(no subject)
The boy I met in Germany was blond and had very blue eyes. Looked like a Saxon though he claimed to be Celt. Seb was half British and half German, and had recently decided to add his mother's maiden name to his own. He was interested in reclaiming his German past and while I very much approve of rummaging around in your personal history for recyclables I'm a bit astounded by wanting to be German, wanting to take on that burden of history. He doesn't see it as a burden of history at all, and refers to it as "my country's Fascist past", as though it were some sort of regrettable error. I wonder if I am the first Jew he's ever met. If I'm not, then to what extent do Jews who are not Israelis think about the Holocaust at all?
While watching terrible television with Omer and Asaf, it comes out that I don't like blond-haired girls. Or rather, that I just want their hair. Or don't want them to have their hair, or something. I'm embarrassed by this, but there it is.
At camp in Germany (yes, yes, I know) I feel like I am the only one who is reminded of the Holocaust. And it might be fair to say that I'm not reminded of the Holocaust per say, but of those bits that were drummed into me by dint of my growing up here. At first if feels obscene, this lack of involvement. I want to run around the camp saying to people, "you know there was one, right? Like, right here. Here." But after a while it feels liberating. Like you don't have to commemorate if you don't want to. Or that you could live in a spot where history occurred- that building on-site with a Star of David in the brickwork, no-one could tell me what the building used to be- and still do your own thing. That remembering didn't necessarily have to overshadow what you were doing in the present.
Not that I managed to escape that in any way- doing performances where I'm sifting through ash with my bare hands, looking for bits of metal and glass. Not that escape is the point. I just felt kinda..stereotypical, is all. Jewish girl goes to Germany. The undertow of national identity is stronger than wishing, I guess.
While watching terrible television with Omer and Asaf, it comes out that I don't like blond-haired girls. Or rather, that I just want their hair. Or don't want them to have their hair, or something. I'm embarrassed by this, but there it is.
At camp in Germany (yes, yes, I know) I feel like I am the only one who is reminded of the Holocaust. And it might be fair to say that I'm not reminded of the Holocaust per say, but of those bits that were drummed into me by dint of my growing up here. At first if feels obscene, this lack of involvement. I want to run around the camp saying to people, "you know there was one, right? Like, right here. Here." But after a while it feels liberating. Like you don't have to commemorate if you don't want to. Or that you could live in a spot where history occurred- that building on-site with a Star of David in the brickwork, no-one could tell me what the building used to be- and still do your own thing. That remembering didn't necessarily have to overshadow what you were doing in the present.
Not that I managed to escape that in any way- doing performances where I'm sifting through ash with my bare hands, looking for bits of metal and glass. Not that escape is the point. I just felt kinda..stereotypical, is all. Jewish girl goes to Germany. The undertow of national identity is stronger than wishing, I guess.