The final 12 months have seen a profound shift in the atmosphere at the Park Slope Food Coop, a beloved community institution in Brooklyn. Once a space where neighbors gathered to share recipes and advocate for social change, the coop has become a battleground for radically different interpretations of social justice.
For Sondra Shaievitz, a 31-year member of the coop, the shift is a source of profound sadness. “The coop is such a special place – to me, it was a real, uplifting place,” she remembers. “Everybody works together, and everyone seems to care about each other. It was just such a pleasant place to be.” But now, she says, “I try to go as long as I can without having to go back. I try to stock up when I go, and that makes me very sad.”
Shaievitz is not alone in her concerns. For the past year, the coop has been polarized by debates over Israel, Gaza, and the Middle East conflict. A group of members has pushed the store to boycott Israeli goods, and the issue has dominated the coop’s internal politics, sparking heated arguments at monthly general meetings, in the pages of its newsletter, and even within the coop itself, with members shouting epithets at each other.
At the heart of the debate is the question of how best to support the Palestinian people. Some see a boycott as a necessary act of solidarity, while others argue that it is divisive and unfair to single out the State of Israel. Proponents of the boycott, who have gathered more than 1,000 signatures, plan to push for a vote on the issue.
But for others, the debate has already changed the very character of the coop. “It’s harming our food coop, it’s tearing the coop apart,” says Shaievitz. “This isn’t some kind of political action community, and we’re not going to solve the Middle East here. Our platform was the health of the coop and making sure all of our members feel welcome and safe.”
For Jonathan Aranov, a 28-year-old coop member, the situation is deeply concerning. “I think it’s amazing that people can disagree, but I don’t think people should be yelled at, called names, and experience that sort of behavior,” he says. “I think it’s really unfortunate that this is happening in our coop, which is supposed to be a place where people can feel safe and comfortable.”
As the debate rages on, some members have had to confront their own biases and values. “It’s unfortunately a reflection of the world, and we’re all complicit in it,” says Ramon Maislen, a Jewish member who has been involved in the coop for 13 years. “The world is not a nice place, and unfortunately, we see that even in our own community.”
For those who have been on the receiving end of hostile words, the consequences have been severe. A Jewish member, who asked to remain anonymous, reported being called a “Zionist” and “complicit” by a fellow member. Another member, an Israeli, was told that “because I’m a Zionist, I’m incapable of empathy” and that “I smell like Palestinian blood.”
In the face of such tension, some have chosen to step away from the coop. “I don’t want to be a part of it,” says Shaievitz. “I don’t want to be part of a place that’s turned so negative and toxic.” Others have decided to stay, hoping that the coop can find a way to move forward, despite its differences.
Whether a boycott will ultimately be approved remains to be seen. But for the members of the Park Slope Food Coop, the debate has already changed the way they interact with each other and with the coop itself. As one member put it, “We used to be a community, and now we’re a bunch of people with different opinions.”
