Traumatic memories are often fragmented – a psychologist explains how and why that happens

 Young Asian woman sits on a sofa looking sad and worried.
Traumatic memories are not recalled the same way pleasant memories are.
Filmstax/E+ via Getty Images

Michele Patterson Ford, Dickinson College

When survivors of trauma recount their experiences, they are often questioned because of how they relay their stories. They may have problems remembering what happened, or their memories may be jumbled or even contradictory. People hearing those stories – attorneys, reporters, healthcare workers or friends – may expect a clearer, linear narrative.

Those unaffected by trauma may also be surprised to hear how the person acted in the moment. It’s easy to assume that someone experiencing a traumatic event would have a “fight or flight” response, instinctively fighting off a perpetrator or fleeing the scene – but that might not be the case.

Understanding the science of how trauma affects memory and behavior reveals why these responses can actually be expected and are not contradictory.

In both my academic and clinical work as a psychologist, I have witnessed the impact trauma has on people’s memories and behaviors, especially when an event in their present life triggers something from their past.

Research shows that taking a trauma-informed approach, which prioritizes understanding and curiosity about someone’s experience as opposed to judgment or critical evaluation, increases empathy for survivors’ thoughts, feelings and behaviors.

How trauma affects the brain

According to the World Health Organization, approximately 70% of people worldwide report experiencing a traumatic event in their lifetime. The majority of these people do not develop PTSD, a clinical diagnosis of symptoms, such as having nightmares and flashbacks about the event, avoiding places that are reminders of it, and increased arousal that can make concentration and sleep difficult. Many survivors don’t meet criteria for PTSD but struggle with feeling distressed, depressed or anxious.

In traumatic situations, people often respond in unexpected ways, and they may second-guess themselves. This may happen particularly when someone experiences a repeated trauma, which is more likely than not due to how many people experience traumatic events.

Trauma also distorts how memories are stored and retrieved.

Research indicates that people experience traumatic memories differently than memories of other significant events, such as sad or positive experiences. Two of the main brain structures scientists believe are involved in storing traumatic memories are the hippocampus – responsible for memory storage – and the amygdala, which is responsible for processing emotions.

During trauma, the amygdala becomes highly active, processing emotions such as fear, and the hippocampus becomes overwhelmed by stress, leading to problems with memory storage.

Traumatic memories do not follow a neat, linear story. Instead, people may experience the memory as disconnected fragments of sensations, emotions, smells or images. Such memories cause the body to reexperience the past threat as if it is happening in the moment. This may cause a person to feel like running away or fighting back – flight or fight. Or they may freeze.

In other words, people don’t have the distant perspective they often feel with other memories from the past. Rather, they may feel they are reliving the original experience.

Single working mother and her teenage daughter talk with much emotion in the kitchen.
Emotionally intense conversations can bring up past traumas, causing a person to freeze or feel numb.
Olga Rolenko/Moment via Getty Images
Misinterpreting victims’ behaviors

With this understanding, consider someone who experiences a trauma at the hands of a professional during an appointment. They may appear outwardly calm while it happens and then leave the session as they typically would – checking out, providing payment and possibly even scheduling the next appointment. While their response to act normally may seem odd, such behavior makes sense for someone trying to escape a threat.

Fight, flight or freeze responses have become widely known in popular culture. In a freeze response, a person’s mind goes blank and they may be unable to speak, leading to a “deer in the headlights” behavior.

On the other hand, a person may act paradoxically – perhaps by going on about their day as if nothing happened. They may not report the event or may question whether the incident even occurred. This represents another survival response – the lesser-known fawn response. This way of handling stress occurs when someone acts calm, appeases the threatening person and retreats to de-escalate the situation. Instead of literally backing away, in this example, the person metaphorically backs away by completing the session and exiting as expected without further conflict.

Outsiders may misconstrue these behaviors as evidence that a trauma did not actually happen or that a survivor lacks credibility. But that logic reflects common misconceptions about how people “should” remember or respond to trauma.

If this was the person’s first experience with a traumatic situation, afterward they are likely to feel afraid, disoriented or hyperalert. However, if they had previous similar experiences, this scenario may trigger past memories in the moment. This can muddy the experience even further, making it difficult to recall the incident later, especially under stressful circumstances.

When a survivor reports an incident and ultimately testifies against someone who harmed them, memory recall might be uniquely affected. Most people in this situation would be highly stressed, especially if the perpetrator were in the room.

To make matters worse, the feeling that the recalled memory is actually happening in the moment and not in the past may cause a survivor to convey a more fragmented story. They may also have either a more intense or detached emotional experience, depending on their own trauma responses.

Legal and other professionals unaware of the range of natural responses to trauma can easily misinterpret these behaviors as signs of lying or malingering.

In reality, the percentage of people who falsely report sexual assault, for example, is low – between 2% and 10%.

Two middle-aged men of diverse racial backgrounds engage in an intimate conversation while sitting in a living room.
Empathy can build trust and safety.
AzmanL/E+ via Getty Images
Providing better support

Research shows that people who better understand nuances of trauma and mental health in turn are more empathetic toward survivors. Some healthcare settings have adopted a trauma-informed approach to prevent retraumatization and build safety. Studies show that even being attentive to word choice can help ensure effective care for patients that avoids victim blaming.

A trauma-informed approach can also improve legal and justice systems so victims are better supported. This includes understanding why accounts aren’t linear and not equating memory inconsistencies with lying.

Research also shows that trauma-informed responses are equally important in everyday relationships. In friendships and close relationships, or in the workplace, patience and empathy convey a sense of respect, safety and trustworthiness. These offer a strong foundation for positive social and working relationships, which can lower a survivor’s distress and support their healing.

When people have a greater understanding of how trauma affects the brain, they gain insight into how survivors think, act and process their memories. What initially looks confusing or inconsistent is actually behavior that flows logically from a traumatized brain.

Having a trauma-informed perspective helps people to be better friends, co-workers and professionals. By extension, responding from this awareness may even help survivors understand their own reactions and experiences, which may ultimately aid their healing and ability to lead fulfilling lives.The Conversation

Michele Patterson Ford, Lecturer in Psychology, Dickinson College

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Continue reading …

Australia

Today I want to talk about cancellation in Australia. I want to talk about it under the same heading as the Green party in the UK, at a meeting where they had to have a ‘safe room’ for Jewish Greens, passing a motion that Zionism is racism but failing to pass the addition that Jews should be safe in the UK. That heading is sometimes “All is well just as long as we make decisions for you.” That heading can also be “As long as no-one knows what’s actually happened here, we can pretend everyone’s safe.” Mostly it’s “Jews must remain silent here. We do their thinking for them.”.

Once upon a time there was a mass murder in Israel. October 7 2023. Many people who had been closet antisemites came into the open. A bunch of Jewish writers and artists and others who create needed to talk, so someone made a Whatsapp channel and lo, they worked towards healing. A few of them (maybe five, maybe six (I read the material in question, but didn’t count) talked about writing letters to make it clear that Jewish Australians and Australian Jews were scared by the rise in antisemitism. Someone doxxed all 600+ people in that group. Their argument was mainly about evil Jews plotting. So many in the Arts in Oz were hurt by this and Jews have been given purity tests for literary festivals. I was not doxxed myself, because I can’t get WhatsApp to work so I never joined the group, so I’m only targeted by those purity tests and by erasure. I didn’t have to move house for safety and over that time, I have only received one death threat.

This was in 2024. So the problems are now past for Jews in the creative industries in Australia? Not at all.

I myself (undoxxed) am still only welcome at most events as an audience member as long as I carry or wear nothing that indicates I’m Jewish. My home town excludes me more than anyone: I am not (at the moment of writing this post) on the programme for anything to do with writing in the Canberra region. When I ask, I am given ‘reasons.’

Some organisers elsewhere won’t let any racism enter their doors and do not exclude Jewish writers. I was both delighted to be a minor part of the Sydney Fringe (I gave a workshop and panel at the science fiction weekend at Old Government House) and why I celebrate whenever I am welcome into a place without anyone wanting to shout “Free Palestine” or “Jews murder babies” at me.

The doxxing happened in 2024. I say this again because something important just happened. Jewish artists and writers and musicians created a film called “Cancelled,” Explaining what has happened through the life of four who had to deal. It was shown at a film festival… then it was cancelled. Right now, it’s impossible to see.

First doxxing then cancellation – this sums up three years of life in the Arts in Jewish Australia for most of us.

A Fortnight in the Life

This week’s post is about my next few days. I’ll skip most of the writing and editing and publishing side, because they’re posts all of their own. One day, you will learn more. Keep reading, because eventually there is coffee.

This weekend I’ll be at Octocon. Online in Ireland. This is the Ireland we don’t see in the news. I feel safe there. In honour of an Irish friend who I (alas) haven’t seen in decades, let me share his cure for hangovers to provide a bridge between the antisemitic country we hear about and the kindness and openness of fandom in Ireland and Northern Ireland: 1 part port to one part brandy. Any quantity. If necessary repeat the dose several hours later.

I’m on two panels and giving a workshop on world building. I do love sharing my worldbuilding research. Each time I teach it a bit differently. This time it’s going to be all about Medieval magic. Not all Medieval magic, but how to incorporate certain aspects of that magic into your perfect novel in a way that makes it feel to the reader that they can find that magic portal and enter your world.

Another thing-of-the-moment is waiting anxiously to see if a kickstarter gets up. I have an essay in the book being kickstarted and I so want it to become published. It’s also related to my research self linking with my writing self. It’s the uni classes I would be giving if I were still in the teaching system in Canberra but, alas, Canberra is still not keen on me teaching and I’ve given up asking and instead written an essay: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/benyehuda/again-at-a-crossroads

What else am I doing? Eating fruit and nuts, because it’s Sukkot. Being worried a bit because ASIO tells us that Jews here are still under threat. Dealing with hate. Dealing with hate has been an everyday thing for 3 years now (the anniversary in the Jewish calendar of October 7 is at the end of Sukkot) and you’ve heard enough about it, so I won’t explore it here.

I’m revising my own thoughts about the world. I do this regularly. I’m an ethnohistorian, I know that people change and culture changes and I need to know how I change. Every bit of my own bias I understand, I can factor into my other work. When I realised that being hated was a bad path to take for self-analysis, I decided to watch old TV to remind myself of where I have been and give myself context to explain how I deal with this interesting new world. I’m watching two shows right now to give myself this context. One is Heroes, which was first shown in Australia after I’d started looking into how we see heroes in story. I began on that trail 45 years ago, so it’s a handy trail to look back from and check for change. When heroes was first release I was in the middle of formulating a tool, which I never took up academically but which is a lot of fun socially. If our TV was seen by aliens or our literature read by aliens, how would they see humans? I looked at gender, age, cultural background, religious background, amount of violence, amount and nature of sex-related stuff, material goods, use of tropes… No big project because no funding for it, alas. I still play with aspects of the idea, however.

The other show is Doctor Who. I saw the original when I was very small, and it’s been part of my viewing life. Every twenty years I watch as much as I can and it shows me how I have travelled to reach my current point. Last time I rewatched was the year before the new series, because our public broadcaster showed much of the surviving Who. Oddly, I could remember the bits that were not there. Later, as other bits became cartoonified and put to the original audio, I discovered a strange phenomenon: I could remember the original and, in one story in particular, it was as if the original walked alongside the new version and they argued with each other.

Now I’m in the 70s with Tom Baker. I was in high school when it was first shown, and it’s a wonderful tool for bringing back lost memories. When I say “Tom Baker” people instantly tell me about the scarf, but what I find is that Baker himself acts as himself and so the Doctor is real and so… it’s closer to who I was as a teen and how I saw myself.

My family never let me become properly Gothic and was not kind in the way they prevented it (which is another story), so some of the Baker episodes show me a path I wanted to travel but could not. I suspect this will appear in my fiction sooner rather than alter, because I have a character at hand who needs to discover something related.

Everything returns to story in my life. Always. This is not a bad thing.

Another thing that is not bad at all is that a friend gave me some of the spice mix used in Yemeni coffee. It fits with the way coffee was made in the region in the 15th century. When time permits, I’ll see if I can find out the relationship between the current spice mix and the history of coffee. I need to get through the next few weeks first, however. I’ve told you the tip of the iceberg, but I do not want the actual iceberg to turn my life into another Titanic accident. This takes careful navigation.

Not another Royal Commission!

This is a quick note because my week is just a tad busier than usual. First, there’s always catching up on paperwork to do after Yom Kippur, because people always send me things, assuming it’s a normal day. I’ve made a little list of some of the things that must be done by Wednesday afternoon. It’s 14 tasks long and some of them are quite hefty tasks.

The question is, why Wednesday?

I’ve talked about the Royal Commission into Antisemitism and Social Cohesion at great length, but I didn’t mention the other one. I’m giving my testimony as part of a group testimony on Wednesday afternoon. It’s into disability. I tick all the “Who has been left out in our current system” box.

I’m not doing a written submission for this. My right eye is problematic and my vision is even more impaired than usual, so it would be a lot harder than the earlier submissions. But the RC into disabilities is allowing for such things and a group of us is being brought together online to work through the framework and explain the things the Commission needs to know about our lives.

I’ve never done things for two Royal Commissions within six months before. I had a whole submission published and cited in the report for one, many years ago. They’re not an ordinary part of our lives, but they’re one of the places and times when we can interface with government on issues that are beyond the ordinary. They are terrifyingly expensive, but they’re also exceptionally valuable. Even when the government in power pretends to accept the outcomes of a Commission and never does anything, the process shifts Australia and makes us choose our paths more carefully. Initially, the RC into Antisemitism caused a tsunami of hate, but as people saw that tsunami and thought it through, I think the hate is diminishing a little. I won’t know, however, until the studies of it are in.

If I remember and if it’s not classified, next week I’ll let you know what happened on Wednesday. The government methods of other countries always entertain me, so maybe they will also entertain some of you.

If any of you would like a 101 on our parliamentary system and an explanation of how we vote, I’m happy to explain. We are so different from the US and Canada! And all this stuff used to be my meat and drink. Being Jewish excludes me from those circles right now, but I had 20 years of working to help people within the system and I loved it.

My Space

Last week on Facebook, Yaritji Green asked the history of the space I live in. I answered her post directly, and then I realised some of you might be interested, so I’m copying it here.

“I live on Ngunnawal land*, currently owned by the Federal Government and managed by the ACT Government. I don’t own any land, but I lease the space along with many others. I don’t even own the structure of the building – I am part of a body corporate. I own the possessions in my flat, though, and so that flat is my space, even though it’s on the land of others
It was first taken from the Ngunnawal people by farmers and the occasional bushranger. The family that farmed this particular valley is still in the region and one of their ancestors wrote the first Australian Gothic novel. So this valley has consistently been science fictional since White settlement. Then the government took it, when we Federated and the regional was made into the capital.
This space has layers. The most ancient is the geological with a faultline running alongside my flat. Until quite recently, this was part of the Bogong Trail, for corroboree near Yankee hat in the Brindies**, so that was the most stable layer for humans. I don’t know how long the Bogong Trail was used or enough about other uses of this little valley, but we have clear evidence of it being 900+ years, in some paintings near Yankee Hat. My block of flats is the most recent layer. It was built in the 70s, before self-government in Canberra, and my flat was owned by the builder of the whole complex and then by a young couple and then by me. it still had the 70s carpet and kitchen when I moved in.
This has been my place since 1991. Me and my books.”
I am now remembering… the first thing that comes to mind is an Auntie (I won’t use her name because she’s no longer around, but it’s the same first name as the poor child who was murdered last December) who taught my Israeli dance class the dances of this country. Specifically this country: she was a Ngunnawal elder and these were her tradition. She was willing to teach us women’s business, but young Irwin refused to recuse himself.
“You can teach me anything,” he said.
“You’re male,” Auntie said, “And so you deny everyone the learning.” and so we only learned the dances.
Irwin explained his view to me afterwards. In his world, he had the right to learn everything. Mind you, in his world, also, he was a missionary. Totally lovely, and very very Christian.
I remember three steps, but I do them very badly.
One of the things I’d like to do this year is get to one of the bush tucker workshops at the National Museum. Since I cannot do this without a friend who has a car, I’d love to hear from anyone who’d like to do this with me. I can cook using local foodstuffs, but I only know them as adaptations of European foodways and they’re a lot more than that. I need to re-learn from someone with the right knowledge and that is (among others) a guy who does workshops for the national Museum.
For me, living anywhere requires constant (and respectful) learning. I wish the same applies to those who hate. It’s been bad this week.
*Canberra, Australia, just in case a reminder helps.
**Canberra slang for the Brindabellas, a local mountain range. If you know Miles Franklin’s My Brilliant Career, this is where she grew up. Mt Aggie is named after her aunt Agnes.

Is it Still Monday in California?

I’m so late today that I’m (almost) posting on your tomorrow… which was my tomorrow over 15 hours ago. It’s been a busy day and was a busy yesterday and I’m so tired that I want to use colloquialisms. I shall refrain, because Australian colloquialisms can read as rather rude to North Americans.

Yesterday afternoon I finished with my end of the proofs of the forthcoming novel, then I went to a book launch. Then I had an online meeting and we updated each other on antisemitism. There were other things, too, but I forget. I did all this with the eye problems and every minute the world felt funky.

This morning was a grocery delivery and an emergency printout of stuff for a friend (at which point my printer failed) and we have a weather shift (it being spring here) and so my joints reminded me they hate weather. All my joints. Why the little toe aching is more annoying than the back aching is something I cannot work out.

I ought to be celebrating receiving copies of the German translation of one of my favourite short stories. There is an academic comment on my sense if humour, so my sense of humour is officially an academic thing now. In German academia. This is important, because a French translation of another story, a while back, turned all the subtlety into sarcasm and the story was not funny at all.
I’m also giving a workshop for ConSYDeration in two weeks. ConSYDeration is part of the Sydney Fringe Festival and this is my first time even getting to the Fringe. Which means, of course, my next thing is to update my handout for the workshop because I forgot to add my list of publications. It’s not gratuitous advertising this time round – my non-fiction is directly relevant to the workshop.

And all this is why, in a few minutes, I’m going to make a cuppa and watch some William Hartnell Doctor Who for a bit. I have so much to do but my body tells me to be gentle. I might put a bit of cinnamon in my tea. Later I’ll do more of the things.

I have been considering my New year, which is way soon. If anyone wants either or both of my grandmothers’ honey cake recipes here, next week, just say and I will oblige.

[Reprint] Childhood experiences of LGBTQ+ stigma can harm romantic relationships decades later

This is so important to those affected by LGBTQ+ stigma and those who love them, I am reprinting it in its entirety (under Creative Commons license).

Childhood experiences of LGBTQ+ stigma can harm romantic relationships decades later – psychologists explain how to reconnect with yourself and your partner

Person looking into the distance as their partner smiles at them
Difficult experiences you had as a child may be putting a wedge between you and your partner.
Dmytro Betsenko/Moment via Getty Images

Melissa Gates, Binghamton University, State University of New York and Christina Balderrama-Durbin, Binghamton University, State University of New York

Childhood rejection, discrimination and bullying can affect your well-being as an adult. If your friends, family or community pushed you away because of your sexuality or gender, these childhood experiences of prejudice can also affect your future relationships.

Many LGBTQ+ people encounter difficult experiences as children, including abuse, neglect and challenges at home, because of their sexuality or gender. Other negative experiences – including bullying, witnessing your peers be harassed or ostracized, and the need to conceal your identity to protect yourself – may make it especially challenging to accept your sexuality or gender as an adult.

Developing a negative self-view as a result of these harmful experiences during your formative years is not uncommon. Feelings of shame or unworthiness can carry into your 20s, 30s and beyond, harming your mental health along with your ability to form and maintain romantic relationships.

Fortunately, making meaning of your early experiences can help you heal, reconnecting and strengthening your relationships as a result.

Internalized stigma harms relationships

Our psychology research team focuses on understanding the connection between childhood anti-LGBTQ+ experiences, well-being and relationship health.

We found that a factor called internalized stigma can notably affect the romantic relationships of LGBTQ+ people. Internalized stigma refers to when society’s negative views and biases toward a part of your identity shapes how you think and feel about yourself. This can influence how you view romantic relationships and how you interact with your romantic partners.

People with higher levels of internalized stigma report more conflicts and less satisfaction in their relationships. Research suggests that internalized stigma can negatively affect key aspects of romantic relationships that keep people satisfied with their partners, including trust, connection and intimacy.

Person sitting on the edge of a bed, facing away from another person sitting against the headboard
Internalized stigma can lead to conflict in relationships.
zoranm/E+ via Getty Images

For some, internalized stigma might result in low self-esteem, feeling like you are inadequate or unworthy, feeling disengaged from the LGBTQ+ community or wanting to pass as heterosexual or cisgender.

Internalized stigma can also shape how secure you feel in romantic relationships. For some, these negative self-views can lead to difficulties with commitment and more conflict between partners.

In our study of 80 LGBTQ+ couples, we found that childhood emotional wounds tied to sexuality or gender can carry into adulthood, shaping a person’s relationships in their 20s and 30s.

Specifically, LGBTQ+ adults with more childhood anti-LGBTQ+ experiences reported less trust in their partner and reduced emotional and sexual intimacy – key ingredients in a healthy and satisfying romantic relationship.

Overcoming childhood trauma

It’s worth remembering that these negative beliefs about yourself don’t develop overnight. It also takes time to recognize and change how you react to them.

Exploring whether your symptoms of guilt, shame and low self-esteem are related to internalized stigma is a critical part of beginning to navigate it. Recognizing and pinpointing where these beliefs came from, which may include negative messages from society or your family, is an important first step.

Practicing self-compassion – that is, offering yourself warmth, nonjudgment and understanding during stressful and challenging moments – can reduce anxiety, depression and internalized stigma. Instead of becoming overwhelmed by your emotions and the stressors you encounter, self-compassion allows you to attend to these experiences in a balanced way.

Show yourself patience and acceptance after difficult moments, such as when you’re feeling undervalued, alone or ashamed because of your sexuality or gender. Adopting mantras such as “I am enough,” “I can overcome hard things” and “May I be kind to myself and give myself compassion in this moment” is one way to practice self-affirmation.

Person with leaning head against hand as another person touches their face in consolation
Talking to your partner about challenging experiences can help build intimacy.
FG Trade/E+ via Getty Images

Building in opportunities in your daily life to engage with your interests and finding positive outlets for stress can improve your mood by reigniting joy and a sense of accomplishment. For some, this might include expressive writing, reading, going for a walk or listening to a podcast.

You may also want to explore how shame and guilt around your sexual or gender identities can show up in your relationships. Intentionally carving out ways to support and connect with your partner can create emotional safety by building intimacy and closeness.

Importantly, stigma and shame don’t have to become the only thing you and your partner talk about. Strengthening positive aspects of your relationship can help you continue finding ways to bond.

Finding and giving support

Talking with your partner or other community members who have had similar experiences may provide a sense of connection.

Seeking professional support for your relationships can help reconnect you with your partner. Many LGBTQ+ people face barriers to seeking professional relationship support, including fear of discrimination and concerns about working with providers who lack expertise on LGBTQ+ issues.

Online self-directed relationship programs that are tailored for LGBTQ+ relationships may be more approachable. Find trained providers who are LGBTQ+ friendly, affirming and willing to advocate for your needs.

Lastly, recognize that the onus for change is not solely on you and your partner. Change also needs to come at a societal level. You can empower yourself and others by connecting with other people in the LGBTQ+ community, including mentoring LGBTQ+ youth. Many face similar experiences, and you are not alone.The Conversation

Melissa Gates, Ph.D. Candidate in Clinical Psychology, Binghamton University, State University of New York and Christina Balderrama-Durbin, Associate Professor of Psychology, Binghamton University, State University of New York

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Continue reading “[Reprint] Childhood experiences of LGBTQ+ stigma can harm romantic relationships decades later”…

Gefilte fish and chicken and being Jewish in Australia

I am currently adding recipes to my Patreon page, and thought that this little piece might be of interest to everyone here.

Growing up as an Orthodox Jew (Modern Orthodox, Australian Orthodox – more interested in learning, community and food than in matters religious, unless we could argue about them – my favourite argument will always be how kangaroo can be seen as potentially kosher) in Australia is a most extraordinary thing. For one thing, it doesn’t matter how many generations your family has been in the country, too many people assume that you are a recent arrival, simply because you are Jewish. Some even try to spot an Israeli accent. In my case, this is very imaginative of them.

The classic case of this was at a New Year’s Eve party in Canberra. I was in a group of people, one of whom had recently taken out citizenship. We were talking about where our folks came from, and when, as one so often does. We were all very open about our origins, religions and background. We also had a lengthy discussion about date of arrival. Of the group, my family was the earliest arrival by at least one generation, and the new citizen’s was the most recent. My family started coming here about 150 years earlier than hers. After a bit (conversations can be very long on New Year’s Eve) we turned to weddings. The new citizen turned to me and asked intently, “What would your parents do if you married an Australian?”

A nasty reminder (well before the present thrum of hate) that Jews are somehow considered different, even in a very tolerant country was when I was nine years old, and was personally accused of killing Christ. At the time I was very bewildered, because I knew who he was and when he lived, and I also knew that I was nine years old. I could not reconcile the contradictions, so I nursed the puzzle until I had antisemitism sorted out sufficiently that I could deal with it. What I asked at the time was “Does this mean I invent time travel?”

What has this to do with cooking? Well, one thing that regular hints of prejudice does is to drive one to reconsider. I have friends who, when discriminated against, or subtly insulted, reject their past and tried to “fit in”. That is a legitimate decision, but has never been a road I have followed. Nor has it been a road my parents followed. What we do when faced with “not belonging” is to strongly reassert our complex cultural identity. That is to say we share it. And the easiest way to convince someone that to be Jewish is still to be human is to feed everyone in sight. After all, everyone eats, even if our religions are a bit different.

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then a way to a person’s cultural appreciation follows the same route. People around me are forcibly introduced to Judaism. You know the method. It is stark and awful. Eat this chicken soup! Have a kosher chocolate! Try one of my Mum’s famous biscuits, after all, it is Passover next week!

That is the skeleton in the closet, the dread reason for me handing out food to everyone in my vicinity. It’s sort of nice to be thought a human being, and food definitely helps smooth the way. Mind you, the food can end up taking over your life. I no longer feed people to convince them I’m human. I feed people because I’ve fallen in love with feeding people. And the great thing is that many friends return the favour.

That’s the skeleton in the closet and explains why one whole tier of my Patreon contains recipes and food stories. It also explains why I was once a pro blogger. The skeleton under the bed is a different matter. As well as studying history at university, I studied some archaeology, so Mum let me have her old skeleton (not the one inside her, but the one she used before she dropped out of medicine). I called it George and I called it Yorick, depending on which head I was using. A skeleton with two skulls is very useful for understanding mandibular articulation. And, since my bedroom at this time was 5’3” by 7’, the only storage place was under the bed.

To get back to food (which neither George nor Yorick was/were, not having been kosher at any stage in his/their spotted past – the spots were some sort of mould, Mum suggested, but dissuaded me from running tests) my family demonstrates that minor prejudice can lead to the most wonderful, food-based friendships. That’s a good reason for a whole chapter on it in this book. This is the food that led to the friendships which make up the rest of the book. Isn’t there a children’s rhyme that goes something like that?

My father’s mother’s cooking was very Anglo-Australian. Mum says that her favourite desserts were blancmange, jelly, icecream or stewed fruit. Her standard Sunday dinner was soup (mostly “Jewish penicillin” ie chicken soup), a roast of lamb plus three vegetables, salad, with fruit and icecream for dessert. As you can see by the dairy product at the end, she did not keep kosher. She also followed the Anglo at the expense of the Jewish – I was brought up with Friday night dinners of the same menu (sometimes the lamb was replaced by chicken or beef, and the icecream was always replaced by a non-dairy dessert) with the leftovers for Saturday lunch. This was the natural compromise between Dad’s Anglo upbringing and Mum’s strong Continental Jewish tradition.

Mum was in tears when Dad proposed to her and said, magnanimously, that he was prepared to tolerate a kosher kitchen, as long as it was “done properly”. He was very good at keeping the rules once he started, even though he wickedly told people about an atheist friend who “knew he was Jewish because he could not bear to drink a glass of milk after his ham sandwich”.

This post would be lost without recipes. Let me share my family gelfilte fish recipe, and its very important alternate.

 

GEFILTE FISH

I have, alas, been unable to try out or even taste test this recipe. I am also told I’d be a lot nicer as a person if only I had been able to eat gefilte fish when I was young.  How I obtained it was by asking my grandmother. She explained it in detail, went away, made gefilte fish, then updated her explanation.

Ingredients

minced fish (use three different types of white fish – Grandma’s standard varieties are Murray Perch, garfish and mullet – she says to avoid anything pink. My suggestion is that if you get tuna or something then just put frills around the plate holding the pale rose gefilte fish and serve it as the Barbara Cartland variation)

eggs

fine matzah meal (made of ground-up matzo – unleavened bread – a yeast free bread that tastes like very bland dried biscuits, but is brilliant to cook with.)

 

Method

Mix minced fish with eggs and matzah meal and knead until firm. For proportions, what you want is a firm-ish mixture that holds its shape when you knead it. Start with the fish, then add eggs and matzah meal until it is a smooth, heavy paste (a damp, dumpling like consistency). Let stand a while.

Mince again, and mould into balls. Flour hands with fine matzah meal between each shaping.

In a big saucepan, place fish bones, topped by sliced onions and carrots. Add water. Bring to the boil. Add the fish balls, one at a time (use a spoon and be very gentle). Keep the broth on a slow boil until the fish is cooked through. Season to taste.

 

What does a good Aussie Jewish family do at Passover when several loud-voiced members have nasty fish allergies? Grandma makes them gefilte chicken, and everyone prods me under the table and asks “Where do you think Grandma got her three types of chicken from, eh?” My ribs were fragile the first night she served this delicacy, as almost every family member had the same idea and dug me in the ribs to emphasise their pungent wit. Gefilte chicken goes excellently with pickles and a bit of salad.

GEFILTE CHICKEN

Ingredients

take 2 chicken breasts and mince (if you don’t want this to look traditional and white, you can just use chicken mince – but the fat content may make them shrink; if you are using mince, I suggest 400 g and medium sized egg)

2 large eggs

salt

pepper

chicken stock

 

Method

Mix all dry ingredients and let stand a while. If the mixture is at all liquid add fine matzo meal to stiffen it. Make into balls using at least a tbs of mixture at a time (coat your hands with matzo meal to stop the mixture sticking).

Bring chicken stock to the boil, then lower the heat and place balls gently in the broth. Let cook gently, with the saucepan covered. Test to see when cooked (should take around 45 minutes).

Jewish in Australia – a brief update

This week the Australian Royal Commission into Antisemitism and Social Cohesion is a mixed bag, but it’s all very close to home. The Royal Commission is talking about learning and educational resources today, for example, so I have to watch. I need to know how what I do (or did when I had lots of teaching and do on the rare instance I’m back teaching) fits into good practice. I also need to be critical of what everyone else is doing. Not bad-critical, but aware-critical. Today then, is an in-service for education outside the tertiary sector.

Then there are three days of things I know but need to understand better. Learning and education require this, and just because I’ve been excluded from much of the education I used to give, doesn’t absolve me from learning and updating. It’s ironic that I’m updating my understanding of why I’ve been excluded, but that’s only a small slice of a vast pie about education in Australia and how it fits with being Jewish in Australian.

Friday, as I told everyone on Facebook, is my personal hellscape, because it’s about antisemitism in the Arts and Creative sector. It’s not my once-life and hope-to-be life: it’s my current everyday. I say “hope-to-be” but the silencing and how Jewish creatives now live in a different world to most others hasn’t yet been tackled and may not be tackled. The focus here is on the hate, not the side effects of hate. The introduction for this week (by counsel assisting) has already noted how many of us are isolated and drifting thanks to the antisemitism, which is a big advance.

Outside the Royal Commission, people are blaming Jews for all kinds of things still. The new thing they (those who hate) have is an assessment of the Royal Commission while not paying any attention to what everyone says in it. The investigation into antisemitism itself becomes an excuse for antisemitism. I read something that suggests that people who do this enjoy hating. I wish they were wrong.

I asked my Facebook followers to consider. “Anyone who has political opinions on these subjects, listen to the evidence at the RC first and maybe think on how things affect me and other Australian Jews in your vicinity. Is your opinion on my page more important than my safety or emotional stability? Your choice, of course, but I’d rather you made it an educated choice.”

None of this was going to be today’s post. I had completely different ideas. But in the background, I’m hearing a rabbi talking about healing the staff at Bankstown Hospital, which is known to be antisemitic. So many people are taking their religion off their hospital record, for their own safety. There was discussion in Sydney about even finding alternates to hospitals because of safety. The State government is now talking about what to do. Healing is going to take a long time. Safety is still an issue. At least, however, more people are now talking about this.

If you want to learn more about our Royal Commission, you can find it here: Royal Commission on Antisemitism and Social Cohesion

Ranting

I wrote a rant on Facebook. I want to copy it here because the cause of it affects so many people and I think it would be good to find it again. Let me explain first, though.

My ethnohistorian self looks at what happens in the world around us as evidence of human lives. I’m always looking for patterns. Right now, finding patterns and interpreting them well is more important than it’s ever been for me, because of the level and nature of antisemitism in Australia. I keep an eye on what our Royal Commission into Antisemitism and Social Cohesion is doing, and I find it has its own patterns and, at this point, it doesn’t see the rest of Australia clearly. It only sees what it’s shown, and some of the interpretation is done through the lens of groups who are part of the problem. Cross-questioning should not be up to 66% led by groups that are known for their antisemitism, but on some days it is. That affects the picture we all see. I make my own analyses, then, to keep what the RC does in perspective. I keep my own analysis in perspective using a truckload of tools. I watch some of the top ten shows on TV so that I’m in tune with the stories others see and hear. I keep an eye on social media. I make sure I’m part of events when I can. Last Saturday I was on a stall at Geek Expo. I wore nothing to indicate I’m Jewish (I don’t like tempting fate) but I watched and listened and I talked to many people. I’m beginning to learn the pattern and shape of antisemitism in this country.
What I wrote on FB just now was about one of the trails of hate spread so liberally across social media. I used several search terms to bring up people talking specifically about that topic, and I also looked at the new and at commentaries on the news, on the timelines of people who are known to be Jewish (eg a certain film director), and also with some of the major figures who talk politics in Australia. One thing I didn’t do this time was look at commentary by noted Jewish social media folks, so this doesn’t include the comments on their posts.
As much as anything, today’s post is about how I see the world, which is always as a writer (everything contains stories) and as an historian (everything contains evidence). it’s also an insight into what it’s like being a Jewish Australian at the place where 5 different branches of Australian antisemitism hit, but that’s not something to talk about today.

 

There is a pattern. If it’s Monday evening in east coast Australia, then the new wave of antisemitism hits social media. Sometimes it lasts until the weekend and sometimes it fades in a couple of days. Today’s wave is fairly precise. It’s an old one, revisited, and it riffs on one of last week’s waves.
That wave said, “If Israel was only completely obliterated, there would be no problems in the Middle East.” None of those pushing this line asked what would happen to Jews in Israel, but I asked a couple of people (who do not know to block me yet, obviously) and they explained that, since no-one in the Arab world hates Jews or has ever killed a Jew, they do not know why it’s even a question.
Some of them also say that there’s no antisemitism in Australia. I followed a little thread where someone asked how Bondi fitted into the ‘no antisemitism in Australia’ notion, and the person who asked was blocked, but the ‘no antisemitism’ person took that same thought elsewhere. They know there is antisemitism, but they’re in denial for their own reasons. Others (who I didn’t talk to because… not so safe) said that the world would be better with no Jews. That’s the old thread. It is not simple and it is unkind.
The new one (which is also an old one, but present in so many places this evening) is more polite. The new wave of hate says that Zionism has nothing to do with Judaism. It’s an evil thing that touts supremacy and includes murder. The actual history of Zionism is irrelevant here (though the history of carefully cultivated antisemitism is not) – and if you want to see the range of definitions of Zionism from a snapshot I did a while back, let me know and I’ll share the links again.
The big thing is that I don’t know anyone Jewish who uses this definition. I know a couple of people who might, but they’re not people who talk to me. Those couple of people are both quite far left.
Why is the use by Jews so important? Because the same people who have this curious definition of Zionism also have a potted definition of Judaism. We’re a religion, simply, with no links to the ancient Levant and only modern culture. Excuse me while I take a break to sing Shir Ha’Maalot, which is appropriate at this point for so many reasons.
I’m finished singing.
How do most of these people use those definitions? They find comments made by obvious Jews (especially famous ones) and correct their self descriptions.
It’s very Orwellian. Reshape everyone’s thoughts on a subject by using the same words and phrases and correcting people over and over again. It’s Jewsplaining, but with intent to create 1984.
I am going to strongly suggest that if you don’t know how a Jewish friend sees themselves and describes themselves, you ask them. You’ll get our answers, not a single standard ‘this is the only way of saying it’ except from those of us who like shaping the world with straightforward constructions. This comes down to how a person sees themselves in the world, so that is what you should put ahead of most other things if you want to actually talk to Jews and defend our right to exist as Jews. You don’t have to like any given person’s self-definition. But you do need to accept it as their self-definition ahead of the carefully crafted definitions applied by bigots.
Within Jewish culture, each self-definition plays a part. There are concepts we share, and concepts we craft by creating a complex composition. We’re all voices in a choir. Some choirs walk a little bit to the side and create their own mix, but they’re still part of Am Yisrael.
The thing about Judaism is that it doesn’t force one simple view. We argue and discuss and even have an approved rabbinic method of shelving impossible arguments so that we can move on to possible ones.
Redefinition by someone imbued with Jew hate is not just going to change the public way others see Jews, it’s going to chip at who we are by not letting us be ourselves outside closed communities. The choir is being pelted with rocks for not singing the right song in the right way… and that song and that right way may not have anything to do with what the choir was singing or why the choir was singing or who the choir was singing for.
This is an old trick. It shuts down Jewish voices. Every time someone tells someone else who they are without checking with them first, to find out how they see themselves, they’re saying “Who you are is unimportant. You are a lesser human being than I am.”

An addendum:
Miss Manners needs to intervene. If you’ve been shouting politics, your politics might have made your Jewish friends aware that you are not safe to speak with about certain subjects. Check with them before you ask them questions. They may not want to answer because they may not be as trusting (or as safe) as they were a few years ago.
I understand that everyone’s politics is important, but left wing politics in Australia have led to a lot of Jew hate. Otherwise good people are being treated with caution, even if they don’t know it, because they shouted “Globalise the intifada” but never asked Aussie Jewish friends whether we were OK after Bondi. I dropped many hints about ‘talking to your friends’ in the last 3 years, but most people didn’t. If you didn’t (thought nice thoughts but never called or had a cuppa) then think twice before suddenly invading a friend’s life with “How do you self-define.” Explain why you didn’t talk to them, perhaps, then ask if it’s possible to talk?