Us vs. Them

I had thought long and hard about what it meant to be assimilated when writing my college thesis. Working on a sociological study on Turkish Jews' phases of development, I was trying to figure out what had happened to me, to my family and what might happen to those in the community who choose to stay in Turkey. One of the conclusions of the study was that there were two facets of assimilation: the individual saw himself/herself as part of the larger community; while the larger community saw the individual as part of itself. In my individual case, I saw myself as part of Turkish society while some saw me as a guest of 500 plus years, from a foreign background. The whole didn't accept the individual, while the individual held onto the red flag with crescent and star (and still does.)

I had long forgotten about the random comments I would hear about being Jewish in a largely Muslim country and already dismissed those who had called me "kafir" to my face from my memory. (Kafir is a deragotary term, meaning faithless for lack of a better translation.) Yet, I had a rude awakening this morning. Perusing through postings in my highschool's graduates discussion group, I noticed an entry titled "antisemtisim - enough!" There had been heated discussions about the war between Israel and Lebanon and the variances in Turkish public sentiment towards the conflict. The arguement had somehow twisted into a test of Turkish Jews' allegiance to the Turkish state. Anger and frustration flared from postings written by Jewish and Muslim Turkish members. One Jewish graduate currently living in Israel presented his adopted country as a civilized place trying to defend its borders and the civilization therein. He got accused of being too ethnocentric. Another one living in Istanbul literally cursed out the situation and claimed he had friends who were just ready to take off and leave Turkey behind. The cut-throat response to all this brouhaha came from a '70s graduate: "If you so want to leave, the border is this way!" he summoned in nothing less than a cocky voice.

I plunged in, identifying myself as a secular, modern-thinking Jew who is also a Turkish citizen. I condemned those who thought in terms of us vs. them. I told Mr. Border Patrol to re-read the constitution's amendments on equality of religion and ethnicity. I told all readers if they so wish, they can get a copy of my undergrad thesis. A handful of people contacted me, asking for it. Among the first were a thoughtful '68 graduate who now lives in LA (who is Muslim) and the Jewish graduate settled in Israel.

I am sure (I hope!) there were others who were also bothered by the tone and direction of the discussion. Maybe some shrugged it off as highschool bs or armchair politics. How about simply tasteless?

Living abroad for 14 years, I often get the question if I am ever to go back. How can I go back to this? Could the same discussion take place in the US? Can you imagine certain interest groups asking 15th generation Americans to take a hike to the other side of the border?

The reality is that I will never belong. I will be a naturalized US citizen someday. People will hear a tint of an accent and stuggle to pronounce my name. They will ask me its origin. I will say, "I am Turkish." Meanwhile, somewhere over in Turkey, some pompous fanatic will beat his chest and say "if they loved it so much, they would have stayed." Yup, I am part of them.