Curry’s work aims to challenge prevailing notions of Jewish cemeteries as liminal spaces within Poland. She argues that “the Jewish cemetery was a central site for the negotiation of identity and consideration of tradition – which often led to conflict and also activism within Jewish communities. My dissertation, as it stands now, takes a thematic approach – my chapters are centered on the themes of ritual, space, movement, and actors.” Curry’s dissertation, which covers both the interwar period and the Second World War, aims to connect two periods that are often viewed separately.
A major part of Curry’s research is understanding the conception of space among Polish Jews. “Space means very little if there aren’t living things to use that space. And cemeteries are some of the most poignant ‘spaces.’ They are layered with meaning – they are the place where the dead are buried, but even more so, they are the spaces where the living go to mourn. In Jewish tradition, they have significant religious and spiritual meanings, and most Jews are called to visit the cemetery routinely. So, though I am studying one type of space, this dissertation is ultimately about the people using this space. I am also quite intrigued by questions of whether spaces can serve as ‘actors’ themselves.”
Curry argues that cemeteries were particularly important spaces for Polish Jewish survival in her time period: “In the case of Jewish cemeteries in both interwar and World War II-era Poland, I believe they make a significant impact on the lives of the living. This impact became even more significant during the Holocaust – as these spaces became instrumental to Jewish survival at times (Jews used cemeteries to hide from deportations, escape ghettos, and grow and smuggle food) while, at the same time, Nazis used these sites to kill Jews and also removed tombstones to build roads and ensure buildings.”
To fully understand the role of cemeteries, Curry has traveled to numerous archives in both Poland and the U.S. She has visited the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research in New York City, and the Polish State Archives in Lublin, Poland, to name a few. She uses a combination of Polish governmental records and various first-hand accounts to examine how cemeteries were both regulated and experienced. A particular challenge is that many sources were destroyed in the Second World War and Holocaust.
Curry’s work shows how cemeteries mediated a complicated relationship between Polish Jews and their non-Jewish neighbors: “When I went to Warsaw in the fall for a research trip, I collected about seven different collections on the closing of Jewish cemeteries in the 1920s for “sanitation purposes.” I’ve been working on translating and understanding these collections ever since. Ultimately, it seems that there were a few cases in which the Polish government in the 1920s and 1930s became involved in the closure of some Jewish cemeteries in Poland, often because the non-Jewish population believed that the cemetery would be dangerous to the health of the town. In one case, some townspeople believed that the groundwater from the cemetery was leaking into their wells and poisoning the townspeople. The Polish government became involved – sending in doctors to test the groundwater for bacteria and pollutants and engineers to make suggestions on how the cemetery impacted the town. In the case of one town, despite the biologists stating there was no risk of harm, the Polish government proceeded with closing the Jewish cemetery, and the Jewish community was forced to find new land for a cemetery – land that was not even located within the town itself. I think these stories can tell us a lot about the significance of the space of the Jewish cemetery within a town as well as which actors were involved in the decisions surrounding Jewish cemeteries.”
Curry’s choice of research is connected to her past familial experiences: “My interest in Jewish cemeteries began on my very first trip to Poland in 2012. My mom and I went to Poland, hoping to discover something, anything, about her grandfather’s family, who had emigrated to the United States from Poland in 1917. At that time, we knew very little about Poland, so we hired a tour guide to give us tours around Warsaw and take us to the town our ancestors were from. On our first or second day, we visited the Jewish cemetery on Okopowa Street in Warsaw. I’m not a very spiritual person – but there is something quite special about that place that I’ve never been able to quite put into words.” Since this visit, Curry has visited many Jewish cemeteries around Poland, which helps her better understand how the subject of her study was experienced.
Given the nature of her topic, Curry is aware of the difficulties that come with it: “There is, of course, an emotional component to studying the Holocaust. I was raised with the Holocaust – my mother had me reading books about it from a very young age; I visited the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum for the first time at ten years old…I find myself to be somewhat desensitized to it today. Every now and then, when translating a source, the tragedy of it hits me all at once. But ultimately, my research interests overcome the emotional impact.”
Curry believes that her work reinforces the desire to study the Holocaust and the importance of its human element: “There is a purpose to this work – studying the Holocaust teaches us about humanity in the gravest of times. We need to continue to study the Holocaust and continue to teach the Holocaust. And I can’t do those things successfully if I allow emotions to overcome my intellectual interests. Despite my desensitization, I am always reminding myself that these sources come from real people. The horrifying images I look at every day show real people, real bodies of people. I really want to tell their stories. And I really want to tell stories about the cemeteries in which they lived and the cemeteries in which they were buried.”
-Mark Thomas-Patterson