I’m Not Asian: A Heritage Odyssey

Are You Asian?

The classroom was bustling with tiny feet, the children fleeting from one end of the room to the other as they gathered their things. It was the end of the first day of school for the third-graders, and they were eager to return to the arms of their parents. One little girl remained at her desk, carefully placing her papers onto her desk and searching for a fallen pencil. Before she could locate the escapee, a boy bundled in a puffy blue jacket wandered to her side. “Hey.” He said, leaning forward and squinting at her.

“…Hi.”

Unceremoniously, the boy asked, “Are you Asian?”

The two children stared at one another as the question hung in the air. The ethnic title bounced about in her small head and she frowned. The images of Mulan in her mind did not fit the one that she saw in the mirror. After she shyly told the stranger no, and he left, she found herself in the bathroom, staring at her face. Asian was not a bad thing. In fact, she was excited at the prospects of being of Asian descent. Her eyes were almond shaped, wide, and black. Her skin had olive undertones that browned in hours when she played in the sun. Her mother had never told her that she was Asian, and she wondered if it was a secret of her ancestors. Later that evening, she prodded her mother for answers, and the woman calmly explained. 

“You’re not Asian,” she said, “You look like your father and your grandma. They’re from Hungary.”

Introduction

Hungarian immigration before the start of World War II was a social movement. Many lower class Hungarians were leaving their country to escape a depression, religious differences, and political turmoil. Even before the war, Hungarians were leaving their homelands behind to travel to the United States. As World War II began, many Hungarians were blind to the horrors that were happening around them. As a result, nearly the entirety of the Hungarian-Jewish community that remained in Hungary was ruthlessly destroyed by the end of the war. This authoethnography focuses specifically on Hungarian-Jewish immigration in the decade before and during World War II, as well as the lasting effects that the Holocaust has had on Hungarian-Jewish descendants.

The vignette above was used to illustrate how I am affected daily by my ancestors and their experiences. I look Hungarian, but because this is an uncommon ethnicity in a small Kentuckian town, I am constantly mistaken for Asian. When I was that young girl, I had no idea where Hungary was. Like many of my peers, it was only a foreign country to which I had no direct connection. However, as I grew older and began to research my Hungarian-Jewish ancestors, I discovered a community rich with history and culture. In addition to providing historical context to the experiences of Hungarian-Jews, I’m Not Asian: A Cultural Odyssey describes the journey I took in discovering my cultural identity.

The Immigration of Hungarian-Jews

 John Kosa explains Hungarian emigration in his article, “A Century of Hungarian Emigration, 1850-1950.”  This articles provides readers with a rich back story on Hungarians that sets up a cultural context as to why many Hungarians left their home country. Although many of the details in the article relate to early Hungarian history, there were several quotes that provided insight to modern Hungarian-Jews and their motivations. For example, Kosa says that emigration began as “a social movement” in the 1850s (503). However, relating to my previous observation, these first immigrants were probably not Hungarian-Jews. It seems that the majority of early immigrants were typical Hungarian citizens that were leaving their country for a better life. Kosa goes on to explain that the lower class was left in a bad political situation following the abolishment of serfdom. Many lower class citizens had no jobs, no land, and no political power. Therefore, they left to seek better opportunities.

In addition to detailing the experiences of Hungarian immigrants who were traveling illegally, Kosa provides another reason as to why Hungarians may have left their country: a depression. This depression may have also prevented Hungarians from leaving the country due to the expensive cost of traveling. He explains, “when the great boom was temporarily halted by the depression of the 1870′s, the construction workers lost employment and the number of emigrants rose quickly” (504). Due to the loss of jobs, many people left the country to seek work in other places. This depression may have also affected other working class citizens and caused them to emigrate. Political strife, religious tension, and a depression were more than enough reasons to cause Hungarian-Jews to immigrate.

There are other articles that supported Kosa’s explanations for Hungarian emigration. Robert Perlman discusses who exactly Hungarian-Jews are and what motivated many of them to immigrate to the United States in his book Bridging Three Worlds: Hungarian-Jewish Americans, 1848-191 . He attempts to explain the culture of Hungarian-Jews and describe their life in Hungary prior to immigrating. One thing that he repeated several times was that Hungarian-Jews were small in number and an even smaller amount immigrated. He writes, “They were a small proportion of all the Hungarians who came” (3). Although Hungarians were traveling to America, it seems that not many of them were practicing Jews or identified themselves as Jewish. Perlman does not elaborate on why so few Hungarian-Jews did not immigrate in the decades before the Holocaust, but it can be assumed that he believes they simply had no good reason to.

Perlman also suggests there were two types of Hungarian-Jews. Due to the differences, there was a political and social tension that may have led some Hungarian-Jews to immigrate. Class and language separated these types: “One was a villager, the other a cosmopolitan” (Perlman 6). The villager Hungarian-Jew referenced in this quote describes the typical, lower class citizen who stuck to the orthodox religion. They also more than likely spoke Yiddish. In contrast, the cosmopolitan Hungarian-Jew would have been middle class and Westernized. Instead of sticking to rigid traditions, they were more liberal in their beliefs and spoke Hungarian or German. Perlman makes it clear, however, that Hungarian-Jews in general were viewed positively.

Similar to Perlman, Gerald Sorin elaborated on previous articles by explaining more on why Jewish people immigrated in general. Although his focus was not on Hungarian-Jews specifically, he helped provide other clues as to why Hungarian-Jews immigrated and his information supported Perlman’s and Kosa’s statements. Sorin explains that the motivations of Jews to emigrate were not unlike other immigrants. However, he said that the movement of Jewish emigration was different from other ethnic groups because it became a “decision of the whole people” (Sorin 38). Whereas people from certain cultures decided to emigrate, almost the entirety of the Jewish people left their home countries around the same time.

The exact reasoning for this large emigration is, once more, unclear. The dates of this extreme movement predate World War II, suggesting that it was not the Holocaust that drove many people out of Hungary. Sorin offers other reasons. He writes, “The powerful combination of physical despair and spiritual hope “pushed” the Jews out of eastern Europe” (40). The United States seemed to many Jews to be a promised land for their various problems. Large amounts of Jewish people left their home countries to travel to America in search of a better life and to have exciting experiences. Not unlike why we travel today, the Jewish people were looking for adventure.  However, they were also seeking freedom from their oppressive or depressed countries. Sorin’s theories match up with several of the previous articles.

A topic that each of the previous articles mentioned was the Holocaust. The Holocaust was clearly a reason that many people left their home countries.  Randolph L. Braham talks about this in his book The Politics of Genocide: The Holocaust in Hungary. In the preface of his book, he summarizes the turmoil the Hungarian-Jews experienced and gives a snapshot of their history. Braham explains that Hungarian-Jews survived the “first four and a half years of World War II relatively intact.” This suggests that Hungarians were the lucky few who did not feel the immediate effects of the Holocaust. Additionally, this nearly five-year span would have given many Hungarians the chance to flee the country if they chose to. It seems that, unfortunately, many Hungarian-Jews did not escape the horror of the Holocaust.

Even in the preface of his book, Braham makes it clear that Hungarian-Jews were not spared from the Holocaust. Although they were blind to what was happening, he insists that “the destruction of Hungarian Jewry constitutes the last phase in the Nazis’ war against the Jews” (13). The Holocaust sought to rid the world of Jews and European Jews were immediately targeted. However, it seems that Hungarian-Jews were not the first to be destroyed. Braham’s quote implies that Hungarian-Jews were among the last to be killed during the Holocaust. If the war and Hitler’s reign had ended sooner, perhaps Hungarian-Jews could have been spared.

Braham goes on to explain that Hungarian-Jews were mostly blind to what was occurring. Supporting his statement that Hungarian-Jews survived most of the war intact, he explains that they had no “concrete knowledge” about the horrors of the Holocaust (Braham 13). These horrors include gas chambers and concentration camps entirely. If reliable information was difficult to receive in countries close to the destruction, then it is easy to assume that “concrete knowledge” was nearly impossible to obtain overseas. Many Hungarians believed the stories of the Holocaust were “anti-Nazi propaganda”, suggesting that many Hungarians either trusted in what the Nazis were doing or were blind to the actual intentions of the Nazis (Braham 13). Braham implies that the Hungarian-Jews were naïve and tricked themselves into believing that things were not as bad as they seemed.

In addition to Braham’s facts, author David Cesarani provides more information on the Holocaust in Hungary. He seems to agree with what Braham suggested about Hungarian-Jews and their view on the Holocaust. Cesarani writes, “At the beginning of 1944 about 750,000 Jews lived on Hungarian territory even though all around them Jewish communities had been uprooted and destroyed” (5). As fellow Jews were murdered and their communities were destroyed, Hungarian-Jews did not seem to realize what was occurring. They, as Braham previously argued, turned a blind eye to the terror and perhaps believed that they were safe. For the first few years of the war, the Nazis did not touch them, and it is reasonable to think that they may have believed they would survive the war. Unfortunately, this was not true.

Although the Holocaust was horrible for all Hungarian people, Cesarani believes that the Hungarian-Jews ultimately met the worst fate. According to Cesarani, the horror for the Hungarian-Jews began in 1944. In just a few short months, “437,000 Jews were rounded up and sent to the concentration and extermination camp” (5). That is more than half of the Jews that were originally living in the area. Only a few thousand survived the camps, which means nearly all of the Hungarian-Jews that were living in Hungary were killed during the Holocaust. If someone did not leave with the social emigration movement prior to the war, then it was likely that they would have died during the Holocaust. Cesarani describes it as “a genocide within the genocide” (5).

Finally, the last article is not directly related to the Holocaust or to immigration. Rather, it discussed Jewish culture as a whole.  Stephen J. Whitfield argues that although American Jewry is continuing to decline, the Jewish people have contributed many things to our society. Whitfield even cites celebrities, such as Marlon Brando, who contribute much of America’s culture to the Jewish people. Whitefield writes, “The culture of American Jewry was born in Eastern Europe and was then transplanted and refashioned in cities such as New York” (1). This means that the Jewish people did not necessarily assimilate to the American culture. Rather, they brought their culture across the sea and molded it. They did not completely change. In fact, Whitfield seems to believe that they changed the face of America. Building on previous articles, it is apparent that many of the Hungarian-Jews who fled Hungary immigrated to the United States. It is reasonable to believe that Hungarian-Jews contributed to the culture of America, as well.

In regards to religion, Whitfield insists, “Religion has historically been neither necessary nor sufficient for Jews or their culture to flourish in the United States” (197). This is an important statement because it suggests that religion does not necessarily make a person a Jew or create Jewish culture. Being a Jew is an identity and ethnicity. It is also a source of pride. If there is one thing that has been consistent through each of the articles, it is that the Hungarian-Jews and, by extension, all Jews, were proud of their identity.

Methods

I gathered information for this autoethnography through interviews from my family members, by studying photographs and letters from my ancestors, and by reading what other researchers discovered about Hungarian-Jews. I sought to find more information about myself and my family because no one seemed to know where we came from. It was my goal to discover the truth behind my cultural identity and to better understand my ancestors and their choices. There were countless hours put into the geneology research that I used in this study and I hope to dedicate more time into finding out as much information as possible.

I grew up with a vague cultural identity. I was not raised religious and my family did not practice any cultural traditions at home. To me, I was the typical American child with a hodgepodge of ethnicities in my blood. However, through research, I discovered my family’s true origins, and it is the stories of them and their people that I seek to tell. I’m Not Asian: A Heritage Odyssey is a study of my cultural heritage told through a blend of truth and fiction. By writing creatively, I hope to give personality to the members of my family that I never had the chance to meet and to bring them back to life. I utilize vignettes framed by historical facts to provide an overall picture of what Hungarian-Jews, the group I now identify myself with, experienced during the early 1900s.

Israel’s Decisions

Figure 1: Israel and Gertrude, New York. Personal photograph by author. 1940. JPEG file.

I would like to begin with my previous knowledge of Israel Levy, who was my third great grandfather (see fig. 1). According to his Petition for Naturalization, he was born on March 19, 1877 in Hungary (Selected U.S. Naturalization Records).  Israel immigrated to the United States in March of 1914 at the age of 36 and left from Bremen, Germany (New York, Passenger Lists). When he left, Israel was on his own, and moved in with his sister in America. They lived in New York City for nearly seven years until he could send money to the rest of his family in Hungary.

The historical context of when Israel left his country is important to me. After interviewing my family members, I discovered that no one knew exactly why he immigrated. Based on the literature, though, I believe there are several reasons why Israel may have gone to the United States. He left Hungary after the depression, but he surely felt the effects of it. Israel was a self-employed ladies tailor and the depression could have ruined his business or made it difficult for him to get it started. Furthermore, because he was of the lower class, he may have had issues with the political system.

According to the research, there were not many Hungarian-Jews that immigrated in the decades before World War II. Those that did were a minority of all Hungarians who left the country during that time. Israel’s choice to leave with his sister can be assumed to be unusual. He was among the first of his people to leave, and was at the start of the “social movement” towards immigration.

I believe that he and his family were of the “villager” class that Perlman described in his book. They spoke Yiddish, which makes me think that they were orthodox in their beliefs. However,  if they were so traditional, I am not sure they would have left their country for the west. The literature suggests that Hungarian-Jews, at least in the beginning of the immigration movement, left their country for adventure and freedom. If Israel were so traditional, I do not believe he would have immigrated. This is further supported by the fact none of my ancestors are orthodox Jews in recent times. I believe that Israel ultimately made his decision to leave Hungary because of financial woes and because it was an opportunity he couldn’t refuse.

The Holocaust in the Present

The Holocaust was a major event in history that destroyed thousands of innocent lives and nearly wiped out Hungarian-Jews completely. Although it happened in the 1940s, the Holocaust has a large impact on me today. Israel managed to avoid the Holocaust by decades. He was safe in America when the political tension was reaching its peak, and he had gotten the rest of his family overseas by the time the war began. My direct ancestors missed the war completely. They were in America by the time it all began, but the Holocaust is a grim reminder of what could have been lost.

If Israel had not left Hungary and taken his family with him seven years later, then there is a likely chance that they would have been killed in the Holocaust. As cited in the literature, nearly all Hungarian-Jews that were living in Hungary at the time of the war were taken to concentration or work camps. Out of those that were taken, only a few thousand survived. Israel’s family was mostly made of younger children, and surely they would have passed in the camps if they had been taken. In a vingette below, I describe how the Holocaust directly affected my family. Martin’s family could have very easily been my own.

The Holocaust is prevalent in our culture. We talk about it in our schools and have many museums, books, films, etc dedicated to the event. I never realized what a close connection I had to the war. If my family had not escaped, I would not be here today. Israel’s decision to leave his country protected me. By coming to America exactly when he did, Israel unknowingly protected his family from being exterminated, and by extension, ensured my existence. 

The Meaning of a History Story

What I find to be the most important thing about my research is something that my mother mentioned to me. She found the “history story” of my family to be the most interesting aspect of my ancestors, and I agree. My family has a rich cultural history that has, it seems, been forgotten. Teresa and Lyndah, who I interview below, did not fully understand their cultural background until later in their lives. I was completely unaware that my ancestors were Hungarian. To me, heritage is an important part of a person. The forgotten “history story” of my family is vital to my identity, and yet, I knew almost nothing about it. It was my mission to bring that story back to life, and authoethnography has allowed me to do just that.

I never considered myself to be Jewish because it was apart of myself that I knew nothing about.  I was in a strange phase where I was unsure of my identity and of my origin.  Throughout my research, I was curious to discover what it actually meant to be “Jewish” and whether or not it was something that I would want to claim. At the end of my studies, I realized that my Hungarian-Jewish origins are a source of pride. I understand why Israel made his decisions, and I wish I could reach back in time and shake his hand. He created the way for me and my family to exist.

Now, I have an answer for when people will inevitably ask: “Are you Asian?”

I can answer with pride: “No, I’m Hungarian.”

1922: The First Journey

Fig. 2. Bremen Poster. 1914. Flicker.com. Comp. Ritscher. Paul Malon. Web. .

Elizabeth stood at the edge of the ship, gazing out at the waters. The waves were weak against the hull of the ship, slapping uselessly against the dark paint. To her, it seemed they were moving quiet slow. The boat was like an elephant of her storybooks and it parted the ocean in a careful manner. Sighing to herself, she closed her eyes and imagined herself when they landed on the other side of the world. What she craved most was to see her father. America was a foreign and exciting land, but she longed to be wrapped in her father’s arms.

It had been seven years since she had last seen him. Elizabeth had been eight years old then. Young and naïve, she hadn’t realized where her father was going. It wasn’t until she was older, after she had grown used to the absence of the man, she learned that he had left their home in Hungary to travel to America. In his letters, he insisted that he was working to give them a better life, but it didn’t make her miss him any less. America was, it seemed, the answer to all of their problems. Elizabeth’s mother seemed sure of it, too.

“Elizabeth, come back here.” Her mother snapped. With another heavy sigh, Elizabeth turned to gaze at her family and reluctantly joined them.

“Momma,” She asked once she was settled next to the elder woman. “Where are we going?” She couldn’t remember the name of the city.

“Boston.” Gertrude busied herself with braiding Ernestine’s hair. Ernestine was one of her youngest daughters and she was restless as Gertrude tugged at her dark locks. “From there, we will take the train to New York City.”

Elizabeth brightened. That was a name that she was familiar with. Her father had written about the city in his letters, and made it seem as if the city’s streets were paved with gold. “And then we will get to see Poppa?”

“Yes,” Gertrude answered with a grunt, finally tugging back Ernestine’s hair. “Then we will see Poppa.”

The smile that exploded on Elizabeth’s lips would never be matched. She grasped handfuls of her dress and looked back out at the distant waters. It would still be days before they reached America, but she was so excited that she could hardly stand it. Her father had promised her great gifts of costumes and hats and baby dolls. As a ladies tailor, he knew the best fabrics and best designs. She knew that he would make her feel like a princess, and she couldn’t wait to show him the dance moves she had learned in his absence.

1944: The Holocaust

Fig. 3. Martin’s Family, Hungry. Personal photograph. 1934.

Sadie busied herself with the dishes, glancing up only when the front door to their small apartment opened. “Hello?” She called, peeking towards the front entrance. Brightening immediately once she realized that her husband had arrived home, she abandoned the dishes to greet him. “Martin, how are—“ Sadie stopped in the hall once she caught sight of her husband’s expression. His eyes were downcast and she could tell from his dark expression alone that something was wrong. Martin wasn’t usually like this.

“What is it?” She asked softly, but she felt that she knew. With the horrors happening across the sea, it wasn’t difficult to assume what had happened. Still, ever the optimist, Sadie silently prayed for better news as she slowly approached her husband. Reaching out, she took his coat and hat from him and gave him the time he needed to formulate a reply. Storing away the items, Sadie finally returned and took her husband’s hands into her own.

“Martin, what’s happened?” She tried again, voice still low and gentle.

There was hesitation. Martin blinked at their interlaced fingers and cleared his throat. His eyes were burning red with unwelcome tears. “I got a letter today.” He murmured, and suddenly, Sadie felt nauseous.

“Oh, no—“

“They’re gone, Sadie.” He said. “All of them. In Auschwitz—“ Before he could say more, Sadie wrapped him into a tight hug, and together, they sobbed with grief.

2013: Reflection

Fig. 4. Lyndah and Teresa, Ashland. Personal photograph by author. 2009.

 

Going into Lyndah’s house is an adventure.

Her outside porch is decorated with dozens of wind chimes that greet me as I approach. There’s a short stump in the yard where a massive and lanky tree used to be. I remember fondly running around it as my cousins chased me when we were kids. Now, though, the grass is eagerly withering away my memories by growing where the tree used to be. When I arrived at my grandmother’s house for our interview, her house seemed alive. The wind jingled the dangling decorations and her door swung open as soon as I stepped onto the porch.

Lyndah is short, with dark skin and black hair lined with grey. She has often been mistaken for a wise Native American, and the interior of her home reflects this common misconception. Inside the house, Lyndah’s living room is the color of mud brick and is lined with decorations similar to that of the Aztecs. On the farthest wall and above the couch there is a long photo of my brother, our four cousins, and me. For our interview, I planted myself opposite the photo and Lyndah sat beside of me. In the kitchen, my great aunt and Lyndah’s sister, Teresa, cooked. She offered us “fresh potato salad,” and I regretfully declined. Teresa is famous in our family for her cooking.

Coincidentally, food was what Lyndah and I spoke about first. I asked what she remembered about her family.

“They put the Yakamas on and the women dressed nice for dinner. Every day.”

“Were they big dinners?”

“Seemed like it. They had soup and then more soup. It was gefilte fish soup.”

Gefilte fish soup, I discovered, is a Jewish dish.

“Then they’d have salad, then the dinner, and a fancy desert. They cooked it every night. In the morning we always had cereal with warm milk on it. Prune juice. And a half-raw egg that you put in the little cups. We listened to the Sound of Music on the radio. That was our favorite song.”

I thought this gave a wonderful picture of the time period that Lyndah was a child. She was born in 1951, and I easily imagined her family bustling around a kitchen to cook dinner as they listened to the Sound of Music. The touches of Jewish tradition in her childhood was interesting to me. I had never heard of gefilte fish soup and I only knew what Yamakas were because of movies or television shows. The Jewish traditions of our family had died out by the time I was born, but I wondered if Lyndah remembered any other Jewish traditions.

“Yeah, I went with them to the Synagogue. I remember taking that book out of the little chest on the wall, chanting, and doing all that stuff. Just once. I’ve just been one time.”

As we spoke, Teresa joined us. I asked both of them if they had ever experienced discrimination in their lives. Lyndah shared that when her father tried to enroll her in school in the 60s, the children and teachers treated her differently because they thought that she was black. Lyndah’s skin, even when she hasn’t spent time in the sun, is a dark brown color. It’s not surprising that her race was mistaken, especially in a small town in Eastern Kentucky.

I asked Teresa  if she had ever experienced any racism.

“I did in junior high school because there was only one other Jewish boy in school.”

“But you weren’t practicing Jews, right? Like, you’re mother wasn’t a practicing Jew.”

“She did to a certain extent. Well, she passed away when I was ten, but she made sure I knew to be proud that I was Jewish, to recognize that I was Jewish, and that it was important to carry on. At school, I was called Jew Girl a lot.”

I hadn’t realized the extent of the discrimination against my grandmother and great aunt. The horrors that my ancestors faced overseas were still prominent in America even in the 60s.  Finally, I asked Lyndah if her family ever talked about being Jewish. She mentioned that her mother explained it to her when she was older.

“If she was Jewish, we were Jewish. She made it more like a nationality than a religion.”

Conclusion

This autoethnography allowed me to explore myself and my ancestors. I learned so much about where I came from and how a group of people were affected by immigration and the Holocaust. My mother, Bonni, began researching my family before I was even born. Her genealogy research was a wealth of information for me during this study. In many ways, she is the bookkeeper of our family’s history story, and I hope to eventually take her place. My autoethnography research does not end here. It is something that I will continue to do for the rest of my life. To extend my research, I would like to conduct more interviews, read more literature, and someday visit Hungary to see how my family truly lived.

Works Cited

Braham, Randolph L. Preface. The Politics of Genocide: The Holocaust in Hungary. New York: Columbia UP, 1981. 13. Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

Bremen Poster. 1914. Flicker.com. Comp. Ritscher. Paul Malon. Web <http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulmalon/8481215879/&gt>

Cesarani, David. Introduction. Genocide and Rescue: The Holocaust in Hungary 1944. Oxford: Berg, 1997. 5. Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

Israel and Gertrude, New York. Personal photograph by author. 1940. JPEG file.

Kosa, John. “A Century of Hungarian Emigration, 1850-1950.” American Slavic and East European Review 16.4 (1957): 501-14. JSTOR. Web. 1 Dec. 2013. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/3000776&gt;.

Martin’s Family, Hungry. Personal photograph by author. 1934. JPEG file.
Perlman, Robert. “Chapter 1.” Bridging Three Worlds: Hungarian-Jewish Americans, 1848-1914. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, 1991. 3-6. Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

Lyndah and Teresa, Ashland. Personal photograph by author.  2009. JPEG file.

Rose, Lyndah. Personal interview. 13 Oct. 2013

Sorin, Gerald. “Chapter 2.” A Time for Building: The Third Migration, 1880-1920. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1992. 38-40. Web. 1 Dec 2013.

Whitfield, Stephen J. In Search of American Jewish Culture. Hanover, NH: Brandeis UP, 1999. Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

Wilson, Teresa. Personal interview. 13 Oct. 2013