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It was the tiny tallit that knocked the breath out of me. Slightly crumpled along the crease lines, as if just taken out of a closet where a loving mother had put it away after washing, it hung alone in its exhibit case at the Museum of Jewish Heritage’s new exhibit Auschwitz: Not long ago. Not far away. The specificity of the single life evoked by this toddler-size garment conveyed more about the tragedy of the millions than words ever could. It was as if it had traveled through time and space to bear witness on behalf of the little boy who once wore it.

My experience at the Auschwitz exhibit was a powerful one. But it was actually a familiar one. We are used to experiencing the horror of the Holocaust through the lens of Auschwitz. When we talk about the six million, we picture concentration camps, ghettos, cattle cars.

And yet, the members of my family who were murdered during the Holocaust did not die at Auschwitz. They were killed at Babi Yar. And I cannot imagine an exhibit like this honoring their memory.

In part, this inability stems from the fact that after decades of silence and intentional forgetting, the material evidence of their lives and deaths is long gone — unlike the thousands of artifacts left behind by the Nazi concentration camps. But the main reason I can’t imagine an exhibit dedicated to the memory of my family is that their story as a whole is not part of our collective memory of the Holocaust.

The story of the Jews murdered not in death camps but by bullets, burning, gas wagons, intentional starvation, drowning, and hanging all over the former Soviet Union — an estimated 2.7 million — has been casually subsumed in the death camp-centered Holocaust collective memory.

How many Holocaust by Bullets massacre sites can you name besides Babi Yar? I’m guessing not too many. Compare that to the extent the names Auschwitz, Treblinka, Maidanek, Sobibor are chiseled on your mind.

Oscar Schindler, Chiune Sugihara, Raul Wallenberg, and Irena Sendler are household names in our community. But can you name a single righteous gentile east of German-occupied Poland?

We know of Elie Wiesel, who survived the hell of Auschwitz to bear witness about the horror of the Holocaust. But have you ever heard about Dina Pronicheva, who climbed out of Babi Yar and left a searing testimony of the experience?

Did you know that it was Romanians, not Germans, who occupied Odessa and decimated its historic Jewish community?

I could go on. These stories are part of our history. But they are not part of our collective memory.

To be sure, there are reasons for that. The Soviets didn’t want to acknowledge Jewish suffering as a unique experience, so the Jews in these territories died twice: first physically, at the hands of the occupying forces and their local collaborators, and then a second time, at the hands of the Soviets who wanted to wipe out their memory.

…The holes this has left in our collective memory are huge. Even our major Holocaust memory institutions like Yad VaShem and the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC still barely reflect that story. Scholars only got access to Soviet archives in the 1990s, and museums are slow-moving institutions. It takes a while to rework a permanent exhibit.

But it’s also a self-fulfilling erasure. Remembrance builds on itself. People go where memory infrastructure is set up. A million people visit Auschwitz every year.

Meanwhile, a major memorial worthy of the tragedy of Ukrainian, Lithuanian, Belarussian or Moldovan Jewry has yet to be built in any of those countries. In the Snakes Ravine in Russia, where 27,000 people were murdered, authorities have resisted attempts by local memory activists to confirm the names of the dead. Attempts to build a major Holocaust memorial complex at Babi Yar have repeatedly fallen victim to local politics (although that may now be changing.)

There is nothing like a personal visit to get a feel for the difference in the way the “western” and “eastern” parts of the Holocaust story are remembered. Last summer, I helped organize a trip to Ukraine for my synagogue, and one member — Lea Herzfeld, a teen who went with her family — had a remarkable response. At the end of the trip, she wrote a poignant Facebook post exploring this difference. Her earlier visit to Auschwitz and Treblinka, she said, had been a devastating experience, but it also left her feeling something of a triumph; after all, the Nazis had failed, while she and her friends were still there, proudly Jewish.

Ukraine gave no such opportunity for catharsis. There were no visitors’ centers and tourist information booths. It was a raw experience that included stumbling upon a vandalized grave at a major Holocaust-era massacre site and reburying the bones. It left her feeling “angry at the Nazis who did cruel and horrifying deeds. Angry at the Ukrainians who seem to have chosen to ignore the past. And angry at my fellow Jews who go only where is established.” Pointedly, she asked: “Who chose Poland to be the place where tortured Jews are remembered?”

…Somehow in telling the story of the Holocaust, we have managed to leave out half our dead. We’ve told ourselves half the story. And while the material objects from the Holocaust in the USSR may be gone, the bones of the victims are still there. They lie in unprotected graves, they get in the way of commercial construction projects as they did recently in Belarus, and they get desecrated.

To be sure, there are local memory activists doing commemorative work in these countries. In fact, those I know do it on a voluntary basis, with no financing for their projects and no pay. Many are not even Jewish. They do it because they care deeply about the history of their towns and villages and about the people — the Jews — who used to live there and are no more.

But against the scale of atrocities that took place here, these efforts are minuscule. We cannot expect that they will do the work of remembering for us. They are waiting for us to come, with our know-how and our financial and organizational abilities, to become their partners.

A lot of time has passed. In this region, the last vestiges of what used to be a rich Jewish culture are rapidly disappearing. We need to start incorporating these stories into our collective memory. And we need to start thinking of them as our own.

We can begin by including the stories of Ukrainian, Russian, Moldovan, Belarussian, Lithuanian, Estonian and Latvian Jews on major Holocaust commemorative events. We could also learn about additional dates when commemoration might be appropriate. One such date is right around the corner: June 22, the date Nazi Germany invaded the USSR. It was then that mass murder of the Jews began in earnest ultimately paving the way to the Final Solution.

This work will require research. It will require persistence. But this is where real discoveries and real change are possible. And this is where our duty toward our past remains unfulfilled.

Auschwitz is undoubtedly our shared heritage. But so are Babi Yar, Zmievskaya Balka, Rumbula, Drobytsky Yar, Pechora, Malyi Trostinets, and the estimated 2,000 other places. Our Holocaust memory work is not done yet. The hardest part, in fact, may still lie ahead.

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Time, weather, political and demographic shift inevitably erode cities and buildings. These along with occasional upsurges of violent anti-Semitism, have been particularly thorough erasers of the physical evidence of Jewish history. SYNAGOGUES360 visually and digitally saves Jewish synagogues, an impressive physical expression of Jewish culture, for this and future generations to see and experience.

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Do I believe in G-d? Yes, of course!

Do I believe G-d is real? Ehh, now that’s an entirely different question, isn’t it?

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Reminder to self:

You are allowed to externalize your Judaism.

You are allowed to be Jewish in public spaces.

You are allowed to be Jewish around goyim.

You are allowed to be Jewish even when other Jews are not around.

You are allowed to have Jewish wants and needs.

You are allowed to insist on having those needs met.

You are allowed to to talk about Judaism. 

You are allowed to act on your Judaism.

You are allowed to love your Judaism.

You are allowed to love being Jewish.

You are allowed to be Jewish.

You are allowed. 

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Goals for Sivan 5785:

1) Obligatory reminder to future-me that I need to continue filling in my 2025 planner.

2) Finish out Sefirat Ha'Omer.

3) Do something for Shavuot.

4) Even with J101 class being over, it probably wouldn't hurt to still try to do the weekly parshah reading.

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Filling in the planner is going along alright. I finished out my class readings, didn't forget my parshah (or do that badly on talking about it), and wrapped up J101. However, the Siyum was in-person and scheduled differently compared to the usual day and time of our class, so I didn't end up attending.

The number one thing I've learned from this Judaism 101 class is that it is incredibly hard for me to attend a location that isn't actually local to me in-person. I knew it wouldn't be absolutely easy, but I did not expect to struggle as much as I have. Other than feeling guilty and trying to force myself to go sometime else, I just haven't had much success in this area. It feels an awful lot like I failed, even though this isn't a pass/fail type of class, and I can't help but feel like I've had a bit of a set back.

Goals for Iyyar 5785:

1) Continue filling in my 2025 planner. (It might be time to think of whether I want to change something up for the 5786 section of 2025.)

2) J101 class includes:

weekly parshah reading (4);

my scheduled day for talking about the parshah (so definitely don't forget that one);

assigned reading for three classes: 1) Jewish Peoplehood & Denominations, 2) Life Cycle (Illness, Death, Life After Death), 3) Yamim Nora'im: The Days of Awe/High Holy Days; and

whatever I'm doing for the Siyum class [final class with everyone talking about something they've learned or want to learn more about].

3) Continue Sefirat Ha'Omer. (Maybe remember to do something for Lag B'Omer.)

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Hey, frumblr, it's a Purim miracle: the CRC nows claims their app can scan hechshers and tell you what they are.

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“I’m not always sure I believe in God, but being Jewish is one of the most important components in who I am.

“How I conduct myself, the things I say, the way I try to live my life — all of that has more to do with my Judaism than anything else. What’s always drawn me to it, what makes me love it and believe in it even when the wolf is at the door, is the Jewish philosophies and ways of thinking that have shaped me. “Justice, justice shall you pursue.” “Say little and do much.” “You are not required to complete the work, but neither are you permitted to abandon it.” I’m not going to quote everything at you, but Judaism’s emphasis on the work and the acts of faith, more than the belief itself, has always been so important to me. In times that are hard, I remind myself that what we do is who we are, whatever we say or think. It reminds me to be the person I want to believe I am. I mean that, and, as an ornery country Jew, I have years of “they tried to kill us but fuck those guys, we’re still here” behind me. I love that, too.”

- Doc, "21 Queer Jews on Why We Love Being Jewish"

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Me: makes a playlist called "Bangers only"

The Bangers in question: ....

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8 May 2025: I didn't mention anything regarding the May 2025 election in my to-do list for Iyyar, but it did take up some time. (Training on the paper pollbooks prior to the election, arriving by 5:30 am on the day of, and leaving shortly before 8 pm after closing.)

I mostly didn't get what some of the chitchat about church stuff was.

Someone was going to a new church, and there were all sorts of abbreviations that I presume had to do with specific Protestant association stuff. Someone who went to a Catholic church wasn't thrilled with the new priest who says some section of the Mass in Latin instead of doing what the former priest did and saying that part in English. Admittedly, I don't know how long that section is since I don't know all the parts of Mass, but I definitely felt like her stance on keeping track and leaving if he crosses her arbitrary line of 'too much Latin' seemed a bit much.

I'm aware there are synagogues that use more English than Hebrew or repeat certain sections in English so everyone can understand what that section means, but local-ish synagogue and sibling-shul both have at least 90 - 95% of their services in Hebrew. The idea of carefully keeping track of the parts of a service and leaving if too much of it isn't in English just sounds, personally, really hard to believe. I can understand her complaint that she wants to know what's being said, but with an attitude like that, I'd probably never be able to go near most synagogues, really.

I was too busy blanking on whether Catholics have something like a siddur with a translation for the service, so I didn't chime in on the conversation. I'm pretty sure they don't, but I was also getting a little tired by that point in the day and didn't want to interrupt (and probably also explain what a siddur is). Unsurprisingly, I've never attended a Mass service with anyone I've known who was Catholic before. (After a quick google, I think a missal is the closest thing to what I was trying to think of.)

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[Image Description: A screenshot of tags that read:

#oh i never knew henna was jewish #i was always taught it was indian (i think hindu) #the more you know

/End of description.]

Am Yisrael is ultimately still one people, even after generations upon generations of exile- i fully support like ashkenazim learning Judeo-Arabic or Bnei Menashe making and eating kugel

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I did something for Pesach, but I mostly adjusted to an in-person job. I started counting the omer, which isn't going too badly, but I didn't get around to adding an omer counter in my planner.

I also vastly overestimated my ability to get the Nisan update done before the scheduled Iyyar post >.>  I may need to add a reminder on my phone during my last set of days off before Rosh Chodesh Sivan.

Goals for Nisan 5785:

1) Continue filling in my 2025 planner. (Yes, this is low hanging fruit for a goal, but if I don't have it explicitly included in my to-do list, I will let those later months languish.)

2) J101 class includes:

weekly parshah reading (2);

assigned reading for two classes: 1) Zionism and the State of Israel, and 2) Pilgrimage Holidays (Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot); and

free time for additional reading (not in class for two weeks).

3) Do something in some way for Pesach.

4) Get ready (and start counting) for Sefirat Ha'Omer. (If I'm feeling really adventurous, this could include some sort of counter thing in the planner.)

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Goals for Iyyar 5785:

1) Continue filling in my 2025 planner. (It might be time to think of whether I want to change something up for the 5786 section of 2025.)

2) J101 class includes:

weekly parshah reading (4);

my scheduled day for talking about the parshah (so definitely don't forget that one);

assigned reading for three classes: 1) Jewish Peoplehood & Denominations, 2) Life Cycle (Illness, Death, Life After Death), 3) Yamim Nora'im: The Days of Awe/High Holy Days; and

whatever I'm doing for the Siyum class [final class with everyone talking about something they've learned or want to learn more about].

3) Continue Sefirat Ha'Omer. (Maybe remember to do something for Lag B'Omer.)

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Me in 2017-2023: "The big question about converting is whether you're going to stand with the Jewish people when things get bad, whether you really know what you're committing to, and I just never thought it was that scary. I'm openly, visibly trans. It's not like I don't know about systemic oppression and being part of a community that's targeted with loathing and violence."

Me in 2024, after a year of studying Jewish history while living Jewish history: "OH."

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The Butterfly

By Pavel Friedman 

The last, the very last,  So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow. Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing against a white stone… 

Such, such a yellow Is carried lightly ‘way up high. It went away I’m sure because it wished to kiss the world goodbye. 

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here, Penned up inside this ghetto But I have found my people here. The dandelions call to me And the white chestnut candles in the court. Only I never saw another butterfly. 

That butterfly was the last one. Butterflies don’t live in here, In the ghetto. 

Pavel wrote this at the age of 21, two years before he was deported to Auschwitz and killed.  It was discovered in Thereisenstadt concentration camp after the liberation.

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For Pesach, I watched sibling-shul's First, Second, and Last Day of Pesach Yom Tov Service livestreams. I also caught some livestreams from local-ish synagogue, but they're not as specific with the titling.

I didn't try to do anything regarding chametz. (While I'm aware that at some point I should try to do something about chametz, this is one of those things that seems hard to do in a household of people not interested in this whole kosher thing, to say nothing of doing extra ''weird'' things for Pesach. I also just didn't give myself time to prepare for the possibility of not eating chametz before or at work: before, as in eating breakfast in case there's too many customers to really get a lunch, and at work, as in getting the chance to have a comp'ed meal as an employee benefit. This restaurant is not going to change their menu just so I can have a Kosher For Passover meal, you know?)

I didn't sign up for seder matchmaking through local-ish synagogue because I didn't expect that I could actually be there as a guest. I would have to factor in driving back home, and I can't do some sort of midnight or 1 am marathon length because there has to be sleep before work. I don't think wanting a non-alcoholic drink or being a newbie would be a big deal, but I also was worried that adding on more things would make the matchmaking process harder. (Newbie is doing some neutral but unavoidable load bearing here. I'm not familiar with the songs, I can't read Hebrew, I would probably have questions, and I would quite possibly be slow or a little lost at points. All things that would not speed up the having a seder process.)

I listened to someone's Pesach 2025 Spotify playlist for some of the days, and I tried to reblog some Jumblr posts. Otherwise, I consider it a success that I only had to wear the bunny ear headband at work one day in the lead up to Easter. I really don't feel like I'm at a point where it would make sense to say that I'm Jewish to others, so I didn't bring up Passover when asked if my family had plans for Easter Sunday. (Truthfully, I did wait for the church-goers to return and my family did an Easter meal. The restaurant is closed Easter Sunday, which sounds like the one guaranteed Sunday of the year that most of the workers get a chance to attend church on Sunday so they were pretty excited.)

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I now have an in-person job as a cashier at a restaurant. Considering the Trump tariff tomfoolery going on, I feel like I can't look this gift horse in the mouth, but I will say that I'm just trying to take it a day at a time instead of worrying about exactly how long I may or may not be in this position.

This is the sort of thing that feels like it's not really related to the focus of this sideblog, but getting a job with an in-person requirement is a bit of a time hog. With it being a restaurant and all, I don't expect to ever get any Saturdays off, and I now don't really have the time to travel to local-ish synagogue or sibling-shul. However, I guess a positive is that I can afford to save up to buy certain things.