July 4 Redux: The Only White Person in South Memphis

Jewish girl from Glencoe slices Southern ham

I was the only white person for miles around, or at least it felt that way. I was, in fact, the only white person in sight at this particular state park on this 4th of July in South Memphis. Our group included about 60 of my husband Aaron’s relatives, but the park buzzed with barbecue parties and the swimming pool with was awash in Negroes. I was not in Glencoe anymore.

My first assignment was to be the Jew slicing the ham. I’m sure it was coincidence, and they did give me gloves. The meal was the proverbial groaning table of soul food. Back in Highland Park, my bread is legend and I am the goddess of the Shabbos dinner. But in Memphis my challah and vegetarian chopped liver were spanked by the large tubs of pork ribs, chicken, burgers, dogs and continuous batches of deep-fried catfish. It was Queen Esther versus Shaquille O’Neal.

Aaron Freeman (right) and his cousin James

Everyone was very nice to me. It reminded me of visiting my in-laws during my first marriage, when I was the only Jew among the Protestants, but the food was better and the music louder. I had a special birthday dance with my hubby, and later, when I was dancing by myself off to the side, a man from a different party asked if he could join me. This was flattering, and he vanished as soon as the song ended.

Dancing in the park

Things started to get good for me when I talked to Aaron’s cousin Vicki, a Yale trained lawyer. I totally related to her. She didn’t even have a funny accent. At one point I noted with pride my comfort here in South Memphis, way down south in Dixie. I was a Jew from Glencoe, but I was down with the program, making friends with little black kids. This was another part of the Obama story, America’s story, me here totally comfortable with my peeps. It’s almost sad that other white people couldn’t have this experience.

Then Aaron said the one thing I didn’t want to hear. “Hey, is that another white woman?” I looked and there, about a hundred yards away with another group was a streak of cream in a sea of chocolate. My heart sank. Noticing, Aaron said loyally, “Well, she’s sort of dark, maybe she’s just a really light skinned black person.”

“Or an albino,” I offered. But closer inspection revealed a blond woman. I was not unique. Worse, this other white woman embraced a biracial child.

She trumped me.

–Sharon Rosenzweig

Sharon Rosenzweig and her husband Aaron Freeman produce The Comic Torah, their own inspired take on the five books of Moses.