I had the pleasure of seeing the Arizona Theatre Company's rendition of Anna Deavere Smith's award-winning piece, "Fires in the Mirror." The original project was a one-woman show, Smith portraying the entire cast of characters. In the ATC's production, th ree very talented African American actresses split the parts among them. This departure in no way takes away from the powerful voices spoken through these actresses or diminishes the images conjured up at each scene change. The story unfolds in 1991, wher e an automobile carrying a Hasidic Jewish orthodox spiritual leader hit one car, swerved, jumped the sidewalk and struck two Guyanese children, killing one and injuring the other. Apparently, a private Jewish ambulance whisked the driver away, while, by s ome accounts, the injured children waited almost three hours for a city ambulance. Later that night, a Hasidic scholar visiting from Australia was stabbed to death by a mob of "blacks," in presumed retaliation. Rioting followed for three days, as African Americans, Caribbean Americans and members of the Hasidic community clashed. Smith interviewed many people, both Jewish and black, throughout the neighborhood. She compiled the dialogues and conveys those conversations, verbatim, as the characters in the production.

What stuck me the most about the play came some two weeks later when I read two articles in Commentary (December 1995), a monthly publication by the American Jewish Committee. The articles, both about black-Jewish relations, were critical of the African A merican community in the wake of the O.J. Simpson trial and the solidarity behind the Million Man March. The articles continued by describing initially the richness of our historical bonds during this nation's assault civil rights, but then settles into a very antagonistic analysis of how blacks unexpectedly soured the alliance. The articles went on to criticize the state of black America today: denouncing the African American political agenda as antiquated, referring to social policies such as affirmativ e action as "reinforcing the dysfunctional elements in black life," and implying that the majority of problems in the African American community are self inflicted, supported by such statements as there being "no solution to the dilemma of daily suspicion [of blacks] until young black men commit fewer violent crimes."

The connection between the play and those articles came loud and clear as I remembered a scene in the play that spoke to me personally, even at that time. A young African American man, a teenager, was telling his side of the story. He described the atmosp here of the neighborhood: cold, separated and hostile. He said the black youth were angry, brooding long before this incident, and now ready to explode. As the crowds gathered, he revealed their rage, the deep-seeded resentment that cannot be understood u ntil it is part of you. As I watched his character unfold, I thought of the 1992 Los Angeles riots (I was there); as I read these articles, I thought of the young man, trying desperately to convey his rage so someone else could understand.

The authors of both articles related their confusion as to the breakup of the Black-Jewish alliance during this nation's history of racial toil. They did not understand how African Americans could take up the cause of "black power," seemingly at the exclu sion of those who fought beside them. Conceivably, this is where the misunderstanding began - things did not change at the exclusion of anyone, but simply leaders began to take a new direction. The authors conclude the change was anti-Semitic, an attitude they say plagues the Jewish-African American relationship today. I condemn any anti-Semitic rhetoric, no matter the source. But to paint with such a broad brush as anti-Semitism commentary on Jews who share with African Americans the disdain of bigotry a nd prejudice, but who also have obtained a degree of recognized success, while African Americans still struggle disproportionately; and now condemn support of affirmative action policies as an "excuse for failure" and the "inescapable suggestion that they (African Americans) are unable to compete on their own" itself contributes to the breakdown of the friendship.

This brings me back to the young man in "Fires in the Mirror." The rage he felt cannot be explained, or denied. It can be blinding, but never has it overwhelmed one's sense of self-importance and destiny. Henry Louis Gates stated it best when he said that anti-Semitism is "a weapon in the raging battle of who will speak for black America." Anti-Semitism is clearly not the proper weapon (improper in any context), but the important issue is "who will speak for black America" - black Americans insist that th ey shall. At the end of the day, we have to face ourselves.

David H. Benton is a second year law student and President of the Black Law Students Association. His column appears every other Thursday.