Charedim face backlash in NYC
ON MONDAY 16 March, as New York City shut down in our wake, my boyfriend drove me to JFK airport. The streets by that point were pretty clear of people, as government edicts were telling people to stay home and “socially distance” themselves.
But as we drove across Brooklyn and into Queens, we saw a long line of pale, black-hatted Charedi men standing at a bus stop, in close proximity to one another. In an apartment complex a little further along the route, Orthodox women were milling around as if business were usual.
My boyfriend explained that these Jews were part of the Satmar dynasty, largely based in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where we had been staying.
Apparently, they were flouting urgent warnings about avoiding large gatherings during the coronavirus outbreak, and were congregating in shuls, yeshivahs and at funerals and bar mitzvahs. On Wednesday last week, the Fire Department were forced to break up a wedding party of 200. Andrew Cuomo, the governor of New York State, had banned meetings of more than 50 people just two days earlier.
Seeing the Orthodox out and about was especially surprising to me, as I had witnessed the rest of the City strongly react — over-react, it seemed at the time — to fears around the virus. In hindsight, of course, I was wrong.
My Norwegian Airlines flight had landed on the afternoon of Friday 13 March. This was after the ban on flights arriving from Europe, but just before the closure of UK flights. US Immigration was surprisingly empty, and there was fear in the eyes of workers, many of whom were wearing protective masks. Hardly anyone was in arrivals; my boyfriend insisted on meeting me in the car.
It felt like a regular (secular) Friday night at the hipster Hoxton Hotel, a few blocks from the Orthodox area of Wiliamsburg. However, by Saturday afternoon, the City was starting to feel strange. Despite the flight restrictions, there were no other rules in place at this point. My boyfriend and I went to Hudson Yards on Manhattan’s West Side — a huge, new mall full of designer shops and fancy restaurants — but it was practically empty. We had an urge to skateboard through the gleaming concourse.
In the gadget shop B8a there were 10 unemployed college-age kids (no customers) dancing to the Village People. We joined in — it felt like an End-Of-The-World Party.
When we went out for breakfast on
Sunday morning, alternative tables were laid to ensure distancing: the waitress told us about a new rule that restaurants could only operate at half-occupancy. Sure enough, at an Italian restaurant that night, the cops came in and counted how many din
Women were milling around as if business were usual’