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Photo of the Month: Juneteenth

Youth and staff gather outside Oceanside Cornerstone Community Center during their Juneteenth celebration. Some are raising their fists. Banners are behind them.
Youth and staff gather outside Oceanside Cornerstone Community Center during their Juneteenth celebration. Some are raising their fists. Banners are behind them.

Afterschool and youth council participants and staff at Oceanside Cornerstone Community Center celebrate Juneteenth. Emily, quoted below, is in the middle row, second from the right, in a royal blue shirt.

When deciding how to mark Juneteenth at our DYCD-funded Oceanside Cornerstone Community Center, Program Director Nelson Sarweh knew he wanted to do something that would be both meaningful and celebratory for the youth in the afterschool program and youth council. Nelson and his team decided on a Juneteenth end-of-year barbecue with celebration, performances, and reflection.

“We collectively as a staff at the Oceanside Cornerstone Community Center think it is very important for our young people to learn about their history,” Nelson said. “They learned important historical facts about Juneteenth and performed a skit that illustrated the challenges that were faced to achieve freedom. The parents and community were pleased with the performance, and we had a barbecue afterwards. We are trying to establish an environment of home in the center, and meaningful events such as this are the building blocks towards that goal.”

After the day’s events, 11-year-old Emily stated that when she thinks of Juneteenth, she thinks about how the observance “symbolizes freedom for all, fighting for your rights, and having fun with others.”

The youth enjoyed the Juneteenth celebration and learning about their heritage. The event offered a special opportunity to reflect on the significance of this landmark holiday, honor those who came before them, and inspire those who will come after.

Jewish American Heritage Month: Two Legacies

Two small children sit on a window sill with their smiling father next to them.

By Renée Riebling, Senior Communications Specialist

Two small children sit on a window sill with their smiling father next to them.

The blog author (center) with her brother and father in an undated photo. Note: Do not try this at home!

May is Jewish American Heritage Month, and for most Americans, that means Ashkenazi Jewish: bagels and lox, Fiddler on the Roof, immigrants from Poland, Russia, and Germany at the turn of the 20th century.

For most of my life, that’s what it meant for me, too. When I was a child, my family lived in the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn, where most of our apartment complex’s residents—including my mother—were descendants of Jews from Eastern Europe or had immigrated from the region themselves. We really did eat bagels (though some renegades opted for bialys) with cream cheese and lox on Sunday mornings. We saw Fiddler on the Roof when a production came around, and we saw our ancestors in the characters and storylines. My most treasured childhood memories are of Passover seders, which always were raucous affairs at my aunt and uncle’s house in New Jersey with spirited singing in celebration of the ancient Israelites’ exodus from slavery in Egypt to freedom.

But there were pockets of my life that were a different kind of Jewish. Instead of bagels and lox, this kind of Jewish involved amba and bamia, foreign languages, and trips to a store on Atlantic Avenue that smelled of exotic spices and felt like home. That’s because my father is, as I’ve come to understand, Mizrahi. But in those days before the internet, I didn’t have a name for it. I just knew my father was born in Iraq, which made us different. I knew my father’s family had lived there since the Babylonian Exile more than two thousand years ago until 1950, when they were forced to flee. My father was nine years old at the time. They had to leave in secret and in disguise, and his older brother was held for ransom by former friends who had promised to help him escape safely. Despite this, they miraculously all made it to Iran—which was friendly (or, friendlier) to Jews at the time—and from there, boarded a flight to Israel, where my father lived until he left for Canada in 1964 and then to the United States.

Unlike the fathers of my friends, my father spoke two other languages (Arabic and Hebrew)—languages he intentionally did not pass on to my brother and me so we would be more “American.” I wrote letters to Savta, my grandmother in Israel, on flimsy blue airmail paper that folded into its own envelope (this fascinated me). She always wrote back in beautifully handwritten, flowery English, as she had been an English teacher. My father’s older brother sent photos of his children—my cousins, whom I had never met but looked more like me than anyone else in my life—and I couldn’t stop staring at them.

Although my parents’ decision to raise us to speak only English was a missed opportunity (hindsight is indeed 20/20), the intricacies of language and immigration had a profound impact on me. I was forced to think deeply about language because my father peppered me with questions about it.

When I was in kindergarten, my class had to memorize the first verse of “My Country ’Tis of Thee.” I sang it proudly for my father, pleased with myself that I knew all the words. When I finished, I thought he was going to gush about my expert singing and memory. Instead, he asked, “What is ‘thee’?”

“What?” I said back.

“What is ‘thee’?” he repeated. “You said my country ‘’tis of thee.’ So, what is ‘thee’? What is the country of?”

I was 5 and didn’t know the answer. I had never thought about the meaning of the lyrics. The question haunted me. What exactly was this “thee” our country was made of? And why was I singing something I didn’t understand?

He often asked questions like this, and it set me on a lifelong quest to understand language, to appreciate the importance of finding the most precise word, and to always subconsciously work to understand connotation and nuance.

(Fun fact: I now understand that “thee” in “My Country ’Tis of Thee” is the country, and it’s a lesson in the importance of grammar! If you look at how the song is written—“My country, ’tis of thee, [s]weet land of liberty, [o]f thee I sing”—the commas make clear that the songwriter is addressing his country, and “thee” is the “sweet land of liberty,” a phrase used to describe “my country.” Fascinating!)

I recently read somewhere that children of immigrants, as well as those who immigrated when they were children, are more likely to become writers. In my own family, I discovered that the pull to understand language was a shared pursuit. In addition to my grandmother being an English teacher, my great-uncle wrote what is considered the first definitive Arabic-Hebrew dictionary.

I also learned from my father the importance and irreplaceability of both nonprofit organizations (a nonprofit was responsible for his being able to escape Iraq) and social workers—both core parts of The Child Center. One of my father’s most vivid childhood memories is of the day at school when he was wearing short pants in cold weather and a social worker took notice. She knew it was because his family could not afford long pants, and she got a pair for him. Even seventy-five years later, he vividly recalls the social worker’s warmth and sincerity—how he felt an instant sense of trust in her, and how she became an essential pillar of support in his life. I am often reminded of this story when I write about The Child Center of NY’s School-Based Mental Health initiatives and the clients who find support in the therapists embedded in their schools. I guess it is no surprise I ended up being not just a writer, but a writer for a nonprofit dedicated to mental health!

But above all, perhaps my father’s greatest gift to me is an appreciation of people’s different perspectives and life experiences and all they bring to the table.

At one of my former workplaces, a new intern aroused suspicion because he seemed impossibly nice and upbeat. It must be fake, some people thought. “You got it!” he’d say when you asked him to do something. When the task was completed, he’d inquire, “Was everything done correctly?” When you thanked him, he’d reply, “Glad to help!”

It turned out he had grown up in Detroit with a single mother who worked extremely hard to make ends meet. He’d been mistaken for “someone who did something” more times than he could count. But here he was, he’d said, a student at an Ivy League college with an internship working for a premier nonprofit. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was and resolved never to take one thing for granted. He reminded me of my dad. Though their origins were very different, this young man was a hardworking, intelligent, and caring human trying to make it in a different kind of world than the one he’d grown up in, and everyone who knew him was richer for the experience.

As we celebrate Jewish American Heritage Month this year, it’s with the knowledge that now is a difficult time to be Jewish. In 2024, Jews were the target of 54 percent of all recorded NYC hate crime incidents. Sadly, this reflects a national and even worldwide trend of increasing antisemitism. But like all people who have cultural histories of persecution and hate, I know that the antidote is joy. As my ancestors have for generations, we find joy in our traditions and resilience.

These days, our Passover seders take place either in my home or at the home of a cousin—whose parents, my aunt and uncle, hosted them when I was growing up. We sing the same songs and recite the same passages we sang and recited when I was young, and that Jews have been singing and reciting for thousands of years. My Israeli cousins are no longer the faces of strangers in faded photographs. I’ve gotten to know them, and they are some of the kindest, most genuine, and most resilient people I have known. During the COVID-19 pandemic, we participated in a Zoom seder with them. They had some different melodies to the same songs that my Ashkenazi family sang, and I felt immense pride in being part of both these legacies.

I love that The Child Center takes heritage months seriously and uses them to celebrate the fact that our diversity is one of our greatest blessings.

Fostering Inclusivity During Ramadan: Insights from Mehak Mahmood, Program Director

Mehak stands near an Eid sign on a fence

Mehak stands next to an Eid sign on a fence.Mehak Mahmood is a Program Director at our SONYC afterschool program at J.H.S. 185 Edward Bleecker Middle School, in Flushing, Queens. She has been with The Child Center for more than a decade, and has served at J.H.S. 185 for eight years. This month, we had the opportunity to speak with her about Ramadan. For the Muslim community, Ramadan is one of the holiest months of the year, marked by abstaining from food and water from sunrise to sunset. It is a time to deepen faith, cultivate self-discipline, and give back to the community.

The Child Center of NY: Ramadan Mubarak! How are you observing Ramadan this year at J.H.S. 185?

Mehak Mahmood: During my time at J.H.S. 185, I’ve always offered a designated area for Muslim students who wish to perform one of the five obligatory prayers or salah during school hours. This space is clean, equipped with facilities for ablution, and supervised by someone knowledgeable about the prayer process.

Before Ramadan began, I discussed this arrangement with the school’s administration team and offered the space to them. They included this information in the morning announcements. To my surprise, since Ramadan started, we have had at least ten students coming downstairs daily to pray.

Ramadan materials

Mehak dedicates a prayer space for Muslim students at J.H.S. 185 and hands out goodie bags for Ramadan.

Ramadan materials

Can you share what Ramadan means to you personally, and how you celebrate it with family and community?

Ramadan is a deeply personal time when I slow down and focus my energy on strengthening my spiritual and religious connection. I grew up in a modest Islamic family, and since childhood, I’ve always loved fasting and answering the question, “Not even water?” with a proud “Yes, not even water.” Over the years, my family and I have developed a routine of waking up before dawn to have breakfast, or suhoor, and praying together before either going back to sleep or heading out to work. Some days, it’s easier to fall back asleep, while other days can be more challenging depending on when I need to get up for work.

Every year, we decorate our house for Ramadan by putting up moon and star lights, displaying “Ramadan Mubarak” signs, and buying dates to break our fast (iftar). We also give out Ramadan Mubarak goodie bags, and since my niece was born nearly two years ago, we’ve enjoyed watching Ramadan cartoons like “Omar and Hannah” in the background, as long as her screen time allows.

At the end of the month, we celebrate Eid al-Fitr, a festival where we all dress in our best and newest outfits and jewelry, women apply mehndi/henna, we pay our respects to deceased loved ones, and perform the special Eid prayers. Afterward, we enjoy our morning coffee and share meals with family and friends, cherishing the togetherness and joy that this special time brings.

What are some of the challenges you face during Ramadan, and how do you manage them, especially in a work environment?

Growing up, some of the challenges I faced during Ramadan included finding accommodations during lunchtime and explaining to classmates or colleagues that I could not eat. It was important to clarify that my fasting did not mean I was triggered by others eating. As I’ve gotten older, the eating aspect has become less of an issue, and the primary challenge I now face is managing sleep and the fatigue that comes with fasting.

Today, I usually plan ahead and schedule my time off so that I take every Friday off for the month. Since joining The Child Center and at previous jobs, I’ve always communicated with my supervisors about my schedule, letting them know I’ll be off on Fridays as well as Eid. In my religion, Friday is the most sacred day, so it’s important for me to rest and worship. Given the nature of our work, we often have working lunches, so I request to use that one hour to come in later, and if necessary, I am willing to stay later in the evening to complete my tasks. This helps me manage my energy and avoid burnout. As a manager, I offer similar accommodations to my Muslim staff, such as allowing them to adjust their schedules and making a space available for prayer at work.

Before Ramadan begins, I make sure that I complete any high-priority tasks and prepare my team by informing them about the changes during the month. I let them know that my days will be shorter, and my energy levels may be lower, but I will continue to lead by example and make sure both my team and the participants we serve are well taken care of and safe.

How can we be supportive of our colleagues, clients, and community members during Ramadan?

Supporting our colleagues, clients, and community members during Ramadan requires understanding, empathy, and flexibility. One of the simplest ways to be supportive is by just acknowledging that many of us are fasting, which can affect energy levels and routines. Being mindful of these changes can help foster an environment of respect.

For colleagues, offering flexibility in work schedules can make a big difference. One of the major requests I’ve had during Ramadan is to avoid setting up early morning meetings or adding extra meetings to the schedule. Fatigue is a real challenge, and while we may not have the luxury of taking the entire month off, at the very least, letting us work from home once a week or avoiding early morning meetings can help manage energy levels. Additionally, providing a quiet, designated space for prayer or reflection shows support for those observing Ramadan.

For clients, being considerate of meal times or other religious practices is important. If your work involves serving food, for example, offering alternatives or scheduling meals around prayer times can be a thoughtful gesture. It’s also helpful to have a conversation with Muslim colleagues, clients, or community members about how they feel if you are eating around them. While eating around me doesn’t trigger me personally, it may be uncomfortable for others, and having that open dialogue can go a long way in creating a supportive atmosphere.

In the broader community, we can extend our support by participating in charitable acts. Ramadan is a time of giving, so volunteering or donating to local causes can be a great way to engage with and help those in need.

Lastly, it’s essential to provide a space for Muslims to pray. Whether they are colleagues, clients, or community members, a fast is incomplete without the prayers, and having a space available for them to pray is a key form of support.

Ultimately, being supportive during Ramadan is about respecting the observances and challenges of those observing the month, offering understanding when needed, and creating an environment where everyone feels valued and respected.

What is one thing you’d like others to understand better about Ramadan?

It’s not just about abstaining from food and drink; it’s a time to make better habits (such as eating healthier, quitting smoking, or getting up earlier), let go of the bad ones (like road rage, cursing, or gossiping), and, most importantly, it’s the best time to spiritually and religiously reset your mindset. Ramadan offers an opportunity to reflect on one’s actions, improve personal discipline, and develop a deeper connection to faith. It’s about being more mindful of how we treat others and taking steps to become better versions of ourselves.

Photos of the Month: Our Youth Find Inspiration in Celebrating Black History Month

Ashley shows her project for Black History Month.

A young woman holds a pinanta of a fist in red, yellow, and green.The youth of The Child Center of NY marked Black History Month in ways that showcase their creativity, insight, character, and potential.

The Child Center Residential Treatment Facility (RTF) in Brooklyn organized several activities to celebrate and delve into Black History Month, with discussion topics such as who were pioneers in Black history, and how did they shape their time and ours; movies that included Soul, Self Made, Harriet, and Hidden Figures; and art projects. The art project in the above photo was made by 15-year-old Ashley. “The liberty to create and express through art is freedom within itself,” Ashley told us and called her project “a symbol of freedom, pride, and justice for African Americans.” Ashley also noted that her making this piece of art was a way to support her peers and community by honoring Black History Month.

Ashley made this powerful piece of art during a piñata making workshop led by Victoria Ortiz, the RTF’s activity and events coordinator, who spoke to the youths about creating a small business out of recyclable materials.

Students at our COMPASS afterschool program at P.S. 251Q in Springfield Gardens, Queens, created an A-Z bulletin board featuring Black leaders they studied. We’ll let students’ direct quotes in the above photo collection (make sure to view each one!) speak for themselves.

These young people clearly are eager and poised to learn about and build on the incredible legacy of Black History in the United States, and we couldn’t be prouder or more inspired.

Black History Month Happenings 2023

Aria, a student at P.S. 156 Waverly School of the Arts, dressed as Vice President Kamala Harris for Black History Month.
Aria, a student at P.S. 156 Waverly School of the Arts, dressed as Vice President Kamala Harris for Black History Month.

Aria, 10, as Vice President Kamala Harris

Every February, the U.S. honors the contributions and sacrifices of African Americans who have helped shape the nation. Black History Month celebrates the rich cultural heritage, triumphs, and adversities that are an indelible part of our country’s history.

And every February, Child Center programs celebrate and observe in creative, meaningful ways that take our breath away and show that our young people often are our greatest teachers. Continue reading

Photo of the Month: Lunar New Year!

A P.S. 182 family attends The Met's Lunar New Year Festival

A P.S. 182 family attends The Met's Lunar New Year FestivalMeet Tahmid and M.D., students at P.S. 182 in Jamaica, Queens, and their parents Mohiuddin and Humaiara.

In honor of Lunar New Year, they, along with 60 members of the P.S. 182 community, attended The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Lunar New Year Festival. Together, students and their families celebrated the Year of the Rabbit with performances, interactive activities, and artist-led workshops for all ages.

P.S. 182 is what is known as a Community School. Continue reading


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