A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage

“Do you want to be my partner?” Emma asked. “In the assignment, that is.” Could she be blushing? “Fine,” I answered and turned my chair to face her. “What does being Jewish mean for you?” “Mostly a headache,” Emma answered and laughed. “They make me read Torah. I mean, not really make me, but it is really important to my folks, so I go along.” “I’m okay with reading the Torah. My grandfather came from a religious family but left the faith after World War II. Honestly, I’m struggling with this workshop. I don’t see the point; I haven’t learned anything new,” I admitted quietly, ensuring Shelly wouldn’t overhear. “I find it really interesting so far. Do you have any Jewish friends?” Emma leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “Not really,” I replied. “It’s never mattered to me whether someone is Jewish or not. It seems to matter to others more than it does to us.” Emma nodded in agreement. “What about you? Do you have other Jewish friends?” “Until recently, it didn’t matter much to me. But now my friends have been bugging me about it. Olivia, my best friend, doesn’t mind, but the others do. They don’t get what the Bat Mitzvah is about or why reading Torah is important. They call it primitive.” Emma looked down, her hair falling across her eyes. We both fell into silence, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of others. I recalled Marcus’s cruel remarks—the reels he shared portraying Jews as filthy rats. I hesitated to mention it to Emma, fearing she’d see me as a coward for not speaking up, for letting them treat me this way. I felt like I was failing to stand up for Jewish dignity, just keeping quiet and moving on.

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