Finding the Locating Ashkenazi identity, right here

My ancestors were from all over Eastern Europe, including Poland, Ukraine, Belarus, and present-day Russia, and I knew that I was Jewish. But apart from my dad’s mom, who was born in Poland, all my grandparents, and even great-grandparents on my mom’s side, were born in Canada. Although my family and I do identify strongly as Canadian, with my Dad growing up in strongly-patriotic rural Ontario and Zaidy Ell being an avowed monarchist, it was always a place of arrival rather than origin.

Being a dual American-Canadian citizen and also having connections and family bonds to his diverse European background, Avishai Infeld, U3 Arts, had difficulties defining his identity when growing up.

“I was born in the U.S. and then moved to Canada when I was five, so it definitely took me a few years of people asking to finally say Canadian,” Avishai explained. “But also my background is quite mixed. My grandfather was born in Poland, and my grandmother was from Germany. On my mom’s side they’ve been in the U.S. for a hundred years but also from Eastern Europe [....] But I don’t have a very strong connection considering the circumstances that they left.”

Similarly to Avishai, my family holds ties to all these different places, many of which don’t exist anymore, like Austria-Hungary or the Russian Empire. Depending on who I asked, my Old Home was different. Some said I was from Russia, highlighting that aspect of my identity. Others said Poland. Or some said Israel—with me being part of the diaspora. So my answers always changed.

When I was much younger, I used to say I was from Israel. I was passionate about the ideas of Jewish revival that Zaidy Ell and other family members imparted upon me. It also helped me connect more deeply with the biblical stories I was told and to this empowering idea of a unified Jewish heritage for a geographically disparate people.

But on our car rides, I realized that the stories that resonated with me weren’t ancient biblical tales; they were the stories of my ancestors, Eastern European Ashkenazi Jews. I longed to be connected to the bustling folklore, life, and joy of these communities that I imagined from the stories. This longing for Eastern Europe manifested itself in strange ways.

When I was around 10, I first decided that I was Russian, in line with my mom’s side of the family. My grandfather taught me a few Russian phrases that he learned from his grandparents growing up, and I parroted them proudly to any Russian I knew. But once the thrill and exoticness I felt in using my few words faded, my Russian dreams died along with them.

Then I decided I was Polish, identifying more with my dad’s mother, Bubby Sylvia (Zlate), who was born there. For the 2018 World Cup, when I was 15, I bought a Polish jersey, and did my best to pronounce all the Polish last names of the players. But when I wore the shirt in front of my dad’s Polish friend and realized that my pronunciations were all wrong, I felt more than a little fake. After that World Cup, where Poland dismally exited in the first round, my aspirations to be a Pole more or less ended.

By Leo Larman Brown,

My Eastern-European identity ever, rested on romanticization doomed from the start. I didn’t ing to emulate. My Polish cally Polish, and she didn’t was a Jew who spoke Yiddish. ancestors left these places only the bad experiences ries I heard were mostly family suffered terribly due massacres that killed hundreds before the Holocaust.

Avishai’s grandparents the violence inflicted upon which profoundly shaped his

“My grandmother left Germany subjected to all the Nuremberg “My grandfather from Poland, killed—every single person and an aunt—his parents, his everyone [....] So everyone rible conditions. What happened honestly feel very little tries. I identify with them way.”

My identity crisis quickly Ell, who continued to tell insatiable yearning I had. however, weren’t just about ancestors; in fact, most of him growing up in Montreal—in Ashkenazi Jewish community 20th century, then numbering

He told me the story about dates with Bubby Shirl, they doing God knows what—and Viateur or Fairmount bagel just as they were making the

He recounted the absurdity while in the line-up for ketball team, solely because never played—it was more of Or he explained the dynamics ish high schools. Baron Byng, Street, was where the poorer went, while Strathcona Academy—where was attended by the wealthier Jews.

When I was a bit older, ing—to my amazement—that half-sister for six months.

As I heard these stories, same way about Montreal as that I romanticized so much. a place bustling with Jewish My grandfather was not treal as a city imbued with ture. Zev Moses, founder the Museum of Jewish Montreal, area surrounding St. Laurent Plateau and Mile End, held Jewish community and Yiddish and recounted how there buildings that served as synagogues the area.

“They created their own within the city Yiddish-speak