On being Jewish, hungry, and chosen

I often think of my life as a movie, so when a random camera crew began following me and my friends around while we were in desperate search of Chinese food on Christmas, I didn’t bat an eye. Being filmed felt so natural. Almost as natural as Jews eating Chinese food on Christmas.

A little context: Getting dinner reservations in Chinatown in LA on Christmas day is not for the faint of heart. And while Jews have proudly started this tradition,* apparently the Gentiles have caught on. As you’ll see in the film, the scene is madness: folks spill into the streets like Mardi Gras, stomachs growling, waiting countless hours for a table. It’s a total shit show and like most things with Judaism, the kvetching is part of the fun.

I don’t recall much about being filmed, too caught up in the mission at hand, but watching the movie almost three years later I’m so grateful for this snapshot of time: My Jew Crew and I, pounding the pavement, starving and barking orders at each other, sharing a single stale cigarette, making friends with other comrades ‘on the line’ and bribing the host for a table to no avail. Every Jew thinks their life is an episode of Curb but I feel more like Susie than Larry: a loud woman surrounded by idiots. But they’re MY idiots.

I’ve never needed drugs to have a good time (Though I’ve enjoyed them. Molly being both the name of my favorite American Girl Doll and narcotic) But this film is a reminder that for me the best parties are on random street corners when everyone is hungry, cranky, and fighting with each other because you’re with the kind of friends who are family.

Watching the film also took me right back to 2022 which feels like lifetimes ago. During our annual Jewish Chinese Christmas dinner, my friends and I have a tradition where everyone goes around and pitches the worst moment of their year (did I mention we are Jewish?) and whoever had the worst year doesn’t have to chip in for dinner. And not to brag but that year I won. I was going through a really hard time with my mental health, to be honest I was in mental hell. But watching myself in this film I saw a girl who was also having a really good time with her friends. A strange comfort watched over me. Even in my darkest hour I was still chasing the light like it was an eggroll. The medium of film is endlessly powerful because it reveals us to ourselves. Movies are what Joey Soloway calls ‘An empathy machine.’ Watching myself, I breathed a sigh of relief, beneath all of my pain and torment or perhaps because of it — I was still me.

It’s also special to have a ‘before’ timestamp of my relationship during this time. Before Rufus was my baby daddy he was my goy boy(friend). The film captures the first year Rufus became embedded in this tradition. Because Christmas is so important to Rufus (the homemade/familial traditions not the whole Christ thang) I was nervous he wouldn’t be down to split half of ‘his’ day. Afterall, I already had eight. But to my delight he loves the ritual perhaps even more than I do! And so each year on December 25th, we start the day with a Christmas tree and caroling and by the afternoon it’s time for lo mein and kvetching. The film documents the birth of this sacred tradition, the blending of our cultures, and how that creates something delicious.

In a world that (often feels like!) it hates Jews, it feels radical to show Jews being human beings. And while a part of me wants to cringe at any hint of Jewish stereotyping for fear of giving Jew haters even more fuel, I refuse to live in fear. I love Jews even when I don’t like them. That beautiful tension is why we’ve persisted as a people. That’s tradition, that’s family, and even when my faith wanes, the dark comedy of being Jewish is something I can believe in.

Per the film’s title, Food for the Chosen People, I always hated the term ‘Chosen people.’ It feels very egotistical, the opposite of humility and faith. If G-d really did say this, I have notes. Chosen for what? GI issues and anxiety? Or as Anne Frank brilliantly declared ‘Just this once, I hope we’ll be chosen for something good!’ But like most things with Judaism, I am able to metabolize the idea and digest it in a way that works for me. And so for me being part of the ‘Chosen People’ means I choose, no matter how shitty or scared I feel, no matter how bad things get, to schlep down to Chinatown to eat sesame chicken and fight with my friends.

* I have no idea if this is true but I’m right, right?

Stills courtesy of Matty Neikrug