א חב"ד חסיד שרייבט אויף טוויטער וועגן דער בחור וואס האט זיך גענומן דאס לעבן יענער וואך
The first problem when speaking about shluchim's kids and their struggles is in the name itself: “shluchim’s kids.” A generalization. Implying that all children who grew up on shlichus have a very similar core, formative, and life experience. They do not.The divide is not between kids who grow up on shlichus and Lubavitch kids who do not. The major divide is between kids who grow up on shlichus without access to a frum community/cheder and everyone else. Yes, a kid who grew up on shlichus but went to school with other anash kids is significantly more similar to a kid who grew up in Crown Heights or in other anash communities than to a child who grew up on shlichus without said structure.Why? Because when you grow up without anash friends, the local kids who are supposed to be your friends are your customers. From a very young age, you’re “selling Judaism.” You’re an example to them. You can’t eat at their homes. You may not even go to their houses at all. So your friends -and it pains me to write this- are not your real friends. Yes, you play with them and laugh with them, but then they go home to their “real” lives, and you go home to yours. And the core values and experiences in those two homes don’t overlap, so really deep childhood friendships don’t form.And later, when you finally (!) go to yeshiva and are supposed to finally (!) be with “your people,” you realize that… you’re different. Sometimes very different. You don’t speak the same way (even if you speak the same language…), you have different mannerisms, and you might be interested in different things than them. Things that stood out about you and your personality, things that you tied your identity to at home, are non-things here in yeshiva, or worse—they’re bad or weird things.So you feel that you don’t really fit.You know that these are your people (some of them are your cousins!), but it’s supposed to flow; it’s supposed to feel like family, like home—but it doesn’t.You might have friends in yeshiva; you might even do well academically. But no one there (aside from maybe other kids who grew up in similar circumstances as you, but even that is not always the case) understands you.You’re a unique breed, and no one there dreams in your language.So, you’re homeless. You are alone. That in itself is painful, of course, but it’s also fertile ground for harassment, for bullying. And so it goes…And what makes matters worse is that you’re not “supposed to” feel this way. These are your people! We speak the same language, don’t we? We have the same goals, don’t we?Well, yes. And no.And as a young child, and later as a teenager, you can’t explain it. But you know it’s there. So it hurts.Some adapt quickly (I thankfully did), and some more slowly, and some never do. Even after they’re married and have kids, they don’t find “their place.” A “Chabad House community” is not really for them, but neither is an “Anash community.” So they’re homeless.So, what do we want? Although I know many who lived through the above, I can only speak for myself. I thankfully adapted (generally speaking), and the above is not a cause of distress in my life. But for many it is.So what do I want? Why am I sharing this? Because we need to acknowledge this in public. We need to have these conversations so shluchim can be aware of what their kids are going through and try to address it as only a parent can.We need to speak about this so educators can know that when they get a kid from Randomville, USA, to their yeshiva, he may look like Chaim from Chicago, but he’s very different.This is the silent price many of us pay for growing up on shlichus in remote communities. It’s time for it not to be silent anymore. It can save a life.
ענדליך קען איינער מודה זיין אז שליחות האט א פרייז, און דער רבי האט עס פארזען.
זיי וועלן זאגן אז דאס איז די בחינה פון 'בזבוז האוצרות' (א מושג וואס ער האט געזויגן פון פינגער) און נאר אזוי קומט מען צו נצחון. שוין, אבער זיי כאטש מודה אז עס קאסט א פרייז.
