The tennis champion impacted by antisemitism
When tennis champion Angela Buxton died last week at the age of 85, she was lauded as a “pioneer against prejudice” on and off the court. After spending much of her childhood in South Africa, she succeeded on the international tennis circuit in spite of facing blatant antisemitism every step of the way.
Buxton became the first British woman in 17 years to reach the ladies’ singles final at Wimbledon in 1956, losing to American Shirley Fry. She also won the women’s doubles title at both the French Championships and Wimbledon in the same year with doubles partner Althea Gibson.
The two women’s names are bound up with each other. They were each “half of an outcast duo… outsiders in the starched white world of elite 1950s tennis, superb players but excluded from tournaments and clubs and shunned on the circuit because of their heritage”, according to the New York Times’ obituary on Buxton’s death.
“Anyone who wins a title at Wimbledon automatically becomes a member of the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club [the formal name for Wimbledon]. Until their dying days, both Angela and Althea were never made members because of antisemitism and racism,” says Marlene Bethlehem, who represented South Africa at Wimbledon in the 1960s and won the Ladies Singles Plate event there in 1962.
Following her Wimbledon victory, Buxton applied for admission to the club, believing she would be admitted as one of England’s top tennis players. However, her application, along with Gibson’s, was never accepted. Over the next 63 years, Buxton continued to apply for admission without success. In 2004, she said, “I think the antisemitism is still there. The mere fact that I’m not a member is a full sentence that speaks for itself.”
She later told The Observer, “The antisemitism made me more isolated. It made me more determined, more detached. As a result, I was often on my own. For a different reason, Althea was on her own too. And then we came together and beat everybody.”
Buxton was the daughter of Violet and Harry Buxton, who owned a chain of cinemas in England. When World War II began, her father sent her, her mother, and brother to South Africa for their safety. Buxton was six years old at the time.
In an article in the Times of Israel (2014), Buxton fondly recalled her seven years in various cities in South Africa, including Johannesburg and Cape Town. Described by many as a bright and eternally feisty individual, Buxton delighted in looking back at her days here, saying she had attended a convent school with other Jewish children, and was taught by nuns. It was in South Africa that she began to develop her tennis skills and was recognised for her talent.
She told the Times of Israel that it was also in South Africa that she first experience racism. Friends and neighbours were disapproving of the friendship she had with the daughter of the neighbour’s domestic worker, with whom she “played hopscotch and similar games”, telling her she shouldn’t mix with black people. However, Buxton said, “My mom was no-nonsense when we came across it.”
In a similar incident, the Buxton family was approached by a young black woman looking for some cleaning work, she told the publication. Several days later, she appeared with her six-month-old daughter, desperately seeking a place to stay.
“We offered her a job and a place to sleep – on the stoep of our flat” until the landlord threatened to evict them. In spite of her mother’s acceptance, she was also pragmatic and said, “We are guests of the country. We need to keep our heads down, and noses clean.”
“This incident stayed in my mind until I met Althea,” said Buxton.
It was in South Africa that she also first felt the brunt of antisemitism, according to the Times of Israel.
Her mother, Violet, was arranging her hair in the common bathroom shared by several flats. When a man asked if she was finished yet, he then remarked, “You Jews are all the same. You think you own the world!” Violet took her comb and hit him. “Twice,” recalls Buxton.
Buxton reflected on the reason for the man’s comment, and suggested, “There was no good reason – the war was on, and Jews were being sent to the slaughter.”
Returning to England in 1946, her parents got divorced, and she was sent to a boarding school in Wales where her coach immediately saw her talent and developed it through local competitions.
“I was head and shoulders above the rest. During the war, they had no rackets, no balls, and no nets in England. I was beating girls of 18!” Her success in tennis caught the attention of various coaches including George Mulligan from Liverpool, who said of Buxton, “This is a potential Wimbledon champion!”
Buxton was later coached by Ben Tilden in the United States, an ex-Wimbledon champion with whom she played mixed doubles.
Both Bethlehem and Buxton ended their tennis careers at the age of 22, Bethlehem because she got married, and Buxton because of an injury. But before that, when they were both stars at Wimbledon, Buxton invited Bethlehem over for Shabbat dinner.
“We met up during my second year at Wimbledon. Angela knew I was Jewish, and invited me for Shabbos dinner. Her husband was Donald Silk, a solicitor and the chairperson of the Zionist Federation of Great Britain and Ireland. Her parents were Russian, and she told me that when she was in South Africa, neighbours laid a complaint about her playing tennis with black kids.”
The antisemitism Buxton repeatedly experienced deeply informed her worldview, and led her to team up with Gibson.
“When she and her mother went back to live in England, she tried to join the Cumberland Club. They told her, ‘You’re good enough to play here, but we don’t take Jews.’ It was very open,” says Bethlehem. “She eventually went back there, determined to win the tournament, which she did, twice. She said when she won, they didn’t even give her a cup of tea.”
Buxton was repeatedly refused access to training facilities because of her ethnicity. From the mid-1950s, she was able to practise at the private indoor court of Simon Marks, the Jewish owner of department store chain Marks & Spencer, who was aware of the antisemitism she faced.
Bethlehem recalls when Buxton and Gibson first crossed paths. “Angela was on tour with a group in India in 1955 when she noticed Gibson. She was the only black girl, and was on her own a lot, so Angela befriended her. Then the coach said that Althea was having difficulty finding a doubles partner. Angela decided to join her.”
The rest is history. “A couple of weeks later, they won the French championship and Wimbledon. They became extremely famous,” says Bethlehem. “But many years later, Angela got a call from Althea saying that she was in a care home in New York and was struggling financially. Angela put a notice in Tennis Week magazine calling for support, and after a while, the money poured in. She raised nearly a million dollars, and Althea was able to live the rest of her life in comfort and security. Their lives were definitely tied to each other.”
Bethlehem and Buxton exchanged Rosh Hashanah greetings every year. Buxton went on to coach tennis and basketball, and faced challenges in her personal life, including divorce from Silk, and the deaths of two sons. She wrote tennis coaching books and founded the Angela Buxton Tennis Centre. She died two days before her 86th birthday. “Being Jewish was very important to her. And I think her years spent in South Africa also influenced her life,” says Bethlehem.
Buxton was inducted to the Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in 1981. Sandra Harwitt, an international sportswriter who has covered more than 70 Grand Slam tennis events, includes a chapter about Buxton in her book, The Greatest Jewish Tennis Players of All Time: “Angela lived in a time when women didn’t have a significant voice, yet Angela never held back from offering thoughts and opinions on everything, and pushing for her rights. She always speaks her minds and has opinions,” Harwitt wrote.
Dizengoff attack still haunts families 25 years on
South African-born Tali Gordon and her friend, Inbar Atiya, had gone to Dizengoff Center to find an outfit on the night of Purim 25 years ago, but instead of celebrating the chag, they were killed in a terrorist attack outside the shopping centre.
So many years later, her father, Barry Gordon, is still haunted by the loss of his beautiful daughter who was killed at the age of 24. Tali was killed on 4 March 1996, when a suicide bomber detonated a 20kg nail bomb at a busy intersection next to the centre in the middle of Tel Aviv.
He murdered 13 people, including Tali. Her father, who lives in Johannesburg, says, “Every time there’s another terror attack, it adds fuel to the fire. You don’t get over it, the pain gets worse.”
Tali was living in central Tel Aviv, and she and her friend went to Dizengoff Center, which had a number of shops where one could buy dress-up clothes for Purim, he recalls.
They walked out of the centre and had crossed the road to the ATM. While they were waiting at the traffic light, the Hamas terrorist blew himself up in the middle of the road. Both Tali and Inbar, who was 22, were killed instantly.
“They died together. I first heard about it when my son phoned me in the middle of the night from the mortuary in Jaffa. Tali had a small tattoo of a seagull on her right shoulder, and that’s how they identified her. They also found her car in the vicinity.”
Tali was born in South Africa, but grew up in Israel. Her father spent his whole life in Johannesburg, and attended King David schools. Fiercely Zionist, he headed to Israel straight after school as a volunteer after the Six-Day War. He was there for three years, and met his first wife there. They went to South Africa, where they had two children, Tali and Alon. After 1976, they returned to Israel, but eventually he and his first wife divorced and he returned to South Africa. The children remained with their mother, and visited him once a year. Tali spent a year in Johannesburg, and attended King David.
After school, she went to the army. Talented in languages, she could speak Arabic, French, Hebrew, and Spanish, and she worked in intelligence. She was also recruited to the paratroopers. After the army, she travelled widely.
“She was quite worldly, and went to America and the Far East. She started studying political science at Bar Ilan University, and was very politically motivated. Without a doubt, she would have gone into politics. She was a remarkable young lady and we had a special bond,” Barry says.
Strangely, a number of disconnected South African families were also affected by the tragedy, including one Durban family in which a mother and sister were killed.
“What was so harsh about this pigua [terror attack] was the range of age of victims. There was Yovav Levy, who was 13 years old. I’m in daily contact with his mother since we met at the cemetery two years ago. The oldest victim was 84. Most of the victims were young – two were 13, one was 14, and one was 15,” Barry says.
He wasn’t able to get to Israel in time for the funeral. But there was another memorial on the seventh day after the tragedy, and about 2 500 to 3 000 students attended. His daughter is buried in a cemetery just outside Tel Aviv.
Barry says the families of the victims are like a support group. “We share our sorrow. There is such a void. They relate to your tragedy, and you get a bit of closure in that moment.”
His son was deeply affected by the loss of his sister, and has never managed to live a normal life. The family has also been affected by another tragedy. Barry’s mother (Tali’s grandmother) was killed two years before the terror attack in a hijacking in Johannesburg. “Her grandmother took her travelling around the world, and her death really affected Tali.”
Barry remarried, and he and his second wife, Theresa, had a girl named Tashima. “She is named after Tali and is the spitting image of her. She is in her late 20s, and lives in Panama City with her boyfriend, working as an interior designer.”
The Gordons travel to Israel every year to commemorate the tragedy. Last year, they were there in late February and the memorial ceremony was cancelled as COVID-19 began to grip the country. Still, they went to the cemetery, and to the spot where the attack happened.
“It’s on the corner of King George and Dizengoff. There’s a memorial stone there, and a place to light candles. I don’t like the place very much, it gives me cold shivers. But when we were standing there, we saw a photographer and an Israeli actor doing an interview. They asked what I was doing there and I said I lost my daughter in the attack. They said they were doing a piece on the history of Dizengoff, and asked if they could interview me there and then. It was very emotional.”
Another strange coincidence was when they went into the centre to get something to eat, and spoke to the security guard who checks everyone at the entrance. “I told him I lost my daughter in the attack, and he said he was there that day. He got shrapnel in his arm, and it took almost nine months for him to recover. He saw the carnage.”
Barry says that in a strange way, the people who die in terror attacks are “the lucky ones”.
“They go to heaven, they’re with the angels, they’re done. But the families left behind – their lives are changed forever, never to be the same.”
Even though the Israeli government pays a monthly stipend to families of victims of terror, “the injured and their families suffer the most. The ramifications are endless”.
For him, the pain never goes away. “Terrorism has an impact on a person mentally, physically, spiritually, and religiously. Your loved one is there one minute, gone the next. I wonder about so many things, like if I would have had grandchildren by now. Terror means you don’t just lose that person, but an entire generation.”
Doctors pull back the curtain on COVID trauma
Watching a quarter of their patients die from COVID-19. Being yelled at by a family unable to come to terms with their father’s demise. Spending hours talking to families and rabbis when a patient refused ventilation. Seeing the first critically ill young patient typing a goodbye message to his wife, afraid to close his eyes in case he stopped breathing. Witnessing a 17-year-old flinging herself on her father’s body, begging him to keep fighting (when family were allowed into wards).
These are just some of the traumatic experiences that Drs Carron Zinman and Anton Meyberg describe as they try to capture why being on the frontlines of the COVID-19 war has been so devastating to the mental health of doctors and other frontline workers.
They are both pulmonologists at the Linksfield Clinic in Johannesburg, working together during the pandemic. “The most poignant time was when I watched Anton say the vidui prayer for our patients who we knew weren’t going to survive,” says Zinman.
Going back to the beginning, she recalls how they “understood coronaviruses, but SARS-CoV-2 changed the rules. While we were grappling with the complexities of this new disease, we had to contend with a deluge of patients”, many of whom were seriously ill.
“I remember the terror when the first AIDS patient was admitted. I looked after the nursing sister who picked up Ebola, dressing in a spacesuit to assess her. In those times, I felt calm and in control. But COVID-19 was overwhelming and exhausting, and caused a high level of anxiety and stress,” she says.
She remembers getting used to PPE (personal protective equipment), which is uncomfortable, restrictive, and depersonalising.
“We felt like we were fighting a war whose rules of engagement we didn’t understand. I remember the shock at the sheer number of death certificates we had to sign. I recall when Anton admitted a friend – it’s impossible to stay dispassionate in that situation.”
She was deeply affected by the rollercoaster of emotions when patients were well enough to be discharged, yet died suddenly, or the guilt of children who had inadvertently given their parent/s COVID-19.
“More often than not, only one of a couple would go home. The ward rounds felt interminable, often being interrupted by calls for resuscitation and admission. It’s an unpredictable disease and as such, we couldn’t always prepare the families for what was to come. We felt like we were being pulled in multiple directions while being physically tired, sleep deprived, and emotionally drained,” says Zinman.
“Then the second wave hit. We had become complacent, believing we understood this disease, but COVID-19 decided otherwise. The new variant affected younger patients, led to a fuller intensive-care unit and a higher percentage of patients on ventilators. This time, patients tried to get us to promise that they would survive to see their children grow up, and we witnessed last phone calls to wives in which they professed their love and asked them to look after their babies. A lot of time is spent agonising over our decisions, trying to find something more we could do. The emotional trauma inflicted by COVID-19 is unique.”
A local general practitioner (GP), who spoke on condition of anonymity, says, “Since the beginning of the pandemic, I have experienced anxiety, although over time, what specifically triggers it has changed.
“In the beginning, I felt overwhelmed by not knowing enough. We saw the hospitals in Italy, and it was frightening. The thought of possibly having to work in a hospital setting after a number of years as an office-based practitioner was overwhelming. The ‘silver lining’ was the realisation that I wasn’t alone in feeling majorly under-prepared.
“The fear of becoming ill, of bringing the illness home to my family, coupled with the enormous pressure of trying to be available to see patients while having kids at home remote-learning was exhausting,” she continues. “By the time the second wave came, I felt more knowledgeable, but when it came, it was much harder.
“The number of patients who contracted the virus was high. The practice couldn’t keep up with the appointments, tests, and patients who needed to be managed at home. The constant feeling of not being on top of things and also of ‘neglecting’ non-COVID-19 patients took a toll.
“There was the stress of trying to find hospital beds for patients. Everyone was under immense pressure, which was palpable. Trying to support families, keep them updated on their relatives, as well as dispel myths and give reliable advice all felt like a lot to manage.
“And then there were the deaths. So many deaths. It really took a toll on me. I had physical symptoms of anxiety such as a tight chest, abdominal cramps, insomnia, and headaches. I absorb a lot. Usually I try to make time to decompress, but during the peak, it was really impossible. The thought of a third wave gives me massive anxiety. I’m choosing not to think about it.”
Clinical psychologist Dr Hanan Bushkin says that among the medical professionals he has treated, “the rate of burnout, post-traumatic-stress disorder (PTSD), depression, and anxiety is through the roof. With the pandemic showing no end in sight, it has become way more difficult. The brain likes to predict the end point and if it can’t, despondency and depression set in.
“Doctors used to have time to be with family, rest, see friends, exercise, and so on but now they don’t,” he says. “This pandemic has piled on their stressors and eradicated their resources. It’s like being a soldier who has only trained for war but is now experiencing real war, and it’s a whole different ball game. They are seeing traumas that the public don’t see, and this can lead to huge frustration at the ignorance, arrogance, and lack of prevention they see on the street.”
Bushkin says GPs often treat generations of families and get to know them well. Now, he says, “they have a front-row seat to families being broken and the incredible losses of many people that they had a personal relationship with”. In addition, before the pandemic, people who died were usually elderly, or slowly declined after a cancer diagnosis. Now, patients of all ages are getting sick and dying within weeks. “It’s incredibly traumatic,” he says.
“PTSD doesn’t get you when you’re in it,” says Bushkin. “It’s afterwards when the trauma hits, when someone tells themself, ‘I cannot believe that’s the world I’ve just come from’.” He hopes that when the pandemic is over there will be some kind of platform or forum that allows healthcare workers to “de-brief” what they’ve witnessed.
Clinical psychologist Dr Dorianne Weil, who has consulted healthcare workers since the beginning of the pandemic, says, “Doctors are looked to for answers. But if they don’t have all the answers, it creates a dissonance that’s incredibly stressful. They may feel like an ‘imposter’, like they are ‘living a lie’. Everyone sees them as heroes, but they don’t feel that way.”
“There is also the pervasive fear of contracting the virus and passing it onto their families. They become ‘torn’ as they know it’s their calling. Sometimes they don’t want to rely on their families as a support system as there is a feeling that ‘unless you’re in my shoes, you don’t know what it’s like’,” she says.
Doctors have also had to take on the role of being their patients’ families, when family members haven’t been allowed to comfort dying loved ones. “They are stepping into a role that they aren’t usually called to do. It’s unprecedented, and it’s really getting to them.”
So what can we do to support our frontline workers? “There needs to be a group effort to do what these professionals are recommending,” says Bushkin. “I cannot think of a greater insult than for them to come out of a ward and witness people disobeying the rules. It’s incredibly disheartening, and doctors are devastated. It’s the least we can do.”
Toxic conspiracy theory paints Ramaphosa as a ‘Jew’
What do you get when you combine antisemitism, conspiracy theories, and COVID-19 denial? While white supremacists and QAnon supporters feel like they are far off, this toxic combination came much closer to home last week when a woman calling herself “Chabad de la Fontaine” started spouting such ideas to journalists at an anti-lockdown protest in Cape Town.
“[South African President Cyril Ramaphosa] became a Jew,” she told news photographer Esa Alexander in a video he took at Fish Hoek beach on 6 February 2020. Although the initial word “Ramaphosa” is cut out of the clip, Alexander confirmed to the SA Jewish Report that this was what she said. She isn’t wearing a mask in the video.
“And he is acting like the anti-Christ, so I don’t respect him, because people who take their knowledge of G-d and mis-interpret it and distort it the way he did need to be kicked out of the country,” she continued in a rant that became even more hysterical. “I don’t want him in South Africa anymore. He’s not a South African. He can go to America and live with all those people that are the Zionists and the cabal that are trying to manage our planet. No, Mr Ramaphosa, immigrate [sic], go and live in America, we don’t want you.” The video was posted on Twitter, and went viral, with almost 90 000 views.
She’s not the first person to spout such a theory. Local antisemite and white supremacist Jan Lamprecht also calls Ramaphosa “the Black Jew”.
Jevon Greenblatt, the director of operations at the Community Security Organisation in Gauteng said, “The first time we heard this theory about Ramaphosa was from Lamprecht. He would justify it by sharing photos of Ramaphosa talking to the chief rabbi, or of the president talking on the bimah of a shul. It proves that you can sell anything you want to if you have a willing audience.
“It’s not just about spreading propaganda, but having an audience that’s receptive to it. There are so many conspiracy theories out there that you can espouse anything that suits your own agenda.”
Greenblatt says the “Ramaphosa is a Jew” lie is attractive because it ties into age-old antisemitic tropes of Jews controlling the world. “When society is under pressure, this idea is often the first port of call. We see Jews being blamed for the virus or being implicated in benefiting from the virus. It’s a strong element of the extreme right-wing to blame others rather than look at themselves. And it suits them to say that the Jews are controlling the government or South Africa, and here is ‘proof’, ‘Ramaphosa is a Jew’.”
In November 2020, the Randburg Magistrate’s Court issued an interim protection order against Lamprecht following an application by Professor Karen Milner, the Gauteng chairperson of the SA Jewish Board of Deputies (SAJBD), after Lamprecht posted her personal details along with disparaging comments about her on his website, resulting in her receiving hate mail.
Over many years, Lamprecht has used his website to promote Nazi propaganda and disseminate extreme antisemitic and racist content. His published comments include, “Given what a race of two-faced, backstabbing fiends they are, I … have made the argument that there is no such thing as a good Jew”; “They need to meet a new kind of white man, the kind they’ve not met since the time of Hitler”; and “filthy little race of rats and pathological liars … They dominate EVERYTHING … and turn all the powerful against us … Hitler was too nice to them.”
He is prolific on social media, managing multiple websites. His homemade videos spread inflammatory, racist, and antisemitic material. He lauds lone-wolf white supremacists including Pittsburgh Tree of Life Synagogue mass shooter Robert Bowers, and Charleston Church mass killer Dylann Roof.
Lamprecht has continued to post inflammatory material and incite violence even after he was served with the protection notice. He is expected to appear in court on 16 March for his final order, and the interim order will be in place until then.
It’s clear that the woman calling herself Chabad de la Fontaine is elderly, and while some social media users laugh at her statements, others say that she is bigoted, a white supremacist, antisemitic, racist, and a danger to society. This became clearer in another clip posted by Alexander from a different lockdown protest at Muizenberg beach on 31 January.
“I’m a very highly skilled medical doctor as well as a virologist, immunologist, and quantum physicist, working with parasites that they call viruses,” she stated, also not wearing a mask.
“They’re not viruses, they’re parasites, and you don’t need to wear a mask because none of it can be transferred, even with kissing or in a sexual act. What we need to understand is that you’ve got to build up your immune system, like mine, I’m 77 years of age, and I’ve got a strong immune system.” A quick look at her LinkedIn profile and other investigations online make it clear that she isn’t a medical professional.
Asked if she’s on the radar of the SAJBD and if the organisation will take her on over her antisemitic conspiracy theories, Cape SAJBD Executive Director Stuart Diamond, said, “In 2019, we launched our ‘report hate’ tool to capture concerns about antisemitism, anti-Jewish rhetoric, conspiracy theories, hate speech, discrimination, and the like from the Cape community. To date, this tool has provided us with various cases that we consider in our antisemitism and legal subcommittee to determine appropriate action.
“The videos of Chabad de la Fontaine reached us via this tool over the weekend. It’s our first interaction with her content. We are following the same process to determine appropriate action, if any. Further findings on the reported content will be communicated in due course.
“Giving conspiracy theories any airtime is a dangerous activity,” Diamond said. “People are vulnerable to misinformation, especially as South Africa faces a pandemic and its associated complications, economic turmoil, and social challenges. We urge our community to refer to global and local health authorities on all matters related to COVID-19. We also urge our community to continue to use the report hate tool if they become aware of any possible hate incidents.”
Antisemitism expert and emeritus professor of history at the University of Cape Town, Professor Milton Shain, said, “She’s clearly living in a world in which ‘Zionists’ [the collective Jew] are ‘controlling’ and ‘manipulating’ global affairs. This is a classic trope. Her use of the ‘anti-Christ’ also suggests a penchant for conspiracies. This idea goes back to the medieval world. Such tropes are always available, but in times of crisis they seem to have greater traction.”
Darren Bergman, the shadow minister for international relations and cooperation, said he hadn’t heard fellow politicians say that Ramaphosa was Jewish. However, it is a theory circulated amongst some right-wing extremists.
“It’s sad to see such vile hatred. Unfortunately, as the government’s failures increase and citizens’ desperation increases, so will the risk of scapegoating, and that bottle could spin between race, religion, and parties. The sensitivity for Jewry is that we have seen this rodeo far too often, and for us, it has had fatal consequences historically.”
To report antisemitism in the Cape, visit at www.capesajbd.org/focus-areas/antisemitism/report-hate/
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