It's late September, which means the buzz around Oktoberfest and Cincinnati's German roots is back again. According to a recent Cincinnati Enquirer article, one in four Cincinnatians claims German heritage. Given this high percentage, it's only natural that we should embrace it as a city with events like Oktoberfest, Bockfest, German Day; that we rename streets back to their original German; that we keep up the efforts to "revitalize" Over-the-Rhine and turn it back into Über-den-Rhein. Right?
Allow me to offer a critical perspective. I am of essentially 100% German background, and maintain closer ties to my roots than the vast majority of other European-Americans. I've lived in Germany, studied the language and speak it fluently. Everyone in my immediate family has lived in Germany for some period of time and speaks the language to some degree. We grew up in the very specific religious tradition of our ancestors, and still have certain German traditions, cultural practices, meals, and even quirky habits that we've maintained.
But the re-Germanification that has accompanied the "revitalization" of Cincinnati has been both an abrasive and ungenuine way of connecting to an ancestral homeland and people. First of all, the narrative surrounding Cincinnati's history has emphasized the German experience at the expense of all other ethnicities that have contributed to it. If you go on one of those currently-trendy tours of Over-the-Rhine--which I don't recommend to anyone with an appreciation of the complexity of history--the story you will hear will go something like this: "Lots of German immigrants came to Over-the-Rhine and named it after the region they came from near the Rhein river in Germany. They made beer and the brewery industry thrived. Lots of cool things happened and look at the buildings they built! Cincinnati was the 4th biggest city in the country. Then the Germans left and there was a period of blight. Now Over-the-Rhine is back again! Buildings are being restored, breweries making a comeback, and boutique shops popping up. So please come patronize Over-the-Rhine and bring it back to greatness!"
It's true that Cincinnati had a large German population, and that they made a thriving community out of Over-the-Rhine. It's an inspiring story, even if the condensed version we often hear leaves out a lot. But why is the German narrative the only one that we hear? What happened before Germans got here, when the Ohio river valley was native land? What happened between the period of high volumes of German immigration and the current "revitalization" of the neighborhood? The mainstream narrative includes nothing, or only a demeaning version, of the history during which primarily Appalachian and Black folks inhabited the area. If we are going by numbers, this should be the primary story that is told. One in four Cincinnatians claim German heritage; the Black population in the city is nearly double that! Despite being as German as I explained that I am, growing up in this "German" city, even having attended a German-language elementary school, Cincinnati's Black culture has had a significantly greater influence on me than has its German culture. So why is Cincinnati, and especially Over-the-Rhine, being branded as a strictly "German" city while ignoring other, especially African-American, influences? Erasing this aspect of our history erases the memory of the folks who have lived here for generations, who forged a community that has lasted generations in the face of all types of systemic oppression. And erasing their memory makes it more justified in the public eye when they are forced out of the neighborhood so that it can accommodate affluent white folks and return to its formal "glory."
In addition, the re-Germanification of Cincinnati is largely phony. Despite its formidable size, Oktoberfest Cincinnati--at least the one on the Banks--is a joke compared to the real Oktoberfest in Bavaria. Here it's an excuse to consume beer and sausage. In Bavaria, though there's plenty of beer and sausage, there's much more to it. It's a real festival with real culture--like singing, dancing, etc.--behind it. Other ways we try to be German are equally false. Wearing Lederhosen is less a symbol of German than Bavarian culture. Nobody in Berlin, where I lived for a year, ever wears Lederhosen, and they actually resent the fact that what is actually Bavarian culture passes for German culture here. A parallel would be if the Germans held an event where everyone wore cowboy boots and did rodeo for the afternoon and called it Ameri-fest. (As a sidenote, I realize that this generalization is not true for everyone, and that there are groups, especially on the West side of town, who do a good job of maintaining more genuine ties to German culture. But they are exceptions. Also, I don't want to make anyone feel guilty for celebrating Oktoberfest or other events. I only encourage celebrating them more critically and consciously.)
I think it's extremely important for a people to maintain ties to their ethnic roots, and it's a shame that more European-Americans don't. The reason most of us have lost them is because somewhere along the family tree, because of societal pressure, someone decided to give up their cultural roots--language, traditions, etc.--in favor of being "American." In favor of being "white," and gaining all the privilege that comes with it (a luxury, by the way, that people of color have not had). There is no such thing as "white culture," but there is such a thing as Irish culture, as Italian culture, as German culture. Acknowledging this is an important step in recognizing the false concept of whiteness that perpetuates a white supremacist society.
But the way to do this is not to reach for some cosmetic, white-washed version of Germanness. And it's certainly not to emphasize the German narrative over another because it's more comfortable and accessible. I will be happy to celebrate Cincinnati's German heritage as soon as a) it stops being a superficial display of Germanness centered around consumption and devoid of culture, and b) other narratives are not suppressed in its favor. Cincinnati is not a German city. It's a hodgepodge of all different backgrounds, ethnicities, religions, and ways of being, that all need to be told if we are to achieve some degree of wholeness as a city.
Bravo on the first step of your mission to go way beyond the stereotype of Cincinnti Germans. While many Bavarian Catholics immigrated to Cincinnati, it was also a Center for German Jews (see short article below) Peter H. Clark, an educator and Black socialist, hung out with the socialist and intellectuals among the 48ers in OTR. Nikki Taylor wrote a book on Clark a few years ago and talks bout his German connections. I applaud your response to Oktoberfest Zincinnati.
ReplyDeleteIsaac M. Wise the rabbi of the Plum Street Temple (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_Jews_in_Cincinnati)
During the 1830s, quite a number of German Jews arrived in the city. On September 19, 1841, the B'ne Yeshurun congregation was organized by the Germans, and was incorporated under the laws of the state February 28, 1842. The first reader was Simon Bamberger. In 1847, James K. Gutheim was elected lecturer and reader of the congregation. He served till 1848, and was succeeded by H. A. Henry and A. Rosenfeld. In April 1854, Isaac Mayer Wise became the first rabbi of the B'ne Yeshurun congregation. In that same year, Wise’s brother-in-law, Edward Bloch, followed Wise to Cincinnati, and eventually founded a printing company that evolved into Bloch Publishing Company, the oldest Jewish publishing company in the U.S., which remained in Cincinnati until it moved to New York City in 1901.[3]
Early 20th Century photo of Plum Street Temple designed by Cincinnati architect James Keys Wilson
In 1866, the congregation built the architecturally notable Plum Street Temple, now known as the Isaac M. Wise Temple. The B'ne Israel congregation hired Max Lilienthal in June 1855. These leadership appointments gave the Jewish community of Cincinnati a commanding position. Owing to their efforts, Cincinnati became a center of Jewish life in America and the seat of a number of organizations that were national in scope. The institutions of Reform Judaism, namely, the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (UAHC, 1873), the Hebrew Union College (HUC, 1875), the Hebrew Sabbath-School Union (1886), and the Central Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR, 1889) were all founded in Cincinnati. In 1951, the UAHC (now called the Union for Reform Judaism) moved its headquarters to the demographic center of American Jewry in New York City [4]