A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage

help. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong. “But maybe they can help. It seems like it’s bothering you, and it won’t just stop on its own,” I said, trying to convince him. “If you don’t try, you’ll never know.” “I don’t think so… Maybe… I don’t know…” David mumbled as a car approached and stopped in front of us. He waved, and I saw his mom smile at me. “Do you need a ride home? I can take you,” His mom offered warmly. “Thanks, but my dad will be here soon,” I replied, smiling back at her. She was a striking woman, and it was clear David inherited her blue eyes and light hair. “OK. See you next week,” David said, getting into the car. His mom leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned away, clearly embarrassed. I quickly looked down at my phone, pretending to be engrossed in something, until they drove off. Would you encourage David to talk to his parents about what he’s experiencing? If you were in his position, what would you have done?

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