agencies citywide.

Elena Pinsky, from Silver Spring, MD, earned a Bachelor’s degree from Northwestern University, with a major in Anthropology, and a minor in Spanish. While in college, she served on the planning committee for the Black Jewish Freedom Seder, and participated in the Campus Entrepreneurs Initiative to engage Jewish life on campus. After spending a semester abroad in Buenos Aires, Elena received a grant to return to the city to conduct research for her senior thesis.

In her position at the Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Action Center (GNOFHAC), an agency which seeks to eradicate housing discrimination throughout the greater New Orleans area, Elena will help identify opportunities to instate fair housing practices in the rebuilding process and will develop outreach activities to educate the greater New Orleans community about GNOFHAC’s services.

Mitio Rothstein grew up in Westlake Village, CA, and attended Eckerd College, where he earned a degree in International Relations and East Asian Studies. As an ADAMAH fellow, Mitio helped operate a small organic farm. He spent a summer as an American Jewish World Service (AJWS) volunteer in the Ukraine, restoring Jewish cemetaries and completing a research project on the trafficking of Ukrainian women in the sex industry, and also served as an AJWS World Partners Fellow, working with nomadic shepards in Pune, India to develop sustainable livestock practices in the region.

As a Community Food Security Outreach Assistant at New Orleans Food and Farm Network, Mitio will be working with individuals, communities, and growers to build a just food system where all community members have access to safe, nutritious, and enjoyable food. NOFFN uses neighborhood-based initiatives to improve food access citywide, encouraging direct participation from community members to create collaborations and build sustainable projects.

Tamar Toledano, from Elkins Park, PA, attended the University of Pittsburgh, where she earned a Bachelor’s degree in Sociology, with a minor in Public Service and a certificate in Women’s and Gender Studies. Tamar also attended a year-long intensive Jewish Studies program at Midreshet HaRova in Jerusalem, and spent alternative spring breaks in Israel and New Orleans. She served as president and co-founder of Pitt’s Tunnel of Oppression, joined fellow student leaders in the Student Allies Coalition, and served as a peer educator and faculty liaison for the campus’ Sexual Assault Services.

As an Art Speaks Coordinator for Ya/Ya, Tamar will work with local youth to create public art projects that raise awareness of social justice issues. Ya/Ya (Young Aspirations/Young Artists) teaches art skills and entrepreneurship to creative young people, with the broader goal of empowering them to become successful adults by providing positive educational experiences while fostering and supporting their ambitions.

Leah Varsano, from Northampton, MA, studied Religion and Asian Studies at Vassar College, and spent a semester abroad at the American Institute of Indian Studies in Madurai, India. Leah organized campus events and lobbied Congress to advocate for Farm Bill reform, and participated in Vassar’s Operation Donation, collecting and distributing goods to local community members in need. She also has experience teaching theater and filmmaking to youth.

As the Assistant Neighborhood Coordinator at Jericho Road Episcopal Housing Initiative, Leah will work closely with residents of the Central City neighborhood to identify and implement programs to revitalize the community. Jericho Road supports affordable housing for neighborhood residents by building new construction homes and rehabilitating existing structures.

Maggie Yates, from Spokane, WA, attended Macalester College, where she majored in Anthropology and International Studies, with a concentration in African Studies, spending a semester abroad in Kampala, Uganda. Working for the UJAMAA Medical Missions, Maggie initiated an ongoing medical and public health collaboration between the Rwandan-based program and physicians in Spokane. In college, she founded and led a chapter of STAND: the Student Coalition Against Genocide, and co-led the Macalester Jewish Organization. Maggie is an avid soccer player, participating in an NCAA tournament and coaching at a soccer camp for underprivileged youth.

Maggie will serve as a Client Welfare Specialist at the Orleans Public Defenders (OPD). OPD provides legal services to indigent defendants and client-centered representation that respects the humanity and dignity of those accused of crimes. The Defender Services Program - a division within the office of social workers and client welfare specialists - work in teams with staff attorneys and investigators to address an arrestee’s underlying problems as well as his or her criminal charges.

This audio story is inspired by This I Believe, “an international project engaging people in writing and sharing essays describing the core values that guide their daily lives.” Listen to more stories here.

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It was fascinating to feel like I shared a common bond, that my similarity with someone was through our ‘queerness’ or our “Jewishness”, when probably each person there defined their queerness and Judaism in very different ways.  Some folks saw their queerness in their gender expression, identity, non-conformity, multiplicity.  Some saw their queerness in their sexual orientation, their love for folks of the same gender or sex, their love of multiple partners or lovers, their love of self pleasure, or non-partnership, their love of ‘non-traditional’ practices and pleasures.  In a similar way, many of those present held just as varied identities with the word ‘Jewish’.  Some were raised in observant households or communities, many interpreting ‘observant’ differently.  Some were raised in big cities with large Jewish communities and were ‘out’ about their Judaism.  Some felt like they were raised as closeted Jews.  Some converted to and from Judaism.  Some saw their race as an integral part of their lived Jewish experience.  Some were partners or allies of Jews, some were raised in Reform, Renewal, Reconstructionist, Conservative or Orthodox communities or families.  Some didn’t identify with any sect.  Some saw Judaism as strictly a religion, some as strictly a culture.  There was a multiplicity of ways to keep kosher with respects to when, how and where.

What, then, made this a community?  And what made it a community based on seemingly similar overlapping identities?  I’m not sure if I have any answers, but some of my observations include respect, appreciation (not just tolerance) of diversity, learning, teaching, sharing, and searching for ways to relate.  Many of the folks there have been influential in paving some of the steep paths from which many benefit and upon which many continue to pave.

In a TED talk given last year, curator, Thelma Golden described Harlem as a city that is always being described in the present, past and future tense, simultaneously.  This concept excites me because it also seems to describe my feelings around this ‘Queer Jewish’ community.  So much of this intersection is derived from a long history of what it means to be a Jew and what it means to be queer.  It points to struggles, triumphs, family history and migration, rejection and tight-knit community.  It points to notions of ‘passing’ through assimilation and acceptance and also to distinguishing and ‘outing’ in proud and intentional ways.  This identity intersection is also very alive in the present with movements of inclusion and policy-making, boundary-pushing and overcoming hatred and exile.  It also would not exist if not for the drive to allow it to flourish in the future, always for ‘our children’ and the next generation.  Many have fought and are fighting hard to pass laws and policies that guarantee equal, basic human rights to all.

It is also fascinating to see these intersections intersecting.  With rabbis saying prayers before transgender men bind their chests; before folks inject hormones; while same-sex couples marry; while single parents, same sex partners and gender queer folks adopt children and expand their families; while conversions are celebrated.  What I ultimately found is that this rally to push boundaries, to include people, to celebrate and embrace diversity and love one another exists because of these binds that unite us and differences that make us each so unique.

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