pygmallion syndrome

Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power, 11: 65–87, 2004

Copyright © Taylor & Francis, Inc.

ISSN: 1070-289X print / 1547-3384 online

DOI: 10.1080/10702890425162

The ‘Pygmalion Syndrome’: The Case of MizrachiLesbians in Israel

Liora Gvion

The Kibbutzim College of Education Tel-Aviv

Tel-Aviv, Israel

Diana Luzzatto

The Academic College of Tel-Aviv-Yaffo

Tel-Aviv, Israel

This article examines the mobilization of a lesbian identity in Israeli society by Mizrachi

lesbians as a means to reach individual mobility through establishing social contacts

with educated well-off professional Ashkenazi women. Based on interviews with ethnic

lesbians living in steady relationships with educated professional women of the domi-

nant group and with some of their partners, this study investigates how Mizrachi lesbi-

ans shoulder aside their distinctive features while mobilizing their lesbian identity as a

means to establish connections, gain acceptance in the lesbian community, get better

jobs, and succeed in schooling. Upon both professional and personal success, Mizrachi

lesbians come to terms with their origins, redefine their identity components, and form

a distinctive ethnic-lesbian identity to be supported with a strong ideology. While the

obliteration of ethnic traits in favor of acceptance in the lesbian community allows

mobility on a personal basis, it reinforces the invisibility of ethnic lesbians and repro-

duces the power relations between dominant and ethnic groups in Israel.

Key Words: Mizrachi lesbians, lesbian community, individual mobility, oppositional

consciousness, Israel

This study focuses on relationships between socially constructed ethnic identities

and sexual orientations as manifested among young Mizrachi (North African and

Asian-origin Jews) lesbians in Israeli society, engaged in long-term intimate rela-

tionships with Ashkenazi (European-origin Jews) partners. Upon socializing with

middle-class professional Ashkenazi women, a lesbian identity becomes a vehicle

to individual upward mobility among Mizrachi lesbians. Long-term intimate rela-

tionships with Ashkenazi upper-middle-class/educated women nourish among

Mizrachi partners the belief that their sexual orientation frees them from the need

to negotiate their position along ethnic hierarchies. Individual mobility is inter-

preted as an indication that the lesbian community is open to cultural differences

65

L. Gvion and D. Luzzatto66

and ‘otherness,’ expressing a multicultural frame of thought. However, Mizrachi

are accepted only as individuals, preventing the crystallization of a polycentric

multiculturalism. Once they reach success, some re-interpret their ethnic roots;

however, no oppositional consciousness is developed at a collective level.

Deconstructing ‘great’ collective identities

A growing body of literature calls to bring race back into the study of gender and

sexuality, as race-class-gender are conjoined systems of belief about identity, in-

equality, and cultural hierarchies. Scholars such as Sandoval (1991), Smith (1995),

Blackwood (2000), and Harrison (1995) emphasize the existence of new subtle

forms of racial oppression. However, only a few scholars discuss ways in which

ethnic groups in general and ethnic women in particular may be accepted by hege-

monic communities as individuals, functioning in their peripheries, failing to de-

velop oppositional consciousness (Stam and Shohat 1994; Shohat 2001). Collins

(1990) points to the need to situate the location of African-American women in

relation to community organizations in order to understand the way they are posi-

tioned within specific communities and localities. By studying the position of

Mizrachi lesbians in the urban environment, our findings show that acceptance to

the lesbian community masks subtle racism as it wraps Mizrachi lesbians within

layers of ‘intimacy’ and ‘support,’ shouldering aside racial hierarchies.

The failure to develop oppositional consciousness emerges from the lack of suc-

cess of the subject positions to acknowledge that identities, as ‘essential’ entities,

are constructed by the dominant discourse and across the silence of ‘others.’ The

‘other’ is an inscribed homogenized category that can only be known from a place

from which ‘one’ stands (Hall 2000; Harrison 1995; Sandoval 1991; Lorde 1984;

McClintock 2000). Identity, as a concept, constructs boundaries between those who

belong and those who do not, between those whose histories are written and those

whose histories can only be spoken in the language of the dominant group (Shohat

1991, 2001). Our findings show that, between a lesbian and a Mizrachi identity, our

informants give major priority to the lesbian one, which is a common feature of

both the hegemonic and the oppressed groups within the lesbian community.

Ethnic groups, then, are dynamic social constructs, which constantly change

and therefore need ongoing re-evaluation (Smith 1997; Eriksen 1997; Van den

Berghe 1984; Shohat 2001; Aronoff 1998). According to Hall (2000), the increas-

ing diversity in cultural identities and social experiences, well visible in Western

societies, can no longer be analyzed and discussed in fixed racial categories. Thus,

Omi and Winant (1994) demonstrate that the meaning of collective identities and

boundaries is continuously negotiated, limited and shaped by political institutions,

immigration policies, and ethnically linked resource policies. Following scholars

(Goldberg 1994; Stam and Shohat 1994, Shohat 2001; Dyer 1993; Stoler 2000)

who seek to deconstruct racial, ethnic, and dominant identities, we aim to contrib-

ute to the integration of ethnic relations into the colonialist and feminist discourse.

The “Pygmalion Syndrome” 67

The works of Fanon (1967), Said (1978), Mudimbe (1994), Coombes (1994),

and Appiah (1992) brought forward the issue of racial ideologies and practices

during the colonial period and their impact on the formation of national identities.

Their emphasis on the perpetuation of a Western-colonial mode of thought, as

opposed to the discourse carried out by the oppressed themselves, emphasized the

inevitable relationship between personal and collective experiences. The ‘other’

was seen as a homogeneous primitive category (Gilman 1991: 20; Said 1978) whose

dominant senses are touch and the absence of any aesthetic sensibility. Studying

racial attitudes in Victorian society, Lorimer (1978) examined the similarities in

attitudes among middle class tourists who traveled in East London, Egypt, and

India, who sought the primitive and the exotic. By giving priority to their sexual

orientation over their ethnic identity, Mizrachi lesbians fragment the homogeneous

vision of the Mizrachi.

The discourse on colonialism raised other related sets of questions dealing with

the changing patterns of identity politics within the context of increasing cultural

and social diversity. Mercer (2000) linked identity to debates about postmodernism

and issues of contradictions within identity politics. Studying mixed urban envi-

ronments, Keith (2000) explored the emergence and strengthening of place-based

identities, such as urban settings, which provided an organizing theme for stories

of race to be studied in order to map emerging conceptions about racism. How-

ever, such stories among Mizrachi lesbians are mobilized only upon visiting their

families and are not practiced as part of their daily experience for two reasons.

First, the dominance of the lesbian identity component requires adopting the ma-

jor features of the hegemonic lesbian culture. Second, the strong commitment to

the melting pot assumption shoulders aside the importance and authenticity of

race stories. The increasing diversity in cultural identities and social experiences,

as well as the understanding of identity as part of a narrative and a kind of repre-

sentation, further promoted a discourse on the politics of race and the validity of

anti-discrimination policies. It was claimed that these politics fully ignored all

possible linkages between class, gender, and race in structuring and shaping ev-

eryday experience (Steinberg 2000; Crenshaw 2000). For instance, Zavella (1997),

studying Chicana cannery workers, showed that low status and low wages rein-

force women’s traditional role in Chicano families. By developing romantic at-

tachments with Ashkenazi women, Mizrachi lesbians seek to avoid the traditional

female family roles that are so common in their communities of origins.

The call to enhance multiculturalism allows the challenging of Western domi-

nation by allowing alternative forms of knowledge and modes of thought to pen-

etrate the hegemonic hierarchy of knowledge (Goldberg 1994; Hartsock 1983).

Multiculturalism, according to Shohat (2001), criticizes Euro-centrism as a para-

digmatic model that sees the world as divided into two distinct categories—West-

ern and the others, where Western is the center of the world. The concept

‘multiculturalism’ is open to different interpretations. The neo-liberal ‘pluralistic’

view aims to co-opt and represent other cultures as an exotic decoration, thus pre-

serving power relationships: this study shows clearly that Mizrachi lesbians are

co-opted into the Ashkenazi culture and expected to give up certain aspects of

their cultural capital, adopting a new set of symbols and signs. Critical polycentric

multiculturalism, on the other hand, aims to reconstruct power relationships be-

tween hegemonic and ‘minority’ communities. It links various forms of oppres-

sion exercised in different spaces and historical periods (Shohat 2001).

The notion of multiculturalism further coincides with the understanding of iden-

tity as cultural and emerging from personal as well as collective experiences. Ques-

tions about the construction of experience, educational achievements, and lan-

guage policies call for the return of authenticity and the changing of the politics of

signs and their acquired meanings (McLaren 1994; Lima and Lima 1998;

Constantine and Faltis 1998; Rex 1997; Eldering 1998). Simultaneously, the

multicultural perspective allows the refreshing of both ethnic and hegemonic cul-

tures and their exposure to the general public. This makes it possible for groups to

create new narratives that relate their contemporary identities with their histories

and relocate them in broader cultural contexts that recognize ethnic diversity (Stam

and Shohat 1994; Shohat 2001).

The notion of fragmented identities makes it possible to study Mizrachi lesbi-

ans as a social category with distinctive features, a group that could not be fitted

into traditional categories. Our study shows social identities as texts that emerge

out of a blending of sequential contexts, which is how Mizrachi lesbians can estab-

lish a distinctive identity in their own personal space and time limit. First they

come out of the closet, change their geographical settings, and define themselves

as lesbians. Second, they are socialized by an Ashkenazi lover into the lesbian

culture and equipped with new cultural tools not accessible to Mizrachi lower-

class heterosexual women. Once romantically involved and well integrated into

the lesbian community, it becomes possible for Mizrachi lesbians to redefine their

ethnic identity.

The social construction of a lesbian-ethnic identity

The discourse on colonialism has shaped the discourse on gender and sexuality by

viewing race, class, and gender as conjoined systems of belief about identity and

inequality (Smith 1995), rather than competitive forms of oppression. They are

linked and mutually reinforced through Western cultural precepts about race-class-

gender hierarchies. In addition, ethnic women often do not fit the vision of wom-

anhood created in contrast to that of manhood (Spivak 1993; Young 1995; Street

1992) and often are seen as sexually promiscuous (Bryson 1999; Carby 1992;

West 2000). Analyzing case studies of women’s same-sex relations in ethnic groups

in nonwestern societies Blackwood (2000) illuminates the particular sociocultural

processes constructing sexuality. Particularly relevant is her analysis of the infu-

sion of transnational gay discourse into the lives of tomboys in West Sumatra.

Moving between urban and rural areas, these individuals confront urban gay and


lesbian identities that they negotiate and claim in hybrid ways. Thus, the politics

of identity become even more complex when sexualities are involved, as ethnic,

class, and gender identities meet sexual identities.

While anthropology seeks to deconstruct gender and sexual identities through

cross-cultural studies, Queer Theory aims to deconstruct sexual categories domi-

nant in Western society, claiming that these are determined by factors such as race,

gender, and ethnicity. For instance, de Lauretis (1991) sees ‘queer’ as a concept

signifying a critical distance from the couple ‘gay and lesbian.’ Pointing to the

need to deconstruct monolithic identities such as ‘lesbian’ and ‘gay,’ Samuels (1999)

suggests that ‘queer’ could also be seen as a more encompassing concept, in oppo-

sition to normal—rather than heterosexual—thus implying that normalization, in

its larger meaning, is the site of the oppressive discourse. Thus, Weston (1991)

argues that gay family strategy can be a queer one, in that it attacks the gender

requirements of normative family forms. There is no hierarchy of oppressions: all

forms of oppression, such as racism, sexism, and heterosexism, share the same

root (Smith 1983b; Lorde 1983).

Our informants’ adoption of the binary divisions between heterosexual women

and lesbians gives priority to sexual identity over race and class. In addition, orga-

nizations aiming to empower racially subjected groups use the same binary divi-

sions between Mizrachi and Ashkenazi, thus reinforcing institutionalized homog-

enization. Similarly, feminist organizations in the ‘queer’ community use the con-

cept of ‘lesbian,’ thus creating pressure for women who see themselves as bisexu-

als to give up hetero-oriented components of their identity (Rust 1995; Ault 1996).

While the adoption of dichotomy categories aims at stressing common oppression

and enhancing empowerment by creating a large politically influential community,

it casts aside individual and group differences, both between those who are defined

and define themselves as Mizrachi and those defining themselves as lesbians.

A further expression of dichotomy is seen in intimate relationships within the

gay/lesbian community, which tend to strengthen existing ethnic and gender hierar-

chies. Research on intimate relationships between gay men sees aspects such as

exploitation and eroticisation of the ethnic (in Fanon’s [1967] words, ‘colonization

of desire’) as an integral part of the interaction (Aldrich 1996; Patience 1996; Jack-

son 1994; Chuang 1999; Sullivan and Jackson 1999; Pegues 1998; Hagland 1998).

Black is referred to a variety of nonwhite, becoming a voiceless entity (Epstein

1992; Simmonds 1997). As women and as nonwhite, ethnic lesbians are also objects

of multiple oppressions and exploitation by whites (Hammonds 1997; The Combahee

River Collective 1979; Segal 1994; Davis 1981; Bryson 1999; Burstin 1999).

Autobiographic writing, on the other hand, often idealizes intimate relation-

ships between women as providing love and support (Brant 2000; Brossard 2000;

Meigs 2000; Scrivens 2000). Such idealization characterizes same-sex romantic

relations as described by our informants. They believe that ‘love’ between women

is essentially different than ‘love’ between men because it is more supportive and

caring. This is one of the factors that reproduce and strengthen false consciousness


and the obliteration of ethnically based power relations within Ashkenazi–Mizrachi

lesbian couples.

A constructionist discussion of multiple identities must take into account their

alternative visibility and negotiations that are conducted in specific contexts (Phillips

1998; Brant 2000; Tanigawa 1998; Takagi 1996; Fung 1995). Mootoo (2000: 110)

refers to her writing experience as a ‘way of permission . . . Permission to exist as

a woman, a woman of color, as a lesbian, within—not on the out-side of—the

everyday world of society.’ Gomez (2000) describes the difficult process she un-

derwent to develop a consciousness as a woman and as a lesbian of color and to

find a political movement where she could belong.

This article shows how our informants, when forced to cope with their multiple

identities, have difficulties finding an organization that would suit their needs.

They claim that lesbian feminist organizations leave Mizrachi lesbians in a mar-

ginal position, while Mizrachi organizations marginalize lesbians.

Mizrachi Jews in Israel

From 1948 to 1979, about 750,000 Mizrachi Jews immigrated to the Jewish state

dominated by an Ashkenazi population. Mizrachi Jews were channeled to lower

status occupations, enabling Ashkenazi to move up in the labor market, and the

former came to occupy the lower stratum of Israeli society (Cohen and Haberfeld

1998; Shapiro 1993; Ben-Rafael and Sharot 1991; Eisenstadt 1985; Lisak 1996;

Swirski 1989, 1990). Mizrachi Jews mostly settled in cooperative villages, devel-

opment towns, and lower class peripheral neighborhoods, which further prevented

them from obtaining quality education and access to white-collar jobs (Smooha

1992; Semionov and Kraus 1993). Ayalon (1992), Semionov and Lerental (1993),

and Swirski (1990) have examined the low quality of schooling in neighborhoods

and towns in which Mizrachi Jews live. Cohen and Haberfeld (1998) claim that

although gaps in education have narrowed in the last ten years, Ashkenazi Jews

still obtain higher academic degrees, at a younger age, and as a result get better

jobs.

Certain mobility was experienced through politics. Young Mizrachi leaders

advanced mostly through the municipalities of their hometowns. A number of them

were elected for mayor—a position that later on enabled them to win a seat in the

Israeli parliament (Smooha 1992; Herzog 1986). The presence of Mizrachi Jews

in politics promoted collective action among the second and third generations of

Mizrachi immigrants. They started defining Mizrachi as a major component of

their identity and developing an ethnic consciousness (Tzfati 1999).

Given these developments, it was our assumption that Mizrachi lesbians would

mobilize political organizations and accumulated experience in order to win ac-

ceptance in the lesbian community. Yet our findings indicate that the crystalliza-

tion of a lesbian identity has become a necessary milestone in the route of Mizrachi

lesbians toward their ethnic identities.


Lesbians in Israel: from invisibility to empowerment

Tel Aviv underwent fast changes in attitudes toward gay culture and toward insti-

tutional ties between the gay community and the political establishment. For in-

stance, a Mizrachi lesbian has recently been elected to serve as senior member of

the municipality in Tel Aviv. Major changes also are taking place in legal areas.

Lately, a lesbian couple won the support of the Supreme Court in order to register

their natural offspring as having two mothers. Legal actions against sexual dis-

crimination on behalf of homosexuals have increased as well.

As part of this trend, lesbian organizations have accelerated their activities,

with the support of feminist and academic organizations. There are three major

lesbian organizations: ‘Klaf,’ ‘Shirazi,’ and ‘Kvisa Shehora.’ Klaf’s activities fo-

cus on conferences, publications, workshops, support groups, and hotlines. Shirazi

focuses on leisure activities, such as parties. Kivsa Shechora aims to empower the

politically disadvantaged in Israel and centers on political demonstrations. Edu-

cated, older, and Ashkenazi lesbians tended to participate in the activities con-

ducted by Klaf. Shirazi appealed mostly to younger Mizrachi lesbians. While most

of our informants participated in activities organized by the first two organiza-

tions, none of them was affiliated with Kvisa Shechora at the time of the research.

Among other objections, they mentioned the paradox of an ethnic-lesbian organi-

zation having many Ashkenazi leaders. This finding is reminiscent of studies of

hegemonic white women’s movements that appropriated colored women’s experi-

ence (Moraga and Anzaldua 1983; Smith 1983a).

Methodology

This study was conducted from June 2001 through July 2002, through detailed

interviews with thirty-four Mizrachi lesbians, aged twenty-five to thirty-four, who

have been living out of the closet (that is, publicly acknowledging their sexual

orientation) for at least three years, and with nine of their girlfriends. All of our

Mizrachi informants declared their lesbian identity as a major feature of their adult

life. They were all involved in relationships with an Ashkenazi woman for at least

a year. While only thirteen of them had higher education and seven were students,

all Ashkenazi girlfriends were college graduates.

One of the researchers teaches courses on gender and sexualities, is active in

the field of women rights, and actively supports the gay/lesbian community. The

other teaches courses on racism and ethnicity and is active on campus in organiz-

ing institutional support for minorities. Recruitment of informants was attained

through professional and activism channels. All informants were fully aware of

the researchers’ ethnic origins and sexual orientations.

All interviews were open. Informants were asked some general biographical

questions referring to their personal histories as lesbians and Mizrachi. When and

under what circumstances did they first encounter their lesbian orientation? How

did they meet their Ashkenazi girlfriend? How did family members react to both


their coming out of the closet and to their Ashkenazi girlfriend? Did they view

their Mizrachi and/or lesbian identities as obstacles to their professional life?

Then we held an open conversation in which we asked about major identity

components as well as about social ties and intimate relationships. All components

were listed and compared to those mentioned by peers, which allowed us to trace

major milestones in the recruitment of a lesbian identity for the formation of social

ties with Ashkenazi women. Our pilot indicated Mizrachi lesbians spontaneously

mentioned their relationships with Ashkenazi women and believed that if they

were heterosexual comparable relationships might have not been available.

In the next stage, we introduced a series of questions regarding social ties fol-

lowing their coming out of the closet and the passage from heterosexual relation-

ships and identity to lesbian identity and relationships. It should be noted that no

informant questioned the ‘essential’ nature of the concepts ‘Mizrachi’ and ‘les-

bian.’ Four major features characterize the process, through which our informants

assign priority to the sexual component of their identity over the ethnic compo-

nent, thus reinforcing ethnic hierarchies in Israeli society. First, both Mizrachi and

Ashkenazi women claim that a lesbian identity provides the former access to so-

cial circles not accessible to heterosexual Mizrachi women. Second, Mizrachi

women tend to attribute success mostly to their looks and personal qualifications.

Third, intimate relationships with Ashkenazi women enhance personal ambitions

and aspirations among Mizrachi lesbians, regarding education and income. Fi-

nally, once establishing the benefits of a lesbian identity, many Mizrachi re-appro-

priate their origins and acknowledge their oppressed ethnic identity.

Access to social circles

Due to geographical isolation, lower educational achievements, and limited eco-

nomic resources, heterosexual Mizrachi women have access to limited social circles

and are often expected to enter a traditional female role set. Being both Mizrachi

and lesbian facilitates access to social circles inaccessible to their heterosexual peers.

Simcha grew up in a development town in Galilee with six siblings. After fin-

ishing her military service, she admitted to herself that she was a lesbian and moved

to Tel Aviv. She worked as a beautician during the day and as a waitress during the

night. Later on, she went to college and studied physical education. Nowadays she

works both as a schoolteacher and a personal coach. Simcha attributes access to

social circles to her being a lesbian:

If I weren’t a lesbian I would never have been a friend with Mayana. Do you think

she would have played volleyball with me on a regular basis? Inviting me to dinner

parties at her house? Never! I could have been her hairdresser. I would still live in my

hometown and been married to David my boyfriend from high school.

Naomi grew up in a lower class Yemenite neighborhood. She was the youngest

of six children. Her family did not reject her lesbian identity, which she attributed


to a resistance pattern suggested by her mother who was married to a man that had

two wives in Yemen. Her mother believed that living with a woman would save

her daughter the agony of watching her husband looking for a second wife. How-

ever, Naomi felt uncomfortable living as a lesbian in a traditional environment

where her orientation might have been tolerated but not fully accepted:

After the army I came to Tel Aviv. I worked in all these jobs, you know, cleaning and

waitressing. I started going to pubs to meet women. If I weren’t a lesbian I wouldn’t

have come to Tel Aviv. I know that for sure. It was this knowledge that in the big city

I could meet women like me and be myself, which gave me a lot of courage.

Naomi and Simcha admit that being a lesbian both forced and enabled them to

make a change in their lives. Although Naomi doesn’t date Mizrachi women, she

doesn’t draw connections between her dating patterns and ethnicity:

I dated mostly Ashkenazi women. It is not that I was looking for them or they were

looking for me. They didn’t tell me I was exotic, something that heterosexual men

always said. I think it has to do with my personality, with me being a close and caring

friend.

Simcha and Naomi, like many others, had to leave their communities of origin

and change geographical settings in order to fully realize their sexual orientation.

Upon coming, they further learned that, as opposed to an ethnic identity, being

lesbian embedded secondary rewards, such as associating with women with a so-

ciological profile otherwise not accessible. This process further reinforced the les-

bian identity and undermined the ethnic component.

Physical appearance and personal qualifications

Ethnics are often viewed as objects of sexual desire, as stereotypically exotic and

as sexual icons. The looks of the ethnic are a major means to establish interaction,

one that could often lead to exploitation. Our informants did not negate the notion

that their particular looks could have helped them to attract women. They claimed

their physical appearance to be helpful in initiating interaction, yet none of them

felt exploited or prevented from establishing long-term relationships. “It could be

my appearance” was often mentioned, when asked what made their relationships

possible. Talia, a receptionist at a law firm, says:

I think that most of my girlfriends were Ashkenazi because I am good-looking and

can play the game right. My first same-sex sexual experience was with another Mo-

roccan girl from the neighborhood. She was the same type as me, so my looks didn’t

impress her.

Dark skin and hair were major means to attract Ashkenazi women (who gener-

ally are fair). Lili, a physical education teacher who grew up in the south of the


country, illustrates the role of the look:

I think my looks made it easier for me. I know I am a kusit (good looking and sexy).

Both men and women always say my skin looks like chocolate. I know my job, I can

play the game and it helps me to get the women I want.

Riki, who grew up in Tel Aviv, is currently completing a degree in social sci-

ence and making her living waiting in a popular bar. She tells us about a conversa-

tion she had with an exgirlfriend.

It was only after we broke up that she mentioned the fact that she picked me up

because of my dark looks. I was hurt at first but then admitted to myself that men did

the same thing.

Both Riki and Lili acknowledge a popular belief about a ‘Mizrachi look’ and

the mobilization of appearance as a means to establish relationships, to gain friend-

ship and acceptance. However, not all our informants perceive the ‘exotic look’ as

a resource. Some of them see this perspective as legitimizing an offensive Ashkenazi

view of the ‘exotic-eroticized other.’ Aware of the stigmatic meaning attached to a

typical Mizrachi look, others distance themselves from it. Lilach, a twenty-three-

year-old social work student, grew up in a town where most inhabitants were

Mizrachi. Her father was a well-known politician and she herself was active in a

gay–lesbian organization. When we asked to interview her she answered:

I am afraid I will disappoint you, I neither look nor act Mizrachi. It is only when I say

my last name that people realize my origins. I cannot talk about me being a typical

Mizrachi but I can tell you a lot about Mizrachi lesbians.

Lilach could dissociate herself from the Mizrachi look because her family back-

ground provided alternative resources and possibilities, unlike most of our infor-

mants. She chose to identify herself with the middle class rather than with her ethnic

group, as the former provided a more prestigious identity. Another way to dissociate

from ethnic roots is to take upon oneself the identity of an Ashkenazi parent. For

instance, Tamar, a twenty-four-year-old business management student, says:

I don’t consider myself Mizrachi. You see my mother is Ashkenazi. I am only half

Mizrachi; in my previous relationship with a Mizrachi woman I was considered the

Ashkenazi.

Lilach and Tamar point to an interesting interplay between class, ethnic iden-

tity, and appearance. Coming from a middle-class family, as in the case of Lilach,

or having an Ashkenazi parent makes it possible to deny Mizrachi identity and

leave it as a matter of choice. A class-based identity and a touch of Ashkenazi

biography allow for the undermining of Mizrachi origins. Lower-class Mizrachi


lesbians, on the other hand, are left with their looks and sexual orientation as major

resources for establishing social relationships.

Our informants further attribute their personal and professional success to their

deeds and abilities. They create a hierarchy of identity components according to

which a major emphasis is placed on one’s responsibility for one’s destiny. Second

is the lesbian component, perceived as an asset that enables the breaking of tradi-

tional ties and tasks. Only third is the ethnic identity toward which there is certain

ambivalence and is often perceived as an obstacle to be overcome.

The emphasis on personal attributes for the road to success focuses on the no-

tion that a democratic society promotes individuals based on their achievements

and merits. Accepting this ideological perception prevents our informants from

challenging and criticizing existing opportunity structures and from developing an

ethnic consciousness. They all believe that it is due to their personal qualifications

that women are attracted to them.

Lizi grew up in a development town until she fell in love with a heterosexual

cashier at the local supermarket. Unable to realize a relationship, she moved to Tel

Aviv and slowly came out of the closet. She has been living in Tel Aviv for four

years with her Ashkenazi girlfriend. She studied at a teacher’s college and taught

at a primary school. Lizi was the first in her family to have graduated from high

school and have gone to college. When asked to what extent did the relationship in

which she was involved affect her educational achievements, she said, “It’s me; it

has nothing to do with who my friends are. I always knew that I would go to

college and live a different life than my family.” When asked at what point did she

decide to go to college she said:

My waiting job helped me make a living during my first year in Tel Aviv and meet

women.

Q: Would they become your friend if you were not a lesbian?

A: Being a lesbian has nothing to do with it. It is my personality. This is why they

were attracted to me.

Ziva, who works as a personal coach at a health club, supports Lizi’s observation:

It was through my job that I met women. They didn’t care where I came from and

what I did for my living. They all said I was nice and fun to be with. It is my abilities

that matter.

Both Lizi and Ziva attribute personal mobility to their talents and traits rather

than to the social circles acquired through their sexual orientation. They believe it

is due to their motivation and hard work that they have managed what they per-

ceive to be a successful career.

Mizrachi lesbians acknowledge the existence of an ethnic conflict in Israeli

society and are aware that chances for mobility are lower for Mizrachi women.

However, they claim that they neither experienced such conflict nor suffered from


it. Miri, who works as a house cleaner and studies behavioral sciences at the uni-

versity, disregards ethnic conflict as a significant feature in her own life:

Everybody knows about discrimination but I never experienced it. When I decided to

study I just did. There are also Ashkenazi women who make their living cleaning

because the pay is good and the hours are flexible.

Tali adds, “It is a thing of the past. My parents and grandparents suffered discrimi-

nation. Nowadays it no longer exists.”

Overall, these women disassociate themselves from the Mizrachi collective ex-

perience, bringing forward their personal biographic interpretation. A personal dis-

association is possible because, upon entering the lesbian community, they switch

reference groups. From looking at their past experience in peripheral areas, Mizrachi

lesbians look at other lesbians as significant others and imitate their lifestyle.

Moreover, living as a lesbian in a ‘social bubble’ minimizes the consequences of

ethnic conflict. Yet some hide their ethnicity, perceiving it as a barrier to be over-

come by personal characteristics. Dina, a television production assistant, claims,

“When I first started, I would pass for an Ashkenazi. But now I no longer hide my

Mizrachi origins. I know I am good at my job.”

Lital, a dental assistant, adds, “I had to be better than others. It was hard but I

did it and now I get the jobs I want.”

These statements classify the Mizrachi lesbians into two categories: the suc-

cessful and the others. They allow our informants to avoid referring to the ethnic

collective experience. By seeing success as an individual project rather than a

social one, they refrain from challenging power relations in Israeli society and, in

so doing, reproduce the conditions of the conflict.

‘All of a sudden all the gates opened’

Intimate relationships with Ashkenazi women enhance professional and financial

aspirations among Mizrachi lesbians. Ashkenazi women push their mates to study

and establish a professional career, an encouragement of major importance espe-

cially when the Mizrachi partner is the first in her family to have gone to college.

Eti grew up in a lower-class neighborhood in Tel Aviv. Her parents and siblings

were manual laborers. Eti was the only one in her family to graduate from high

school and pursue her academic studies. It was not until she reached her mid-

twenties that she took upon a lesbian identity. Until then, she was mostly dating

men, one of whom she almost married. Her intimate encounters with women were

limited and upon the mate’s initiation only. As long as she was dating men, she

was working as a receptionist at a big newspaper. Meeting Rachel, a graduate

student and a part-time employee in a high-tech company, changed her life:

Rachel was the one who told me I should go to college and do something with my

life. She used to spend part of the evening reading and writing papers while I was


watching T.V. She made me realize I was capable to succeed in college and become

a professional. My last boy friend, the one I almost married, would have never sug-

gested that.

Aspirations extend to status symbols, dressing codes, and changes in appear-

ance to achieve a self-presentation considered more suitable for successful women.

When Sima met Shirley, she used to dress like a Freha (the Hebrew word for

bimbo), wearing mini skirts and tiny shirts, heavy make up and nail polish. Shirley

slowly succeeded in changing her taste into the mainstream of lesbian chic, namely

laced sport shoes, low-cut and large pants, very light make up (if at all), and an up-

to-date haircut (Luzzatto and Gvion 2004). Sima was grateful to Shirley for intro-

ducing her to an alternative dressing style that she felt enhanced her acceptance by

Ashkenazi lesbian circles: “Shirley never said she would not walk the streets with

me the way I was dressed, but it was understood that once we were together I had

to adjust.” Commenting on Sima’s remarks, Shirley does not feel guilty for chang-

ing her girlfriend’s dressing style:

I never said I did not like her way of dressing. I would say things such as ‘this shirt

fits you, you should wear these kinds of shirts’ and she started changing her style. I

think she fully realized how badly she was dressed when I first introduced her to my

parents. When we went home she suddenly said ‘can you imagine what your parents

would have though if I came to their house wearing the kind of cloths I wore when

we first met?’

In this example, we see not only an Ashkenazi girlfriend introducing her Mizrachi

partner to the rules of etiquette; she also facilitates the coming to terms of Mizrachi

parents with the lesbian identity of their daughter. The Mizrachi parents perceive

having an Ashkenazi ‘daughter–in-law’ as if their daughter is experiencing social

mobility. They believe their daughter to be on route to a professional identity and

on her way to success, otherwise not accessible. Limor, a thirty-five-year-old swim-

ming teacher, tells us about her mother’s reaction to her Ashkenazi girlfriend:

My mother adored Sarah. Whenever I told her we were coming she would cook all

her favorite dishes. She would never do it for me. She never said it but it was obvious

she wanted me to be like her.

Ronit had a similar experience:

My mother always loved my girlfriends. She said they were nice, polite, and differ-

ent from the women in my neighborhood, someone to look at and learn from.

Our informants mentioned the fact that an Ashkenazi girlfriend often facilitated

parents’ acceptance of their sexual orientation. The parents in general and the mother

in particular saw the Ashkenazi girlfriend as a daughter-in-law. Rivka described

her mother’s reaction:


When she met Shira it was easier for her to accept the fact I was a lesbian. She called

her ‘my daughter in law’ and she felt honored that a lawyer from a good family loved

her daughter.

An Ashkenazi daughter-in-law could further ease the issue of grandchildren.

Dating well-educated women implied that her own daughter would be able to have

her own kids and support them. Mazi had a sister who died in a car accident when

she was newly wed:

My mother feared that once I came out of the closet I wouldn’t have kids. She wanted

grandchildren, especially after my sister died. My girlfriend’s mother is a well-off

social worker. She would support us emotionally as well as financially. My mom was

relieved to learn that her grandchildren would be well off.

It is possible to conclude that Mizrachi lesbians change their lifestyle upon

meeting an Ashkenazi girlfriend. Such a change does not make them feel deprived

of their culture, but rather as gaining entrance into the Ashkenazi culture. Ashkenazi

women also benefit, since the relationships neither result in downward mobility

nor loss of prestige. This guarantees a constant accessibility to women ‘of their

kind’ in a limited dating market.

‘I am first of all a lesbian’: Undermining Mizrachi identity

Upon achieving success, Mizrachi lesbians tended to come to terms with their

ethnic origin and mobilize it to form a distinctive ethnic-lesbian identity. The less

accomplished they were, the more they relied on the lesbian identity component.

However, although Mizrachi at large initiated political organizations meant to en-

hance their political recognition in Israel, Mizrachi lesbians tended to avoid these

organizations. They fully realized the complexities involved in a multi-dimen-

sional identity (being a woman, a lesbian, and a Mizrachi) as it became difficult to

find organizations that could encompass all three identity components, allowing

them to manage these according to their needs.

Mizrachi lesbians realize that organizations meant to empower women tend to

shoulder aside ethnicity, claiming it to be second to the gender identity compo-

nent. In the course of a lesbian feminist conference during which hetero-centric

oppression was discussed, Lea, a Ph.D. candidate in history, called to express pub-

lic support of Mizrachi lesbians:

I, as a Mizrachi lesbian, would expect feminists to emphasize the double oppression

of Mizrachi lesbians rather than ignoring the fact of ethnic women being oppressed

not only as women.

Orit, a journalist, added:


We too are to blame, since we concealed our ethnic origins. It is only recently that we

came to terms with being ethnic. After I got recognition as a journalist I was able to

admit my origins.

While we could expect that recognition of being ethnic among successful

Mizrachi lesbians would enhance organized political activism in favor of oppressed

Mizrachi, ‘pseudo-ethnic lesbian organizations’ have also been established. The

most recent is Kvisa Shehora, which appeals to lesbians whose major interest is in

the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Most of their leaders tend to disregard the prob-

lems that Mizrachi lesbians face, claiming them to be of secondary importance

since their lesbian identity should dominate their lives. Tikvah, a Mizrachi femi-

nist activist, was furious when we raised the issue:

It is people like you who bring back conflicts of the past. What are important are

lesbian identity and the ability to mobilize it to fight against the oppression of others.

People like your create the Mizrachi.

Tikvah denies the Mizrachi identity as real; hence, as a source for collective

action. Doing so, she further strengthens what Mizrachi lesbians have been doing:

undermining their Mizrachi identity while emphasizing their lesbian one. When

confronted with our conclusion, Iris, an Ashkenazi lesbian activist in Kvisah

Shehora, said support of Mizrachi lesbians would be efficient had more Mizrachis

joined the organization as key figures.

Zehavit, an art major, joined Kvisah Shehorah to gain personal support:

I was looking for an organization where I could intertwine my two identity compo-

nents. Soon I realized they were not really interested in Mizrachi. They were all

politically correct but all they cared for were the Palestinians.

Rachel, a Mizrachi musician, also accused Kvisah Shehora of actually being a

new Ashkenazi organization:

It seemed to be the right place for me at first. Everybody was radical, articulated and

issues such as oppression, discrimination and racism were to be discussed openly.

However after a while I realized that things were quite different. Most of the mem-

bers were Ashkenazi and pseudo-intellectuals, who did not really bother with ethnic

conflicts. I left.

Once succeeding in bringing forward the ethnic identity component, the inter-

play of identities is a major feature of the Mizrachi lesbian life. When going back

home, the lesbian identity is often placed in the closet for the sake of honoring

one’s family or for fear of their reactions. Tamara, a twenty-eight-year-old decora-

tor, grew up in a town south of Tel Aviv. After her military service, she came out of

the closet and started working in Tel Aviv as a window shop decorator. Entering


bohemian circles enabled her to come to terms with her lesbian identity. Accord-

ing to her, she lives in two worlds. In Tel Aviv, among her friends, she is a lesbian.

However, when visiting her family, she comes out of her lesbian identity in favor

of a Mizrachi one:

I think that living in Tel-Aviv made it easier for me not only to admit to myself that I

was a lesbian but also to live as one. Here no one thinks of me as a Mizrachi and

when I mention it some of my best friends would look at me and say: you? I would

have never guessed. No, I am not hurt. I am a Mizrachi at home and a lesbian in Tel

Aviv. I do not see a way to live in both identities at one and the same time.

Sigalit, who comes from a similar background, agrees:

Tel Aviv is an ethnicity in itself. Here everybody eats sushi, dances to trans-music. It

doesn’t matter if you are Mizrachi or Ashkenazi. It matters when I go back home.

There I am a Mizrachi from a development town who is trying to work her way up.

For them, I would never be a lesbian.

Tamara and Sigalit are stressing the complexity of multiple identities. They

both chose to conceal their ethnic identity and bring forward their sexual orienta-

tion in Tel Aviv and vice-versa in their hometown. Their life as lesbians allows

them to negotiate identity components and to nurse the feeling that an ethnic com-

ponent is of minor importance. They develop a sense of illusion that ethnicity is no

longer a variable that affects socializing patterns.

These feelings of acceptance in Tel Aviv are misleading. Going to clubs, for

example, can be a frustrating experience, since gatekeepers often prevent Mizrachi-

looking youngsters from entering prestigious clubs. Mizrachi lesbians prefer gay

and lesbian clubs, where access is not denied, mostly because of the small size of

the community. There they are not exposed to overt discrimination based on their

look. However, lesbians themselves tend to distinguish clubs that cater mostly to

Mizrachi lesbians as opposed to those that cater to the gay population at large.

Many Ashkenazi lesbians would not visit clubs where most of the people are

Mizrachi. Ashkenazi women tend to avoid the Shirazi parties, claiming they are

not their style. As said by Ayala, an Ashkenazi lesbian, who has been dating a

Mizrachi woman:

The best-looking women are at the Shirazi parties but my friends and I would not go.

Why? Because the audience in mostly composed of bimbos and they are not my

style. The music is too loud. I’d rather go to Minerva [a lesbian pub where the music

is very loud too] where I meet women who could be my friends.

Mizrachi lesbians, on the other hand, would frequent the Shirazi parties, claim-

ing them to be the best place to have a good time and meet women. Tami, a hair-

dresser, goes on a regular basis and even went to Lesbos to a weekend party orga-


nized by Shirazi, hoping to meet lesbians from Europe:

The most beautiful women attend these parties and one could really have a good

time. In Lesbos it was great, like a three days carnival. But the Europeans were a bit

of a disappointment. They were not as attractive as the Israelis.

It is possible to claim, therefore, that while no open rejection of Mizrachi women

exists in the lesbian community, there is a form of discrimination in disguise.

Mizrachi are admitted to Ashkenazi circles as individuals, but Ashkenazi would

avoid being identified with circles initiated and frequented by Mizrachi women.

From time to time, radical feminists raise the issue of subtle oppression. Take

Zahava, a social psychologist that came out of the closet after her divorce and

raises her child by herself. Although from Ashkenazi origins, she claims to have

developed an ethnic consciousness since she grew up in a poor family and was

surrounded most of her childhood by Mizrachi:

There is quite a bit of oppression in the lesbian community. She who would tell you

that there isn’t is in denial. They make ethnicity invisible. Mizrachi are invisible,

lacking participation in the discourse. I think that most of them do not find their place

in lesbian organizations. I do not blame them.

Haya, another Ashkenazi activist, a historian, adds:

When I was younger I used to think that if all women were lesbians the world would

have been a better place since women would not discriminate each other. I know I

was wrong. Mizrachi lesbians could be accepted as a personal friend, but never as a

social category in itself, the way I would consider Palestinians, gays or even women.

Educated and middle-class Mizrachi lesbians, on the other hand, were aware of

the rejection against Mizrachi lesbians but tended to claim that it never happened

to them. They believed that only lower-class Mizrachi lesbians suffered from rac-

ism and that education bridged class and racial differences. Daphne, a Ph.D. can-

didate in comparative literature, recalled that:

Education, for me was a major vehicle to improve my status, every aspect of it:

professional and social. It is education, I believe, that made it possible for me to date

well-educated and professional women.

Daphne, too, claims that she has never been treated by Ashkenazi women as ‘a

good fuck’ but seen as a whole person with inner qualities. It is her girlfriend

Michal that addresses the subtle repression in the lesbian community:

It is true that we do not think of women in general and Mizrachi women in particular

as ‘good fucks.’ We look for love and friendship. However, I think that we try to


convert them; we want them to get out of themselves, to adopt our culture, to become

Ashkenazi in their way of life, behavior. I would not say that Ashkenazi tame the

Mizrachi but we clearly do not accept them as they are and for what they are.

Not only is Mizrachi collective identity shouldered aside in the lesbian commu-

nity. Friendship with Ashkenazi women leads to the obliteration of Mizrachi traits

in favor of acceptance. Yet, as mentioned before, personal success is often mobi-

lized to form a distinctive ethnic-lesbian identity and is supported with a strong

ideology. In their quest for an ethnic identity and solidarity, Mizrachi lesbians

move from one organization to another trying to find one that would fit their needs

and function as a source of support for further political action. Some of them visit

a Mizrachi organization called Keshet, which aims to empower Mizrachi and serve

as a source of information and support for the Mizrachi community. Dalit, a gradu-

ate student at the department of linguistics, tried associating herself with the orga-

nization claiming recognition for her ethnic-lesbian identity:

I went to their meetings and apparently met people like me; educated, professionals,

well rooted in their culture and origins. I would say that they all had a strong ethnic

consciousness. Their opinions matched mine. But something was lacking. It felt as if

I was an alien. They did not like lesbians there so I left.

Orna, who is about to finish her doctorate dissertation in sociology, has gone through

a similar experience:

I left the Keshet because I felt that being a lesbian was somehow out of place. As

conscious as I was of my ethnic identity I wanted some acknowledgement for my

lesbian identity and I felt that the mechanism of oppression was rather similar. I joined

Klaf (feminist lesbian organization). There I felt at ease with my lesbian identity but

there was no room for ethnicity. Although all were welcome it is mostly Ashkenazi

who made the important decisions. It was more of their organization than mine.

Our informants point to the difficulty of finding associations that would ac-

knowledge the complexities of a multi-dimensional identity. Coming to terms with

their ethnic identity in retrospect, realizing the latter no longer undermines profes-

sional and social achievements, they try to mobilize ethnicity for social empower-

ment and recognition. However, looking for organizations where peers could be

found results in frustration and lack of affiliation as they face the problems of

other identity components.

Conclusion: negotiating identities

While there is an absence of research on heterosexual couples where the woman is

Mizrachi and the man Ashkenazi, studies show that marriage, in general, doesn’t

promote women’s educational and occupational status. Studies on women’s mo-


bility through marriage show that the latter has neither pushed women forward in

the job market nor nurtured educational achievements (Mickelson 1992; Herzog

1996; Izraeli 1999). On the contrary, it encouraged the traditional division of labor

in the household as well as in the job market.

This article provides an interesting exception to the prevailing assumption that

the combination of ethnic and sexual minority status constitutes a dual discrimina-

tion. The case of Mizrachi lesbians shows that a multi-dimensional identity may

provide advantages over heterosexual counterparts in that it gives them opportuni-

ties for individual mobility as well as intimate and friendly associations with

Ashkenazi middle-class/educated women. Undermining the position articulated in

works previously undertaken on lesbian/gay minority groups, the study shows how,

in the particular instance of Mizrachi lesbian experience, sexual difference does

not contribute to a double burden. As much as this state of affairs reproduces power

relationships between dominant and ethnic groups in Israel, lesbianism is mobi-

lized as an asset that alleviates the experience of a double burden for those who

experience a multi-dimensional identity.

The route for success travels through two major milestones. First, in order to

come out of the closet, Mizrachi lesbians dissociate themselves from the ethnic

component of their identity in favor of belonging to the lesbian community. In the

process of gaining social as well as educational skills that would enable them to

achieve personal mobility, their ethnic origins are shouldered aside and are often

regarded as irrelevant. Once personal acceptance and professional success have

been reached, lesbians allow the ethnic component of their identity to surface and

to acquire a new meaning, one that is socially reconstructed. Intertwining sexual

and ethnic identities does not empower Mizrachi lesbians as a distinctive collec-

tivity. The opposite is rather the case. Since coming to terms with the ethnic com-

ponent of one’s identity is a byproduct of its former concealment and of the incor-

poration of Ashkenazi lifestyle elements, an ethnic consciousness becomes a privi-

lege affordable only to the most successful Mizrachi lesbians. As much as some

aim to empower Mizrachi lesbians as a collective, they lack the organizational

means to realize their purpose.

Notes

Received 11 November 2002; accepted 26 September 2003.

Address correspondence to Liora Gvion, Department of Social Sciences, The Kibbutzim College of

Education, 149 Namir Road, Tel Aviv, Israel. E-mail: [email protected]. Address correspondence to

Diana Luzzatto, The Academic College of Tel-Aviv-Yaffo, Department of Behavioral Sciences, Szold

St. 6, Tel-Aviv, Israel. E-mail: [email protected]

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