The dictionary definition of trauma is:
Severe emotional shock and pain,
caused by an extremely
upsetting experience.
There is no set way to process trauma.
But, in "Unorthodox," we see how
two different communities,
one in Berlin, and another in
Brooklyn,
cope with the tragedies
that have shaped them.
And, in turn, we learn ways
to deal with our trauma.
In Brooklyn, trauma forms
19 year old Esty's,
and her community's,
identity.
The action follows
the secretive Satmar community
of Hasidic Jews.
Established by a rabbi
who had fled Satu Mare,
in present-day Romania,
during the Holocaust.
The Satmar community
does not mix with others.
In "Unorthodox,"
at the head of the
sex-segregated table,
for Pesach dinner,
an annual commemoration
of the Jews who escaped slavery
in ancient Egypt,
Esty's grandfather
gives his reasons why.
[Grandfather] We tell ourselves
the story of Passover
to remind us of
our suffering.
[Narrator] The show celebrates
the strong bonds
of family and tradition,
within Esty's community,
where religious customs
and prayers
can take place safely,
while deadly attacks
on synagogues, and
other venues frequented by Jews,
rise, across the world.
This community defies
anti-Semitism, by living devoutly.
We also see, in this scene,
how Satmar Jews
draw on past trauma,
to make members scared
of the big, bad outside.
[Grandfather] When we trusted
our friends and neighbors,
God punished us.
When we forget who we are,
we invite God's wrath.
[Narrator] The Holocaust
caused PTSD in its survivors.
Its impact lives on.
As Auschwitz survivor,
chemist, and writer,
Primo Levi puts it:
"Auschwitz is outside of us,
but it is all around us,
in the air.
The plague has died away,
but the infection still lingers,
and it would be foolish
to deny it."
This generational trauma
grows from the roots
of Esty's family tree,
and shapes Esty's personal identity.
She is discouraged from
exploring passions
that contradict
the community's values.
Her piano lessons
are so frowned upon,
she must take them
in secret.
Her teacher,
Vivian Dropkin,
is derided as 'a shiksa,'
or non-Jew.
But interestingly,
though the show never mentions it,
Dropkin is a secular Jew.
Despite her faith, her choices
are not Jewish enough
for Esty's devout community.
[Man speaking Yiddish.]
Many Orthodox Jews
believe that the way
to undo the trauma
of the Holocaust,
is to repopulate.
2013 research for
the Pew Center
shows that Orthodox Jews
have a birth rate of 4.1,
as opposed to the U. S.
national average of 1.8.
Esty totally believes
what she's been taught to believe,
later insisting,
"We are rebuilding
the six million lost."
Jews killed in the Holocaust.
[Grandmother] So many lost.
But, soon, you'll have
children of your own.
[Narrator] Six million
is no small sum.
So, alongside the housework
needed to keep her home tidy,
and her husband, Yanky Shapiro,
well fed and in perfectly
ironed suits,
Esty's job is to have
as many children as possible.
[Woman] You will have no leverage
in this marriage,
until there is a baby.
Understand me?
[Narrator] She is told that sex
will give her husband pleasure,
which, in turn, will give her
exactly what she wants:
what she has been told she wants...
a baby.
The problem with this way
of dealing with trauma,
as we see it through Esty's eyes,
is, it creates
a domino effect.
There is a field of academic study
called epigenetics,
which deals with the concept
of trans-generational trauma,
or, the idea that trauma
can be inherited.
Some studies suggest that DNA
changes in response
to horrifying experiences,
and that, then, passes
down generations.
Whether through epigenetics
or not,
in "Unorthodox," traumatized parents
unintentionally traumatize
their children.
Esty's grandparents are still,
understandably,
bereft by the Holocaust.
Their son, Mordecai,
is mentally unwell.
As for Leah, her trauma
comes, mainly,
from not quite fitting the mold
that's been set for her.
Esty is tarred by her parents' pain.
Now that she is a bride herself,
she finds the rules troublesome.
[Mrs. Shapiro] We shouldn't have agreed
to this marriage.
[Yanky Shapiro] Mommy, please!
[Mrs. Shapiro] The apple doesn't fall
far from the tree.
[Narrator] When Esty tries
to argue the case
for her to be pleasured,
rather than traumatized in bed,
using scripture as evidence
of God's will for it,
she is shut down.
[Yanky Shapiro] Women are not
allowed to read the Talmud!
[Narrator] This text is for men only,
not for women's eyes,
due to something known as
"Kavod Hatzibur," or the dignity
of the community.
Esty's story shows how
socially restrictive responses to trauma
often unfairly muzzle women.
Esty can't get away with half
of what her cousin in law, Moishe, can.
Moishe is a thief, a liar,
an aggressive lout,
with no consideration
for others.
Yet, his behavior seems rooted
In self-loathing.
His moral decay,
his own trauma,
is catching up with him,
as he realizes, he has neither
the commitment of one community,
nor the tools of another.
[Moishe cackles laughing.]
[Narrator] Meanwhile, Yanky,
a saint next to Moishe,
ends up meting out trauma,
through his childishly ignorant
commitment
to maintaining his community,
by any means available.
In Brooklyn, we see how trauma,
sadly, sometimes begets
more trauma.
As Esty's mom puts it:
[Leah] So much damage
done in Brooklyn,
in the name of God.
All the rules, all the gossip.
No wonder Esty couldn't stand it.
[Narrator] Berlin, meanwhile,
has a very different way
of dealing with trauma.
[Classical music.]
"Unorthodox" presents
Adolf Hitler's former stronghold
as a liberal, diverse idyll,
where people, especially the young,
can do
what they want, when they want,
with whom they want.
Once the epicenter of suffering,
Berlin counters its past trauma
by celebrating joy,
and reclaiming some of its character
that the Nazis tried to extinguish.
This is the city
that once saw the Golden 1920s
of the Weimar Republic,
when Marlene Dietrich
rose to fame,
cabaret was popular entertainment,
and the Bauhaus art movement
was founded.
This social liberalism
comes across in public displays
of affection, that the naive
and modest Esty is struck by.
She is used to a traumatic sex life,
that only ever happened in private,
yet was discussed so publicly.
In Berlin, the opposite is true.
This is because pleasure,
rather than procreation,
is the goal.
Esty begins to realize
that the world is not
as black and white
as she has been taught.
[Man] You could try to rescue
Robert's attempt at a salad.
[Narrator] The city's physical spaces
are examples of how traumatic sites
can be reclaimed.
On Esty's first excursion
with her new friends,
she ventures upon what is,
to her community back in Brooklyn,
hell.
[Man] When the Berlin Wall was up,
East German guards shot anyone
who tried to swim across this lake
to freedom.
[Esty] And now?
[Man] Now, you can swim
as far as you like.
[Narrator] It might be
the location of trauma,
but it's not the source
of trauma.
Unlike the Mikvah that
blessed Esty,
a secular body of water
cannot bless, or condemn.
Only people can.
Of course, some people
will never be able to find joy
in the same waters Hitler
gazed across,
as he decided to end
millions of Jews' lives.
But in this scene,
Esty has
an opportunity to help
begin her new life,
within its waters.
Esty removes her wig
in this lake,
in a more extreme version
of the breakup haircut.
While the shorn hair
beneath it
is the imposition of a sect
that sees women's hair
as so tempting to men
it must be shaved off,
it is also an uncanny
and unintended reminder
of the ways in which
Esty's ancestors
were dehumanized
by the Nazis,
their heads shaved
in the concentration camps.
[Esty panting.]
[Narrator] Without this wig,
she can float in the water,
free to forget her trauma,
and all the rules and regulations
that led to it.
The lake scene proves how
expression of individual freedoms
can pay tribute to past generations
who were once restricted.
By swimming in the waters,
Esty and her friends
do what many from
previous generations could not.
Joy is, for them, a far more useful
tool of remembrance,
than guilt.
[Man] A lake is just a lake.
[Narrator] Esty's new friends
prove that trauma comes
in many forms.
Each carries with them
their own difficult histories.
Some come from war-torn countries,
have lost loved ones,
or grew up gay
in homophobic countries.
The friction between
Esty and Yael hinges
on how their shared trauma
is dealt with so differently.
[Esty] My grandparents
lost their whole families
in the camps.
[Yael] So did half of Israel.
But, we are too busy
defending our present,
to be sentimental
about our past.
[Narrator] Both Jewish,
Esty and Yael's ancestors
may have very well died
alongside each other
in the death camps,
but their responses
to this trauma
couldn't be more different.
Yael used music
as an escape from military duty,
and its inevitable traumas.
With her violin in hand,
she expresses herself as she chooses.
Esty quickly learns that,
in Berlin,
men and women,
secular Jews,
Muslims, Christians,
and others
play music together.
The only rules
are that they turn up,
stay focused, and
collaborate.
Esty no longer
muffles her own screams,
but unleashes her pain
and trauma,
using the creativity
she has always longed
to be able to wield.
Using Yael's unfiltered freedom
as a template,
Esty finally expresses
her personal identity.
[Singing]
[Narrator] The Berliners
of "Unorthodox"
haven't forgotten their trauma,
or that of the city
they live in,
but have found ways
to deal with it,
reclaiming Hitler's land
for their own, joyful purposes.
Wanting personal freedoms
for everyone,
especially women.
Using creativity as a conduit
to exorcise their trauma.
That is not to say
Brooklyn is totally opposite.
Like everything else in the show,
from the costumes to the sets,
"Unorthodox" handles trauma
sensitively and beautifully.
No one is outright good,
or outright evil.
Some people struggle in Berlin,
in the same way others thrive
in Brooklyn.
Human trauma
is complex and individual,
not black and white.
In "Unorthodox," we see
the classic tale of a Jew
escaping European trauma
and captivity, in reverse.
In Berlin, Esty discovers
that undoing trauma
can be as simple
as going for a swim,
communicating with outsiders,
and singing her heart out.
All on her own terms,
and in her own time.
[Soft music.]