Artists Found the Most Jewish Way to Talk Antisemitism

I live in a small Canadian city with a very small Jewish population. The only synagogue within a vast geographical region has a membership of 60. I am used to being the only Jew in a room; to complaining to my kids’ school when they host an open house on Yom Kippur; to struggling with questions of faith, politics and representation as a Jewish artist and public speaker. 

But recently,  I experienced something unexpected—the joy of working in a Jewish-normative space. 

Last spring, I was invited into a unique project led by a collaborative team of arts professionals, equity experts and educators. SHVILIM (Hebrew for ‘paths’) is an initiative commissioned by the Ontario Arts Council to provide resources to artists and arts workers on understanding antisemitism and its impacts. I came in as a copy editor, but quickly found myself engaging with the deeply thoughtful debate and tireless work that I would come to know as characteristic of SHVILIM. 

As a lifelong poet and activist, I am known to be outspoken on issues of democracy, social justice, queer rights, and colonial violence. But I have struggled with how to articulate antisemitism. In part, this is because of how loaded the term has become: it can be used to vilify human rights efforts or to deny millennia of oppression. Depending who you talk to, either everything is antisemitism, or nothing is. I have found it increasingly difficult to hold space for what lies between these poles, to understand and address actual antisemitism.

The SHVILIM team was determined to offer a clear take on antisemitism that moved beyond polarization. The project leaders had assembled a diverse group of consultants—Jewish, Muslim, Indigenous, racialized, queer—to ensure their work was being viewed from a wide range of perspectives. For nearly two years, this team engaged in research, curriculum development, survey design, and consultations with hundreds of artists and arts administrators. 

By the time I joined the project, they had laid out a framework for understanding antisemitism as well as tropes and stereotypes about Jews. And yet, they were stuck. Stuck like I was. How to speak in one voice to all artists? What words could communicate our struggles across a culturally and politically diverse population without shutting down curiosity and engagement?

I offered an invitation: What if we let go of the expectation that we could speak from a definitive place of authority, and instead spoke authentically from our own places of complexity? Instead of attempting to resolve divergences and tensions, could we present them as they are? Over the next months, the team worked diligently to unify research, curriculum, participant quotes, and advisory feedback into a multi-vocal offering for the community. 

It was deeply satisfying to work with a group so dedicated to finding a space of nuance and accuracy. In every meeting, we learned and unlearned. We challenged each other’s assumptions and understandings. We engaged in vigorous debate about semantics, priorities, and Jewish histories. I came to see how SHVILIM’s process echoed the Jewish concept of machloket l’shem shamayim (argument for the sake of heaven). We were committed to truth and deep understanding, rather than to winning a debate–to getting it right rather than pleasing a particular group or expectation. No matter how close we were to the deadline, if someone raised a concern, it was given the attention it required.

My particularly Jewish ways of being have often been at odds with the culture of the spaces I inhabit. I didn’t realize how much I had internalized this as a personality flaw until I worked with this group of supportive Jews and non-Jews. Here, so many things about myself I usually try to tone down – my sense of humour, my critical thinking – were not only normalized but celebrated. 

A joke or a side note was not considered an obstruction to the task at hand, but embraced as part of the journey. A pointed critique was not seen as a personal attack, but as a gift that could draw us closer to the answer.

We wrestled with the material with deep care, and an understanding that this offering for the arts community required expansive compassion. Compassion for our Jewish relatives who feel so deeply connected to the State of Israel and so fearful of protests against it. Care for our activist friends and their diligence against harm and injustice. Care for Palestinians. For Muslims. For Indigenous people. Care for Jews in the arts who often feel stuck in an in-between space. And all of this nested in a care for the truth—for getting it right. 

Bridging Worlds is now online for all to access. It is rich with helpful explanations, historical and contemporary examples, personal quotes, and stunning art. For example, “The Dynamics of Antisemitism” highlights The Night of Murdered Poets. In this horrific 1952 event, Stalin’s regime executed thirteen leading Jewish artists, poets and intellectuals as part of a wider campaign to publicly scapegoate Jewish communities. The targeting of poets and artists feels especially resonant in this moment as I consider the risks and responsibilities of being a public Jewish voice. 

Some have asked why the resources don’t specifically address antisemitism at protests for Palestinian liberation; others, why we don’t take an explicit stand on Israel’s violence. Ultimately, we knew that in order to talk about these things, we would need more time, more vigour, more context. 

Most importantly, we know that laying the groundwork for understanding antisemitism will be essential to having that conversation. I am so proud to have a resource I can confidently share with anyone looking to better understand antisemitism and its impacts. A resource that makes space for all Jews, and for our connections to local and global struggles. I am eager to dive deeper into these complexities, but I am also patient. I have seen how much it takes to get it right, and we need that level of thoughtfulness now more than ever. The world needs it. Artists need it. And selfishly, I need it too.

—Ziysah is the 2^nd Poet Laureate of Peterborough, Ontario, Canada. You can find their work at ziysah.ca.

Bridging Worlds is a new and evolving resource for understanding antisemitism and its impacts, created by and for artists. You can access the four-part series of digital guides at https://fentster.org/shvilim-bridging-worlds

Learn more about the SHVILIM initiative including our values and approach, here

Image above: Cover of Bridging Worlds featuring an image from Sarah Waisvisz’s solo show Monstrous, which unpacks her Afro-Caribbean, French, Dutch, and Jewish heritage. The interactive production premiered at Ottawa’s undercurrents festival (2016) interweaving dance, song, storytelling, and rich visuals. Photo: Chris Snow