Among the many sad moments in 2020, the CERES community mourned the passing of our much-loved former colleague, Dr. Janet Hyer. Shortly after her death in June, CERES established the Janet Hyer Essay Prize to recognize exceptional achievement by a second-year CERES MA candidate in completing their Major Research Paper (MRP), and Jessica Bush was named the first recipient for her work, “The Women on Block III: Sexual Violence during the Holocaust in France.”

We were delighted to have the opportunity recently to sit down with Jessica for a (physically distanced) chat about the prize, her work, and her thoughts on navigating difficult topics in academia.

Congratulations, Jessica! All of us at CERES are thrilled that you and your work have been recognized in memory of our friend and colleague. What does this prize mean to you?

I’m extremely honoured. When I learned of Dr. Hyer’s passing, I read all of her work that I could find. One piece, published in 1989, stood out for me: a translation of a series of Soviet women’s letters to the editor. Dr. Hyer didn’t add commentary and instead let this diverse set of voices speak for themselves. I hadn’t gone looking for something so relevant to my own work, but I found it. Dr. Hyer clearly saw the value in listening to and amplifying women’s voices. I’m proud to have won this prize for a paper informed by a similar vision of what is valuable.

I have a feeling she would be pleased that the torch has been passed into such capable hands. How did you choose this topic for your MRP?

I wrote my undergraduate thesis (U of T, History) on the relationship between the French Resistance and the Jews, so I wanted to continue studying occupied France, but with a focus on Holocaust studies. The idea for this paper started to take shape in 2018 when I attended a workshop organized by the Azrieli Foundation on sexual violence during the Holocaust. It struck me that the study of sexual violence – perpetrated by collaborators, resistors, heroes, and victims alike – provides insight into many of the so-called “grey zones” of the Holocaust. Gender-based histories, important (and interesting) in their own right, promote a better understanding of the mechanisms of persecution, domination, and genocide.

Some might consider gender-focused research to be a new or niche approach to scholarship. What did you learn about studying topics that are perceived to be outside the mainstream? What challenges did you face?

Gendered histories may be (relatively) new, but there’s already a solid (and rapidly growing) foundation of excellent research on sexual violence during the Holocaust. My work benefited hugely from it.

The study of sexual violence in general is challenging. It’s painful and disturbing to read about. It’s hard to write about; choosing the right words and striking the right tone are paramount. But talking about it is even harder. Gender-based histories often open with descriptions of the hostile reactions faced by their authors, and these gave me a kind of blueprint for how to handle it when it happened to me.

Really? Could you say a few words about that?

I’ve faced a variety of hostile reactions, ranging from disgust (“Why would you want to study that of all things?”) to dismissiveness (“Rape would have been the least of these women’s worries.”) to disdain (“Why don’t you call your paper ‘The MeToo Movement in Auschwitz?’”). These reactions seemed to be motivated by a variety of factors, anything from misplaced patriotism to misogyny to generic apathy.

I’m speechless. How did you or do you respond to cynical reactions like those, especially in person?

I expected them, but there were more than I’d anticipated. This brand of critique tended to be without any real basis; it’s silly and, frankly, sort of dull. If I asked why that was their view, there was never an answer – a nervous chuckle or an eye-roll, maybe, but nothing more than that. They were knee-jerk responses to a subject that the critic found upsetting or embarrassing. But I took sincere (and therefore more interesting) criticisms very seriously.

So, these experiences were outshone by more supportive reactions?

Oh yes, I’ve received way, way more positive feedback than negative. Everyone at CERES, in the History Department, and at the Centre for Jewish Studies was incredibly supportive. Whenever I presented parts of my project at academic events, my inbox was flooded the next day with encouraging messages.

Were there any memorable insights from your supporters?

I hesitated before sending this paper to my 92-year-old grandmother. I thought the very mention of sexual violence – even of sexuality – might be too much for her. I was wrong. She was disturbed by the subject matter, but also engaged and interested; her exact response was: “I couldn’t put it down – keep going!” The more we talk about sexual violence, the easier it gets to talk about, and the more productive and interesting those conversations become.

That’s an insight we could all learn something from. How did that interaction influence your thinking as a researcher?

My initial hesitancy speaks to one of the major obstacles facing the study of sexual violence: shame. Refusing to engage with or ask questions about sexual violence because we, as scholars, see it as shameful (whether subconsciously or not) impedes historical understanding. My first instinct was to exclude my grandmother from the conversation, rather than assuming – as I should have – that she might be able to add something to it.

These conversations about your work sound like they were important and fascinating in their own right. Who else advised you along the way?  

I’ve been very lucky to have two fantastic mentors throughout my time at U of T: Prof. Doris Bergen (my supervisor) and Prof. Eric Jennings. Their encouragement has been invaluable. Another was an incredible archivist at the Mémorial de la Shoah, whom I spoke with while I was in Europe for my CERES internship. After that, everything clicked into place.

Speaking of your internship, where did you do it? Did it play any role in your research?

I interned for three months at Centropa, a historical institute in Vienna devoted to Jewish history, and it was an amazing experience. I spent the last few weeks of the summer in Paris and in Brittany. Had I not been based in Europe, I never would have found the archival material necessary for this project, so everything comes back to my decision to study at CERES!

Oh, stop – we’re blushing! So, what’s next for you?

I’m currently applying to PhD programs in Canada and abroad. I’m interested in exploring the occurrence of sexual violence (against men as well as women) in other camps in France, as well as cases of sexual abuse perpetrated against Jewish children in hiding in France. Some work on this topic has been done with focuses on other regions of wartime Europe, but virtually nobody has written about it in the case of occupied France.

Sounds like you’ve developed a winning formula: original research that advances scholarship and contributes to current social dialogues. Any final thoughts as you take your next steps?

I’m sad to be leaving CERES – it’s been such an amazing two years! But I’m also looking forward to whatever’s next.

More trails to blaze, undoubtedly. Bon courage!