Los Angeles-based comedian and podcaster Antonia Lassar brings The Best Jew to Vancouver Performing Stars’ theatre on Nov. 30. (photo by Xander DePascale)
Ever wonder how Sarah might have welcomed back Abraham and Isaac from their “camping trip”? Who’s the biggest diva in the Hebrew Bible? What elements an interior designer for synagogues considers? These are just a few of the questions comedian Antonia Lassar answers in recent social media posts.
On Nov. 30, Vancouverites can see the Canadian debut of Lassar’s The Best Jew, in which she shares anecdotes about her Reform Judaism upbringing, contemplates questions like whether the late Debbie Friedman is the Messiah, and much more. Music and singing play a big part in the show, which will be opened by the Klezbians, a band from Victoria.
Lassar draws her inspiration from the Jewish communities she’s lived in, in Boston, New York and Los Angeles. “It’s sometimes brutal to be sitting in shul and not be able to pull out my phone to take notes, because I just noticed something hilarious that I need to write about,” she said. “I’m constantly having great ideas in places where I’m not allowed to write anything down!”
Lassar grew up in Newton, Mass., and attended theatre school before moving to New York City. Two years ago, she relocated to Los Angeles to focus on film and television. “I’ve known since I was a kid that I wanted to perform, but I didn’t pinpoint comedy as my strong suit until I got out of college,” she said.
Today, she describes herself as being deeply immersed in the Jewish community, but, for many years, Lassar found her Jewish life uninspiring. “I didn’t like Judaism growing up,” she admitted. “It felt like an afterschool activity I was forced to do, in the same way I was forced to take piano lessons. I thought both were useless and probably just child abuse.”
It took a foray into other religions before Lassar returned to Judaism with genuine interest and curiosity. For that, she thanks Chabad in Brooklyn. “They sucked me in and gave me a great love for Judaism,” she said. “But I wouldn’t call myself Reform or Chabad. Like many Jews of my generation, I feel like I’m between denominations.”
When it came to writing comedy, Lassar turned to what she knew best, and that was Judaism. “Most Jewish comedy stays at the level of cultural Ashkenazi stereotypes of bagels and overbearing mothers,” she said. “This never felt representative of my experience. I wanted to write comedy for Jews that went beyond stereotypes and that shows a different side to Judaism, one that’s not commonly portrayed in comedy.”
She wrote The Best Jew for a pluralistic Jewish audience and has performed it for a wide range of Jews, from Reform to Hassidic. “My material is very clean, and any passing reference to controversial subjects like the Holocaust is extremely respectful,” she said. “This is an 18+ show, but it won’t offend anyone.”
In the show, Lassar jokes about the Reform movement’s obsession with the word “meaningful,” and Chabad’s distribution of menorahs, among many other subjects. “It’s so much more fun performing for Jewish communities than at comedy clubs, where you’re just another comedian,” she reflected. “When I perform at a synagogue, they treat you like you’re Moshiach! It’s a dream job to travel around the country and meet amazing Jewish communities who are so diverse and so welcoming.”
Lassar comes to Vancouver as a guest of JQT Vancouver, a volunteer-run Jewish, queer and trans nonprofit, and Jewish Family Services Vancouver, as part of the organizations’ Mental Health Support Series. While Lassar’s queer identity does come up, “it’s not a huge part of the show,” she said. “I’ve spent a lot of time in very Orthodox spaces, where the question of queerness is unavoidable. And I’m proud to be a queer Jew who is deeply engaged in Judaism.”
To get an idea of Lassar’s comedy, check out her sketches on Instagram and TikTok. She also co-hosts, with comedian Raye Schiller, Yenta Pod, a weekly podcast with the tagline “Sometimes funny, sometimes Jewish, always gossip.”
In Vancouver, on the evening of Nov. 10, the Canadian Shaare Zedek Hospital Foundation will present Voices of Resilience, featuring Prof. Ofer Merin, director general of Shaare Zedek Medical Centre, and Glenn Cohen, former Mossad psychologist and hostage negotiator. Part of a national tour, the event aims to shed light on the experiences and insights following the tragic events of Oct. 7, 2023.
Prof. Ofer Merin, director general of Shaare Zedek Medical Centre. (photo from CSZHF)
Merin completed his fellowship in adult cardiac surgery at Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto. Upon returning to Israel, he became a pivotal member of the Shaare Zedek team, where he now serves as director general. A colonel in the Israel Defence Forces, Merin has led numerous humanitarian efforts and, as of Oct. 7, 2023, has headed a medical intelligence committee that plays a role in assessing the hostage situation in Gaza.
Glenn Cohen, former Mossad psychologist and hostage negotiator. (photo from CSZHF)
Cohen has served as an air force pilot, Mossad officer, hostage negotiator and special forces psychologist for more than 30 years. Retiring with the rank of colonel and chief of psychology in Mossad, he now trains organizations worldwide using a methodology he developed. During the war that followed Oct. 7, Cohen has served more than 100 days to date in reserve duty, providing critical debriefing for the released hostages.
All proceeds from Voices of Resilience will go to the Healing Minds Campaign, which focuses on extending the mental health support available at Shaare Zedek Medical Centre. This initiative provides specialized training in therapy, post-traumatic stress disorder counseling, psychotherapy and other services for those affected by the Oct. 7 attacks. The centre hopes to increase their mental health team from 14 to 42 professionals to meet the overwhelming demand, an increase that would require $1.6 million Cdn for medical and para-medical training, as well as ongoing staffing costs.
To date, Shaare Zedek has treated more than 700 individuals, primarily IDF soldiers, with injuries ranging from minor to life-threatening. Nearly every patient presents signs of mental trauma, whether immediately or in the weeks following hospitalization. Many young patients have been exposed to traumatic battlefield conditions and the loss of life. Even those who initially report limited emotional impact often show symptoms later. To address this, Shaare Zedek has created a comprehensive emotional trauma care service. Every patient admitted for war-related injuries is evaluated by the psychiatry team, they are monitored throughout their stay and receive counseling prior to discharge, with follow-up care recommendations.
To attend Voices of Resilience in Vancouver on Nov. 10, 7 p.m., visit linktr.ee/voicesofresilience2024. Tickets are $18 ($72 for the VIP meet-and-greet). The location will be provided to registrants closer to the event date.
– Courtesy Canadian Shaare Zedek Hospital Foundation
Actor Kieran Sequoia (Breaking Bad, Disney’s Night at the Museum) is one of the performers in The Keep It Raw Cabaret: A Tribute to Jay Hamburger, co-presented by the Heart of the City Festival and Theatre in the Raw on Nov. 9 at Russian Hall (photo by Katie Keaveny)
Guided by the theme “Threads of Connection,” the 21st annual Downtown Eastside Heart of the City Festival takes place Oct. 30-Nov. 10, with more than 100 events throughout the Downtown Eastside and online. Several members of the Jewish community are involved.
The festival opens Oct. 30, 2 p.m., at Carnegie Community Centre Theatre with co-founders Terry Hunter and Savannah Walling as they reflect on their 21-year history with the festival, express gratitude to fellow artists, residents and organizations, and “pass the paddle” to new leadership. Special guests include, among others, Bob Baker/S7aplek (Squamish Nation); Chinese-Canadian rap artist Gerry Sung (Scope G), who is also a cast member of Props Master’s Dream, which is part of the festival offerings; Pavel Rhyzlovsky (accordion) and Leonard Chokroun (violin), from Strathcona’s Ukrainian Hall; and grass dancers Larissa Healey and Pavel Desjarlais.
Jewish community member Itai Erdal is the lighting designer for The Prop Master’s Dream, which takes place Nov. 2, 2 p.m. and 7 p.m., at Vancouver Playhouse (tickets: bit.ly/3B8rO0w).
This fusion opera produced by Vancouver Cantonese Opera is inspired by the true-life story of Wah-Kwan Gwan (1929-2000), a little-known Chinese opera performer and prop master born to a local Chinese father and Indigenous mother. The Cantonese Opera cast is joined by Sung and Haudenosaunee/Irish actress and singer Cheri Maracle, and features projections by filmmaker Anthony Lee.
Counselor and stand-up comic David Granirer will be joined by comedians from Stand Up for Mental Health on Nov. 2 for a Heart of the City Festival show at Carnegie Theatre. (photo from Heart of the City Festival)
Also on Nov. 2 – at Carnegie Theatre, 4 p.m. – is Funny Side Up: Stand Up for Mental Health. Counselor and stand-up comic David Granirer will be joined by comedians from Stand Up for Mental Health, to look at the lighter side of taking meds, seeing counselors, getting diagnosed and surviving the mental health system. Jewish community member Granirer’s Stand Up for Mental Health teaches stand-up comedy to people with mental illness. This event is one of the festival’s many free offerings.
On Nov. 9, 8 p.m., at Russian Hall, the festival honours Jewish community member Jay Hamburger, who died earlier this year. Hamburger was a beloved teacher, political activist, radio host and artistic director of Theatre in the Raw, which is co-presenting the event (tickets: bit.ly/4eqs3Cu).
The Keep It Raw Cabaret: A Tribute to Jay Hamburger features choral singers, stand-up comedy, staged theatrical surprises, a taste of Hamburger’s original poetry and writings, and more. Among the participants are Jewish community members Stephen Aberle and Hamburger’s son, Sylvan Hamburger.
The Heart of the City Festival is presented by Vancouver Moving Theatre in association with the Carnegie Community Centre and the Association of United Ukrainian Canadians and a host of community partners. The festival works with, for and about the Downtown Eastside community to carry forward the area community’s stories, ancestral memory, cultural traditions, lived experiences and artistic processes to illuminate pathways of resistance and resilience. For the full lineup and other information, visit heartofthecityfestival.com.
At the Sept. 26 event Bridging Hope, which takes place at King David High School, Noah Bogdonov, left, and his parents, David Bogdonov and Elana Epstein, will speak about their family’s experience with addiction. (photo from Bogdonov-Epsteins)
“We want to share our experience, strength and hope with addiction,” said David Bogdonov about what he and his wife, Elana Epstein, and their son, Noah Bogdonov, will talk about on Sept. 26 at Bridging Hope: Science and Testimonial in the Fight Against Addiction.
The Independent spoke with the Bogdonov-Epsteins recently, to get to know them a bit before the event, which is being presented by Canadian Friends of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, King David High School and Vancouver Talmud Torah.
David is an engineer and works for a company that builds waterparks, while Elana, who has a social work background, has been a yoga teacher for about 20 years and a wellness/spiritual coach for about 15 years. “Currently, I am supporting a ton of moms in the addiction community,” she said.
The couple has three sons. “Boys R Us” quipped David. “Noah is the firstborn, at 28 years old; Tal is our second, at 24; and Benjamin is our youngest, at 22.”
It was in October 2022 that they became sure that Noah was struggling with addiction. “Before that,” said Elana, “about three or four months before the ‘awakened moment,’ we knew that he had been struggling but he was telling us he had gotten it under control, not to worry, then it went downhill, crashing very fast.
“He started in high school – not unlike the vast majority of kids in high school – using weed and alcohol,” she said. “We didn’t like it, but we assumed it was part of his teenage years and that he would grow out of it and come to his own realization of how to find balance in life and, sadly, that never happened.”
Initially, it was Noah’s friends who tried to help.
“They held an informal intervention and asked him to get it under control,” said David. “That was in May of ’22, and that’s when we became aware of it, but he pulled the wool over our eyes and convinced us that he had it all under control. That’s when we started to make sense of all the red flags we had seen for a long time.”
Months later, when David and Elana were in Whistler, Noah was slower than usual to respond to a text message. “I woke up one morning and said that we need to go home, something is not right. He was staying at my brother’s apartment, who was away, and we knew. I said, we need to go, and we went, and we found him, and he was in dire straits,” said Elana. “But, he said, ‘I don’t want to live like this anymore.’ We asked, ‘Does that mean treatment?’ He said, ‘Yeah.’ We got the ball rolling, and he went right in, no hesitation, no more denial. He was ready, we were ready, and that was the beginning of the rest of his life.”
It’s been almost two years since Noah has been in treatment. He spent about 100 days at the Last Door Addiction Recovery Treatment Centre, in New Westminster, then was in transition housing, where he had a relapse that lasted two months, said David. It’s been 16 months since Noah’s relapse.
“David and I never stopped going to the weekly meetings, doing our own work,” said Elana, even while Noah was relapsing. The Last Door has family group meetings, which they’ve been attending regularly since Noah was two weeks into treatment, said David, calling their participation in the group a “very key element” of their own recovery.
Noah is working at Maintain Recovery, a sober living house, which he manages. “It’s a common story for many recovering addicts to get immersed in the life of recovery,” said David. “They often start to work in the organizations and so on. It’s part of what keeps them clean and keeps them on the path, which is really wonderful to watch.”
David and Elana are being so open about their family’s experiences because, said David, “We take quite seriously that part of the overdose crisis is caused by the stigma surrounding drug addition and we subscribe to the notion that addiction is a disease and should be treated like any other disease. You don’t shame someone for having cancer, you shouldn’t shame someone for having the disease of addiction. So, we are both passionate about that.”
“For me,” added Elana, “it goes beyond the stigma…. I really feel like if there were more language, more community, more education, more connection around this, you know, if I had had someone … approach me and say, listen, this is what addiction looks like, your son seems to be starting down a path that gets worse before it gets better…. In Noah’s life, we had no knowledge of addiction, we did not know what it looked like, we were totally blindsided,” she said.
“We don’t have trauma, there was no story he was hiding and trying to make peace with,” added Elana. “He was a boy who got caught up in using recreational drugs, like everyone else, [but] he was the one who was the addict who couldn’t stop. The moment when, with Noah’s permission, it became clear that we had a role to play in our community, where there’s a lot of shame and we don’t talk about it, so the kid dies. That’s not, on my watch, ever going to happen. If I can touch one family’s life because of our story, I will continue to do this till the day I die.”
Bridging Hope takes place at King David High School. Discussing the science of addiction will be Dr. Yaron Finkelstein, a professor of pediatrics, pharmacology and toxicology at the University of Toronto and a staff physician at the Hospital for Sick Children (known as SickKids); Dr. Yonatan Kupchik, senior lecturer and director, department of medical neurobiology, Institute for Medical Research Israel-Canada (IMRIC), Centre for Addiction Research (ICARe), the Hebrew University of Jerusalem; and Dr. Rami Yaka, head of HU’s School of Pharmacy. For tickets to the event ($18), visit register.cfhu.org/bridginghope.
Aviva Rathbone, chair of JQT Vancouver, finds hope in the fact that “[t]here are lots of people in the community coming together right now and finding connections to heal what they can in what is a very broken world and what is a very broken situation.” (photo from JQT)
Probably all Jews have experienced emotional and mental impacts from the events of Oct. 7 and since. For LGBTQ+ Jews, these effects are often magnified by the climates in their multiple communities.
JQT Vancouver (pronounced J-Cutie), a volunteer-run Jewish queer and trans nonprofit group whose mission is “‘queering’ Jewish spaces and ‘Jew-ifying’ queer spaces,” has released the results of a survey that indicates LGBTQ+ Jews are experiencing profound pain – regardless of where they stand on an apparently vastly diverse spectrum of opinions about the conflict in the Middle East.
Titled 2024 JQT Temperature Check Report, the document collates responses from 91 individuals, including narratives of their experiences, and the overview it paints is bleak.
“There are a lot of really sad commentaries,” Aviva Rathbone, chair of JQT, told the Independent. “A lot of the folks who responded to the survey are people who are really struggling right now.”
She cautioned that the survey may not include the perspectives of others who may be having more positive experiences.
“Some people are feeling really accepted into community right now, they are feeling like they found a place,” said Rathbone. “We didn’t hear from those folks, but that’s not to say that they don’t exist.”
The results are not surprising, she said.
“We knew people were struggling,” she said. “It was a surprise, I think, the depth of anger and sadness that was there.”
Fewer than half of survey respondents indicated that they felt safe and accepted in Jewish spaces and only about a quarter said they felt safe and accepted in queer spaces. Fewer still, 14%, said they felt comfortable in both.
Since Oct. 7, approximately half of respondents indicated that actions and/or statements of queer (57%) and Jewish organizations (51%) have had a negative impact on their mental health.
A majority (57%) of respondents indicated that their safety and security felt threatened since Oct. 7 because of their Jewish identity. More than two-thirds of respondents (68%) said they experienced antisemitism online or in-person since Oct. 7.
Much of the discomfort centres on divergent attitudes toward Israel and the war against Hamas, as well as opinions around the definitions of antisemitism and what some respondents describe as exclusivist attitudes in the Jewish community, often described as overwhelmingly pro-Israel, and in the LGBTQ+ community, described by many as unwelcoming to pro-Israel Jews.
One respondent said the Jewish community should “acknowledge that anti-Zionist Jews are still Jews and should be welcome in Jewish spaces” and that “queer Zionist Jews are still queer and should be welcome in queer spaces.”
JQT serves members who self-identify as Zionist and those who self-identify as anti-Zionist.
“When the mainstream Jewish community dismisses Jews who criticize Israeli actions, it makes me feel alienated from that community, more than before,” wrote one respondent.
Two among scores of examples illustrate the chasm between the narratives shared in the report. One respondent accuses “queers for Palestine” of trying “to turn Zionism into a dirty word” and making them feel “unwelcome as a Jewish Israeli in queer spaces when not hiding myself.” Another writer says, “It makes me unsafe when Jewish organizations […] make wildly racist statements about Palestine. Conflating Judaism with Israel makes it seem like I am complicit in this genocide.”
Said another respondent: “None of the synagogues or even [Jewish queer groups] have made any statements that humanize the struggle of non-Zionist Jews and how we’ve been systematically shut out of spiritual, social and cultural Jewish spaces for far too long. In fact, the current climate within these spaces promotes a pro-war and anti-Palestinian rhetoric that pushes me and my friends away from feeling security and belonging in our identities.”
The divergence in attitudes is typified by another survey response.
“People wearing an End the Occupation T-shirt or other such slogans signal to me that the wearers believe Hamas to be righteous rather than terrorist, that all lives are not equal, makes me uncomfortable, as does the aggressivity of protesters, including [queer groups that support] Palestine. Standing in solidarity with Israel and its absolute right to defend itself, while not recognizing the numbers of non-Hamas Palestinians killed and the living conditions in Gaza during the war is also not comfortable for me,” wrote a respondent.
If there is a clear takeaway from the study, Rathbone said, it can be summed up in one word.
“Empathy,” she said. “We have the ability to hold space for our own pain and anger and for other people’s pain and anger. I fully believe that humans are expansive and the Jewish community for sure is expansive and we have done this many times. We have been able to hold space for ourselves and for other people who are suffering, even when we don’t agree with them.”
Disagreements over politics, no matter how intensely and personally held, should not erase the empathy Jewish people have for one another, she said.
It is possible to have conversations across that divide, as JQT did recently in a “listen and be heard” event, facilitated by two professionals.
That event was part of a major mental health initiative in collaboration with Jewish Family Services, with funding from the Jewish Community Foundation of Greater Vancouver, that was in the works even before Oct. 7. Among numerous projects rolled out in recent months addressing the challenges facing LGBTQ+ Jews is a 10-page resource issued last week, titled JQT Affirming Care: A Toolkit for Mental Health Providers. It was developed by care providers Hannah Zalmanowitz and Anat Kerelstein.
Carmel Tanaka, executive director of JQT, said the toolkit, which Jewish trans or queer people can give to healthcare providers, as well as friends or anyone else who might benefit from a deeper understanding of their experiences, is a direct response to expressed needs in the community.
JQT Vancouver executive director Carmel Tanaka talks about Twice Blessed 2.0 at a recent event. The 2022 needs assessment includes 13 calls for action, including mental health support and being open to those who have a spectrum of opinion on Israel/Palestine. (photo by Kathryn Nickford Photography)
“We kept hearing that one of the barriers to receiving mental health support was linked directly to the lack of provider knowledge, training and competence around working with Jewish queer and trans people,” Tanaka said. “So, we created this educational toolkit aimed at reducing the burden on JQTs of having to educate their mental health providers on their lived experiences and mental health needs.”
Along with the Temperature Check report, Tanaka said, the toolkit provides tangible evidence of both the challenges and steps to improving the isolation and difficulties faced by affected individuals.
“I just really hope that leaders in the Jewish community, as well as leaders in the queer community, do take a moment to seriously read this so that they can better understand why we are doing this and why there is a need to support our community,” Tanaka said, adding that JQT continues to remain open to those who are on a spectrum of opinion on Israel and Palestine. “It really hurts to not be included in Pride events or in queer spaces, to not feel included in Jewish spaces. It’s an impossible situation to feel like you don’t belong.”
Even amid a plethora of discouraging responses, Rathbone said there is reason for hope.
“I don’t want folks to read it and to become really depressed and hopeless, because there are lots of ways to find hope,” she said. “There are lots of people in the community coming together right now and finding connections to heal what they can in what is a very broken world and what is a very broken situation. That also gives me hope, to watch people recognize that they can come together in community and do their part to heal something.”
Stand Up for Mental Health founder David Granirer. (photo from smhcomedysociety.org)
Stand Up for Mental Health (SMH), a program started in Vancouver that teaches stand-up comedy to people with mental health issues as a form of therapy and to destigmatize mental illness, celebrated its 20th anniversary this spring.
“It feels like such an accomplishment. Helping so many people has been the highlight of my life,” said David Granirer, the founder of SMH. “One thing I am really good at is making other people into stars, and I feel like I have done that a lot. Over the past 20 years, I have trained about 700 comics. So, that’s a lot of stars.
“I had no idea what I was doing when I started out, so I had no expectations about the program being successful or not. I could never have imagined this,” he said.
Granirer, a counselor by profession, as well as a stand-up comic, told the Independent that the two-decade journey has been unforgettable. “Everything stands out,” he said. “Every show, every comic I have ever trained, every laugh we have gotten.”
When considering some of the more memorable bits over the years, he recalled writing a mental health version of the Beatles song “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” In Granirer’s rendition, the guitar has dizziness, dry mouth and is too depressed to get out of bed.
Granirer, who is open about his own struggles with mental illness, has trained groups in more than 50 cities, in Canada, the United States and Australia, in partnership with various mental health organizations. He plans to continue the program and run it in more cities in the coming years.
The idea for SMH originated from a course Granirer has been teaching at Langara College since 1998 called Stand-Up Comedy Clinic. Occasionally, he would see people have life-changing experiences by getting on stage and using comedy to tell a club full of people who they were.
“One woman had a fear of flying and told me that the day after our event she had to get on a plane and she said, ‘My fear was gone. I felt like once I’d done stand-up I could do anything,’” Granirer said. “And I thought, wouldn’t it be amazing to be able to give this experience to people who wanted to do comedy but who also wanted to change their lives? And since I work in mental health and I also have a mental illness, I thought that would be the perfect place to start.”
For Filomena Black, a graduate of the course, SMH has been a lifeline. An introvert by nature, she said she has been able to be more comfortable around people.
“I’ve lost my self-conscious focus and become more engaged in enjoying other people’s company. I’m now looking forward to successfully meeting challenges in all aspects of my life rather than avoiding them,” Black said.
Asked to tell one of the jokes in her repertoire, Black responded, “I used to run away from home a lot, but my kids always found me.”
Another SMH graduate, April Soon, also speaks highly of the program, lauding Granirer for shining a light on what people with mental health issues can do and not letting finances be a barrier to participation.
Soon, a veteran of public speaking through Toastmasters, did not find standing up before a crowd as intimidating as others might have and, these days, she not only performs at SMH gigs but at other venues around Vancouver.
“When bad things happen to me now, I wonder how I can use it as material,” said Soon. “SMH has helped reframe my thinking and provided good resilience training.”
On a lighter note, she added, “Being involved with SMH has exposed me to many other mental illnesses I want to try out.”
Kevin Scow similarly expresses his gratitude, saying the program has given him his voice and was vital to his recovery.
“This came to me at exactly the right time,” he said. “Instead of seeming strange … now they know I am strange … and they love me all the more for it. Thanks to David and my fellow alumni for nurturing my voice and helping with making it funny. My First Nations side says thanks.”
SMH’s 20th anniversary was recognized last month with a proclamation from the Province of British Columbia declaring April 13 as Stand-Up for Mental Health Day.
SMH’s 20th anniversary was recognized last month with a proclamation from the Province of British Columbia declaring April 13 as Stand-Up for Mental Health Day. The proclamation reads, in part, that SMH provides a program for thousands of people “to improve their lives and combat the stigma surrounding mental health and … is an opportunity to raise awareness of and show support for people managing mental health issues or illnesses.”
Since 2004, Granirer and his comics have performed more than 500 shows for mental health organizations, government departments, corporations, universities, correctional facilities and the military. Granirer also gives “laughter in the workplace presentations” to organizations across North America, helping them use humour to lower stress, improve wellness and cope with change. Granirer, too, is the author of The Happy Neurotic: How Fear and Angst Can Lead to Happiness and Success.
SMH’s classes in Vancouver last for six months and students step on stage for two shows, a debut and a graduating performance. As Granirer says, “The comics go from knowing nothing about stand-up to killing it.”
Stand Up for Mental Health is currently recruiting for its next class, which starts July 30. For more information, visit smhcomedysociety.org.
Sam Margolishas written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.
Berlin’s Nana Schewitz brings her show Florida! Ya Kill Me! to Vancouver May 31-June 2. (photo from Nana Schewitz)
Florida! Ya Kill Me! is a “love letter to aging,” says Berlin-based drag artist Nana Schewitz, who created the show with Josh Walker. But it’s also a “wakeup call,” she warned, about the systems we have in place for aging.
Florida! Ya Kill Me! comes to Vancouver for three nights, opening May 31 at the Dusty Flowerpot Cabaret.
“JQT is so excited to bring Nana Schewitz to both Toronto and Vancouver, as part of our JQT [Jewish Queer Trans] Mental Health Support Series in partnership with JFS Vancouver, a series supported by the
Jewish Community Foundation of Greater Vancouver,” said Carmel Tanaka, executive director of JQT Vancouver, noting that the shows are being sponsored in both cities by Goethe-Institut Toronto, which is part of a global network that works to foster understanding of Germany’s cultural diversity.
“The content of her show addresses the challenges of Jewish queer trans seniors, which is a very near and dear topic to JQT,” Tanaka said of Nana’s Florida! Ya Kill Me! “We hope that, through drag and comedy, we will be able to raise awareness of the work our JQT Seniors Initiative is doing to create safer long-term care homes and spaces, so our aging JQT community members can proudly celebrate all their identities into their twilight years.”
Florida! Ya Kill Me! is a theatrical retelling of Nana’s 2021 trip to Florida in search of a final resting place, Nana told the Independent. The character is a feisty 96 years old.
“Josh and I traveled up and down the state in search of retirement paradise, visiting every bingo hall, craft fair and 55-and-up pool we could find along the way,” she explained. “We met some incredible seniors who really opened up to me about their experiences with aging, finding love, losing love, accepting change and finding joy. I have the privilege to share these words through both my own retelling, and some filmed interviews we took. You’ll meet Josie, the 109-year-old bingo master. You’ll meet Doris, born and raised in Berlin (my current home) who lives in Florida’s largest retirement city (with over 100,000 residents). You’ll even meet my dead Cuban grandmother!
“The ability to tell these often-overlooked stories and cement the legacies of some of my favourite friends is my favourite thing about what this show is,” said Nana. “It’s a love letter to aging, but also a wakeup call to its effects. The systems in place around aging are crumbling quickly while our average life expectancy is getting higher and higher. I don’t want us to have to sacrifice our quality of life as we age, and this show is a call to action to make that happen!”
The name Nana Schewitz was inspired by Manischewitz, perhaps after a few glasses of its sweet kosher wine. The 96-year-old – who doesn’t “look a day over 69” – was brought to life by almost-30-something Bryan Schall, who studied at Philadelphia University of the Arts and graduated in performance design and production.
She emerged as an entity “out of a little hole-in-the-wall disco in Philadelphia. She stayed dormant for awhile, as her ‘style’ didn’t really fit in my idea of what drag in the US was. When I got to Berlin, however, I said, ‘Ooooohhh!!! Nana totally could work here!’
“The drag scene of Berlin was very different,” explained Nana. “It was quirky, brash, silly – all the things I wanted out of a drag performer. And I found myself really missing this very specific branch of Ashkenazi-Americana Judaism that I took for granted at home. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until moving to Berlin.
“Being Nana really allowed for space to connect with my Judaism, while also allowing me to rewrite Judaic tradition in a way that serves queer people,” she added. “I’ve hosted Passover seders, Hanukkah shows, Rosh Hashanah events and more in Berlin, and it’s been a beautiful connective tissue to bring the Jews of Germany (yes, we’re here!) together in a meaningful and unexpected way.”
Nana moved to Berlin in 2016 and says she hasn’t looked back.
“I grew up in South Florida, and just could not do one more winter of beautiful, it was just getting to be unbearable,” she said. “I couldn’t take the beaches and the sunshine of Florida anymore. Call me a masochist, I guess.”
Berlin has her heart, Nana said, “But all cities change, and the Berlin I moved to looks very different than the city I currently live in. I’ve learned here how precious community is, but it is something that requires maintenance and care, and cannot be taken for granted. I’m able to live my most authentic life here, but that is not a forever guarantee…. I worry about the future of this city, especially as a Jew. Your life can be taken very quickly if you stop paying attention and take things for granted.”
Describing herself as “50% lighting designer and 50% drag queen,” Nana said, “I studied lighting design and do it professionally, but doing drag gives me the outlet and access to say and do the things that are really meaningful to me. The lighting design definitely pays for the drag, but I love to light up a room nonetheless. I actually just came off tour doing lights for Canadian-Jewish icon Peaches around the US and Canada! It was a blast, but I really feel the most myself when I’m dressed up as a 96-year-old Jewish grandmother, singing sexually perverse parodies of Barbra Streisand songs in a dark smelly bar.”
Joining Nana in the Vancouver performances will be co-creator Josh Walker.
Josh Walker is an integral part of Florida! Ya Kill Me! (photo from Nana Schewitz)
“I’m always so grateful to have my life partner/grandson by my side,” she said. “I’ve been working on Nana with Josh Walker for almost 10 years now. He is my most treasured collaborator, and we actually just came back from another two-month trip to Florida where we (along with my new grandson, filmmaker Lucky Marvel) just filmed the Florida! You Kill Me! documentary. We’re in production now after having visited and filmed in different Jewish and queer retirement homes, RV parks, assisted living facilities, etc., around the Sunshine State. The show me and Josh are about to put on in Canada is just a small taste of the incredible shenanigans we got up to around the state. You can catch Josh playing some classic Jimmy Buffett tunes on the banjo during this show.”
Nana exudes confidence, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have concerns about people’s reactions.
“I’ve had to stop being afraid, it wasn’t doing anything for me! When we went to Florida, I was extremely nervous,” she admitted. “A lot of what Nana is about is being out on the streets, very public and very vocal. I’m not sure if you know this, but there was recently a drag ban in Florida, as well. I’m not exaggerating, ‘adult live performances featuring sexual content’ were banned in Florida. I’m not sure if you’d consider my matzoh ball titties to be sexual content, but that’s beside the point. So, I went there with my guard up, worried for my safety and for the safety of my team. We had an ‘in case Nana gets arrested’ plan and everything. I’m proud to say, the ban eventually got overturned due, in part, to the relentless work of some of the drag queens of Fort Lauderdale (my hometown). But the damage had been done.
“I came in expecting bigotry,” she said, “but I really believe in my heart of hearts that is not our human nature. I think a lot of people are confused these days. There’s a lot of anger and hurt in the world and lot of information, and people are looking for where to place it and what to do with it all. This ‘drag queens bad’ narrative is political propaganda, but people will think what they want to think. Lucky for me, this Nana can move fast. When some of these Floridians see me, they’re not sure if they should pull out a gun and shoot me dead on the street, or give me a five dollar bill! By the time they’ve made up their mind, I’m gone. Whoosh!”
All jokes aside, Nana and Florida! Ya Kill Me! have a serious message.
“A new friend told me this as I was filming my documentary, and I think about it all the time so wanted to share it here as well,” said Nana. “She worked at the McArtor senior centre [in Florida], taking care of LGBT+ patients with Alzheimer’s and dementia. She told me, ‘If I can get you to do one thing after speaking to me, it’s call an older loved one in your life. A parent, a grandparent, an aunt, whoever. There will come a day when you call them and they won’t remember who you are anymore. Don’t wait for that moment to reach out. Enjoy every interaction you can, while you still can.’”
For tickets ($18) to Florida! Ya Kill Me!, visit jqtvancouver.ca.
“Our thoughts are influenced by our core belief system. Our opinions are shaped from things we have seen and heard in the past and those opinions affect what we see. The problem is our thoughts are not always necessarily true,” writes Michelle Biton in her new book, The Instant Anxiety Solution (Hatherleigh Press).
“Our own thoughts and beliefs often cause us more anxiety than the actual emotion itself,” she writes. “And sometimes our beliefs are faulty or inaccurate. In order to get to the facts, it’s important to question your thoughts and not always believe everything you think.”
But this is jumping ahead to Step 5 of Biton’s five-step program ALARM, which starts with ways in which we can get our bodies “out of ‘the acute stress’ stage and into a calmer state so you can think properly” (activating the parasympathetic nervous system). It moves to labeling what you’re feeling, then acknowledging that emotions are temporary. Step 4 is about how to remember to avoid building narratives around your thoughts and emotions, and Step 5 is how to move forward and take action.
Originally from Vancouver, Biton is a Los Angeles-based coach, author and health educator. She has a master’s in holistic nutrition, a bachelor’s in psychology and a certificate in kinesiology, health and fitness studies. Her reasons for writing The Instant Anxiety Solution are personal.
“I had been trying to deal with anxiety as if it was logical, but anxiety is not logical. It’s primal and cannot be rationalized. My best friend helped me realize that, in order to manage mine and my daughter’s anxiety, we were going to have to look it in the eye and go through the discomfort of it,” writes Biton. “Going through the anxiety was the only way out of the vicious cycle.”
Biton’s own experiences with anxiety inform her approach. “You are re-learning ingrained patterns and behaviours that will take time to unlearn,” she acknowledges, “so be easy on yourself and give yourself time to go through the process.”
The Instant Anxiety Solution comprises a foreword by marriage and family therapist Nadine Macaluso; an introduction in which Biton lays out some of her reasons for writing the book; an overview of what anxiety is and its effects; a chapter for each of the ALARM steps; a brief conclusion; many exercises readers can do to learn how to better manage anxiety; and 20-plus blank pages for the purposes of journaling.
There are many causes of anxiety, including biological makeup, learned behaviour, lack of sleep, trauma, not eating properly, financial difficulties.
“When we get triggered by an event, our amygdala gets activated, causing the impulsive fight or flight response, and the prefrontal cortex, the logical thinking part of the brain, shuts off,” writes Biton. Our bodies focus on one thing: survival. The sympathetic nervous system is activated, “causing your heart rate, breathing and blood pressure to rise dramatically…. You’ll likely even feel shaky and nauseous.
“Many people make the mistake of trying to problem solve when anxiety hits, but it is absolutely impossible to do,” she writes. We can’t think until we have calmed down, and Biton offers many ways to shock the body out of its anxious state, such as splashing cold water on our face or putting a cold pack on the back of our neck; intense exercise, like a sprint to the end of the block or some push ups; and humming or singing.
There are ways a person can semi-instantly calm themselves, but the crux of tackling anxiety is self-awareness and, for that, there is no quick fix. Biton offers advice on how to identify and deal with feelings, but a main takeaway is to train ourselves to not act in those first moments. Apparently, an emotion lasts seven minutes max, then runs out of steam. It’s “the additional energy that is added in the form of our ‘extra’ thoughts and emotions that we ‘attach’ to the original emotion that keeps the feeling alive and the suffering occurring,” writes Biton.
“Do not act on impulse,” she warns, “you will only regret it afterwards.” But don’t numb yourself either. If you feel like crying, cry. Notice and acknowledge your emotions without judgment. When you’re calm, you can figure out what is really going on, consider both sides of the situation – what happened or was said and your reaction.
We all have pain, she notes: “It is how we ‘react’ to the pain that determines our ‘suffering.’” Suffering, she says, is a sign that you’re not accepting the here and now. Some clues that you might be fighting against reality are that you’re feeling bitter or resentful, or you’re regularly unhappy or frustrated.
“A major reason that many of us suffer from anxiety today is because we have ‘felt unheard’ or ‘dismissed’ in our lives,” she writes. “We were told that we ‘weren’t good enough’ or that we ‘shouldn’t feel a certain way.’ This negative environment taught us not to trust ourselves, and not to trust our emotions. As a result, we have a lot of self-doubt and anxiety.
“On top of that, many of us project fears from the past into the future. Very rarely do we go into a situation without the ‘baggage’ and ‘opinions’ that we have carried from past experiences.”
Biton believes it possible to “become unstuck from the past.” The advice and exercises in The Instant Anxiety Solution may not result in instant results, but they do offer tangible steps to a solution.
Achiya Klein and Joy at Trout Lake Park in Vancouver April 4. Klein and Joy were brought together by the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)
“The Israel Guide Dog Centre is not just a centre,” said Achiya Klein. “It’s like a family.”
Klein and his assistance dog, Joy, came to Vancouver from Toronto earlier this month with Atarah Derrick, executive director of Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind. The Independent met with them at Trout Lake Park April 4.
It was an educational experience to see Klein and Joy interact, like a unit. Even when Joy was off leash, clearly enjoying the freedom of running around on her own, meeting other dogs, she would respond to Klein’s occasional check-in whistles or calls. Being a Hebrew-speaking dog, one wonders what she had to say to her Canadian compatriots. Only once, enticed by the lake, did Joy hesitate to return to Klein, but she did – and before taking the plunge she so obviously wanted to take. On our walk, Derrick explained that all the
Israeli guide dogs have English names so that the animals will know it’s them being called – imagine, she said, if a client called out a name like Yossi in an Israeli market, for example.
Klein has had Joy since the end of last October, since his first guide dog, Night, passed away at the age of 8.
“Having a guide dog is my way to get my independence again,” said the Israel Defence Forces veteran, who was injured in 2013. “I can do whatever with a guide dog because I can walk alone, with no fear, and being comfortable.”
Klein has serious visual impairment. “I have some sight,” he said, “but it’s minimal.”
A team commander in Yahalom, a special unit of the IDF that deals with the handling of dangerous ammunition and weapons, Klein was injured in a Gazan tunnel. “I was on a mission to demolish the terror tunnel that crossed into Israel,” he explained, “and, when we were walking in the tunnel … there was a booby-trap, and I got injured from that when it exploded.”
Klein moved to Canada with his wife, who is Canadian, in 2023. Noach Braun, the founder of the Israel Guide Dog Centre, personally brought Joy to Klein, where he worked with the pair for 10 days. The training period was shorter than usual because Klein had already had a guide dog. Normally, after matching a client with a dog, the pair train together for a few weeks at the centre, which then provides more training in the client’s home environment.
“It’s not like they just give you a dog and say, ‘OK, good luck,’” said Klein. “It’s more than that, and I think that one of the best examples is, after Night passed away, even though I was in Canada and I was supposed to go to Israel to receive a new dog, because of Oct. 7, I couldn’t make it to Israel, so Noach … came here during the war. He came here with Joy and I think that’s a beautiful story, to show what it means to be a part of the family.”
According to Derrick, who has been leading the Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind since 2021, the centre has placed 796 guide dogs, 39 post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) dogs and 442 emotional support dogs, for a total of 1,277 since its founding in 1991. In 2023, there were 176 puppies being raised by centre volunteers, she said.
“The IGDCB (as it is known in Israel) serves Israel’s blind community by providing them with mobility, independence, self-confidence and companionship through the faithful assistance of guide dogs specially trained in Hebrew to meet Israel’s rigorous and challenging environment,” Derrick explained in an email. “We also breed and train service dogs for IDF veterans who have service-related PTSD and provide emotional support dogs for children on the autism spectrum.”
Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind was established almost 20 years ago and Canada accounts for 6.6% of donations, according to its 2022 annual report. It is one of Derrick’s goals to increase that amount.
“I have always been passionate about community service and working in the charity sector, raising funds for vulnerable communities,” she said. “I’m a real dog person and, when the opportunity opened at Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Centre, it was the perfect match for my skills, interests and passions – helping people, Israel and dogs!”
Last year, Derrick and Braun visited Vancouver to visit donors and meet others interested in the centre’s work. “Everyone asked us to come back soon, preferably with a client and their dog, so they could see our work in action,” said Derrick, which was why she came this spring with Klein – who has become, she said, since being injured, “a Paralympic rower, a dedicated skier, a father and an asset to the IDF” – and Joy.
“We visited Vancouver Island first, with a meeting in Ladysmith to meet new friends there,” said Derrick. “We then headed south to Victoria, specifically Chabad of Vancouver Island. Then we moved east to Vancouver, where we met with Schara Tzedeck, the Kollel, and held a parlour meeting at the home of new friends. It was such a lovely visit, and we got to meet terrific people with whom our work really resonated.”
Initially, former Jewish National Fund shaliach (emissary) to Vancouver Mickey Goldwein, his wife Lili and her dog, Zita, were to accompany Derrick on the BC visit. Unfortunately, they couldn’t make the journey from Israel.
Lili Goldwein was partnered with Zita in 2018, explained Derrick, “because Lili’s vision had significantly deteriorated. Mickey joined the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind’s board in 2022.”
The need for the centre and its services has increased since Oct. 7.
“Due to this war, we altered the criteria for receiving an emotional support dog to provide an immediate response to those injured or suffering due to the war,” said Derrick. “Since then, we have provided our emotional support dogs to children and adults with special needs whom the war has immensely impacted. Some of these people fought on Oct. 7 and were discharged immediately because of the trauma they endured. Some are widows of fallen soldiers. Some have been afraid to leave the house for months.
“We are aware of some soldiers who have lost their vision in this conflict, and we need to be ready for them when they need us. This is in addition to the current clients on the waitlist,” she said.
The war also has disrupted the centre’s training, which may impact the number of guide dogs it can provide this year. “But we are doing our best to meet the challenge,” said Derrick.
Atarah Derrick, executive director of Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind, with Cookie. (photo from Atarah Derrick)
And they are meeting the challenge while still feeling the effects of the pandemic.
“COVID had two major impacts on our training,” said Derrick. “The first was in the socialization of our puppies. In their first year, it’s crucial to expose them to as many environments as possible. The office or university, the mall and the train station are all places where our pups get to experience lots of people, noises and smells and become more comfortable navigating those environments. Because of the lockdowns, most were cut off from those experiences, and many were not ready to take on service work. So, our success rate through COVID dropped, and our clients had to wait longer periods for their dogs. This was the case worldwide.
“The second was that we were not able to open our residences to clients in guide dog courses. When a person is partnered with a guide dog, they live in residence with us for two weeks while they train together with our professionals. This was impossible during COVID, so our trainers went to the clients and worked with them at home, one-on-one, to complete the course. We put a lot of mileage on our vans during those years.”
Now, it is hospital visits that account for some of the mileage being put on the centre’s vans, with puppies and guide-dogs-in-training traveling to offer comfort to injured soldiers and civilians across Israel.
“As the war rages on, we’re committed to continuing this mission of love and compassion,” reads the centre’s latest blog. “Because no matter the circumstances, a little bit of puppy love can go a long way in healing hearts and bringing people together.”
Seeing Klein and Joy together at Trout Lake Park and getting a glimpse of what having a guide dog has meant to Klein, the importance of the IGDCB’s work seems clear.
“They provide you with one of the most basic tools that you use every day,” Klein said. “But it’s not just a tool, it’s also a friend.”
To learn more about the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind, visit israelguidedog.ca.
“We’re planning a family event in June.” That’s how I start nearly every contact with vendors while trying to arrange it. Sometimes, I say a “party with family and friends.” I avoid saying b’nai mitzvah. It’s just easier and safer.
One of my twins has a locker at junior high near a student who uses her body as a sign of protest. “Free Palestine” is written on her cheek. Other days, messages are emblazoned on a sweatshirt. My kid says she seems to stare at him, but I recommended he just stay away, don’t stare back, and don’t cause any kind of confrontation. “Do you know this person?” I ask him. “No,” he says, “she doesn’t know us.” What he meant is perhaps more obvious to us now – he doesn’t think she knows we are Jewish.
The transition from a bilingual Hebrew/English public elementary school to a junior high where Jewish kids are few and far between has been a big one. To my surprise, it went smoothly, but, over time, the ramifications have become clear. We knew our kids would figure out that we were, in fact, a small minority in Canadian culture. In elementary school, they would choose surprising moments to discuss Jewish things or use words in Hebrew with people at the dentist’s office or on public transportation. At first, our explanations about how people were different, with various religions and backgrounds were confusing. In their minds, they still believed everyone was Jewish.
On one hand, I loved that they didn’t have to learn to code-switch as early as I did. Code-switching is a way to describe how we switch between dialects, languages or personae in different settings. That is, a person might speak one language at home and another at work. In Jewish settings, one might use what linguists call “Jewish English,” English interspersed with Yiddish or Hebrew or other Jewish languages. At home, we might be encouraging someone to “daven at shul” with friends. We might shout “Dai, maspik!” (“Stop, enough!”) when someone misbehaves. In public, we might say “go to services” or “Behave yourself!”
Some people say that learning this kind of nuance takes maturity, but that doesn’t always ring true. I knew, by age 5 or 6 when my ethno-religious identity needed to be kept to myself. During times of extreme antisemitism, children were forced to keep this hidden, or even not told they were Jewish until old enough to manage the information. Giving my kids this extended time of safety felt like offering them a special oasis, a honeymoon that I missed.
Years ago, I worked with an editor and writer who shared with me that she had a Jewish background, although she was adamantly secular. I often felt the need to code-switch with her, as something made me feel like I was “too Jewish” for her comfort level. Since Oct.7, things have changed. She has become public in her Jewish identity, speaking out against antisemitism. Recently, she has been reading history and research for a book-length project. Today, she said, reflecting on an historic “golden age” for Jews in Polish history: “There is no safety in America now just because it’s been a golden age for my lifetime.” Yeah, I responded. I know.
Everyone copes differently. On social media and among friends, some dig into their Jewish identities. They’re consistently posting about their Jewish pride or activities and asking others to do so as well. One local friend who regularly attends synagogue told me that, if anything, this war has made her want to “do Jewish” even more, so she’s physically attending more services and gatherings than she had previously. Others decide to keep their kids home from school on days where there might be safety issues or have stopped attending anything at all connected with the Jewish community. They keep a low profile. Being loud and proud isn’t their way.
I have seen all these approaches (and many variations) from the Jewish people I know. And there are the minority Jewish viewpoints, too, on the political right and left. Those who claim more of an affinity with their progressive causes than with Jewish ones are often vocal on social media and at pro-Palestinian protests, either finding ways to disown their background or use their Judaism to explain their activism. Some particularly outspoken ones demonstrate, at least to me, that they don’t have a solid grounding in Jewish history and tradition, particularly as it relates to Israel, but instead embrace narratives around colonialism and apartheid instead.
Lately, I have been longing to ask where these “land back” Canadian Jewish activists live, if not in homes on occupied land taken from Indigenous communities. If homes here are on occupied ground, where do they believe it would be acceptable for Jews to live? I wonder how they mesh these theories with their everyday lives, or the archeological, historical and literary references to the Jewish past.
Living in grey areas of nuance is exhausting. There are so many references in Jewish texts to back this up. We have, after all, been struggling with these identity issues for millennia. We’re the ethnic group for whom the Greek word of “diaspora” was invented. Yet, this is one time where more evidence seems pointless. For those of us who feel this discord and disconnect, it’s not news. For others, who either manage to live wholly in the Jewish world or outside of it, these retellings of history aren’t useful. So many people have made their place, and it’s not in the margins of subtlety.
There’s no one response that suits. For me, I understand the value of having a rich interior and family life. The moment I’m absorbed in braiding challah and reciting the blessing blocks out some of this noise. Although I’m alone, it’s meaningful spending that small moment to send love and prayers for the hostages, the Jewish community and my family. I knit sweaters for ever-growing twins, anticipating their big birthday ahead this spring. I fall deep into intellectual arguments online, or into gazing at a pileated woodpecker whose rat-a-tat vibrates throughout the neighbourhood.
Finding one’s authentic self, the comfort zone where all the discord falls away, offers a brief respite. As we meet this complex moment in time, finding small outlets of escape can enable us to keep on going. Perhaps this is about good mental health or, as generations before us have explained, it’s nothing new. It’s about making a meaningful life in a diaspora, amid struggle.
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
