My name is Remi Koukou. I am an Iraqi Jew. And Don’t You Forget It.
Remi Koukou is an Iraqi Jew. That is the very first thing she will tell you about herself. Then she will quickly add that she has never actually been to Iraq. Neither have her parents. And yet when one hears the story of her people — the incredible epic, spanning decades of persecution, pain, panic and perseverance — you begin to understand, and honor — her alliance. Her birthright. Her due.
As Remi begins to tell her own story, her deep, rich heritage falls around her, like locks about Rapunzel. Remi’s Grandmother was forced to escape her homeland of Iraq when she was just 3 years old due to her family’s Judaism. While a war-weary world tried desperately to rebuild and look forward, many ignored the fact that Nazi leaders quietly took up important political and military positions throughout the Middle East. Life became increasingly more difficult for Jews in Arab and Muslim countries, but nobody seemed to notice — at first.
The Forgotten Jews
As Antisemitism roiled across the Arabic world with the declaration of an Israeli State in 1948, Iraq, long considered a Nazi Arab stronghold and top ally, made it easy for The Nazi Movement to gain popularity. By 1948, “Zionism” became a crime in Iraq, punishable by seven years in prison, essentially making it illegal to be a Jew. The message was clear: “Leave Iraq now or be moved to concentration camps in the immediate future”. With the atrocities of WWII fresh in their minds, a vast majority of Iraqi Jews fled the nation they had inhabited for the last 2,600 years. Remi’s family was among them.
From 1949–1951, 104,000 Jews were airlifted, bused or otherwise evacuated from Iraq, with an additional 20,000 smuggled out through Iran. Iraqi Jews were banished without rights to their wealth or materialistic goods, and arrived in their new lands with nothing, quite literally, but their memories.
From Iraq to Iran; Shah to Ayatollah
While most Iraqi Jews were shuttled to Israel, Remi’s family made their way to Iran, where her Great Grandfather happened to have been working on a short-term project. They were happy to be together, and alive, and they went about re-building their lives. The 1941–1979 reign of Muhammad Reza Shah was considered a ‘Golden Age’ for Jews in Iran, and the Jewish Community thrived under his reform policies.
But as Remi’s Grandmother grew, married and started a family of her own, the political horizon worsened. Mounting support for the Ayatollah Khomeini and growing dissent for the ‘Western-backed’ Shah’s government spelt trouble for all Jews in Iran. Although some members of the Jewish community welcomed the Ayatollah at first, fears rose after Habib Elghanian, a prominent businessman and symbolic head of the Iranian Jewish community, was accused of Zionist espionage activities and executed by firing squad in 1979.
It is estimated that as many as 30,000 Jews immigrated within months of the Ayatollah’s rise. After almost 4 decades of building a new life, the on-set of the Islamic Revolution meant that Remi’s family were once again forced to flee their home for the crime of being Jewish.
A Brave New World
The paths of the Iraqi Jews leaving Iran were dispersed; people fled to anywhere friends or families could offer hope. Most landed in Israel, Europe or the States. Miraculously, the small, tight-knit community from Remi’s great-grandparents era stayed exceptionally close. Of the Jews that emigrated from Iran, over 8000 settled in the New York area. Of that group, a significant percentage were Iraqi and settled in Great Neck, NY — Remi’s hometown!
Together, here, in Great Neck, this community of Iraqi Jews experiences a level of loyalty, allegiance and devotion that perhaps no shared piece of earth may ever have afforded them. Here they have answered their search for the things they could only dream of — religious freedom, the ability to educate their children — the right to live in peace.
Full Circle
Remi, by her own admission, had an idyllic childhood. Born to an Iranian Jewish Mother and Iraqi Jewish Father, she enjoyed a safe and happy upbringing in her affluent, mostly Jewish, neighborhood. Later her brother and she followed their Father to Boston University where she felt blessed to pursue her passion, and study Art History.
And, although tangled in the texts and trappings of typical American youth, Remi feels different. She feels lucky. “I sometimes feel badly for other kids who weren’t brought up in as close a community as I was. Its so easy to feel lost today, but because I am part of my Iraqi Jewish community, and they are a part of me, I know just where I belong.” she muses. Ironic, she admits, that her sense of belonging in essence comes from generations of not belonging. “Its all come full circle.”, she explains.
“I know that today the word ‘privilege’ has a bad connotation but it doesn’t have to be negative if you use your privilege not for self service, but to serve others. ”, she continues, “I do believe I was given privileges, and I take them seriously. Because of my family’s sacrifices, I’m able to work at an art gallery where I educate people about, protect and help share some of the most important works of art in the history of the world. And promote new artists! If my family had not kept fighting for their freedom, for our freedom, for my freedom, I would never have been able to pursue my life’s work. That’s pretty amazing.”
Ruination, Resurrection, Rebirth
Today it is difficult to find any traces of Jews living in Iraq. The most recent estimation put the population at 7. Not 7000. Not 700. 7 people. And yet somehow, remarkably, the culture of the Iraqi Jews continues to inspire their young people still, in the unlikely local of Long Island. Yes, Remi Koukou is privileged to have her family, her community, her education — but when you’re with her, something shows you she never for an instant takes those things for granted. There is something (survival? defiance?), undeniably etched, in her marbled, brown cat’s-eyes. An ancient flash of steely shine in her Persian hair, that says, “My name Remi Koukou. I am an Iraqi Jew. And don’t you forget it.”
