Drew

Drew Medvid was a student at the University of Pittsburgh at the time of the October 27th, 2018 synagogue shooting. In this episode he reflects on his learning journey about the Jewish experience, from key relationships with Jews growing up in Charlotte, North Carolina to his time at Pitt. Drew discusses his reactions to the synagogue shooting and relates what he has learned about antisemitism to his experience as a trans man.  

This episode is adapted from an oral history interview conducted by Noah Schoen with Drew Medvid on September 15th, 2019 for the Meanings of October 27th oral history project. The full, unedited interview will be made available soon at The October 27 Archive website, which is managed by the Rauh Jewish Archives at the Heinz History Center.

To learn more or to donate to help us create more episodes like this one, visit october27podcast.org

What is October 27th?

October 27th is a podcast that tells the story of the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting through the voices of the local community.

Each episode introduces us to the story of a person who experienced the synagogue shooting and its aftermath: survivors and family members of those who were killed, Jewish community members, and their non-Jewish neighbors.

October 27th is adapted from Meanings of October 27th, an oral history project that interviewed over 100 Pittsburghers about their life stories and reflections on the shooting.

Visit the oral history archive: https://october27archive.org/oral-histories

Donate to support this project: https://bardian.bard.edu/register/meanings

I’m Noah Schoen and I’m Aliza Becker and this is October 27th, a podcast about the October 27th, 2018 synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh. Aliza and I co-founded an oral history project that recorded over 100 interviews with local Jews and non-Jews about their life stories and reflections on the shooting. Our interviewees taught us so much, and we’ve created this podcast to share their insights with you. This is October 27th.

Noah Schoen: When Aliza and I began working on this project, it was just six months after the synagogue shooting.

It was a raw time in the Pittsburgh community and so we decided that before recording any interviews, we would first listen, off-mic, to dozens of people across the city.

As we listened, we noticed that Pittsburgh’s Jews had a lot of stories to share about how non-Jews had shown up for them after the shooting. There were friends who gave hugs, neighbors who showed up at community rallies, strangers who found all sorts of ways to demonstrate their sorrow and their care.

And then there was this group of non-Jews we started to meet—people who felt a calling to do something beyond their immediate response to the shooting.

Drew Medvid was a student at the University of Pittsburgh on October 27th, 2018, and in the following weeks, he found himself in eye-opening conversations about antisemitism with Jewish friends and loved ones. Moved to action, he began working on an archival project documenting student reactions to the shooting.

Drew’s approach of standing up to antisemitism is deeply informed by his own life experiences as a transgender man. He has a lot of insights to share about the importance of showing up for others and the little things people can do to stand up to discrimination.
Drew Medvid: I'm Drew Medvid and I am not a Pittsburgh native, but I came to Pittsburgh three years ago for school.

Schoen: Could you tell me a little bit about your relationship with Pittsburgh?

Medvid: I am from Charlotte, North Carolina, but my parents were both born in Pittsburgh. My mom is from Dormont, and my dad is from Collier Township, so that's a little outside the city.

So, we would often come to Pittsburgh three or four times a year, usually for holidays and maybe a week or two over the summer. Both my parents are very fond of Pittsburgh. Definitely my dad more so, because he was really into the sports teams, which is pretty normal for any Pittsburgh guy, I think. I'm the third generation of Steelers fans, and you know we're pretty intense about that.

Also, we are a Greek Orthodox family. So my family was very involved with the church in Pittsburgh—that's sort of our community there.

But we definitely have deep roots here. When we visited, we very much saw how close this community was even thirty, forty years later my parents could call up their neighbors that once lived next to them, and they still get dinner with their friends that they went to high school with.

So, I know my dad, like every time he's up here, he questions moving back up here. But for the most part, once it's winter, he stops talking about that so I think he’s staying in Charlotte.

Schoen: So, what was your community like in Charlotte growing up there?

Medvid: It's kind of mixed feelings about it. I was born in Charlotte in 1998, and I was assigned female at birth. But I am transgender, and I only came out a couple years ago. But I knew I was trans basically from the moment I could really make definitive thoughts and speak and you know act for myself. When I was three, four, five, it became pretty obvious, especially juxtaposed next to my identical twin sister.
And so growing up, you know I was, in quotation marks, “a tomboy.” I only wore clothes from the men's section. I only wanted to hang out with guys in my class. I had to play baseball, not softball. I had to play football and basketball, just everything you know stereotypically masculine.

For elementary and middle school, I got bullied so much for you know wanting to be one of the guys. And there were very few people who were ever nice to me about that. I had very few friends, but those were really meaningful friends to me, because they didn't care about something as trivial as like gender stereotypes.

And my sister was my biggest supporter. If anybody dared to mess with me, she had my back. Because she knew our whole lives, I'm sure, that I was trans. And she always treated me like her brother and not her sister.

And it wasn’t really until high school that I realized I like Charlotte in a lot of ways but how backwards it kind of was. And Charlotte's probably the most forward-thinking and progressive part of North Carolina. But my school was clearly still divided on racial lines. There was a lot of tension, you know with gerrymandering and what-not. And it was also the time of the 2016 election that I really started to see the true colors and how unsafe and not the right place Charlotte was for me.

Schoen: Did you have any relationships with Jews growing up there?

Medvid: I had a few friends growing up who were Jewish. And that was really my only exposure to Judaism growing up other than my mom's best friend. Ellen is Jewish, and she is from Brooklyn. She's a New York Jew, and she's very proud of it. And she was like a second mom to me. I went to her house every day after middle school. I had dinner with her pretty much four out of seven days of a week. And she exposed me to Judaism.
You know we celebrated Hanukkah together. Like because she wanted me to be exposed to that, and I think my mom did, too. She's very big on experiencing other people's cultures, which I am very grateful for.

But my best friend Hannah, who I've known since I was like in sixth grade, we are still best friends, and she is Jewish.

There's not prominent ways to describe how Hannah's life was different than mine just because she's Jewish. It was just sort of like the distinct features of walking into her house and seeing a mezuzah or a menorah. And that was my first real exposure to Judaism other than Ellen, you know, this was somebody my age. She's really my only friend that I kept after moving from Charlotte to Pittsburgh.

And we have a really unique relationship. I think because, when she met me, I was somebody else. So, I think we've just been through a lot together. But she was definitely one of my largest supporters through my transition. I would hope I was one of her largest supporters after October 27th.

Schoen: So, what's it been like since you got to Pittsburgh?

Medvid: I pretty much immediately knew I was home when I came to Pittsburgh. It was just eye-opening to see how much more accepting and loving Pittsburgh is. And it could have just been you know the college atmosphere, but I really think it's pretty universal in Pittsburgh, that everybody you meet just sort of cares about meeting you.

And I met more and more Jewish people as time went on. Became friends with them. It’s not something that really registered in my brain until after October 27th. And I think that’s a common theme with people that you’ll ask at Pitt. Like it didn’t really register who your Jewish friends were until then.

And then I'm dating a Jewish girl now, actually. Her family is from Pittsburgh. And they've taught me a lot about Judaism, in terms of what it means, especially after Passover I celebrated with them.They had added a new portion to the seder I think. It's a tangerine slice —for the LGBT community. I realized that the plight was the same.

In a Passover Seder you focus on the plight and the survival against all odds for the Jewish people and you know that just from then on opened up a lot of discussions about how to be there for each other. Me as a non-Jewish person in that Jewish household, and them as cisgender people with a transgender person in their household.

I’m just very grateful is what I’d say. Because if it weren't for them, it's not that I wouldn't care about something like October 27th. I probably would've stayed in my little bubble of a minority as a transgender individual and really only cared about what that community is going through. But now I look through a lens of intersectionality that I definitely can never break away from.

I think you know minorities have to look out for each other. And I've definitely experienced them caring about my person as a minority, and me caring about their person as a minority, especially after October 27th. They've just opened my worldview and my eyes so much more than I ever could have imagined.

Thinking back, I would be such a different person without Ellen, and especially Hannah. When you're exposed to different cultures when you're young, it prevents you from developing prejudices, I think. And I'm just grateful for that.

Schoen: How did you try to support the Jewish people in your life in the days and weeks and months after October 27th,

Medvid: So, the morning of October 27th, we had a home football game at Heinz Field that day. relatively early like 8 or 9am the first updates started coming in about the shooting.
And at this point, the entire marching band, we were on our buses, getting ready to leave Oakland and headed to perform. And I was not on the same bus as my girlfriend, because we are in different sections. It was just very hard to grasp that alone, and then to also be there for someone that you care about immensely and love.

It was very hard, because I'm not Jewish, and I wanted to respect that fact. But yeah I mostly that day I focused on making sure that my Jewish friends who were close to me felt supported.

Schoen: It sounds like you were playing this really meaningful support role to others. And I'm wondering what was going on inside you while all of this was happening?

Medvid: I don't know. It did seem like a surprise then that it could happen. I was upset. I also felt really lost. I would say that's probably how a lot of non-Jewish people felt on that day, because we all love someone who's Jewish—or at least, we all should, and it's hard to approach as a supporter when you're an outsider, I think.

I didn’t know what to ask, I didn’t know what to say. I still think about that day, I'm like, “How should I have gone about this? Should I have texted more people?”
The weeks and months after, a lot of the conversations I had were with my girlfriend’s mom. She works in a synagogue as a Hebrew school teacher. And her life has changed so much because of October 27th.

You know there is now a policeman there pretty much all the time making sure things are safe. I think even the locks on the doors have changed, curriculum has changed. She teaches younger students. How do you even talk about October 27th with kids who are six, seven, eight years old? But she had to do that.

And then in March, Pitt had opened up an application for the Tree of Life Scholars in Residence program which does research on the university and youth responses to October 27th

I was accepted, And then my life really changed forever, because my relationship to not only the tragedy but the Jewish community changed forever. I just became so much more involved. I was less of an outsider.

My life has just been just about how to frame October 27th, and how to ensure that people don't forget about it. That people are educated about, not only the event itself, but the context of an antisemitic shooting.

And I realized how much the Jewish community is so accepting of having you know even with something so personal and heartbreaking, they were willing to share their stories and wanting everybody to care and listen and hear their stories.

Schoen: You mentioned a moment ago that you’re now thinking about the context of October 27th, and I'm wondering what is the context that you think is important for people to know about October 27th?

Medvid: I think most importantly, will always be remembrance. I think with the climate that we're in right now, because there's so many similar types of loss of life every week in the country, I think people tend to just breeze over something like the shooting on October 27th as just another statistic that fits into a political narrative, which, they're not wrong about that. I mean, it's definitely truthful that it has something to do with the political climate. I just think it’s not remembered in the correct way of what the Jewish community here wants it to be remembered as and that’s simply an antisemitic shooting, loss of important life. It's just not another statistic.

Another context is education. Every time I talk to people about what I did this summer, or even before I was on the project, they're just shocked that it could happen in Pittsburgh, or shocked that it could happen in Squirrel Hill, or shocked that an antisemitic shooting at all happened in 2018. And don’t get me wrong. At one point I definitely was sort of in the same boat as them. Like, I can't believe this happened. And so, I think you know educating people on antisemitism. But, education all around I feel like is the answer to most of America's issues and most of the world's issues.

Schoen: Has there been anything that you've learned about antisemitism that really surprised you or caught your attention and that you've been thinking about?

Medvid: Yah, as a non-Jewish person, I knew that antisemitism existed always and constantly, but I really underestimated how much it happened, and how significant it was on Jewish people. It wasn't until after October 27th that my Jewish friends and loved ones started opening up a little bit more about other types of antisemitism they face. But for a lot of people, antisemitism was not something they talked about other than like ninth grade history, coverage of the Holocaust, and then now this shooting. And so, it’s something that I think people are now talking about because it’s almost fascinating. It's like this reactionary concept that now we have to talk about it. It annoys me that people only talk about antisemitism when there's extreme loss of life, whether that be eleven people or six million people.

Schoen: You've spoken in this interview about some of the oppression that you faced as a trans person. And I'm wondering what you've learned about what kind of support helps from experiencing some of those things and what people have done well to support you around that piece of your identity. And maybe what have they done that's not so good that we can learn from?

Medvid: Yah, sure I'd love to speak on that. I think it was my junior year of high school when the bathroom bill came out. Charlotte had passed this citywide ordinance that allowed anybody in a public building to use any bathroom they wanted.

And that week, the state of North Carolina—which is considered a purple state but the way it is gerrymandered, it’s pretty much just red—said, “Hell, no. If you allow transgender people to choose what bathroom they want to use, all kinds of things could happen. You know, people are going to get raped and killed, and all these terrible things are going to happen if we let people poop where they want.”

So, they passed a very transphobic bill, House Bill 2. It’s most famously known as the bathroom bill. And it basically says you have to use the bathroom that's assigned to you on your birth certificate.

I really appreciated, as a closeted trans guy, seeing a lot of people around me upset. Even if a lot of people around me weren’t upset about it, it was still something very important to me to see at least some people knowing that this was inherently wrong and discriminatory.
That bathroom bill was really when I learned of the word transgender and adopted that word. And I knew that's what I was.

So, this was a very definitive moment for me. I was just so stuck. I was trapped in this place that didn't even accept my right to go to the bathroom, So like, I didn’t know where to go from there. I knew that I couldn’t go to school here.

So just being publicly supportive, and personally supportive, for trans people is key. You don't want to ever publicly be there for a group, especially after something bad has happened, and not give a crap the other 364 days of the year when they are clearly facing other types of personal or more subtle forms of discrimination, or conflict within themselves. I think that's very similar to October 27th.

Schoen: Do you think that October 27th could be a turning point of some kind?

Medvid: Yes and no. I think it's a turning point for discussion. People are now talking about antisemitism more. They realize it's not something of the past, which it never was. You know people didn't talk about it enough. So, I'm glad it's reentering conversations.
October 27th had this very unique impact where it brought the Pittsburgh community together, regardless of if you're Jewish or not, regardless of what part of Pittsburgh you're from, Regardless of age, race, gender, people realized that part of their community was targeted. The Pittsburgh community came together to support one another to make sure the Jewish community in Pittsburgh felt supported by other communities. And, so that was a big turning point.

Pittsburgh is a close-knit community. It does care about its neighbors. But it's even closer now, after October 27th. And it's sad that that had to happen that way. But I think more and more people are having conversations across different lines that they wouldn't have before.
I also feel like, in a lot of ways, October 27th isn't a turning point. There are thoughts and acts and behaviors of antisemitism every day, and they've existed in every community, including the Pittsburgh community far before October 27th, 2018. But they just aren't publicized. They're something that people write off or just aren't aware of. Which is good that we're having this conversation now about antisemitism, so hopefully that can shed some light on those incidents. But it’s not a turning point in terms of this is the only time this has ever happened or ever will happen

Schoen: One conversation that I've heard happening in Pittsburgh since October 27th has been what kinds of violence in Pittsburgh get more attention than others. And I'm curious if you have any thoughts on that.

Medvid: I absolutely think that certain groups who experience violence are not given as much coverage simply based on their status, especially the Black community. Why is October 27th getting more coverage than Antwon Rose?

I think there's a terrible history in the United States of brushing over the lived experiences and the violence that the Black community faces. I think it's partially because white people don't want to own up to the culture that they live in and that they participate in.
I see the same thing in the trans community. You know we have Trans Day of Visibility, which is when we reflect on the number of trans people who have died in that given year. And for the most part, every year the majority of those people are trans women of color. And they get almost no coverage. You don’t hear about that at all in the media and it’s simply because of their minority status.

The less of a majority you are, the less coverage your life is going to get, especially when that comes to violence and especially if it comes to death. The media doesn’t want to talk about that because white people don’t want to hear about that.

Schoen: The other side of violence, you could say, is safety. And I'm wondering what you think a safe community looks like and what community safety means to you?

Medvid: I think a safe community depends on the community you're a part of. I was fortunate enough, for the majority of my life to be part of a safe community, because I grew up in an upper-middle class neighborhood. I'm white. I am safe to all degrees, unless somebody knows I'm trans.

I think a safe community is just knowing who your neighbors are and caring about who your neighbors are and just accepting people for who they are.
I think if we accept people for who they are, then there's probably—guaranteed—a less chance that you're going to hate those people.

Schoen: Is there anything that you'd like to convey and speak out to future generations about all that you've learned from this?

Medvid: I think the most important thing for future generations to know is that we have to look out for each other, regardless of who you are or where you come from. We're all different. And I think that's something that needs to be addressed more.
People have the wrong idea of what diversity is at times I think. And diversity is valued as this good thing based on statistics, but the best thing you can do is just talk to one another, and learn what the lived experiences of other people are and how it relates to your own. And carry that with you throughout the so that less terrible things like October 27th happen.