In some ways, it all started with cow tongue.
In September 2017, I called David Suissa, Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of Tribe Media/Jewish Journal, whom I had known since the mid-2000s after I graduated college and began working in the local Jewish community, to share news that some of my fellow Iranian Jews were accusing local kosher butchers and supermarkets of price-gouging a much-needed Rosh Hashanah staple: cow tongue.
I assumed he would thank me for the tip and then assign a writer to look into a possible story. Instead, he replied, “You should write something.”
I was not a professional writer, though I had served as a de facto speechwriter for local Israeli diplomats and had co-founded a nonprofit, 30 Years After, which had honed my writing and speaking skills.
No, I was not a professional writer. But I was hopelessly in love with storytelling.
In hindsight, I don’t know what compelled me to pursue the suggestion and begin my debut in The Journal as a pseudo-investigative reporter on the critical matter of possible cow tongue price-gouging. To this day, there are certain kosher butchers and supermarket managers in West LA who give me an unwelcome look.
That first story taught me a vital lesson: People and, by extension, communities, yearn to be seen and heard. I was surprised when readers thanked me for writing the story and said that it was the first time anyone had taken their concerns seriously.
Though reporting was less my niche, I was quickly inspired to write guest columns on Jewish life and submit them to Suissa for consideration. To my delight, he published them every two weeks or so. In December 2018, he accepted my first cover story, which revealed the mostly unknown struggles of young Iranian American Jews, from isolation to drug use. Seven years and 20 cover stories later, I recall with wonder some of the topics I pursued, including student homelessness, the anniversaries of the 1992 Los Angeles riots and of 9/11, teens and mental health, Jews and Hollywood, the exiled Crown Prince of Iran and why, despite it all, we still love LA.
At that time, the weekly columnists on The Journal masthead seemed like giants. In Fall 2018, I surprised Suissa by gently asking if I could write every week. He was surprised and said he would have to think about it.
I am so glad that he didn’t immediately give me what I wanted, because delayed gratification and earning my dreams through merit and sheer grit were vital to my personal and professional growth.
Six months later, around May 2019, Suissa called me on my way home from an outing with my then-toddlers and said six magical words that I will never forget: “You should write a weekly column.”
It was one of the best moments of my life, especially when I saw the real estate: the very next page after Suissa’s weekly column, which he has been writing for a staggering 19 years. It always brought me pride to see a Moroccan Jew and an Iranian Jew as the first two columnists in this remarkable paper.
As a columnist for the past eight years (six of them on a weekly basis), I was often asked whether I had an editorial beat. Given that I wrote about nearly everything, from Sephardic and Mizrahi advocacy to Iran, antisemitism, male-female dynamics, motherhood, and, in one proud case, a column titled “The Crispy Wonder of the Persian Cucumber,” I certainly did not have a beat. And I loved it that way.
Most readers may not be aware that The Journal virtually never assigned me stories; instead, I was given something that is rare in the world of modern journalism: creative freedom based on trust. How else can one explain the fact that in May 2023, Suissa gave me free rein to submit something downright crazy — a column titled, “An Interview with Myself,” in which I interviewed — you guessed it — myself. I was such a demanding and difficult source.
The COVID era brought unimaginable changes to Jewish journalism, and I was distraught when the paper had to go on a print hiatus because the locations where we distribute the paper had closed. Despite a beautiful online presence, I have always maintained that this paper first belongs in our hands.
I’ll never know how I managed to write a weekly column in 2020, with school closed, the kids at home day and night, my husband’s futile attempts to work from home, and my beloved paper temporarily out of print, and out of my hands, especially on Shabbat, when I savor it page-to-page over a cup of warm Persian cardamom tea.
And then came a weekend in early October 2023 that changed everything, including the Jewish psyche itself. Looking back on it, I now realize that The Journal evolved into a much-needed friend and yes, weekly therapist for me and tens of thousands of readers. I saved our entire Oct. 7 issue as a way to one day show my children our community’s first response to the day that changed absolutely everything.
Over the years, readers have asked me the same question: “How do you come up with something new week after week?” Concerned that I might have sounded overconfident, I never knew how to tell them that I had a surplus of ideas. In truth, I have been blessed with that surplus due to the precious creative freedom I mentioned earlier.
And now, dear readers, I have decided to take a break from my weekly column, which has brought me untold joy and meaning, in order to take some much-needed time for my family, and to focus on other projects I have also dreamt of since childhood. If my family is reading this, I am finally all yours next weekend. Right after I prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner, run a few loads of laundry, buy more groceries and apply and reapply sunscreen to your warm little faces.
As I told Suissa last week, The Journal will always be home, and you never really leave home, which is why I plan on submitting future community stories and op-eds. And of course, if a certain Iranian dictator finally meets his end, an extra juicy addition to “The Satan Series” satires.
If you have enjoyed my weekly column, cherished reader, please support this wonderful community paper by visiting our website and clicking on the “donate” tab. Your support is vital.
I owe so much to David Suissa, Design Director Jonathan Fong and my editors and beloved colleagues. But I also owe readers an enormous debt of gratitude. Thank you for reading my column, week after week. I never expected this, and it was and remains the biggest privilege.
In many ways, I am living proof that there is a G-d, if you are inclined to believe in one. In the history of my ancestors, I am a technical bug, a glitch that went haywire, because, after 2,700 years of continuous presence in Persia/Iran, I was plucked from the soil and the people that had taken root in my veins for nearly three millennia and placed in the West — in America — and given six months to learn English (according to my stringent own timeline) and acclimate to the ways of this country and its Jewish community. How a former child refugee became a weekly columnist for one of the best papers, Jewish or non-Jewish, in this country, is truly an act of G-d.
If you’re feeling nostalgic, all of my stories, including weekly columns, cover stories, and community pieces, are online on my Jewish Journal author page. If you wish to stay in touch, please follow me on X or Instagram @tabbyrefael or email me at tdrefael@gmail.com
Thank you and l’hitraot.
Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker, and former weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles.
