Eugene weekly., February 01, 2018, Page 13, Image 13

I researched white supremacist groups and visited the
same sites that my husband frequented. After a month of
clicking on platforms that ranged from The Drudge Report
to The Daily Stormer and reading about the alleged takeover
of Illuminati Elite, my computer turned into a Nazi.
Up until then I hadn’t realized that my computer, like
me, was ethnically Jewish. The ads that normally filtered
through my Facebook feed were preoccupied with celebrity
gossip, yarn sales and timely reminders from Chabad.org
advising me to pre-order kosher lamb legs for Pesach.
As it turned out, becoming a Nazi was not unlike
catching a common virus like the flu, and then having it
spiral out of control as it hijacked your immune system
and ultimately your common sense. As I tried to retrace
my ex-husband’s descent into madness, my very Jewish
computer became an alt-right conspiracy theorist whose
new interests included obsessing over the “fake news” of
the far left and praising President Donald Trump’s (then
candidate Trump’s) candor and can-do promises which, as
of yet, remain largely unfulfilled.
Online advertisements included everything right of the
aisle, from saving unwed mothers to praying for the heart
of America, to religious church tours of the Holy Land,
promotional sales for Mylar bags (in what appeared to be
a far-sighted effort to prep for the inevitable reign of the
Anti-Christ), guns, guns, NRA ads and, yet again, more
guns, collector’s coins, how-to advice on hoarding gold
and book reviews for authors who re-envisioned history
“as it truly happened,” along with white-power graphic
tees that made the unabashed claim, “Hitler Was Right.”
MY EX-HUSBAND WASTED NO TIME RECRUITING
OTHERS to his ideological army. When his attempts to
lure long-time friends failed, he studied mesmerism and
surrounded himself with a posse of younger men, all of
whom fit a social profile: awkward, alienated, angry.
He loved-bombed them with my home-cooked food,
small gifts and, above all, lavished them with male
attention. He invited them to play video games and drink
beer, get high and, afterwards, when their defenses were
down, plied them with his ideas about God, race and
supremacy. He led meditations and taught them about male
chastity and other esoteric liturgies espoused by obscure
and fascistic occultists like Julius Evola.
Thirsty for a father figure, these young men lapped
up my husband’s teachings. Was it any surprise that his
ideological conquests had backgrounds flecked with
mental conditions such as Asperger’s, schizophrenia,
paranoia, depression and PTSD.
In one such case, my ex performed a Reiki-like energy
transfer on a devotee who was clinically diagnosed as a
schizophrenic with a history of attempted suicide. Whether
through a placebo effect or his hypnotic capabilities, he
was able to overcome the young man’s inhibitions. The
boy began to laugh hysterically and experienced what he
claimed was an overwhelming sense of joy, followed by
waves of peace.
This peace, however, did not last. The young man
returned to our house two weeks later, yet again on the
verge of killing himself. My ex’s response was swift and
harsh: He handed the boy a loaded semi-automatic pistol
and told him that, if he was really serious, he should quit
wasting everyone’s time and get it over with.
Where was I when these events occurred?
In the kitchen. Cooking. Like Bethany Sherman, I fed
the would-be army that my husband aspired to raise.
After the divorce I found myself in the rabbi’s office,
stunned with shame at my own self-betrayal — the
betrayal of my people, my identity, strength, logic and
moral compass. The rabbi was quick to point out that
my experience paralleled generations of conditioned
self-loathing that Jewry had appropriated from their host
countries in order to survive. But what was my excuse? I
had remained married to my husband out of love and not
by force.
PSYCHOLOGICALLY, I’D BEEN STOCKHOLMED ,
surrendering my will to the prevailing force within my
marriage. Although I was still responsible for the conces-
sion of my own power, I consigned myself to the sting
of my husband’s criticisms, which covered everything
from my weight and my heritage to my incompetence as
a housekeeper and, more pointedly, my failure to carry a
pregnancy to term.
The divorce came about in the same manner as the
marriage. He announced his intent to leave on email.
The majority of his family supported his decision on the
grounds that I was infertile and both a non-Christian and
a Jew.
I took these criticisms to heart until a pair of condoms
surfaced from inside his wallet, along with a string of
“sext” messages on my ex’s phone. He promptly moved to
Springfield and got engaged.
Eventually he relocated to another state with a new wife
in tow.
As my marriage came crashing down, I was left to sort
through the rubble of lies that once disguised the insanity
of the man I called “husband.” There isn’t a day I don’t
wake up wondering what I could have done to stave off
his descent into white power radicalism. I’ve spent hours
trying to understand why he married me, a Jew, only to
become a Nazi apologist.
But there are no easy answers. Even as I write this,
mutual friends apprise me of his ongoing efforts to draw in
and proselytize others into his fold.
In the wake of Trump’s ascension to the Oval Office
The Wayne Morse Public Affairs Speaker Series Presents:
America First?: Isolationism and Global
Engagement in Historical Perspective
Join us for a presentation by Christopher Nichols, director of
the Oregon State University Center for the Humanities.
February 6, 2018 - 6:30 pm
175 Knight Law Center, 1515 Agate St.
waynemorsecenter.uoregon.edu
I struggled with the shame of my marriage and the
infinitesimal but acute link that tied my past to a man that
became a white supremacist.
Some of my Facebook acquaintances exposed my guilt.
Why hadn’t I left my racist husband long ago? I was guilty
of supporting Nazism through marriage. They reasoned
that I, like Melania Trump, carried a shared culpability.
They told me that, if I frequented the coffee shop where
they worked, I would be refused service due to my prior
marital association with a Nazi.
Fortunately the ostracizing I faced wasn’t universal. My
community of friends, accrued through synagogues and
knitting bees, welcomed me with open arms. I cried my eyes
out, face down on the bed of my acupuncturist and on the
sofas of several therapists who listened without judgment. I
made friends who didn’t shun me for my bizarre and frightful
association with a Nazi, or scoff as I struggled through the
self-hate that I’d been schooled in for the past six years.
It was a slow process of re-education — one that keeps
occurring every day.
No one is safe from their own predilection for power,
love, meaning and, above all, acceptance. I loved my
then-husband and wanted his acceptance. My ex-husband
wanted power, and accrued a following of needy individuals
seeking answers but, above all, a sense of significance.
The truth, with a lowercase t, is that there isn’t much
difference between the desires of humanity on the alt-right
and the far-left, among Nazis, Jews or my knitting circle.
The desire to be a participant in something greater than
oneself is a formidable urge embedded within every human
being, regardless of his or her religion, race or creed.
The need to be safe in numbers, to harness the
unpredictability of life, to understand invisible forces
beyond one’s control drives modern man, as it did the
hominids from which we evolved.
What would I have done if my community — my
neighbors, friends and relations — had abandoned me to
the abysmal emptiness of the hatred I’d come to endure?
When I read about Bethany Sherman's holing up
with Jacob Laskey and Jimmy Marr, my heart aches for
her and especially for her children, who are vulnerable
to indoctrination now more than ever. I’m filled with a
mixture of anger and compassion that I’ve often leveled
at myself: anger at an intelligent woman who should know
better — and compassion for someone who has surrendered
her strength to an organization that does not have her best
interests at heart.
All I can manage to do is shake my head in recognition.
That could have been my name in the headlines. She could
have been me. “There go I, but for grace.” ■
The identities of the writer and her ex-husband have been concealed
to protect the writer, her family and the community. Jacob Laskey was
recently arrested on charges of assaulting an acquaintance with a knife.
Refugees and Asylum Seekers: Historical
Context and Contemporary Issues in the
Trump Era
featuring Karen Musalo, professor of law and director of the
Center for Gender & Refugee Studies, Hastings College of
Law. This event is free and open to the public.
It is part of the Immigration Law and Policy 2018 conference,
which continues Feb. 9.
February 8, 7:00 pm
175 Knight Law Center, 1515 Agate St.
waynemorsecenter.uoregon.edu
eugeneweekly.com • February 1, 2018
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