- Members of the Hasidic community in
Crown Heights , Brooklyn, marched Sunday in solidarity with their African-American neighbors. - The rally came 29 years after the Crown Heights riots tore the neighborhood apart with violence and racial tension.
- One organizer said she hoped the march would "normalize being a social-justice activist and being a visibly frum person."
- Others said they felt the event represented a new era for
race relations in Crown Heights. - "I'm hoping this is the beginning that will actually change what people feel in this community," lifelong resident Felicia Gomes told the Forward.
More than 100 Hasidic Jews gathered Sunday afternoon in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, for a demonstration of solidarity with the neighborhood's African-American community.
Members of the Chabad community, one of the world's largest Hasidic sects, walked along Eastern Parkway.
They held signs reading "End police brutality," "Defund the police," and "We stand together against hate."
Men wearing wide-brimmed black Borsalino hats and masks covering their beards walked alongside women in long flowing skirts and scarves covering their hair as they pushed strollers four long blocks from Kingston Avenue to Franklin Avenue.
The march, which came less than two weeks after the death of George Floyd, was called Tahalucha for Social Justice, a reference to the practice by members of the Chabad sect of Orthodox Judaism of walking to synagogues across the five boroughs on Jewish holidays.
While there is a long history of Jewish participation in the Black civil rights movement, the story of Crown Heights is more fraught.
Chabadniks, also known as Lubavitchers, first settled in the neighborhood in the early 1940s. They flourished, building dozens of synagogues and several yeshivas.
By the 1960s, Crown Heights became increasingly Black. While other white groups left the area, the Lubavitchers stayed.
But racial tensions simmered for decades.
On August 19, 1991, Gavin Cato, the 7-year-old son of Guyanese immigrants, was struck and killed by a car in Lubavitch Rabbi Menacham Mendel Schneerson's motorcade. Rioting broke out and lasted three days.
During the unrest, a rabbinical student was killed by Black rioters and both Jews and Blacks were injured. Jewish stores were looted, cars were set on fire, and homes were damaged.
It took more than 1,800 NYPD officers to quell the rioting, which resulted in over 120 arrests and $1 million in property damage.
Many Blacks felt police gave preferential treatment to Jews — the driver who killed Cato was never indicted— while Jewish residents saw the incident as a modern-day pogrom.
Dedicated efforts on both sides have led to improved relations in the decades since. But de facto segregation is still in effect.
Today African Americans and Jews share the same streets, but live separate lives. Few Lubavitchers shop at stores owned by people of color, and Kosher stores rarely have non-Jewish clients.
The idea for Sunday's rally evolved from a WhatsApp group chat started after the first Democratic primaries by observant and formerly observant Jews who consider themselves politically progressive.
It was "an attempt to make sense of this political crises," Maayan Zik, a Jewish woman of color and member of the chat, told Insider. "How would you respond to family members who talk about touchy subjects in real life and on social media?"
When the Black Lives Matter protests heated up last week, Zik thought, What if we made our own protest?
"Through our social network, we knew that there were like-minded people who wanted to join a protest against social injustice," she told Insider. "But they were scared of getting hurt by tear gas and the general violence."
Even with work, children, and the ongoing lockdown, more than a dozen members of the chat quickly mobilized.
One traveled to Manhattan's B & H audio-video superstore to buy an amplifier. Others picked up water bottles, masks, and other supplies.
Devorah Leah Backman sent texts while potty-training her child.
"Once we all decided to do it we just committed to showing up on Sunday at 3," Miriam Levy-Haim, one of the organizers, said. "We made a poster and sent it out to all our friends and family and networks with the hopes they would come out too."
"It was really powerful that a group of mostly working mothers pulled this off," Levy-Haim added.
Another member, Ilana Spencer, said she hoped the rally would "normalize being a social-justice activist and being a visibly frum person."
In her opening remarks, Zik said that, all week long, "the flame of justice is being kindled throughout the country."
"I hope we cause to ascend the level of justice and outright fairness in America, particularly for the black community right now," she added.
The goal of the march, Zik said, was threefold: For the Hasidic community to show solidarity with the black community, to create awareness among Hasidim about racism, and to amplify black voices.
"May we continue to kindle the light of justice until its flame rises by itself," she said, "and shines bright and true for every single one of us without doubt, worry, or heartbreak."
Another speaker, Ephraim Sherman, said George Floyd's killing should matter to all Lubavitchers.
"That an agent of the justice system can murder a person in cold blood doesn't just call out as a human issue, as an American issue," he told the crowd. "To me, that calls out as a halachic issue — a Jewish law issue."
He hopes the march represents a new era for Crown Heights.
"Until now the outreach from the Jewish community to the black community was intended to 'keep the peace' and be mutually beneficial," Sherman told Insider. "Now we are trying to reach out in solidarity and allyship, expecting nothing in return. It opens the door to build real allyship with the black community to build a better tomorrow."
Other speakers included Edu Hermelyn, district leader for the 43rd Assembly district, and former state senator Jesse Hamilton, who is close to the Chabad community.
Felicia Gomes, who was born and raised in Crown Heights, told the Forward she was just passing through when she saw the march.
"This is such a blessing," she said. "I've been here through riots, and different uprisings and things that went on in the Crown Heights community, between Blacks and Jews. I'm almost choked up. It's phenomenal ... to actually see the support for my community, which sometimes is a little tense."
"I'm hoping this is the beginning that will actually change what people feel in this community," Gomes added. "This moment means a lot. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."