Yiddishe Mamas (9 page)

On the other side of the equation, there are Jewish mothers who applaud assimilation and see it as not only inevitable but a wise course in human development.

“Change is occurring. We can’t afford difference. In terms of values, religion … ultimately we have to be one,” says Julie Cobb. “We have to see and hear audio news clips of Iraqi funeral homes. As mothers our first impulse is not to listen. It’s too abrasive, too painful, like a … Greek chorus. I have purposely kept it on. Yet this is not a theater. This is the sound of all mothers. Personally, I think the separation has to stop.”

I
s there really a difference between the Jewish and non-Jewish mother? After all, most mothers care deeply about their children, will sacrifice and yes, many within all groups and ethnicities will butt in and “give guilt.” A small portion of those I interviewed felt there was no difference at all. A mother is a mother. It must also be said that just as not all Jewish mothers carry this ethno-type, there are many mothers within all groups, who, even without our unique history, share some of our ethno-typical behavior and beliefs. But many noted similarities among other ethnic mothers and Jewish mothers and held them out when compared to the so-called WASP mother.

“No. I don’t see the Jewish mother as any different,” says comedian Marty Allen.

“Women for whom children are the focus come in all ethnic groups [as do] women who live through their children,” says Rabbi Shira Stern.

“Danish mothers love and care,” says Jody Lopatin, “but the Jewish mother is more demonstrative, and as part of our tradition, encourages her children to be their best.”

“I think the classic Jewish mother is just a more extreme version of what all mothers are about,” says Amy Borkowsky. “Typically, there’s a real lack of boundaries between herself and her child, so she worries excessively and can never really acknowledge the child is an adult. I get e-mails from people of all different backgrounds who sound like we have the same mother.”

“The WASP mother feels her job is done when kids graduate high school,” says Mallory Lewis. “The distinction is really between the ethnic mother and the WASP mother.”

“I think the Jewish mother is more involved in different organizations and does more outside the home,” says Melanie Strug.

“The WASP mothers are very different,” says comedian/singer Marilyn Michaels. “They’re cooler, less invasive.”

“Jewish mothers are generally more interested in education,” says Dr. Eileen Warshaw. “WASPs in suburbia tend to be more interested in making sure their child makes the football team. It’s more about social status than grade level.”

Iris Krasnow, author of I
Am My Mother’s Daughter:
Making Peace with Mom Before It’s too Late,
reported that out of her 116 interviews, she could make no generalizations when comparing Catholic guilt and Jewish guilt.

I tend to agree. Among American “ethnic” moms, particularly Italian, many of these “characteristics” are similar; however, when I posed the question specifically, differences emerged.

“Jewish mothers, unlike Marie Barone, for example, don’t show the same kind of favoritism—they try to hide it more. Our criticisms are less caustic and more manipulative. Jewish moms make
you
make their decision,” says Judy Gold. “The Jewish mother fears more, which comes from what’s happened to us as a people. [We not only have to deal with] how to protect ourselves, but also all of us, as a people.”

“The Jewish mother pushes her kids to succeed, which creates a certain amount of anger. Children are their mirror,” says Lainie Kazan, who, in her career, has played a multitude of mamas. “The Italian mother expects much less.”

“I see very little difference,” says Theodore Bikel. Then referring to other ethnic groups, “There’s a preoccupation with food that is pathological in both Jews and Italians. One difference is Italian mothers are often devoutly Catholic, while Jewish mothers are often not religious. Jewish mothers have also had to survive in hostile environments.”

Barry Levinson’s film
Liberty Heights
(1999) deals with racism in the 1950s using a gentle comic and sentimental touch
to expose attitudes. The film centers on the Kurtzman family, Jews from Baltimore. Ben, the younger son, describes a brush with “outsiders.” In second grade, he thought the name Ping Dir was Jewish, and Min-Huey “definitely” sounded Jewish. His breakthrough occurred when he had lunch at Butch Johnson’s house. His explanation to his mother is classic as he describes the “white bread and mayonnaise” meal. “Everything was white,” he says, to which his mother replies, “Oh, they must not be Jewish. They’re the ‘other’ kind.”

These scenes could have taken place in my home in Flushing, New York. My own mother didn’t keep kosher, but we did eat “Jewish-style,” for example: chopped liver, matzo balls, and brisket. The idea of mixing milk with meat made us gag, as did the thought of “olive loaf,” “pimento loaf,” “headcheese,” or dried beef. Large dinner sausages were never served. It was only when I was sixteen and went off to college that I learned, shocked, our “food” wasn’t “American.” I suggested we make
kasha varnishkes
(buckwheat groats with pasta bow ties) and my dorm mates looked at me as though I’d suggested chowing down on jellied eels.

“Religion aside, [Italian] mothers are not a lot different, but Jewish mothers place much more emphasis on tradition, compared to other ethnic groups,” says Dr. Eileen Warshaw, executive director of the Jewish Heritage Center of the Southwest. “The Jewish mothers are thinking about their parents and grandparents … survival. There’s an emphasis on remembering, history, where we came from. The thread we’re holding onto the world with.”

I
t occurred to me that “image” is often in the minds of the beholders. Any discussion, then would not be complete without sampling how we’re viewed by “outsiders:”—non-Jewish women. After all, as with all groups we are not always able to see how
others
see us clearly or even accurately.

Having taken the odious statistics courses through college and graduate school, with an unflagging inability to figure out a chi square, I do know that nineteen people does not a sample make.

But these anecdotal responses give us an
indication,
an idea of how we’re perceived. In fairness, while this sample of women represents different religions, regions, and ethnic groups, it is skewed. My criteria was to get feedback from people known to me to possess fairness and the ability to truth-tell without fear of insult. Some are well-known, others are in less visible pursuits.

In addition to basic demographic information, I asked each what they think of when they hear the term “Jewish mother,” then let them expound.

The results are fascinating—and surprising.

“A Jewish mother teaches her kids smarts. An Italian mother teaches you how to cook and get married. I always told people I was Jewish because I always thought they were the smartest people in the world—lawyers, doctors. Do you ever see a professional Jewish hockey player? The Jewish mother is most concerned about children. She wants her daughter to marry someone rich, and sons are everything to them. My mother was always competing with me. She would have liked me to have been married and have kids. I never involved her in my adult life. If I gave her an inch she’d take a yard. When I did the film
A House Is Not a Home
and she saw all these gorgeous hookers, her whole comment was ‘Couldn’t you dress like them?’ She always expected more, and was disappointed I wasn’t Ava Gardner. … If anyone called me a Jewish mother I’d be absolutely flattered because of their true love of family.”

“When I think of the Jewish mother, I think of Molly Goldberg— accessible, down-to-earth, practical, funny.
I’m
a Jewish mother. I’m involved, hands-on, protective, intense. The dean of my child’s school called me a Mother Lioness. You know, ‘Mess with my kid and I’ll rip your eyes out.’ My kid said, ‘everybody knows that about you.’ My own mother was like a Jewish mother. At nine, my son made it clear he preferred getting his own house, because his mother was too inquisitive. Well, I want to know where he is, what he’s thinking, what’s bothering him … and that includes inspecting his room. That’s what I think the mother should be—advocate, protector, involved, engaged, committed. To me, the WASP mother is white bread, tidiness, with hidden, closeted feelings. A friend in college was a WASP. I was astonished by her mother, who ironed her scarfs, wrapped them in tissue paper, and put them in baggies. It has to do with the way people express their feelings. The ironing and rolling the scarf was probably her way of expressing affection.”

“I was actually called a Jewish mother by my kids and their friends and I considered it a compliment. To me, that meant [I
was] caring and concerned. You paid attention to your children. And … there was always food and food to share. I see it as a positive image of involvement, where you’re a MOTHER and your primary career is your children and family—making sure everybody has everything they need from clean socks, to manners and respect.”