Leaving the Choir

I spent the better part of a decade leading a community choir in Toronto. It was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. But in late 2024, I felt like I needed to leave. I was so hung up on the whole experience last December that I decided to write a letter to the organization to apologize for my departure. I was still a leader in the community and felt like I needed to explain to my peers why I was abandoning them.

I never sent it.

I never sent it because I didn’t want to put the people that I respected and liked in a bad position. I know what it’s like to just want to focus on singing and not have people’s personal problems seep into the activities of the organization. I felt good about taking the high road, and was determined that trying to move on was the best decision. But a year later, I have decided to share that letter here. Not to put that organization on blast, but to allow you to understand my experience.

Here is the letter I wrote, unsent and private until now, with minor edits to try and protect the identity of the organization. Those specifics aren’t important, the people there are just trying to make music and belong to something good. The majority of them are awesome, well meaning, talented, and kind. They deserve love and respect for volunteering their time and effort.

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December 22nd, 2024

Friends,

Forgive me but I feel like I need to communicate the reasons for my absence this past concert year.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jacob. A tenor who served as the VP for the choir for six years. During that time, the VP essentially ran the Choir. The president was off handing more important items. Point is, I’ve been around for a while.

To list a few of my most proud moments: I helped bring us on international tours, put together our largest concert ever, and was at the helm while we navigated Covid. Perhaps most importantly, I spearhead our transition from the former conductor to the current one.

I say all this because I want you to know that I really, really care about the choir. I care about the choir so much that it’s taken me over a year to be certain about this decision.

I am leaving.

A lot of you have asked me where I’ve been, or why I’ve been gone. I’ve given a lot of deflecting answers and not been truthful. For that, I apologize. I was afraid of adding drama to a space that doesn’t deserve it.

But truthfully, here’s why: I don’t feel safe in this community anymore. We have members who are outwardly antisemitic & judaiophobic. Many of our other members recognize this, and yet we haven’t done anything about it. I tried to sweep it under the rug, I thought that time would heal all wounds, but it hasn’t.

Here’s what I wrote to a board member last year in a text message when I elected to not come back for the winter term:

“Hey It was a tough decision but it boils down to the fact that I was called a racist for supporting Israel. I have stopped paying attention, but for months daily I was seeing posts from members outwardly calling for the destruction of my ancestral homeland and the annihilation of a country and population where I have many friends and extended family members. There have been some pretty egregious statements that in my mind crossed a lot of lines. Specifically some that attack my religion. I think that these actions are on display to everyone and probably didn’t need to be called out to get anyone’s attention but nevertheless I did raise these issues to senior members of the choir in the fall. Ultimately there was no action taken and the choir chose to platform and feature them in the concert. This made it incredibly difficult for me to attend rehearsals, and I felt like I was in an impossible situation. How could I invite my friends and family who have strong ties to Israel to watch and cheer for people espousing such clear vitriol and hate? How could I exist in a community where I was called racist? How could I endure every week when my friends and peers were going out of their way to comfort, console, and support the people who had been so miserable to me? I ended up doing what I thought was best: Try and tough it out in the hopes that things would change. The dress rehearsal was just too much to bear though, and I made the decision then.

Sorry for the rant, but it took me a long time to make the call. In a sentence, here’s the essence: After dedicating myself for 6 years to the choir and its community, I didn’t feel safe there anymore.”

The board assured me a year ago that they would address the situation. They promised a membership code of conduct. (A year later it still hasn’t quite materialized, though I have been promised that it is coming soon). My initial reaction was to try and take the high road, keep a stiff upper lip, and not be intimidated. When that proved difficult, I figured I would take a break, and that distance would be healing. That’s when I made the call to sit out the spring.

Fast forward to September and I was resolved to give the choir another chance. I attempted (feebly) to mend the relationships that I felt were frayed. For a while, I was optimistic. The situation seemed to be better until October 7th of 2024.

That day, I put a post up on my personal instagram. That post commemorated the atrocities of October 7th, 2023. That same member from the year prior took a screenshot, and publicly shared “edits” that better fit their narrative.

The post was shared publicly, mutual friends and choristers would have seen it. They instantly would have made the connection.

Here is a screenshot of what I wrote:

And here is what was featured on their story soon after:

Without speaking to me, or even acknowledging me at all, this is what they added on their own profile. I was speechless, and hurt, and reckoning with the invalidation of my experience. Reading that statement is jarring and self-evidently problematic. It's just not something done by decent people.

But to get technical and simplify it and try and distill some of my biggest concerns, the “edits” were:

1. An attempt at public shaming

2. An effort to bully me

3. Outwardly judaiophobic and antisemitic; they were unapologetically justifying the murder of Israelis & Jews.

Sadly, I had to be the one to bring this up to the board. No one except a couple of choristers I reached out to personally expressed any kind of support or sympathy or solidarity.

From that point on, I’ve been limping along, trying to convince myself that maybe things will be different.

That person took a break for the rest of the semester. As it has been relayed to me: they “couldn’t stomach being around Zionists”. But there has been no apology, and there has been no action taken by the choir.

So how can I possibly feel safe in this community? The answer is: I don’t think I can anymore. The difference from last year though is that I have no desire to try.

The choir is a great organization. I suspect the majority of you have no idea that this ever happened. But a lot of you do know, and nothing was done. That being said, I can’t help but think that if this had occurred to a person who was part of a different minority group, things would have been different. Someone would have stood up for you. Action would have been taken.

I firmly believe the vast majority of this group is not antisemitic, but we do have a large component of the population that is Judaiophobic. They are afraid of, and prejudiced against, Jews, Judaism, Israelis, & Israel. Do we care if people are discriminating against Jews & Israelis? I thought we did, but I’m not so sure anymore.

To be clear, this is a community issue. It can’t be on the board to solve this alone. They are volunteers.

The conductor, in turn, is not responsible for this. Solving ancient fears and hatreds is not part of their job description.

The path forward is to depend on our peers. To depend on the individual having the courage to stand up and say something when they witness a transgression. If we don’t do this, our community ceases to be a community. It ceases to be a place that is safe and open to everyone. I implore you to not let this happen again.

My time in the choir has been exceptionally meaningful. I won’t let the hate mar my experience or define the decade I have been a part of the organization. I hope that my story and my exit can make an impact, and remind us that we have the potential to be the community we aspire to be.

Much love,

Jacob

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So there you have it, my story from late 2024. There is more nuance and depth to explore surely, and I don’t mean to minimize anyone else’s suffering. Nor do I want to suggest that people shouldn't have empathy for folks who are suffering. The theme I am trying to highlight now however is that we have permitted people to be Judaiophobic and go unchallenged. Their prejudices are accepted and this must be changed.

In hindsight, should I have sent the letter then? I am not so sure. I have a personal pattern of doing my absolute best not to put anyone else out or hurt their feelings. The people in that group who were bystanders to this saga will likely have their feelings hurt, and for that I am tremendously sorry. They had their reasons, and I feel guilty that they have to deal with it - then and now. It pains me to know that they will read this letter and may feel complicit in my ostracization. So because of that, I don’t regret waiting.

On the other hand, I won’t regret publicizing this now because I mean for this example to go and inspire other people to come forward with their similar stories.

Thanks for reading this one, it was difficult to write. If you found it valuable, consider subscribing - and as always, feel free to reach out with comments.

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