The squirmy pleasures of watching ‘Jewish Matchmaking’

The shared experience of watching the Netflix series raises uncomfortable questions about how people see Jews and how we see ourselves.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m doing this with you,” Yosi says as we sit down to watch the first episode of Netflix’s Jewish Matchmaking. We could blame Yosi’s reluctance to engage in judgy voyeurism on his macho Sephardic roots. But then, I don’t really want people to know I’m watching, either. I’m better than trash TV, I like to tell myself, as I numbly scroll through Instagram.  

Everyone in my group chats have been talking about the show, even my contacts with PhDs, so I caved and decided to take Yosi with me to soften the impact. 

“My stomach feels weird,” I whisper as the show’s generic intro begins. I think it’s my Ashkenazi gut reaction to the anxiety I feel whenever a new Jewish show airs.

Hypersensitive to the notion that "The World is Watching’" I’m nervous that the kiddush spread of Jewish people on the show won’t be presented favourably and by default, Jews in general will get even more bad publicity. I’m worried I’ll have to tell my hairdresser that, “Not all Jews live in multimillion-dollar mansions,” like I did when Luxe Listings first aired. 

It’s not my first foray into Reality TV with marriage as a central theme. Pressured by mates to watch Marriage At First Sight (MAFS), I couldn’t get past the lack of diversity and the fact that producers had obviously mismatched couples for ratings. I switched off. 

Three episodes into Jewish Matchmaking, I’m impressed at how the team have clearly tried to match people based on their requested characteristics and the way host Aleeza Ben Shalom is forthcoming about the traits that don’t fit participants’ extremely specific criteria. Yosi and I like Aleeza’s openness to match Jews of various levels of observance. We admire Aleeza’s ability to bite her tongue.