Oh, the ’90s: a time when North America’s distinctive cultural elements included the Backstreet Boys, The Lion King, Tamagotchis, and of course, the popular prime-time television program TGIF.
One of the family-friendly sitcoms was the long-running series “Life and Me,” which is still widely discussed and used in memes today. But when I recently rewatched it out of nostalgia, I noticed something that was greatly overlooked in the discussion: “Life and Me” is actually quite Jewish.
It seems obvious. Even though the occasional Christmas episodes and references to God make it clear that the Matthews are a semi-secular, middle-class Christian family. Even though the crazy crossover episode “Sabrina the Teenage Witch” where the characters travel back to World War II doesn’t mention the Holocaust once. And even though, as far as I can remember, there are no explicitly Jewish characters.
First, the entire show is essentially about Judaism, as the filming schedule, according to cast members, was designed to accommodate Jewish showrunner Michael Jacobs’ strict Shabbat observance.
In addition, there are Are often passing mentions of characters who could be potential members of the tribe: a sweet girl named Shoshanna, a journalism student named Ira, a bully named Joseph “Joey the Rat” Epstein, Eric’s alter ego in the witness protection program “Dr. Abraham Shapiro, cardiologist,” and Kimberly Sussman, the classmate who throws a party in honor of her new nose in the very special episode where Cory and Shawn learn about alcoholism.
Michael and other Jewish writers also regularly sprinkled Yiddish words into the series. At one point, Joey scolded: “Now, before you talk about your tuchus”, and the time when an Italian hairdresser from Jersey dramatically exclaimed: “Everything I have done so far is dirt!” In season five, Eric and Jack try to make their new dean a mentor like Mr. Feeny by bringing him a delicious babka; he hilariously replies, “You bums think you can feed me a stinking Babka?” (I mean, would two Christian white guys from Philly even know what that is? Wouldn’t they be more likely to bring a strudel or a Bundt cake?)
But the most secretly Jewish part of Life and Me is the boy himself. You only have to watch a scene with Ben Savage’s Cory to see that. His Ashkenazi Jewishness is evident throughout, whether in the intonation and sing-song rhythmic modulations of his voice and diction, in the way he moves his body with lots of shrugging, exaggerated facial expressions and big hand gestures, or in his classic portrayal of the schlemihl archetype: the lovable Jewish fool who makes a fool of himself and gets into trouble.
Cory’s personality is also essentially that of a neurotic old Jewish man: he jokes about enormous emotional damage, drives anxiously, complains of regular stomach aches, and is even diagnosed with hypochondria. His fantasy about his old age in season two includes stealing buns from the diner, complaining about the prices, asking for prunes, and even using the word “oy.”
It’s usually fun to see Jewish humor portrayed in a non-Jewish setting. But honestly, I would prefer a more explicit and higher quality portrayal. Because without explicitly naming the Jewish elements, at best they are lost on a non-Jewish audience, and at worst the show perpetuates anti-Semitism.
The most striking example is the running jokes about Cory’s appearance. The character bears no resemblance to his family at all. While they all look like typical WASPs, Cory has the features of Ben Savage – the kind commonly associated with Ashkenazim.
In particular, his dark, curly brown hair—his Jewfro—is frequently a punching bag. In the standout early episode “Cory’s Alternate Friends,” in which Topanga gives him his first kiss, Cory is getting a drink from the cafeteria machine when he overhears two girls calling him, in his opinion, an obnoxious “Brillo Head.” As a result, Cory spends the entire episode obsessing over his “Chia Pet” appearance, even going so far as to try to straighten his “Velcro” hair with a cream that burns so badly that his ears feel like “throbbing jalapenos” and his scream echoes throughout the solar system.
His fixation on fitting in comes across as basic teenage insecurity. In fact, the episode is clearly trying to convey a message about the importance of individuality and authenticity. This is clearly expressed when Mr. Feeny says, “Weird is in the eye of the beholder,” and Topanga opines, “Every time you’re not true to yourself, the earth cries.”
But when his friends and family tell him, “Hair doesn’t make the man” and “It’s not how you look that matters,” they’re basically saying, “Yeah, you do look weird! But don’t worry, we don’t care!” Ultimately, they confirm that his insecurity is understandable, as his hair doesn’t resemble the “curtain” hairstyles of ’90s heartthrob Shawn and Eric. After accidentally turning his hair into a greasy helmet, he tells a laughing Eric, “That’s your fault! You have the beautiful hair.” Eric confidently replies, “Yeah, I do, right?” and the studio audience cheers in agreement. In a similar season 4 episode with the theme “Outward appearance is secondary to inner beauty,” Cory tells Shawn, “Between you and Eric, I feel like I’m surrounded by people with perfect hair.” And let’s not forget Kimberly Sussman, the potentially Jewish character who undergoes a nose job, an unfortunately common experience among Jews tired of dehumanizing remarks about their appearance.
These statements ultimately reinforce the idea that there are objectively optimal physical characteristics, which is, frankly, a white supremacist concept.
Because Cory is not supposed to be Jewish, the show ignores the context of how Western societies have racist and mocked Jewish appearance throughout the centuries to marginalize our community and perpetuate anti-Semitic stereotypes. It ultimately propagates an exclusionary ideal of beauty and entrenches harmful prejudices while erasing a diverse cultural experience that deserves to be told.
Despite my concerns about the show’s internalized anti-Semitism and other problematic storylines that haven’t aged well, I’ll continue to appreciate the show for its combination of humor, heart, and important life lessons. And I’ll choose to love the best parts of subtle Jewishness, like the never-mentioned menorah decorations in the background of the Christmas episodes, the moment when Cory tells Mr. Feeny, “I’m proud I knew Krusty the Clown was a rabbi’s son,” and when Eric tells his dad, “But I’m not going to work on Saturday, I respect my Jewish buddies.” These little references feel like inside jokes just for me. But ultimately, I’ll look elsewhere to satisfy my craving for meaningful representation on screen.
Late recording is a series on Hey Alma where we relive Jewish pop culture of the past for no reason other than the fact that we can’t stop thinking about it?? If you have a suggestion for this column, please send an email to [email protected] with “Late Take” in the subject line.
