My Kids and I Found Jewish Joy at a Picnic

Antisemitism is having a moment, and I have no idea what to do about it, so I took my children to a food festival called The Great Nosh.

My daughter is 7 and my son is 4. They know they are Jewish the way they know they are New Yorkers: It’s just a fact, unremarkable and obvious. I want to keep it that way for as long as I can, as they are blissfully unaware of the rise in casual antisemitism. I’d love for their Judaism to mean something to them. When I told them about The Great Nosh I sold them on the ferry ride and Governors Island’s infamous Slide Hill —– but I also told them that we’d celebrate and learn about being Jewish. I want them to know that matters.

We’re told in popular culture that Jews love to complain and whine. I can hum the Mourner’s Kaddish like my friends can hum the new Harry Styles. But Judaism is about joy, too, and I want to teach my children that. I hoped a Jewish food festival would help.

On the surface, at least, The Great Nosh promised to be a very good Instagrammable afternoon. A summer picnic party on Governor’s Island packed with exciting food collaborations like Kabawa x Gertie and Katz’s Deli x Santo Taco, full of food, natural wine and gingham picnic blankets. Beyond the food tents were activity stations such as flower crown crafting, cardboard urban city-making and a beading workshop led by Susan Alexandra. Gail Simmons and Jake Cohen walked around noshing, and when DJ Max Kulchinsky turned up the tunes, we all danced together while children used blow-up pickles like swords. 

Since October 7, I want to scream with pride about my Judaism and I want to hide it, sometimes in the same hour, sometimes in the same breath. But like so many, one constant is I feel a deep pull to Jewish community, one that was not as strong before.

I’ve participated in Jewish community before. When I was a teenager, I joined a youth group, NFTY PAR, mostly to widen my social circle and find boys to kiss. What I didn’t expect, but definitely found, was a connection to my Judaism that felt different from sitting in synagogue during High Holiday services. This connection was less religious and more like just another facet of my life. I remember spending weekends at Camp Harlam with kids from the tri-state area, roasting marshmallows over fires and playing games. On Saturday night, the sun would go down, and the Havdalah services would start. My friends played music and it was beautiful. Our voices came together and we almost didn’t even know that we were doing something Jewish. We were just doing something Jew-ish. We belonged. (And we definitely kissed!)

This is the kind of Jewish community I want to offer my children. I grew up with a multicultural extended family who never felt very at home in a conservative synagogue and moved to a welcoming reform congregation. Now, I am married to a non-religious Chinese man; he is Jewish by marriage and matzah ball soup consumption. We celebrate Jewish holidays and light Shabbat candles as a family. We’re thinking about starting Hebrew school for my children next year. But as I stood in a 40-minute line to get tacos at The Great Nosh, I realized that the door I’m hoping to offer my children to their Jewish identities might be less about organized Jewish study and more about joyous Jewish communal experiences. A picnic won’t stop a hate crime, obviously. But defiance doesn’t have to be confrontational.

My children are proud to say that they are Chinese and Jewish but they do not exactly know what the latter means. Neither did I, once. When I joined NFTY PAR, I found solidarity in a community bonded through generations of tikkun olam and asking questions, and even if I couldn’t understand it at the time, I found connection.

I can’t guarantee that my children will find this same connection in their Judaism, but I think it’s worth offering up. Communal events like The Great Nosh hold this power. 

When we finally made it to the NATOORA x Alimentari flâneur tent, they were out of kasha, so we ate berries and stone fruit. My son spotted fried chicken on challah from Naro x Theo and started chanting the word challah — a bread he loves because his bubbe brings him some almost every week — like he was cheering for the Knicks. We got to the front just as the last one went to someone else. He kept asking about it the whole walk back. He didn’t get to try that sandwich, but he did dance to the music of DJ Max Kulchinsky like he could feel the beat in his bones. Hips swinging, no self-consciousness yet, no idea that anyone could ever resent him simply for who he is. We grabbed paletas on the way out from La Newyorkina, where it took my daughter one bite of the tahini cookie dough flavor to become a tahini devotee.

As we were leaving, I started crying behind my sunglasses and couldn’t say exactly why. Or maybe I could. 

I don’t want being Jewish to feel fraught for my children. I want it to feel fun, beautiful, Jew-ish, like my experience in youth group. I want them to feel proud of being Jewish, and I want them to seek out spaces that feel good, where the food tastes like us. 

When I purchased my four tickets to The Great Nosh, I was hoping for just a fun afternoon as a family, one that also got my kids a little closer to whatever being Jewish actually means to them. What I got: the sun, the hot ferry, the crowds, the lines, and two small people who had opinions about all of it. So maybe they’re learning what it is to be a Jew after all.