Being good neighbors can narrow religious divide: Basser

Nechama Basser | Asbury Park Press

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Regarding the request by Press Executive Editor Hollis Towns for comments on race and bias, I thank him for opening the conversation and acknowledging that Orthodox Jews are targets. Here are some of my experiences.

I work in Manhattan for a financial services company. My mentees include a Nigerian woman, a gay woman and a white Anglo-Saxon man. I've never experienced anti-Semitism at work, despite declining to shake hands with men for reasons of modesty, and being open about Sabbath and kosher restrictions.

The contrast is stark when I return to Lakewood, replace my wig with a headscarf, and run out to Stop and Shop. The open faces of my coworkers are replaced with tense looks from the non-Jews around me. I can only imagine what a woman in hijab sees reflected on faces around her.

I drive carefully, afraid of reinforcing stereotypes about "those Orthodox drivers." Do black teens in a public park similarly feel the burden of representing their race?

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A young woman with no filter between brain and mouth responded to my ad for cleaning help. I was working from home, emailing a non-Jewish colleague. When I turned to my laptop, I was in the 21st century. When I turned to my housekeeper, I was in the 18th.

"Do Jews take showers?" (Yes, I try to limit my teens to one a day.) "Kids in my high school class said that Jews are pigs." (Guess you'll have to hang with us and judge for yourself.) "Did you have a wedding? I heard you just hold hands and mumble something." (Here's my wedding album.) "Why don't you have a bigger house?" (Because I can't afford one.)

She was young and silly, and I appreciated the opportunity to clear up misperceptions. But the contrast between my interactions with the white Anglo-Saxon attorney emailing me and the young lady in my kitchen was surreal.

It's not unusual for me to say "Hi" to a non-Jewish woman and get no response. Is she so sure I won't greet her that it doesn't register until she's a few steps past? Does she hear and choose not to respond? Often I try to wave to a neighbor but can't catch her eye. It's rare for a non-Jew to greet me first.

Sometimes I encounter the opposite, like the man in the dentist's waiting room who went out of his way to be friendly toward my kids. These moments make me grateful for the best of America.

Our non-Jewish neighbors have legitimate fears and frustrations. My street used to be a quiet residential block of bungalows. Now there's a yeshiva high school next door and another house has turned into a dorm. One need not be an anti-Semite to find this intrusive and inconvenient. I can look at these kids, who look like my sons, and give thanks for the post-Holocaust rebirth of the Jewish nation. I do not expect my non-Jewish neighbors to do the same.

And the fact is, when we move in things change. Even the friendliest Orthodox neighbors are not sending their kids to Little League or joining a neighborhood barbecue. And structural issues like mandated services that have to be paid for without state funding are real. I'd like to see more conversation within my community about being good neighbors. We can't fix everything, but we can say hello, walk on the side of the road on Sabbath, keep our yards neat, drive carefully and vote to give public school kids marching band.

Again, thank you to Towns for opening the conversation. To quote Yeats, "The best lack all conviction while the worst / are full of passionate intensity." If you can counter that by bringing decent, well-meaning people on both sides out into the open, you will have done a great service.

Nechama Basser lives in Lakewood.