Rabbi in a Hoodie: I know what it's like to be stereotyped

My heart goes out to the family of 17-year-old Treyvon Martin, who was gunned down while walking home from the store in a hooded sweatshirt -- which apparently caused self-appointed neighborhood watchman George Zimmerman in a gated neighborhood to see him as "very suspicious" and possibly on drugs.  And did I mention that Treyvon was black?  Never mind that it was raining and he probably put his hood up to keep dry.  That combination of factors -- young black guy at night in a hoodie -- somehow made Zimmerman "fear for his life" even though Martin was unarmed.   Reports of what happened are conflicting at this point, but one thing is clear: the 911 operator told Zimmerman not to follow or confront Treyvon and he did so anyway.   So who was really threatening whom?



Rabbi Gershom in a hoodie



One has to ask -- as protesters across the nation are doing -- whether Zimmerman's fear was based on any kind of reality or a stereotype in Zimmerman's head.  In solidarity with those protests, I post this pic of myself in a hoodie -- one that I wear all the time while doing outdoor chores here in northern Minnesota. 



Now, as an old white guy, I can't claim to know what it is like to be a black youth in America.  But I do know what it is like to be stereotyped.   When I'm not wearing a hoodie, I usually wear a large knitted yarmulke (skullcap).  That, along with my full untrimmed beard, makes me look like a "terrorist" to some people.  There are also those here in rural Minnesota who do not know what payos (Orthodox sidecurls) are, and see them as something effeminate.  So it's hard to tell sometimes if I am being profiled as a Muslim or a gay male.  Or, for that matter, maybe they do know I'm a Jew and don't like me for that. 

What I know for sure is that ever since 9/11, if I travel outside my local area where I am a familiar sight, I find myself being followed by security people in stores, stared at by strangers on the street, or trailed through small towns by police cars.  I have also been pulled over by cops for things like a burned out tail light a whole lot more often than ever happened before 9/11.   I haven't had any occasion to fly lately, but I have no doubt that I'd be seen as suspicious.  Would I be kicked off the flight -- or worse -- because some passenger "felt uncomfortable" with me on board?

Geraldo Rivera wants to blame the death on the hoodie implying that if Treyvon had not been wearing one outside his own neighborhood, the whole thing would never have happened.   Does this mean I should never "look Jewish" outside of an Orthodox Jewish community?  Does it mean that if I get harrassed, it's my own fault for wearing a yarmulke in public and looking like someone's idea of a terrorist?

In fact, I do admit that there have been times when I have tied my payos at the back of my neck like a ponytail and worn a stocking cap or a baseball cap -- precisely because I did not want to be bothered with stares at some public event.  As a white Jewish guy, it is relatively easy for me to pass as a gentile.   But a black guy can't change his skin color.  About the only thing we can both hope to do is change people's attitudes.  We all need to take a long hard look at how we treat each other. 

The commandment "do not oppress a stranger" occurs, in one form or another, more than any other commandment in the Bible.   Maybe the reason for that is because this is one of the hardest things for human beings to do, to trust someone who is different from themselves.  With Passover coming in two weeks, we should all give some serious thought to Exodus 22:21, "You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt." 

Ground Zero "Survivor Tree" is a Tree of Life

This week was the first time I had heard of the Ground Zero "Survivor Tree," when President Obama laid a wreath there.  A quick Google search revealed several past articles about this tree, which I apparently missed before.  But now that the tree, (which is a callary pear originally planted at the World Trade Center in the 1970s) has received national publicity, everyone is aware of it. 

And I think it is a wonderful symbol.  Unlike the "cross" that was really just an iron support beam that landed upright after the explosions (and which got so much publicity as a "miracle" right after 9/11), the pear tree is a truly universal symbol that can be embraced by people of every faith or lack thereof.   Like a phoenix from the ashes (if I may mix my species metaphors here) this tree symbolizes life and hope.  For me, as a Jew, there is a double meaning, because the Torah is also called a "Tree of Life" -- and it is the Torah which gave our country its basic moral compass through the Ten Commandments, which include "Thou shalt not murder."   For other faiths and philosophies, too, the symbolism of a Tree of Life affirms positive values. 

Survivor Tree in 2002
(courtesy of NY Parks Dept)


Here's what the Survivor Tree looked like just a few months after 9/11 -- nothing much was left but the trunk and some stubs.  "It looked like a wounded soldier," said horticulturalist Richie Cabo of the New York Parks Department.  It was only 8 feet tall and barely alive when it was moved to their Arthur Ross Nursery in Van Cortlandt Park for rehabilitation. 

Pear trees have amazing regenerative abilities, and it was not long before the tree began to sprout new growth.  Cabo, who was just starting his career at the Parks Department at the time, spent nine years lovingly nursing the tree back to health. The tree is now 35 feet tall and has been transplanted to the Ground Zero memorial site, where Obama laid the wreath on May 5, 2011, almost a decade after the tree was damaged.

Some people have criticized "the press" for dubbing this a "survivor tree," claiming that the word "survivor" indicates defeat.  I strongly disagree. First of all, it is not the first tree to be called a "survivor tree"; there is also one at the site of the Oklahoma City bombing.  And secondly, a survivor is someone who overcomes tragedy against all odds -- and that is exactly what this tree did.   When you look at that charred stump as it was right after the attack, it seems impossible that it could ever regenerate  into a healthy tree.  But it did.  In the same way, we were deeply wounded at 9/11 but we were never defeated. 

"The survivor tree is a testament [to] our ability to endure, the symbol of our unshakable belief in a brighter future," said New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who kicked off the 9/11 Memorial planting ceremony in December 2010.

Six other 9/11 survivor trees – three callary pears and three leaf lindens – are permanently planted near City Hall and at the Manhattan entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge.

The Survivor Tree recovered, September 2010
(Photo courtesy of forestsociety.org)