A Belated Thank You to My Former Antagonist
In which a college student actually said, "I am perfectly capable of respecting someone personally while disagreeing with them politically.” A must-read!
A Belated Thank You to My Former Antagonist
(Adapted from a column originally published in the Jewish Journal.)
Not long ago, I came across a letter of apology sent to me in 1982, when I was a 21-year-old senior at UC Berkeley, sent to me by a slightly older grad student named Todd. Reading it again for the first time in decades, I was astonished at the difference between how heated political arguments were handled then versus now. Considering the crisis in academia with so many students “triggered” by viewpoints they don’t agree with (and likely do not understand), I’m sharing this story in the hope that people of all ages, but especially young people, will see that it’s possible to engage in passionate arguments while still remaining civil, with no need to try to silence opponents.
My blowout with Todd began after a Bay Area newspaper published an essay he wrote about what his Jewish identity meant to him. His article upset me greatly. Even though I was almost completely secular, to my mind, Todd wrote about his religious exploration in a way that trivialized our religious values—which at some level I recognized as sacred—and instead, elevated leftist social agendas and politics that he traced to Jewish roots. (Familiar story, right?) I wrote a scathing, overheated letter to the editor in response to Todd’s essay and signed it as the editor of Ha’Etgar, UC Berkeley’s Jewish quarterly newspaper.
It stung badly to be called a “little toy gun” and to be attacked so personally in public. But to some extent, I had invited the ridicule through my own arrogance.
Todd saw my letter. Then he saw red. Then he wrote a letter to the editor, ostensibly about his original article but targeted almost entirely on ridiculing me and my arguments. He belittled me by name numerous times, including an opening salvo where he referred to me in my role as editor of Ha’Etgar as a “little toy gun,” in contrast to the “big Jewish institutional guns” that he derided. Oh, did that sting.
Todd and I had only a passing acquaintanceship through Berkeley’s Jewish student community. We had never had a real conversation, let alone an argument. I was apoplectic when I saw Todd’s letter, shocked that his attacks were so personal. I called him and said I wanted to meet in person to discuss the matter. We sat on the grass on a little slope in front of the Hearst Mining Building on campus, which I suppose was appropriate because my mood was explosive. I ripped into him for having attacked me so personally in print. He defended himself and the points he had made in the original article.
My ego was too bruised and I was too young and headstrong to have been willing to give any ground, though as he spoke, I recognized that Todd was making some valid points. Among other things, he was right that my calling him a “self-hating” Jew was obnoxious and completely inexcusable.
Thank you, Todd, wherever you are, for the graciousness and generosity in your letter, for not reporting me to the student government to get me booted from my editorship or trying to “cancel” me.
It seemed we had resolved nothing, and I walked away from the showdown only partly mollified for having vented my anger at the right address. My reading of the situation was that Todd remained totally unmoved by my anger and hurt, but I was wrong. A week later, I received the letter from him, neatly typed on two pages. It began:
Dear Judy,
This is an extremely difficult letter for me to write. I felt very sad as you walked away after our meeting last week. I could feel your hurt and knew the time had come for a personal apology. But you had been so stubborn, as I had been (steadfast? intransigent?) that an apology seemed a sign of weakness at that moment. . .
His letter was thoughtful, proof that he had tried to understand my viewpoints. He did not give ground about the tone of my letter, which he said had been “misguided and sometimes vicious . . . I hasten to add that I’m sure many of the flaws could be found in my letter. . .” He had proven himself the greater person in this duel, because it hadn’t occured to me to apologize to him for my own arrogance.
Thank you, Todd, wherever you are, for the graciousness and generosity in your letter, for not reporting me to the student government to get me booted from my editorship or trying to “cancel” me in whatever ways were available in those primitive days before social media became such an easily weaponized tool of destruction. Thank you for signing off with the words, “I hope there is no need for us to avoid or run away from each other—I am perfectly capable of respecting someone personally while disagreeing with them politically.”
Dialogue, time, perspective, apologies. Perhaps this can become an old-but-new recipe for conflict resolution.
More good news about Bylines and Blessings
From Amazon reviewer Holly Magady:
“What an inspirational memoir – I was glued to it from start to finish! Not only was it funny (I laughed out loud throughout) and so beautifully written, but best of all I found it so meaningful and thought-provoking. AND, if that were not enough, the story helped me, as a writer myself, with own narrative arc. Highly recommend!”
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And the winner is. . . (we’re not sure yet)
In the past two weeks, I also learned that I am a finalist in the SoCal Journalism Awards, presented by the L.A. Press Club in the category of “Criticism of Books.” Most of my book reviews can be found scrolling through here. Winners will be announced at the organization’s annual banquet in late June. I’ve also won in at least one category in the American Jewish Press Association’s Simon Rockower Awards, and the specific prizes will be announced at their national conference in Nashville June 2-4. These are prestigious awards, and the news definitely put a spring in my step.
Unexpected Lessons from a Gardening Project
My latest essay, just published today, about my improvised rescue operation of saggy, straggly, embarassingly ugly porch succulents. It was surprisingly cathartic and satisfying, especially for someone with a history as an accidental plant murderer.
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