“I’ve always been a bit of a troublemaker”
Avi Finegold talks to comedian and writer Robby Hoffman about identity, resilience, and living in between worlds.
didn’t have clothes . And then people would ask me why I was dressed for a wedding.
You were born into a Hasidic family, but your mother started withdrawing from that community when you were a young child. What was that experience like? What was the transition point? It was weird because we were living in a very Hasidic, Lubavitch area, obviously, but we were very much leaving that community or on the outs over the years. I would say that we were somewhere in the middle. And this is just the theme of my life. I’m an Amer- ican; I’m a Canadian. I’m frum; I’m not. I’m a girl; I’m not. I’m always in the middle of so many things. This was no different. Looking back, I was still the most religious person at Bialik, but I felt not religious at all. And it’s funny because in my life now, my girl- friend thinks I’m the most religious person she’s ever met. She’s like, Well, you kiss the mezuzah . For me it’s Obviously I kissed the mezuzah . I’m not an animal. I’m already doing gay. I don’t need to play with fire any more than I have. I can empathize with that because I was on the flip side: I remember going to uni- versity and being the most religious one. I wore a shirt and dress pants, because that’s what I wore—that’s what I had. I
denly were the most pious people in the world when Pesach came around, not eat- ing bread—were there. I was unpeeling the wrapper and I remember my friend saying, “You’re gonna eat that in front of me when it’s Pesach?” I said, “How many times have I come out to eat with you guys and I’ve ordered a garden salad, no dressing, and you’re going to be high on your horse now.” And I had it, and it was unbelievable. I had it every day for the next month, and it was just divine. The frum world, the religious world, doesn’t really have this notion of some- thing like Rumspringa: go try things, and we know you’ll come back. It’s this straight and narrow path that, if you transgress once, you’re done. And that’s not healthy because a boy who is told not to watch pornography because it’s the worst thing imaginable and then he sees one billboard of a woman in a bikini and he realizes that the lightning bolt hasn’t killed him yet. And so you figure, If I did that, I might as well do everything else . Imagine if the attitude was: we don’t do these things; if you think you want to do them, try it out for yourself and decide— you can always come back.
Yeah, it’s so bizarre. Usually when I went to my friends’ houses in high school, they weren’t kosher at home but they would always have Wacky Mac or something for me. Then, I think when I start- ed losing my way or not being kosher any- more, it really rubbed them the wrong way. I remember it was Pesach at Dawson Col- lege (in Montreal) and I just had an exam— an early eight o’clock exam. It was over by 10 a.m. And I don’t know what came over me, but there was a McDonald’s across the street, and breakfast was still being served. The allure when we were kids was huge— all the non-Jewish kids had Happy Meals after school. And I thought, I’d love to be happy . My mother may have had meatloaf at home, which ended up being way better for us long term, but I just wanted a nugget. After this exam, I was so depleted. There was no kosher food around me. I had no groceries at my apartment. I was in exam mode, starving. I’m like: McDonald’s break- fast. And I broke my kosher-ness. I bought an Egg McMuffin with bacon, with the hash browns, latkes, whatever. I walked into the Dawson cafeteria and my friends—who sud-
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