Bike Happy Hour, and then some

I enjoyed a nice ride to Bike Happy Hour this evening. Saw some friends, met some nice new people, did the bikey love thing, and everything was great.

Then came the Open Mic, where folks in attendance can get up and make announcements about upcoming events (mostly bike related but not absolutely required). One of the speakers was a fellow who decided to use his turn at the mic to speak out against “the genocide in Gaza,” and then urging everyone present to do the same. He also informed us that he has lobbied local transportation-oriented nonprofits like Street Trust and Bike Loud to issue statements condemning “the genocide in Gaza,” as if these decidedly local transportation-oriented nonprofits could effect any meaningful difference either way — or should.

I felt slightly uncomfortable. Then, the Bike Happy Hour host gave this man a big hug and the assembled crowd applauded, and I felt a little more uncomfortable.

Here’s why.

At bicycle-centric gatherings such as this, I’ve never heard anyone come out this boldly against genocide against any other group of people — in Somalia, Sierra Leone, or Anywhere else. In fact, the current climate seems to be quite open to statements about this particular conflict — which, lest we forget, began with an attack on October 7 of last year that was apparently months or even years on the making. The level of outrage about the attack against Israel never seemed to achieve the same volume, the same fevered pitch, or the sustain, from the general public as the Israeli government’s decision to retaliate against Hamas. Then, there was a lot of cry and hue against Israel, and against Jews (whether Zionist or not) from multiple sides.

While I am well aware that there is a lot more support for Palestinians than for Jews in a lefty town like Portland, finding this vibe at a bicycle-oriented event was really disappointing for me. Was I surprised? I guess not entirely. But yeah, I was disappointed. Was I nervous? I don’t know. I felt kind of alone. And of course, I suppose I would feel that way in this particular context. 

Jews are not a huge subgroup here. And over half of Portland’s Jews are not affiliated with any Jewish institution. For some, the cost of admission is too high (though synagogues have come a long way since the 1970s, and nearly all of them are willing to work with someone on a tight budget). For others, they don’t feel a big pull towards organized religion. And for the rest, they see their Jewish identity at best as a thing that doesn’t matter much, and at worst a thing to be played down in favor of assimilating. Jews as a group are hardly monolithic. 

As someone who did not grow up in a Zionist home and whose connection to Jewish communal life was almost nonexistent until adulthood, I struggle with how I feel about Israel for lots of reasons. But at this present time, with college campuses up in arms and too many refusing to make a distinction between Israelis, Zionists and Jews because nuance is too hard, yeah. I felt alone and a little nervous. I’m not sure I can feel any other way at this time or in this place.

And mostly I felt so alone because I didn’t expect global politics to enter a chilled-out, bicycle-oriented space so selectively. 

I stayed for a few minutes after the Open Mic period was over, then said my goodbyes and left. 

I felt sad and annoyed and nervous all at the same time. The ride home helped a little. But only a little.

I don’t know if, with all my health issues and everything else going on, I feel like expending much more energy on this. But I felt like it was important enough to warrant a mention here.