I've been thinking so much about Yiddish in the last few years. I'm in the generation where even though my dad was bilingual from childhood with Yiddish and English, that was the "arguing with his parents" language, and they pushed Sephardic Hebrew on us with no effort to Yiddishize us, which I didn't understand at the time was very much part of the post war diasporic Zionist project. But since my dad's death, my mum (who never spoke Yiddish, ever) has been learning it, and I've encountered more of it as I've delved into family history.
And, bah. I bounce like a ping pong ball between three poles:
The romantic: This was my family's language, and I'd learn so much about myself if I learned it, and also it was the language of the radicals and anarchists and communists, and I shouldn't be ashamed of its old worldiness.
The post war diasporic paradigm: This is the language of old people and gefilte fish 👎🏼, not young people and falafel 👍🏼
Aaaargh! Now I can't stop thinking about the Ashkenazi imbalance in Israel and in the world's perception of Judaism!
no subject
And, bah. I bounce like a ping pong ball between three poles:
tl;dr I overthink everything.