Jewish is…
Jewish is buying challa bread every Friday morning. Jewish is seeing a shaved head and leather jacket. You cross the street, then forget about it. Jewish is wondering what happened to your great-grandfather. Nobody knows. You think you know.
Jewish is the sad, ancient words of the Mourner’s Kaddish, and small stones on graves. Flowers belong to the world of the living; they are not to be brought to the world of death, but stones recognize our lasting memory. It’s an expression of defiance against American norms. The cemetery smells of earth rather than cloying perfume.
Jewish is your curly hair and your big nose. Jewish is your best friend’s brown skin and green eyes; you are not the same kind of Jew, but he is still your “brother.” Jewish is watching the same Dreamworks movies every year before Passover. Jewish is “Hey, I have a Jewish friend! Maybe you’re related!” They might be right.
Jewish is straddling a space of ethnic, religious and cultural identity.
Jewish is confusion. It is so many questions… “Am I white? Does it matter?” People say you have to be one or the other; it is their fascination that fascinates you. This is a microagression. You don’t play along.
Jewish is being a “greedy Jewish American Princess.” Jewish is a conspiracy to take over the world. You feel like you missed the memo. Jewish is weird questions about Hanukah and Israel and bar mitzvahs and bacon. You pretend to laugh.
Jewish is an expression of historical memory and cultural connection, resisting centuries of diaspora and assimilation.
Jewish is wondering why your last name is a slur.
Jewish is a quilt of different experiences of persecution and conditional privilege.
Jewish is all this and more… To me, anyway.
