A large population of Jews is a beautiful thing, a testament to the ability of Jewish continuity in the diaspora. However, a persistent trend in Jewish history is a tendency to divide ourselves into groups. It’s natural that everyone will have those they are closer to than others. As Taylor Swift (and Aristotle) said, ‘a friend to all is a friend to none.’ And they are correct – we only have so many emotional resources to allocate. Despite this harsh reality, the way to go about closing off others should not be so absolute. In just the time between Friday night davening and dinner, it’s clear our community has fallen victim to cliquey peer dynamics and petty social exclusion.
Awkward hour at the University of Maryland is infamous. Every religious student at a secular college has heard about it. I have survived three, and I can say with certainty that it is as awkward as described. After Kabbalat Shabbat, 200 Jews gather in a hall to talk about nothing for an hour. Roommates, in-towners, and high school friends cling to one another. Despite the vapid nature of these conversations we cling to one another because anything is better than the prospect of standing alone. The social implications are too costly. Less socially inclined or backed individuals find themselves looking for what they perceive as the least “threatening” group, searching for open and willing peers who can transcend this social pressure. Witnessing all of this, it is easy to understand why the place smells like a liquor store; any means to escape is taken.
One can only escape awkward hour if they are awarded a meal invite. These are easy to come by if you are well received by the upperclassmen, but usually they only invite those they see as existing on a similar position on the social hierarchy. Making friends is a catch-22; people only seriously consider accepting you if they have obtained approval from a different credible friend. In other words, the only way to make more friends is to already have friends. This is what creates the toxic meal culture. Unlike every other secular college campus, the University of Maryland fosters a dynamic that alienates those who eat at a Chabad or Hillel. Obviously these have the potential to be meaningful, but eating here is generally a result of not getting invited anywhere else. Social acceptance manifests in the number of red dots on your Facebook notification tab, indicating meal invites. If someone went to Berman or Frisch, and then a mainstream gap year program, they will likely find their Facebook notifications tab more uplifting than someone who hails from out of town and did not take a gap year. Meaning, the same people who succeed in high school, succeed in awkward hour, and thus succeed in the meal culture. The rich just become richer. The meal culture is what makes the process of choosing a roommate so challenging; you decide not just who you’ll be living with, but also who you will be eating all your Shabbos meals with for the rest of college. The stakes are high.
Though Jewish social events generally sound warm and inviting, in practice, they are far from that. Everybody understands that the first hour of any given social event will be bare and unfortunate, so the event only ramps up after roughly an hour. When people finally begin to pile up, they do so in groups. The only socializing desired is amongst one’s own group. If you have the chutzpah, you can break into a conversation, but you have to know that you will be discussed the second you depart.
This is not an experience unique to freshmen. Shabbos at Hillel evokes anxiety for the upperclassmen as well, many of whom never got the hang of it. Juniors and Seniors, fed up with it all, may resort to hiding in the bathroom, but more likely from the Hillel altogether. If camaraderie and inclusion can not be sought in the meeting place for the Jews, perhaps their time could be better spent reading Jodi Picoult or scrolling Instagram reels.
Despite their earnest efforts, the Kedma board and amazing student and faculty leaders can’t will a community into being inclusive. Such a deep-rooted problem can not be solved by initiatives or speed dating. The community itself must resolve on a pursuit for change. Every person is a result of their unique experiences, and though some individuals may seem more enticing than others, an innate inclination towards comfortability should not justify dismissing 95% of Kedma. We are all responsible, both as Jews and community members, to extend more than a one off brief exchange of pleasantries. If you felt isolated, would a quick “whats your name ?” envelop you with a feeling of inclusion and belonging? To quote the Baal Shem Tov, “to help somebody out of the mud, don’t hesitate to get dirty”.
