Believe me, I’ve heard “Oh, do you know Marvin Gold? He lives in Montana. But he’s Jewish.” (we’re in Illinois) I try to instill pride in my kids in their heritage, in their culture and in their difference. I encourage them to embrace any friends that are Jewish, but I encourage all their friendships just in other ways. They like having at least one or two kids who celebrate the same holidays and speak the same language. And I don’t mean Hebrew — I mean the language of kvetching and matzah balls, of lox and bagels and of knowing what it’s like to sit in Temple all day long.

And I guess like you, whose race seems ambiguous to some, no one looks at me or my kids and thinks (in their ultimate wisdom) that we are Jewish. So, yes, you hear many things because of that.

My favorite response to when I say “I’m Jewish” is “Oh.”

I think that a lot of white people are just racially conscious enough to feel embarrassed about how segregated their lives are, so they compulsively try to deny/explain it. Personally, I think I’m pretty good at keeping that impulse in check most days, but it comes up more than I’d like to admit. I lived for a semester in South Africa, in 1996, and when I was there I couldn’t bear being perceived as a white South African. As if I could control that! It felt so odd that no one would sit next to me on the bus, but there, as the country was still emerging from apartheid, I could understand why someone might be afraid of me. I hated it as an experience, but I understood it.

I also have something of the experience from the other side — straight people often feel like they have to tell me about their neighbor/relative/friend/coworker who is gay, even though that person has nothing to do with whatever we’re supposed to be talking about. On the one hand, I appreciate that they are trying to signal to me that they aren’t homophobic. But I do always feel like they’re also signaling that they are at least not entirely comfortable.

Mel wrote beautifully too, but unlike her, I grew up with pride. Maybe it’s the mixing of heritages, all of which had a fierce struggle. I don’t know. But I got it…the beautiful and strong part, proud but not prideful. She nailed it.

Julie
Using My Words