Lights, Camera, Wisdom: Vivir con miedo es vivir a media –

This week’s “Lights, Camera, Wisdom!” quote is, “Vivir con miedo es vivir a media.” It means roughly, “To live with fear is to live a life half-lived.” It’s an old Spanish proverb used in one of my favorite movies, Strictly Ballroom. The movie is part of director Baz Luhrmann’s Red Curtain Trilogy. And it makes me smile every time I think of it. Today, though, it sends shivers down my spine.

Let me give you a bit of background about the movie. Scott, a young, gifted ballroom dancer risks ruining his career by dancing his own steps at a dance competition. His dance partner drops him, and the ballroom dance community censures him.

In secret, he starts dancing with a new partner, Fran, who is a beginner. Through his relationship with her, he learns how to live and dance without fear.

At first, Scott refuses when Fran begs him for a chance to dance with him. When he says no, she shouts the quote at him, in Spanish, and then bursts into tears. He doesn’t know what the words mean, but they move him. Her passion for life and for dance burn his fear away. He takes the chance and becomes her partner. And lives fully.

[TRIGGER WARNING for those reeling from the attempted bombings last week and/or the massacre at the synagogue on Saturday]

I chose this quote before an extremist sent bombs to prominent Democrats all over the USA all of whom stand for inclusivity. I chose it before an antisemite slaughtered eleven Jewish people in their place worship. It is one of my favorite and most inspirational quotes. And yet never has it been truer for me than right now.

I am an immigrant. My family arrived in the USA when I was seven years old. I lost any trace of an accent quickly. We arrived in this country and were told we should assimilate asap. So, we did. Now, unless I tell someone that I was born in another country, they won’t know.

I must stop and recognize my privilege here.

At this time of an extreme push towards nationalism, I, as an immigrant, might have some cause to fear. But you know what? I am not brown-skinned, and I am a USA citizen. Therefore, I don’t really have much to fear day-to-day. People of color, who also happen to be immigrants, do. Going further, this fear, on some level, must pervade the lives of people of color on a daily basis. How horrible and awful for anyone to live in that environment.

I “can pass” and do so on a daily basis because unless I tell someone I am an immigrant, they won’t know it. It’s not that I try “to pass.” It’s just that I do it automatically by virtue of where I’m from and the color of my skin.

The same holds true for being jewish. My name, Izolda Trakhtenberg, appears German, not jewish. I don’t look particularly jewish. And I don’t practice the Jewish religion even though I am jewish by birth.

My family immigrated to the USA when I was a child. In the Soviet Union, where I was born, being jewish was not a religion. It was a nationality. I have never been a particularly religious person. And at the age of nine, I stopped any practice of the religion I might have had.

While I’m jewish by birth, I believe it’s more a history or a heritage than any sort of religious affiliation. Honestly, I don’t know if that makes a difference to me or to anyone else. The reason I am writing about it is that, once again, unless I mention to someone that I’m jewish by heritage, they don’t know it.

Now, days after a maniac slaughtered eleven Jewish people at their place of worship, I face this quote about fear.

I don’t talk about my heritage often. It’s not because I’m hiding it. It’s rather because I don’t think about it much. The people who helped us settle in Michigan, when we arrived, told us we were Americans now. The faster we assimilated into life in Detroit, the better things would be. So, we did.

But now? But now, I feel like I want to shout it from rooftops. I want to stand in some tiny way with the people who died and their families and loved ones who are left to try and make sense of the nonsensical. I have no particular pride or identity about being jewish. Generally, in my day-to-day life, it’s more a descriptor than anything else. And I don’t give it a lot of thought. But right now, it’s more than that. It means standing shoulder to shoulder with others who share my heritage so we can honor the dead and stand with the living.

I grieve for the dead. I grieve with the living. And I could be afraid. But I will choose not to be. If the people I mentioned above can live and strive and thrive with what they face on a daily basis, I damn well better do it too.

Live free of fear

In the meantime, I hope we will evolve past this phase into true inclusion, understanding, and communication. It is my dream that we’ll come together as one nation and one world. I wish for each of us a life free of fear so we can achieve and create something brilliant.

And the thing that terrifies me is the people out there who seem to believe that if someone else gets a share of the pie that it diminishes those doing the sharing. It doesn’t, and in fact, it’s quite the opposite. There is enough for all of us. We can all partake of the bounty of our big, beautiful world if we take care of it and each other.

It means we must let go of the fear that we don’t have enough or won’t get enough. That’s the paradox. On the other side of fear, lie freedom and abundance. And together we can achieve them. I pledge to keep working for that.

In the meantime, I will not live a life half lived. It’s either this way or nothing.

No personal credit of movie pictures. I just want to highlight the excellent movies these quotes are from.