Lenny Bruce, the Jewish comedian, used to do a routine called “Jewish and Goyish,” where he would classify celebrities, institutions, and objects as either Jewish or goyish. So Camel cigarettes? Goyish. Instant potatoes? “Scary goyish.” And so on. 

Recently, Twitter did a similar routine, but about the movie Dirty Dancing. So Dirty Dancing, Jewish or goyish? 

Most people under a certain age are probably familiar with Bruce from the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which is about a Jewish comedian. Part of the show takes place in the Catskills, the same location where Dirty Dancing is set. A very Jewish location. Except of course, that no one in Dirty Dancing ever says “Jewish.” 

I’ve just been informed that Certain People (gentiles) don’t realize that Dirty Dancing is a deeply and pointedly Jewish movie and my only question is what the FUCK

— Maladroithe (@Maladroithe) June 20, 2021

Which prompts the question: How can you have a Jewish movie about Jewish characters without calling them Jewish?

This phenomenon—of Jews without being called Jewish—isn’t restricted to Dirty Dancing. How many people think of Clueless as a Jewish movie, even when Alicia Silverstone, a Jewish actress, plays a character named Cher Horowitz. I’ve encountered multiple people who did not pick up on An American Tail (the Fivel movie) being about Jewish mice, despite the fact that it opens with a literal pogrom. 

What I’ve come to realize is that what are obvious cultural indicators to some are simply de-contextualized details to others. And that this decontextualization isn’t always accidental. 

Specificity breathes life into stories but it also makes those stories situated in a particular time and place. If that’s a time and place that doesn’t sell in US macroculture—like stories about Jewish people—then out go those specificities. A movie that’s about a rich girl and a poor working boy set at a resort is much more sellable than a movie about a rich Jewish girl and a poor working boy at a resort in the Catskills. 

So you get stories that borrow from, allude to, or indicate, but few that outright say. 

This isn’t a matter of cultural appropriation. Often Jewish works that don’t specify that characters are Jewish are created by Jews, as Dirty Dancing was. Some of these creators have done the difficult calculus of wanting to create art that reflects our culture and value systems without having that art cordoned off as niche, genre, or, most damningly, inaccessible and therefore unrelatable, to non-Jews. 

As a Jewish author, I’ve debated when to provide in-text explanations of specifically Jewish terms: Do I dare say “parshah” or should I say, “weekly reading from the Torah,” in case a reader reacts with, “hmmm, this isn’t for me?” Do I show characters celebrating holidays, or will that get this cast as religious fiction? Do I make allusions to common experiences—like going to Jewish sleepaway camp—or do I simply depict a summer camp that happens to have specific songs and games and the occasional game of gaga? (Or just have characters play soccer or hackysack and drop that as an indicator entirely?) 

None of these are in and of themselves major exclusions, but they’re indicative of messaging that many Jewish creators receive: Be yourself, but not too much. Show your culture, but without any alienating specificity. Or have characters who look and sound and act like your community, but never actually say they’re Jewish. (As a necessary caveat: Creators from any marginalizations can go through similar thought processes. I am speaking from my own experience and only that.) 

The other thing that comes up during these conversations isn’t that people don’t just not recognize Jews in creative works but also in their own communities. For instance, a lot of the responses to that tweet were claims of geography: I’m from [state] and we just don’t have Jewish people here. 

My questions about that are always: Is that actually the case? And if that is the case, how did that come to be? In the case of the former, there are Jewish communities throughout the US. There are synagogues in Georgia and South Carolina from the 1700s. Jewish people were present in Louisiana before the Louisiana Purchase; Galveston, Texas, was the “Ellis Island of the West.” 

So, for non-Jews, would you be able to recognize if there were Jewish bakeries or community centers or day camps or any of the other community infrastructures that Jews establish? Or would these, like Dirty Dancing, be things that people simply don’t see, even when presented with all but a blinking sign that says “Jewish?” 

And if Jews are truly absent from an area, consider why that came to be. Because absence—from a location, community, or narrative—is never an accident. Therefore, if there aren’t Jewish people where you live, ask what systems and histories led to this absence.

I want to end this by inviting people in, to our lives, to our communities. Because we’re here and present and writing and we’d love to have you read our stories. If you would like books about Jewish characters by Jewish authors, here’s a non-exhaustive list of Jewish adult romances to get you started: 

• If you like historicals, Felicia Grossman writes Jewish historicals set in the US with a high heat level, including this duology: APPETITES & VICES and DALLIANCES & DEVOTIONS. Rose Lerner’s THE WIFE IN THE ATTIC is a a queer Jewish Jane Eyre retelling available on audiobook.
• If you’re into contemporaries, Stacey Agdern has a series that focuses on Jewish communities in New York very similar to those in Dirty Dancing. And Rachel Lynn Solomon writes effervescent romcoms; her latest, WE CAN’T KEEP MEETING LIKE THIS, is an enemies-to-lovers romp about a wedding harpist and a cater waiter. 
• Hot rabbis became a mini-sub-genre: I would do a blurb for Aviva Blakeman’s book, but the title HOT RABBI should sell itself, as should Rosie Danan’s THE INTIMACY EXPERIMENT.
• If you like holiday romances, Corey Alexander (writing as Xan West), alehém hashalóm, wrote kinky queer Jewish stories, including a Hannukah story. (Corey passed away last year.) Roz Alexander has a holiday duology and writes under the tagline of “Queer. Jewish. Romance. Laura Brown’s MATZAH BALL SURPRISE is a romcom with fake dating and a Deaf Jewish hottie. 
• The LOVE ALL YEAR anthology is also a great way to get a sampling of Jewish (and non-Jewish) holiday-focused stories. The second edition of it comes out in September, and features Jewish stories by Elsie Marrone and me about Rosh Hashanah and Tu Bishvat, respectively. 
• If you want second-world Jewish fantasy? Shira Glassman has you covered. She also has a contemp f/f book if that’s more your speed. 
• If you want Jewish characters in the public eye, Jennet Alexander’s I KISSED A GIRL, which comes out in August, is about a horror movie actress and a makeup artist falling in love on a movie set. Allison Parr’s IMAGINARY LINES is a new adult m/f sports romance that deals with the realities of concussions in football. And my book UNWRITTEN RULES which comes out in October, is an m/m baseball romance about ex-teammates—and exes—who reunite for a second chance.

Lastly, I’m sure I missed many many authors—if you have a favorite, please comment and let me know! 

Find the Books Mentioned in this Post:

Appetites and Vices: GoodReads | Bookshop | Amazon

Dalliances and Devotions: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

The Wife in the Attic: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Miracles and Menorahs: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

We Can’t Keep Meeting Like This: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Hot Rabbi: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

The Intimacy Experiment: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

| BookishlyJewish Review

Eight Kinky Nights: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Matzah Ball Surprise: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Love All Year: Goodreads

The Second Mango: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Knit One, Girl Two: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

I Kissed a Girl: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Imaginary Lines: Goodreads

Unwritten Rules: Goodreads | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

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